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Pride. My chest was sometimes filled with it.
I ran. And ran some more, my face drenched in sweat. Then I walked for ten minutes, some Eurovision-winning song filling my head. I closed my eyes, let my body calm, cool down. More water.
It helped. Everything always felt better after a good run, and I was absolutely starving by the time I walked through the door at Mrs Wu’s.
Pride. I didn’t feel very proud skulking on the corner, trying to look through the blinds to make sure a certain person wasn’t sitting in there, stuffing his handsome, non-bruised face with noodles.
He wasn’t. The place was empty, apart from a woman in the corner browsing the menu and Wei Wu looking half asleep at the counter.
“Matt!” His face lit up. “Haven’t seen you for ages! Hang on, I have a list at the back. I curated you another comprehensive masterpiece of books you really need to read.”
Wei was a nice chap. He was my age, an English major and still at uni, when he wasn’t working at his mum’s take away. He also really liked talking.
“Hey,” I said, with relief, perching on one of the stools by the counter.
“You eating here? MUUUMMMM! We need one-seventeen on noodles, chilli on the side and a Diet Coke.”
“The till is there for a reason,” came from the back. “Use it. It’s called modern technology and produces this handy little pop-up on my screen telling me just that.”
I loved Mrs Wu. She cooked like a goddess and had a wicked sense of humour. She was also snarky as anything to her son, but she loved him to bits.
“Matt!” she squealed as she came around the corner. “Your face!”
“Don’t ask.” I huffed. “It’s so stupid, the story’s not worth telling.”
“No story isnotworth telling.” Wei moved his stool, so he was sitting opposite me on the other side of the counter. He clearly expected me to tell him everything. “Your insignificant story could one day make the greatest tale of all times.”
“I doubt it.” I laughed but gratefully sipped at the tall glass of Diet Coke he’d set in front of me. It was chemical junk, I knew, but everyone deserved a little treat from time to time.
“So come on,” Mrs Wu cajoled, “what happened to that handsome face of yours? If it was those kids who hang around here at night, I’ll put washing-up liquid in their meals. Give them the runs for days.”
“Mrs Wu!” I gasped in fake shock.
“Ancient Chinese recipe.” She laughed but then became stern. “Tell me. Who did this to you?”
“I had a bit of an altercation with some gym equipment.” I didn’t want to get into this. Not again. “And some guy attached to it.”
Wei rolled his eyes. “And…?”
“And nothing. He tripped. I was in the way.” That was the truth. Kind of.
“Ohhh.” He sagged. “I was expecting some grand romance.”
“Ah, but it could be,” Mrs Wu said mystically. She pulled up a second stool and sat beside her son. Now they were both staring at me in anticipation.
“Aren’t you supposed to be cooking me noodles? Topped with the best fried pork known to man?”
Mrs Wu just waved her hand in frustration. “Gossip first. Food after. Spill the oolong.”
“It’s tea, Mother. That…that…” Wei circled his finger in front of my face. “That bruise looks nasty. You have a black eye. There must have been more.”
“No, honestly. The guy apologised. I’m fine.” I was.
“Now I’m disappointed.” Mrs Wu slumped forward and thumped her head on the counter. “I will put all this disappointment into your meal, Matt. Disappointed pork with even more disappointed noodle. You’d better come up with a better story for when I come back. I asked for oolong. You gave me lukewarm, disappointed water.” With that, she winked and disappeared out in the back.
Wei pinned me with his eyes. “Were you hurt? Did you report it?”
“I wasn’t hurt!” I sighed in frustration. I’d known Wei since I moved in here but had no intention of telling him my life story.
