Page 17

RANDALL

As I pull into the Marina Del Rey public parking lot, Julie’s eyes light up. The sun sits low in the sky, casting warm glows of yellow, orange, and pink in the sky.

“Wait a minute. Is this…?” She dangles the rest of the question in the air. I lean forward to kiss her.

“It is,” I respond.

This time I’ve planned the perfect beach picnic. Okay, with some input from Mercy. But I had the idea for a July Fourth fireworks date. Ever since we were kids, we would always come to Marina Del Rey for the fireworks show.

We hop out of the car. I grab the cooler I’ve packed and throw two beach towels (without hearts on them) over my shoulder.

“Oh my gosh. I haven’t been here since…”

I wrap my arm around her. “I know. Me too.”

As kids, we’d race to the beach to gorge on all the snacks that we stuffed into our backpacks. Full on a sugar high, we’d wait and wait for the fireworks to begin.

It’s crowded on the beach. We weave through groups of people, families, some couples who are already making out.

“Let’s go right there!” exclaims Julie.

She finds the perfect spot where we can set up that’s a little further away from the crowd. I fling out the towels. She plops down in the sand immediately.

“Are you absolutely positive we won’t be spotted here?” asks Julie.

I pull two hats out of my tote bag. I toss the LA Dodgers hat to Julie while I don the plain black one.

“We never wear hats.”

Julie giggles as she stuffs her long ponytail through the baseball cap.

“Also, I know for a fact that everyone in my family is at home making the largest hot pot known to humanity,” I say.

“Same.”

I unpack the cooler. Julie squeals when she sees what I’ve brought. A huge pile of Asian snacks. We pop open the shrimp crackers and white peach Calpico and nibble on our food. She giggles, reaching for my hand.

I respond by kissing her neck and trailing downward. We come up for air when we hear the first pop of fireworks.

“It’s time!” exclaims Julie.

She sits in front of me. I drape my arms around her, pulling her close. I kiss the back of her head and touch her silky black hair. She turns to face me. With just the glow of the setting sun on her face, I let myself admire the curves of her nose, her thick black eyelashes, and those eyes. I could bury myself in her brown eyes.

Then, the fireworks display begins in the sky, early enough that the sun is still low on the horizon, slowly darkening the sky. The fireworks inside my heart started the moment we kissed.

“Oooh,” says Julie, “I love when they make shapes.”

She points upward at the pink smiley face in the sky before it slowly disappears and sinks into the ocean. Julie shivers slightly.

I reach into my tote bag for the soft navy blue fleece blanket I brought. I toss it over Julie’s legs.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You think of everything.”

Our breaths intermingle as I feel her hands reach for the back pocket of my denim shorts. She is on top of me now. Behind us, the fireworks light up the sky with a rainbow of color.

I taste the white peach drink on her tongue.

I want to freeze time so we can be here all night long.

I touch her back pocket. I feel the vibration of her phone against my hand. It continues long enough that I stop kissing her.

“I think you should get that,” I say breathlessly.

She pants then grabs her phone. I see Tyler’s face on the screen.

“What?” she answers.

I can’t hear what Tyler is saying, but Julie bites her lower lip, and I know it can’t be good.

“I know. I’ll be there. I’m out with a friend,” she loudly whispers into the phone.

I turn to the cooler to give her some space. I get a sneaking feeling that this will be the end of our second beach date.

She tosses her phone down into the sand with a grunt.

“Tyler is being such a butthead. I need to go.”

The words I’ve been dreading crash into our reality.

“I’m so sorry. Ty is on me to be home for Sunday dinner. If we leave now, I think we can make it back in time,” says Julie.

I smack my forehead. “I forgot it was Sunday.” I quickly pack up the snacks, tossing them in the cooler haphazardly. Julie rolls up the towels.

The fireworks continue as we dodge through the groups who are staring up at the sky. We say sorry as we step on towels. By the time we make it back to my car, Julie has gotten more texts from Tyler.

Julie pops directions to her home into the Waze app. “Great! We should get there right on time.”

I follow the directions. The flow of traffic is on our side. She relaxes slightly. Her eyes are fixed on the fireworks that soon we can only hear as we drive away from the coastline.

