My legs go weak when it registers that Pa barely remembers any of it. All his advice, the words I’ve been clinging to like my personal bible… I can’t believe none of it was true.
“Whenever you and your sister were going through something, I’d think of some saying to make you feel better,” he explains, but with a faraway expression.
I try to calm and steady myself when I ask Pa about my personal favorite proverb. “Remember that time I got my tonsils removed?” I wait for him to nod before continuing, “You told me that when something bad happens to you, the universe owes you something good in return.”
Then out of nowhere Pa says, “That was one of the scariest days of my life.”
My eyes dart to him to make sure he’s being serious.
“You were… scared?” I clarify.
Pa puts his hands close together. “You were this tiny when you were rolled off to the operating room.” The smile in his eyes dims when he remembers. “I was so scared something was going to happen to my bunso, and I didn’t have control over anything.”
“You never told me you were scared.”
He waves that off. “I’m not supposed to show you stuff like that, Superstar,” he says. “I’m your dad. I’m supposed to be strong for you.”
I didn’t even think that fear was in Pa’s vocabulary. I mean, this is the same person who told me seeing a ghost would be like reuniting with his best friend. The same person who said he’s mastered controlling his feelings and not letting emotions overwhelm him.
My hand reaches for his face, gently stroking the area near his scar. I wonder how many more times Pa lied and said he wasn’t hurting.
The words come out so quiet when I admit, “Sometimes… it would’ve helped if I knew you were scared too.”
Pa kisses me on my forehead before he pulls me in for a hug. His breathing slows and deepens as he wraps his arms around me. I almost don’t hear him when he says, “I’m scared now, Superstar.”
My whole heart aches and I wish there was something, anything, I can do to absorb some of what he’s feeling. Are there any words I can say right now to makehimfeel better?
“Having you back is what’s best for our family, Pa.” I hold on to him tighter, wishing it were enough so he never has to let go.
34
The makeup artist at the salon earlier told me that using powder on my face would help blur imperfections.
Every time I get nervous that prom is tonight, I pat my face with powder.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
Blur. Blur. Blur.
I shouldn’t be this anxious. All signs so far point to tonight being great. First of all, it finally registered on my sister that Pa is back. Pa asked Achi if they could spend the day together and my sister actually agreed. They wouldn’t be “bonding” if Pa actually plans on disappearing later, right?
Pat. Pat. Pat.
My face is starting to have a striking resemblance to a clown’s when Ma opens my bedroom door. When we showed her what we bought from the most stressful shopping trip of our lives, Ma scolded us for wasting money on dresses when she has perfectly good ones at home. By this, it turns out she also meant I should wear Achi’s red ang pao dress from the ting hun.
The dress makes anyone look like a walking red envelope, but I’m not so opposed to the outfit choice this time. We need all the luck we can get.
Ma smiles at my reflection in the dresser mirror. “The hairstyle suits you.”
“You don’t think I look like an egg?”
I always wear my hair down, but the makeup artist also said that an updo might work better for my body’s proportions. It took me a second to realize that he was calling me short.
“A very pretty egg,” Ma teases, and she tells me to face the mirror again. She pulls out a golden necklace from a small blue jewelry box and tries it on me. “Think it goes with your dress?”
That’s when I notice the small butterfly pendant shining on my neckline.
“Your father gave this to me.”
