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“You have it all. You’ve always had it all. So consider it all done.”
My chest twists.Liar.
I’m not getting him.
He’s refilling our tea so methodically that it gives me time to use all my skill and talent to put myself together again. When I’m finally guarded again, I lean over and give his arm a poke. “This has gotten too serious. We are done talking about you. Let's go back to me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your earlier jab. You said I’m suppressing my feelings by doing the movie.”
Huan sighs. “Was I wrong? The secret you told me last night?—”
My adoption. “There’s the big elephant in the room.” I make my arm into a trunk, and my hand bends over. It's so silly. Distraction is what is sparing me.
“We don't have to talk about that,” Huan quickly amends.
“For the record, I’m not sorry I got adopted.”
No one is around us. We’re seated away from others in our private section. I can say the A word without worrying, but still I just whispered it. My hands fall back into my lap. How do I talk about this? Animal miming ain't going to do it, that's for sure.
He waits for me to explain.
“It’s… Indian parents.” I sigh now. “They are made of something else. My mother is… made up of something else.”
Such a good listener, my bodyguard is. I still feel so safe even after he knocked me over. I'm about to share more than I thought I ever would.
“Before she was successful, we didn’t have anything. We used to go to this cheap sandwich shop I loved, and I remember how we always got one sandwich for dinner, and my mother would wait for me to finish almost all of it before taking the last bite. That’s all she gave herself. The last bites.” I swallow. “Sacrifice. Everything we have is because of her hard work, so I can have a better life than she did.”
“I understand,” he says. “Chinese culture is the same.”
“They want the best for you, and all their effort towards that grows and grows. You don’t notice it happening because you get used to it—until something happens and you do notice it. Then suddenly you find yourself wondering how you can disappoint or hurt the person who cares the most about you in this world.”
This is where I should stop. I don't need to reveal more to someone leaving me. Or maybe it's precisely why I can open the doorway to my soul and give him access. It won't matter. This is temporary.
Pain, pain, go away.
“She wants me to be great,” I tell him. “And you should know the adoption isn't a secret she kept from me. We decided together to not let anyone know because it's our privacy, and you know how bad the public can get when they find something likethis out. They would talk about it forever and make up so many versions of the story, most of them horrible.”
I break apart a croissant. “My mother told me about being adopted when I was eight. And ever since then, she checks in. Asks if I need to talk about it or tell someone or if she can support me in any way. Our conversations are filled with love and care, and a few years ago I found her whole shelf of parenting books in our library. She had notes in all of them, and seeing it, knowing she had to prepare and how clearly stressed she was about it… In that moment, I felt like her biological daughter. Because I’m the same. Ineedpreparation.”
“She loves you, Komal. Everyone can see it.”
“I know,” I tell him. “Iamher daughter.” I pause. “Just like youareBecca’s brother. She loves you and wants you to be happy, not guilty.”
“Nicely done,” says Huan, rather dryly and with a hint of exasperation. “Turning it back on me.”
“Someone has to keep you accountable.”
“Lucky me.”
“You are the luckiest. Now, eat this purse-cake with me.”
His mouth curves. He tucks his chin down and starts forking a piece in half. I sit and try to absorb the moment. We eat more of the incredible treats, and spend the rest of the day not talking. There are no pressured, presumptuous, or tangled threads of longing between us. I can't let there be, even as they tie all around me. All we can do is look without speaking, our heavy eyes trailing over each other.
When the experience ends, I speak to the chef and their team to congratulate them. They know who I am, and my mother’s reputation is on my shoulders.
We grab a taxi back to the hostel. We’re still not speaking. It feels surreal because this isn’t like the frenetic lust of last night. Time passes in molasses stutters.
Suddenly, Huan holds the door open for me, and then we enter the hostel hallway.
As we look in the direction of our private room, lost and maudlin, a voice stops us before we can make any kind of decision about what happens next. It’s Floyd. He's looking very pleased with himself. Apparently, he’s found another room for me. We now have our own separate private rooms.