JULIE

Shit shit shit. Tyler keeps texting like a psycho and I tell him to keep it together.

Tyler

I did everything. You just need to show up. How hard is that?

Me

On my way!!!

“I’m late for one Sunday dinner and Tyler acts like I kicked a pile of puppies. He’s overreacting for no reason.”

Randall nods while keeping his eyes on the road. Sundays are sacred in the Wu house, not because we are religious but because it was the one time we all committed to showing up and having dinner together no matter what. Randall’s family used to be invited for the potlucks.

I see on the Waze app that there’s now a car accident blocking most of the 405, so my ETA keeps ticking up.

“What I wouldn’t give for a private helicopter,” I grunt.

“I should’ve brought mine,” says Randall with a glint in his eyes.

I giggle. I text Tyler back: Stuck in traffic. Then, I toss my phone into the glove compartment and slam it shut. I can hear the buzz of my phone, but I choose to ignore it.

“I completely forgot about the Sunday dinners. I wouldn’t have planned this date for today if I remembered,” says Randall.

I reach over to squeeze his leg. I’m rewarded with a Randall smile. “It’s not your fault. I knew what I was doing. I told Ty I’d be a little late and to start eating without me. I didn’t factor in that Ahma wouldn’t eat dinner without me.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“So is your grandmother.”

“You’re right about that,” says Randall.

Randall fixes his eyes on the road while I stare out at the Pacific Ocean. I strum my fingers along the car window.

“Is it hard lying to Halmeoni?” I ask.

Randall bites his lip in response. He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t make a habit of it, but yeah, it sucks. You?”

“I feel like I’m disappointing not only my ahma, but also my mom and Tyler. Ty is my brother and I can’t say anything to him. Usually, he’s the first one I talk to after a date, and I can’t.”

Randall nods. “Let’s pretend we’re a normal couple on a normal drive home from their second date.”

“Perfect,” I say. “What would the perfect second date talk be?”

Randall laughs. My shoulders unwind at the sound of his laughter. I love the way his face lights up when he finds something funny.

“Why do you like fireworks so much?” asks Randall.

I lean back in the passenger seat. “It sounds silly, but I love the colors, especially the gold ones. It’s like real-life stars exploding in front of you. It’s magic.”

“That’s not silly at all. It’s sweet,” says Randall. “I’m sorry you had to miss the end.”

“The finale is the best part, but Tyler would burst a blood vessel if I was out longer,” I say. “When I was a kid, July Fourth felt like summer would last forever.”

“Plus, July Fourth is the one time our parents let us stay up late,” says Randall.

“Yes! Oh my god. They would be chatting and drinking soju while we ran around. It was the only time they didn’t care what we did.”

“It was the best.”

“We stopped coming to the fireworks here after…”

“Halmeoni complained of the long drive, so we stopped too.”

“Ahma said she didn’t like the loud noise.”

Randall makes his way over to the 101. I’ll be home soon, which is a relief, but it also means that our date will be over, and I’m not sure when the next one will be.

I pull my phone out the glove compartment and text Tyler that I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.

Tyler

FINALLY!!! Ahma is starving. It’s not good for her to wait to eat so late.

Me

Guilt trip much?

Tyler

Sorry that I care too much about our elderly grandmother.

“Ouch,” I say softly. Ty knows how to wedge a knife into me.

“Everything okay?” asks Randall.

I nod.

Tyler

Where were you anyway?

Me

None of your business

I stick my phone back into my backpack. My hand slides along the notebook. Our notebook. I grab it.

“At least we have this.”

Randall glances quickly. His smile widens. “Tuck it into my tote bag please. I’ll write back tonight.”

I stick it in the tote bag, making sure to conceal it under the snacks so it’s not immediately noticeable.

“We’ll figure something out, Jules.”

Randall squeezes my hand. I hold onto his hand with hope and fear in my heart.

I wish it didn’t have to be this hard to be in love.

W hen I step inside the house, I hear the argument in Hokkien erupting in the kitchen. Tyler and my mom urge Ahma to eat, but she refuses. I glance at my phone. I’m ninety minutes late.

