Page 27

RANDALL

Back at home, I wait until Halmeoni is in bed before I call Mercy. She picks up on the second ring.

“What happened?”

“How did you know?” I ask.

“You only call me if there’s an emergency. Is Grandma okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“Jesus. Way to scare a girl.”

I sigh. She’s so dramatic. “Can I tell you why I called now?”

“Yes, but you have fifteen minutes before I have to bounce to a babysitting gig.”

I glance at my alarm clock to time myself. “I need your help. I want to get your mom, Ahma, Halmeoni, Julie, Tyler, you, and me to talk about the restaurant fire.”

Mercy sucks in air. “Oof. I want no part of that tense talk. I’d rather take a standardized test.”

Great. I inwardly sigh. “Please.”

“Why do you even want to do that?”

I don’t respond and Mercy jumps on the silence. “Is this for Julie? Oh my god. It is.”

“Did you know that Julie’s grandmother was depressed after the fire? Julie says she stopped going out. She blames herself still.”

Now Mercy is silent. I take it as my opportunity to sway her.

“This feud won’t end if we never talk about what actually happened. Sure, it’ll suck. But if we ignore it, it’s only going to get worse. Julie and I can’t have a future together if this bomb lies dormant between us.”

“What exactly are you proposing we do about it?”

I pace around my room. “Maybe we can invite the Wu family to Seollal?”

“Wow. Okay. Then what?”

“We have a sit-down talk with the two of them. See if we can get Halmeoni to forgive Ahma for what happened.”

Mercy bursts into laughs so loud that I have to hold my phone away from my ear. “Do you hear yourself? You can’t put ‘forgive’ and ‘Halmeoni’ in the same sentence.”

“Mercy, please,” I beg.

“Fine! I’ll join you on your mission impossible. You should enlist Tyler. He and Halmeoni have a special bond. You’re going to need him on your side to get through this without it all exploding.”

“Why do you have to be so dramatic?”

“I’m hanging up now,” says Mercy.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him. Anything else?”

“Maybe the four of us should talk to game plan before Lunar New Year,” says Mercy.

“That’s a good idea.”

“I know. I’m brilliant. Gotta go.”

She hangs up. I stare at my phone and shuffle through my contacts. I find Tyler and click on his name. The last time I texted him was about Halmeoni’s sixtieth birthday party. Five years ago.

I bite my lip before I start typing. Tyler isn’t exactly my favorite person in the world. I think about how we almost came to blows at London Park’s Halloween party. But Mercy is right. Tyler and Halmeoni used to be tight. Ever since the hospital, they have been back to their old ways. Halmeoni even saved him a Tupperware of beef bulgogi with extra gochujang sauce and lettuce cups.

I type this out: Hey Tyler, Halmeoni would like to have you and your family over for Lunar New Year dinner.

I stare at it for a few minutes before I finally hit send.

I watch it, waiting for the read receipt to show up.

JULIE

Tyler pops my bedroom door open and thrusts his phone in my face. I’m in the middle of reading a new romance about a prince and his long-lost love.

“Do you know anything about this?”

“Um, hi. Way to interrupt.”

I take his phone and see that Randall has messaged him. I scroll back for a second. Randall hasn’t messaged Tyler in five years. I read the text, then toss the phone back to my brother.

“What’s the big deal?”

“Lunar New Year dinner, Jules. It’s a sacred tradition. We haven’t been over to the Hurs’ house in…”

“Five years,” I say.

He nods. “You don’t think this is weird?”

“Randall has this idea of bringing our families together to talk about what happened with the restaurant.”

I shrug. Tyler laughs.

“And I wish for world peace,” jokes Tyler.

“What’s the big deal? Lunar New Year is all about burying the old resentments and starting anew, especially during Year of the Wood Dragon. This is the perfect time to have our reunion of both families.”

“Have you met our grandmother? Did your brain delete the memories of what happened after the fire?”

Tyler paces my room. I close my book, even though I’m at a juicy part, and focus on my brother. He’s clearly more worried about this dinner than I am.

“She can barely talk about that day with us, let alone her sworn enemy and former friend.”

I roll my eyes. “You are being overly dramatic. They are not sworn enemies. You like Halmeoni.”

“Yeah, she’s cool and she makes the best beef bulgogi in the entire world, but that doesn’t mean that we’re all ready for a group therapy session.”

I toss my bed pillow at his head. “Randall told me he’d handle it and I trust him.”

Tyler takes the pillow and hits me directly in the stomach. I grab the closest pillow and thwack him against his side. He tightly grips the pillow I hit him with and twists it out of my hand. Now he is in possession of both pillows.

