Page 19

RANDALL

I stare at my phone, trying to figure out how to respond to Julie. She wants to come clean to our families about us. I start typing “I’m not ready” but immediately delete it because that’s not what she wants to hear. She wants me to say yes.

I sit on the edge of my garden with my butt firmly planted in the dirt. I put my phone down.

I decide to pull weeds. Pulling weeds clears my mind. It’s so satisfying to yank those annoying suckers out of the ground and toss them aside.

I wipe sweat from my brow. My phone sits on the ground, face down, like it’s in a time-out.

I grip the edge of a particularly tough weed. It’s hanging on for dear life. I dig my shovel into the ground to force it up. After a few minutes of struggling, it comes out. The spindly white roots exposed. Weeds like to take over the nutrients for a healthy plant. I’m usually on top of weeding, but these secret dates with Julie distracted me from my regular gardening habits.

My grandmother was the one who accepted me completely when I came out as transgender. Some members of my extended family thought it was just a phase to get attention. My more conservative cousins stopped talking to me.

I don’t know how to explain how it felt to just be in an identity that felt right, like suddenly my skin didn’t feel so tight. I could look in the mirror and see myself fully.

Halmeoni pulled out an old photo album the night I told her. She flipped through my baby pictures, through my early elementary years.

“See your face,” she said. “You smile, but I see you smile now and I know this is you. Before your smile was forced.”

She took my face in her hands. “Your smile comes from here now.” She touched my chest where my heart thumped. It was the moment I knew that I’d do anything for my grandmother.

Anything but tell her the truth, apparently.

My grandmother won’t take the news of us dating well. As far as she’s concerned, the Wu family is akin to the devil.

It wasn’t always this way. Halmeoni and Ahma used to be inseparable. They would sit in the kitchen and talk for hours. They’d reminisce about meeting each other at LAX. Both barely knew English, so the signs to exit the airport were so confusing. They stuck together. Moved near each other and raised families together.

When their husbands passed away—liver cancer (Ahma’s husband) and lung cancer (my grandfather)—they were each other’s everything. Most of my childhood, I saw Ahma as the same as my grandmother. A respected elder who could whip me into shape with one withering stare. Tyler, Julie, Mercy, and I were just as inseparable.

Ahma and Halmeoni wanted to open a restaurant together. A fusion of Taiwanese and Korean cuisine that celebrated both of their homelands. They tested countless recipes on us. Tyler and I designed a logo together and helped our grandmothers make business flyers.

They wanted to time the grand opening to the start of Lunar New Year—the Year of the Pig—an auspicious year to open a restaurant. Julie helped plan the menu. We invited everyone we knew, blanketed Korean churches with flyers, and offered coupons to people in the Rosemead Shopping Center (aka the Asian mall).

The week leading up to the official opening, we set up a stand in the Rosemead Shopping Center, in front of the restaurant that would be ours soon, to hand out samples to passersby. Everyone who tried a bite swore it was the best they had eaten in a while.

Halmeoni was so excited. She barely slept. She and Ahma talked day and night, going over all their plans and fine tuning the menu.

The night before the opening, Halmeoni got a call that there was a fire.

I have never seen my grandmother nervous. She always exuded calm, even when I dislocated my kneecap in fifth grade and I cried the entire ambulance ride to the hospital.

But her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. I spoke to her like she did with me in fifth grade.

“Everything is going to be okay. I’m here with you,” I said over and over again.

It was one in the morning. Two Los Angeles County firetrucks battled the blaze with several firefighters working to stop it. Thick black clouds of smoke billowed out from the restaurant’s windows. Red and orange flames burned bright.

I held onto Halmeoni tightly as she cried. She cried into my pajama shirt so much that it was soaked.

Ahma, Julie, Julie’s mom, and Tyler arrived right then. Julie’s grandmother looked as white as a ghost.

They had both poured all of their savings into the rent, restaurant supplies, food, tables, chairs, silverware, and menus. And now, we had to stand there and watch it all burn.

That night, they fought in the parking lot. It was their first and last fight as friends.

Ahma admitted that she forgot to completely turn off a stove burner. She said she was so frazzled with the prep work for the opening that she must have stepped away without thinking.