The second I step into the kitchen, all three turn to face me. Tyler gives me such a glare that if his eyes were lasers, I’d have Lasik eye surgery right now. My mom scuttles through the kitchen, fixing me a plate to heat up in the microwave.

Ahma calmly places her napkin over her lap and daintily picks up her chopsticks. She eats without another word.

“Sorry, Ahma, I was stuck in Rose Bowl traffic,” I say.

I looked up the schedule while Randall drove because Tyler is the kind of person who would fact-check his own sister.

She nods, focused entirely on eating. I get my dish out of the fridge—baby bok choy with shiitake mushrooms in oyster sauce—and put it in the microwave.

I scramble to sit at the table. As soon as my mom puts down my plate, I gobble it up. I am ravenous.

Tyler picks at his plate. “Where were you coming from that you got stuck in Rose Bowl traffic?”

He says it like his words are edged with thorns. I shrug nonchalantly, deflecting his interrogation.

“London invited us over to watch the New York City fireworks in his screening room,” I say.

“Interesting,” says Tyler.

He picks up a steamed red bean bun and nibbles at it. I make a mental note to text London to cover for me. I don’t dare reach for my phone during dinner and incur further wrath from my grandmother.

“That’s nice of him,” says my mom. She smiles at me like everything has been totally normal for the past two hours.

“He’s a nice guy once you get to know him,” I say and immediately regret it.

I can see my mother and grandmother perk up at the words “nice guy” in relation to London. Hope springs eternal for them.

I turn my attention back to the food. “Ahma, your scallion pancakes are the very best. So flaky and delicious.”

I take a corner of my scallion pancake and dip it into the soy sauce on my plate. She places her hand over mine.

“London comes from very nice family,” says Ahma. “Maybe we can have his family over for a Sunday dinner?”

Oh no. No. No. I look at Tyler and plead with my eyes, but Tyler doesn’t make eye contact with me.

“Sounds like a great plan,” says Tyler.

I could kill him. Ahma looks at me expectantly. I have no choice but to nod.

“I’ll ask him when his family is available.”

Ahma claps. “I’ll make the fish ball soup and add in some kimchi.”

Before I can continue the lie, I clear my plate, wash some dishes, and leave Mom and Ahma to discuss the menu for this supposed get together.

Tyler grabs ahold of my shoulder.

“Something is up with you, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Okay, Sherlock Holmes,” I say coolly, even though I’m burning up inside. I let out the world’s biggest yawn. “I’m zonked. I’m headed to bed.”

I rush into my bedroom and slam my door shut. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. I grab my phone and quickly text London.

Me

If anyone asks, I was at your house watching the NYC fireworks in your screening room.

London

What were you really doing?

Me

Why?

London

If I’m covering for you, I have to know what I’m covering up for.

Me

A date

London

Seems like a lot of trouble for a date. Someone your family wouldn’t like?

Oh my god. Why does he care so much? I have to think of an excuse so that he doesn’t know that I’m talking about Randall. I don’t know what possesses me to write this.

Me

It’s someone my grandmother doesn’t like

London

Someone I know?

Me

I don’t think so

Stop lying, Julie , but the lies keep piling up until they threaten to collapse the thin bridge of truth. I make up this guy I met in summer camp. I even give him a name: Doug Hanson. At least it’s easier for me to lie over text messages.

London doesn’t seem to let up with his line of questioning.

So, I ask him to come over with his family next week for Sunday dinner.

He’s much more agreeable after that. He asks what my grandmother likes to drink. One Heineken beer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I know that I’m leading him on to believe that I might be interested in him. Who would ask a guy and his parents to come over for dinner if we weren’t dating?

London is the perfect cover for my real romance. The real reason I run late. Why I find myself smiling at random moments. The real reason that I’d lie to my family and show up late for Sunday dinner for just a few hours with Randall.

Kissing Randall at the beach makes me forget reality. I should absolutely come clean and stop this charade right now.

Love is crazy and makes you do stupid things.

But this, by far, is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

London

See you next week!

He adds a bunch of heart smiley emojis.

I stare at my phone. What have I done?