“Ha!” he shouts as he rains both pillows over my head.

I know his weak spot and immediately tickle his stomach. He falls over in a fit of giggles. His perfect hair is all over the place. I use the opportunity to seize the two pillows and run out of my room.

I fling my bedroom door open and run right into Ahma.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, Ahma!”

I underestimate how strong she really is because one minute I’m profusely apologizing and the next minute she’s hitting me with the pillows that were in my hands. Tyler joins in and I’m surrounded on all sides.

“Ahma, you get her tummy while I get her back,” shouts Tyler.

Thwack. Oof. I am the monkey in the middle. I watch Ahma carefully and wait until she pulls her pillow back. I duck out and let them accidentally hit each other.

“Gotcha!” I shout.

I tear off down the hallway with my grandmother and brother chasing after me. I make it to the living room when I run into my mom.

“Mom, couch cushions!”

She immediately understands what I mean and grabs ahold of the largest gray couch cushion. She tosses me another cushion. Our backs touch as we hold up the cushions like shields.

“Where are they?” asks my mom.

“No idea,” I whisper. “I thought they were right behind me.”

“Ambush attack,” responds my mom.

I nod and point to the ground. We crouch, covering ourselves with the cushions. I am breathing heavily.

“Listen,” says my mom.

We are silent and waiting. Tyler and my grandmother are sneaky when it comes to surprise attacks. Mom and I learned after the last great pillow fight that we need to be prepared for anything.

Five minutes pass and nothing happens. It’s like they disappeared from the house. Mom and I stand up, holding our cushions at our waists.

“I guess it’s over?” I say.

My mom nods. Then, we hear a battle cry that sounds like banshees wailing.

Ahma tears into the room, seemingly out of nowhere. “Never!”

Tyler sprints in. Somehow, they got more pillows and have wrapped thick comforter blankets around their bodies as armor.

It’s too late. My mom and I are doomed. We try to dive under the couch cushions, but they fling them off our bodies.

“Do you yield?” asks Tyler, like he’s some sort of knight.

Mom and I exchange a glance. It’s time to admit defeat so we raise our hands and wave them like two white flags of surrender.

“Someday, we’ll win,” mutters my mom.

“That’s right.”

Tyler high-fives Ahma. “Sure. When hell freezes over.”

Ahma laughs. Despite our loss, I can’t help but smile. We haven’t had an epic pillow fight since the food poisoning. Ahma wasn’t well enough to participate, so it feels good to see her back to her scheming ways.

Mom fetches us tall glasses of iced green tea. We sip and sit back on the couch. I return our pillow shields to their places. Tyler and Ahma take off their blanket armor.

“How did you two get those blankets to stay in place?” asks my mom.

Tyler holds up his old karate belts. “It was Ahma’s idea to protect ourselves.”

“That’s why it took you so long to come down and attack us,” I say.

Ahma waves her hand, dismissing my words. “Suspense is the best way to keep an enemy on their toes.”

At the mention of enemy, I look over at Tyler. He raises his black eyebrows at me. I shrug. He thrusts his hand in the direction of Ahma like he’s saying, “Come on chicken. Do it.” I can’t explain the panic that sets in. I shake my head vigorously.

“What’s going on with you two?” asks my mom.

“What?” responds Tyler.

“You’re doing some serious miming about something. Out with it,” says Mom.

Tyler looks at me pointedly. I glare at him. Fine. I guess it’s up to me to bring it up. I look at my mom, then at my grandmother.

Ahma says, “Spit it out. None of us are getting any younger here.”

“Randall’s family invited us over for Lunar New Year and I would like us to go.” I say it so fast that it sounds like one whole word jammed together. I look down at my lap. The room is silent. I can hear the silver clock on the wall tick. Well, this is great.

My mom sips her tea. My grandmother puts her glass down. Ahma clears her throat.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, shao guo,” says Ahma.

I finally look up to see that she’s sitting stick straight. There’s a vacant expression on her face and a faraway look in her eyes. I’m not a mind reader, but I think she’s going back to that night in her head.

I sit next to her and place my hand on top of hers. I can see she’s trying to hold it all in—the guilt, pain, blame, and grief—and keep it locked into her chest. Her hand is cold. I rub my palm against hers.

“It’s okay, Ahma. Let it out,” I say softly.

Tyler, my mom, and I exchange a glance. My mom puts her hand on Ahma’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to keep it all to yourself,” says my mom.