She tried to apologize, but Halmeoni told her that she didn’t want to be in business with someone who would make such a big mistake.

“You burn my dream!” my grandmother shouted.

Ahma didn’t respond, but Julie and Tyler went to her side, wrapping their arms around her, like a protective shield.

As I watched Julie and Tyler walk away with their grandmother, comforting her as she cried, I realized that it would probably be the last time that we would be friends.

I was right.

Later, fire officials confirmed that a slow gas leak caused the explosion. Halmeoni took it as a sign that the fire happened just before Lunar New Year. It would always be bad luck to work with the Wu family, so they dissolved their business.

Halmeoni wanted to keep cooking. She loved it and people loved her cooking, so she decided to open her stand at the Pasadena Farmers Market.

When Ahma opened up the Yum Yum Dim Sum stall a month later, my grandmother took it as a personal affront to her business.

Their fiery rage against each other kept growing, like the fire never went out that night.

How do I even tell Halmeoni that I am in love with someone she never wanted me to speak to again?

I just can’t.

This is a coward’s way out, but easier than seeing the look on her face that will end me.

Me

Let’s take a month apart so we can think clearer. Not a breakup. I need some time to figure things out.

Julie

Sure, if that’s what you want

I typed a dozen different messages back, but sent none.

JULIE

Last month, Randall asked if we could take a mini break. Not a breakup, he assured me. It stung, but I said sure. I was tired of lying to my mom and Ahma, and trying to sneak off to the beach was getting exhausting.

I reread Randall’s text from the day before. Meet me at the Labyrinth. Arlington Gardens. 5 p.m.

I’m skeptical that meeting up in a garden in Pasadena is a good idea. I want to meet up anywhere but Pasadena. But now as I read the large map at the entrance, it’s quite possible that I won’t even be able to find Randall myself.

I read the description of the public botanical garden. How have I never known that this place existed? It looks like a fairy-tale land with meadows, desert, and a citrus grove. I finally spot the section labeled THE LABYRINTH . According to the Arlington Garden map, it’s a section with stones set up in a circle, like a Zen Buddhist garden. Before I leave, I snap a picture of the map so I can find my way around.

I wander the grounds. I stop to marvel at how the orange poppies and pink daisies point upward to the sun. Unlike the rest of the city, which feels like it’s being baked in an oven, the garden’s tall trees shade the paved paths so it’s actually cool here.

I follow the path until I see these huge leafy trees that form a natural canopy over my head. Floating above me are hundreds of pieces of paper. They flap in the wind. I move closer until I can see the notes. Words are written on them.

One written in black Sharpie ink says, “I wish for love that lasts a lifetime.”

Another written in blue ink on pink construction paper says, “I wish I could live until 2,200 years old.”

I laugh out loud when I see this one hastily written in black ink on white paper: “I wish my sister’s farts smelled less.”

One is written on a white index card with red crayon around the edges. In pencil, the note says, “I wish for a world where everyone is equal.”

I look up in wonder. I am surrounded by hundreds of wishes that were hung here in hopes that they might come true.

Digging through my backpack, I find the black-and-white notebook that I share with Randall. I rip one blue-lined sheet out of it. I have a pink pen.

I sit on a nearby bench with the paper and pen in my hands. I can wish for anything and no one will know it’s me.

Do I write what I wish for right this very second, or do I write something selfless, like I wish for world peace and all shelter puppies to find a home?

I write it before I can stop myself. The words confess my true feelings. I doubt anyone would ever find it, so it feels safe, even though anyone can read it.

I search through the front pocket of my backpack until I find a black hair tie. I punch a small hole at the top of the sheet and loop the elastic hair tie through the hole.

I find the nearest branch of the wishing trees that I can reach and wind the elastic around the branch.

My wish dangles over me. I touch my hand to my heart and close my eyes.

“Please come true,” I whisper into the wind.

I walk away as I let my wish go.

RANDALL

I walk the concentric circles over and over again. The medium-sized gray stones are perfectly placed in a path that looks like a never-ending maze.

It’s six P.M. and I’m beginning to think that I’ve been stood up.

This is a stupid idea.

We are too close to where our families live. I am basically asking for trouble. I should just leave and forget this whole thing.

