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“I mean, can there be anything more rewarding and meaningful than cheering up a sick kid? Giving them a will to live?”
“You’re good at this!” May said admiringly.
But I’d spent a whole day listening to Tate going on and on about this particular app. He’d taken his new car out for a drive and I remember being nervous about being out of the office. He’d insisted, though, taking me on long back country roads where he could really push the speed limit. I’d closed my eyes, convinced we were going to crash and die. He kept going on about the engine and the torque or something. I stopped listening and started praying, talking to God, to the universe, whoever was out there listening.
Finally, thank goodness, he stopped the car.
We got out, my legs shaking from that drive. I didn’t trust myself to speak and for about five minutes, Tate didn’t say a word. We were at the edge of a bluff, looking out at the sea. There were sea gulls flying and screeching overhead and the wind was cold. I hugged myself, wondering where I’d left my jacket. At the house? In the office?
But Tate was oblivious to all of this.
“Imagine you could upload your favorite sound on an avatar, and picture it whenever you needed to. Like this scene here, imagine we could capture it with audio and visual? Then, when you need to be calm, peaceful, you press a switch and presto, you are there.”
But I wasn’t feeling calm and peaceful. I was cold and uncomfortable. I wanted to get out of there, get a cup of coffee and something with sugar, carbohydrates.
Tate was in a completely different world, “The gear is important. Nothing clunky like a VR headset. More like glasses, with lenses that don’t appear to change.”
I was counting the seconds till we could leave. I didn’t dare interrupt him. It was obvious to me that this was how the man worked, this was how he created and innovated. While the rest of us were in the real world, he was off in some weird space. Brought on by the speed of the car and being out of the office, the freedom of the road.
He told me to drive the car back while he made notes and recorded voice notes for the development team. I drove back much slower than he did but he didn’t notice that either, completely focused on his thoughts and the execution of his idea. He had no idea if it would work, he told me later, but that would be up to the developers. People like May, it turned out.
“I don’t think I’m genius material like him,” she muttered as she helped me carry back the shake boxes up to the office. The winning product we kept separated and the others we packed on the ground.
“So this is where the magic happens,” she said, looking over at Tate’s office.
But this wasn’t it at all. The magic happened in his head, at random intervals, when he was doing one thing and focusing on another. I had seen it happen. It was strange at first, but I was getting used to it now. I had never known anyone like him.
“Do you like Asian food?” May asked me suddenly. “My brother has opened a shop in front of our house.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not great, but it is cheap.”
“I love Asian food!” I said with a big smile. She invited me for dinner and after work, we met up and took an Uber back to her parents’ small home in Chinatown. I had not been to this part of the city yet and was amazed at the hustle and bustle.
“My grandparents came to the US after the war,” she said. “They couldn’t speak any English and my father got a job sweeping floors in a restaurant. After a few years, he became a waiter, then finally, he took over the place. My father grew up here. He wanted my brother to become a doctor. Instead, what does he do?” she pulled up her shoulders. “He opened a restaurant!”
We laughed. Life was strange sometimes.
May’s brother Eddie was taller than May, but he had the same quick smile and warm brown eyes. There was a little porch in front of their house, which he’d decorated with paper lanterns, giving it a festive feel. Plastic chairs were placed next to each other and most of the customers had to share tables but I liked the friendly atmosphere. It was a kind of pop-up shop and he brought two steaming bowls of rice with a wonderfully spicy sauce that seemed to set my entire mouth on fire.
“I should have warned you!” May laughed.
I shook my head, tears running down my cheeks as I tried to pretend I was fine.
“I thought you could take it!”
“I so can’t! Seriously!”
Eddie brought me a milder version of his killer chili noodles and I carefully picked out the noodles, letting the crazy sauce drip off the chop sticks as much as possible.
As I went to bed that night, I realized that I had not thought of Tate all evening.
I was proud of myself. I was beginning to get a life outside of work, seeing new parts of the city and having fun.
This was what coming to the city was all about.
Even the crazy chili was a part of it.
Now I knew I didn’t like it.
I couldn’t wait to find out what else I didn’t like.