I can see Tyler is hesitant to join in by the way his right foot waggles. He’s unsure if we should keep prodding Ahma with the past.

Ahma lets out the tiniest sigh.

Tyler says, “We love you, Ahma.”

Her shoulders start to sag. Her head falls forward. Tyler leaps up to hold her. Ahma leans into him. He cradles her like a baby. A memory hits me of Tyler in this exact same position, holding Ahma, late at night. Mom was working an overnight shift. They were in the kitchen. Ahma was softly crying. Tyler whispering to her. Their foreheads pressed together. I didn’t want to interrupt their moment so I went back to bed.

The way I see them together now reminds me that Tyler was the one who held us together when Ahma fell apart. He cooked, grocery shopped, and made Ahma’s favorite foods so she would eat something. He cleaned the house.

Suddenly, I see how much I love my brother and how I’ve hurt him. From behind, I hug him and Ahma tightly. Tears sting my eyes. I wave my mom over and she joins us.

I hear a sniffle first, then a shocked gasp. We surround her in a group hug. Our arms are her anchors.

She weeps for the first time I’ve seen since that night. She shakes with tears. We hold her. We keep her from falling.

It sounds like a small child crying. It sounds like a heart breaking. My own tears join hers. Soon, none of us has dry eyes.

I don’t know how long we are like this. Even though it sucks to see my grandmother this upset, there is a release of emotion coming out of her that feels good.

I run to grab a tissue box. We are sniffling and blowing our noses. Ahma dabs her eyes with the tissues. Her eyes are red. Her face splotchy with tears.

I take her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Ahma, that you felt like it was all your fault. I’m sorry that you had to shoulder all of that weight on your own for so many years.”

“You and Tyler were too young to understand,” says Ahma, her voice breaking.

“We saw you,” says Tyler softly. “How sad you were. Julie and I tried to cheer you up.”

“We put on those ridiculous plays,” I add.

“Oh, I remember that,” says my mom. “You would perform in the backyard for an entire evening in elaborate costumes.”

Ahma smiles through her tears. “ The Green Tiger Returns. ”

“Yes!” I shout. “Tyler covered me in green fingerpaint and painted black stripes all over me while he got to be the hero who slayed me.”

My mom groans. “It took forever to get the paint off your body.”

“You grounded me for a week because of it,” reminds Tyler. “But it was worth it to see Ahma laugh again.”

The room goes silent again. Ahma reaches for our hands.

“It wasn’t your job to take care of me,” says Ahma. “It was my job to take care of you all.”

“Nonsense,” says Tyler. “We take care of each other.”

My mom smiles and hugs Tyler. “He’s right, Mom. When I was sick with the flu, you took the kids to school, packed their lunches, and made them dinner. I couldn’t have been the parent I am today without your help.”

My mom hugs Grandma. Tyler and I hug too. There’s a lightness in the room like the hot air has left. We lean back on the couch, spent from the emotional roller coaster.

At this point, I don’t know if we’ll go the Hurs’ house for Lunar New Year dinner, but I helped my grandmother feel less alone and that’s all that matters.

My mom stands up. “This moment deserves some red bean buns.”

She leaves to go to the kitchen. Tyler follows her. I look over at my grandmother. I used to see this pillar of strength, completely unbreakable, but now I see a woman who has carried it all by herself for so long.

Ahma hooks her arm in mine. “What do you think we should bring for dinner?”

It takes me a moment to understand what she’s saying. Even though the reunion dinner is three weeks away, I snap into menu planning mode.

“I know Randall loves the new year tray we used to bring with the candied coconut, dried fruits, and red candy.”

“Halmeoni always loved my shrimp shu mai and mushroom and egg sticky rice bah tsang,” says Ahma.

I grab a nearby notebook and write down our ideas as we share them. We keep naming traditional Lunar New Year dishes until I’ve filled an entire page with dishes.

My mom and Tyler return with warm red bean baos. Steam rises off the top of the white bun, wafting into the air.

We each pick up one and bite into the fluffy dough with the sweet bean paste center. I relish the homemade dough that Grandma makes. It tastes like a cloud.

While nibbling on her bun, my mom writes out a list of things we need to do in the next three weeks to prep for the holiday. Like clean the house as a family. Schedule our haircuts. Buy new clothes and of course make piles of dumplings.

I show Tyler and my mom the menu list.

“We better ask some aunties and uncles to help us with cooking,” says my mom.

Ahma nods, and it’s settled. My mom texts our extended family. I gulp. Tyler nudges me with a thumbs-up.

Now it’s getting to be real.