I asked for the break. I thought it would help. I thought it would give me time to see that this crush means nothing and is not worth upsetting my family.

I was wrong. Deeply wrong.

Instead I’d see Julie in the hallway at school and feel like a magnet being pulled toward her.

Or I’d be working the Sebae booth and see her staring at me. I wanted to wave or wink, somehow indicate that I saw her, but I resisted because my grandmother has eagle eyes. Nothing goes undetected under her watch.

Every night before I went to sleep, I’d compose love letters to her that I’d never write for fear of being found out. Like this one.

Dear Julie,

What is the point of falling in love if we can’t ever say it aloud? But here I am falling deeply in love with you. I miss talking to you. I miss your laugh. The twinkle in your eye when you’re sarcastic.

I know I said we should take a break. A month feels like a thousand years. I am an idiot for suggesting it.

Can you ever forgive me?

Can our families ever forgive each other?

I guess we’ll never know.

Eternally yours,

Randall

Instead, I wandered the school hallways like a lovesick fool. And here I am, wandering through a circle of rocks, waiting for someone who will most definitely not show up.

Why should she?

JULIE

I see Randall before he sees me. He walks in a circle. I want to shout his name aloud, but I’m still afraid someone will spot us, so I swallow the sound.

His hair has grown. The side part of dark brown hair is closer to his brown eyes. It still sways in a way that makes me swoon.

Randall has his hands tucked into the pockets of his tight denim jeans. His white T-shirt clings just right to his body.

I shouldn’t stand here forever looking at him, but I kinda want to. Standing here is safe. Safe from heartbreak. Safe from being found out.

I step forward and gravel crunches underneath my feet. Randall immediately spots me. We’re the only two people in the rock garden. I hear the echoes of kids screaming from another section of the grounds.

“Hey,” I say.

Randall nods at me. We haven’t spent time together in a month. It feels like years. I reach for his hand. For a few minutes, we walk through the labyrinth just holding hands. I want to memorize how I feel around him.

Randall leads me off the path to a clearing that’s blocked off by a gigantic weeping willow tree. The tree droops to cover us under its curtain of green leaves. The trunk of the tree is thick with age. Randall kisses me, pressed against the trunk.

My hands go to his hair. I love how it feels between my fingers. Our tongues touch and I forget all the determination I had. My resolve dissolves in kisses.

His hands are on my waist, drawing circles on my hips that make me sigh.

Why can’t time stand still right now?

“You make me forget words,” I whisper.

“Good,” says Randall.

When we finally come up for air, my lips feel swollen. Randall’s hair is messed up. I blush deeply. Randall’s white T-shirt has shifted.

“We are a mess,” I say.

Randall slouches against the tree. I sit down next to him. We are still holding hands.

I say the words that I have been dreading. “I want to tell my family about us.”

“I don’t,” says Randall.

“Aren’t you tired of sneaking around and making up lies?”

“I am, but you know how our families are,” says Randall. “It’s been fun, Jules, but this isn’t serious, right?”

It hasn’t hit me until Randall says the words that I desperately want this relationship to be more than make-outs. But he clearly don’t think of me as a girlfriend.

I blink back my tears and nod. “Of course, just fun.”

A bluebird lands on a branch and chirps at us. I want to tell Randall how I feel about him, but I don’t dare. He comes closer to me. I focus on his thick black eyelashes. Say that you’re okay. Tell him you understand. It was fun. Get up and say goodbye. Walk back to your car without crying. You can do this.

A single tear betrays me and lands on my cheek.

“Oh Jules,” sighs Randall.

His lips chase away the tear with a kiss. More fall in its place.

“I said something absolutely stupid. I care about you. I’m trying to pretend that this is nothing because I wanted to break things off before I fell in love with you, but I already did.”

“You did?”

“Absolutely. Did you?”

I respond by kissing Randall hard on the lips. He leans back until we are on the ground. I am on top of Randall, pressing down on his body. Our bodies are molded together.

Our cheeks are dusted in dirt, but I don’t care because my wish is coming true.

An alarm trills. I roll off of Randall onto the ground. I reach back into the pocket of my floral-print shorts for my phone to turn it off. I grin sheepishly at Randall.

“I set an alarm so I’d remember to leave on time. You make me forget things,” I say.

“You do the same to me,” says Randall.

He leans to kiss me, but I stop his perfect pouty lips before I get sucked into the void that is Randall.

“Wait. We have to talk. For real,” I say.

I sit up and lean against the solid tree trunk. Randall sits up too.

“I want to tell Ahma about us. I want you to tell Halmeoni. I know it’ll be rocky.” My heart is pounding in my chest. I stumble over my words. But I have to say it before I chicken out. “I’m scared to tell her, but if we’re serious about each other, then we need to be honest.”

RANDALL

Julie is looking at me with those big brown eyes that swallow me whole. She’s right. Of course, she’s right, but I’m not ready. Will I ever be ready?

I wish I was in love with someone I could bring home—it would be so much easier. My halmeoni would cook half the refrigerator for them. They could come over without a whole big explanation.

I need to be honest with Julie.

“I’m not ready.”

She sighs, then stands up.

“If you’re not serious about telling our families, then you’re not serious about me.”

She stomps off, and hell, she’s so fast that I’m chasing after her. I reach out for her shoulder to stop her, but I’m not close enough.

“Wait!”

Julie turns around and looks at me expectantly. I have no idea what I’m going to say so I let it slip out before my rational, logical brain can shut me up.

“What if we tell our grandmothers on the same date at the same time? That way, we’ll tell them together and no one will find out before the other,” I say.

Julie’s smile returns. “You mean it?”

“Come here,” I beg.

She comes back to me. She wraps her arms around my neck. We are eye to eye.

“If we’re going to jump off this cliff, let’s do it together.”

She nods. Her black hair tumbles over my face as she brings her lips to mine. Her hair smells like sweet vanilla. I inhale her scent.

This may end badly, but I tell myself that it will all work out.

“We’ll tell them separately, and then maybe the four of us could have dinner.”

“Sure,” I say.

It’s a beautiful wish, a dream, that our love could solve five years of fights, hurts, and gossip. But instead of bursting that bubble, I let Julie and I believe in that fairy tale so we can be together in this moment.

JULIE

The next day, I wander outside with my lunch and sit on the lawn so I can avoid spending my lunch staring at Randall. A group of cheerleaders is practicing. They tumble together into a fit of laughter.

I bite into my sushi leftovers and pretend to be as zen as possible.

Tyler joins me, waving goodbye to a friend. He lifts up his pink T-shirt to reveal his bicep. “How is it looking?”

He means his red panda tattoo. The area has healed nicely, so there’s no worry of infection, but Tyler loves to obsessively put sunscreen on his ink to make sure sunlight doesn’t fade the colors.

“Perfect. Just like it looked this morning when you asked me.”

“Grumpy much?”

He lowers his shirt and snags a cucumber roll from my takeout container. I yank my sushi away from him.

“Get your own roll,” I scold.

Despite being Oscar the Grouch to my brother, I welcome his company. He talks with his mouth full, which he knows I hate.

“You can’t skip Sunday dinner ever again,” mumbles Tyler.

This again. “It’s been a month, Ty. Plus, I got there. Just late.”

He turns to face me. “Mom busts her butt working late shifts at the hospital so she can take Sunday nights off. Ahma refused to eat without you. Her blood sugar gets low, and then…” His voice trails off.

I bite my lip, then reach for his hand, squeezing it.

“I hate seeing her like that,” he whispers.

“It haunts me too,” I say. I hug my brother tightly.

After The Incident, we’d find Ahma at the dining table at ten P.M. with an entire plate of uneaten food in front of her. We would take turns sitting with her until we could coax her to take a few bites. Tyler would spend hours prepping her favorite food to watch it go uneaten.

I feel awful that he was reminded of that time because of me. “I’m so sorry, Ty. I’ll never miss Sunday supper ever again. I promise.”

I push the rest of my veggie sushi at him. “Apology sushi?”

He laughs and devours the remaining pieces. “Apology sushi comes with spicy tuna.”

“Sorry that you’ll have to settle for the half-assed veg rolls I made.”

He tussles my hair. I tolerate it because I know it’s his way of saying that he’s cool with me.