“Ni hao, Simon,” he says, “perfect timing. I’m so glad you are here. Come in the kitchen, I have something I want you to try.”
Mags succumbs to another fit of laughter as I tentatively enter the kitchen. The stench intensifies. A plastic bucket on the floor is filled with bubbling, moss-colored liquid. There is something (or some things) floating in the liquid, but I can’t make out what they are. Is this what’s living in my stomach and causing me so much trouble? Mr. Chen has something deep frying on the stove. I pray it’s not from the floor bucket. The air is putrid, and I’m afraid I might throw up. Mr. Chen grabs a large slotted spoon and takes what appears to be a square piece of charcoal out of the oil. He puts it on a ceramic plate and blots it with paper towels. He takes a wooden skewer, stabs it, and hands it to me.
“Here, try this,” he says. “You will love it! It’s a Taiwanese street food that I miss very much. I am trying to recreate the taste of my childhood.”
Mr. Chen says something in Mandarin with a giggle that sends Mags back into hysterics. Mrs. Chen smiles away sweetly, snapping her beans.
I hesitantly reach for the skewer and stare at the demonic-looking square hanging off it. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to eat this. But the food on the skewer doesn’t stink. It’s the sludge in the bucket on the floor that is giving off the putrid smell.
I cautiously take a small bite. It tastes a bit like tofu, but the flavor and texture are different from what I am used to. The inside is softer than normal. It tastes a bit odd, but also pretty good. Kind of like…stinky cheese! Oh, no! I cough down the tofu.
“Is this what’s in the bucket on the floor that smells so bad?” I ask.
Mr. Chen beams. “Yes, sir. It’s called stinky tofu. I used to get it at the night markets in Taiwan when my mother would take me.” He repeats the Mandarin words he said a moment ago and chuckles again. Mags composes herself and appears in the kitchen doorframe, red-faced and smirking.
“It roughly translates to smells like ass, tastes like heaven.” She doubles over with crazy laughter. Even Mrs. Chen breaks her composure and giggles.
Mags and I forgo the stinky tofu and decide to get Burger King for dinner instead. We are still snickering as we get in the car.
“I can’t believe you ate that,” she says.
“It tasted pretty good, but I just couldn’t stand the smell. The final product is not worth the stench of making it. It’s not that good.”
At Burger King, Mags comments, “This joint doesn’t smell much better than my kitchen right now.”
“Truth,” I say as I dip three fries in ketchup and stuff them in my mouth.
The merriment continues and finally Mags says, “So, here we are again, just like the other night. Are you going to spill the tea or not?”
“Yes, but…over froyo. Let’s go to TCBY for dessert when we’re done.”
She squints at me. “I know you are stalling, Simon Bugg, but I also know that you know that I can’t resist froyo. So, I will play along for now, but if you don’t tell me over dessert, I am taking your car keys and won’t give them back until you tell me what the hell is going on. Okay?”
I grin and stuff another handful of fries in my mouth.
“You’re a caveman,” she says. “A pale, skinny, half-Brit, Jewish caveman.”
I spit out my Coke like a lunatic, and everyone stares at us. I love my friend!
Cups of froyo in hand, we sit at a table in the corner by a brightly colored mural. Mags stares daggers at me, waiting. She has stubbornly stopped talking, and I know her well enough to know she is hoping this approach will get me to open up. I push the froyo back and forth in my bowl until I create a soup-like consistency. I take a deep breath, look up, and say the words to her.
“Mags, I’m gay.”
Her reaction is not at all what I expect it to be.
“Oh, is that all? Shit, I thought something was wrong.” She sighs and scoops another spoonful of froyo into her mouth. “I know that! It’s about time, though. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me since I came out last year.”
“Wait! What? How did you know? I like, literally just figured this out. OMG, does Neel know too?”
“Oh, I doubt it. Neel is lost in his own hormonal world. Constant thoughts of girls and more girls. He is probably masturbating right now to the thought of Shonda Greene’s boobs. It would never occur to him. He assumes you’re straight. I’m sure of it. But you know he won’t care. Right? He didn’t care about me, and he loves your mom and Carole. For God’s sake, he even listens to Harry Styles. Isn’t he gay? Wait, is he gay? I’m not sure. Well, I think he’s gay anyway.”
I smile as I happily scoop some of the froyo soup I made into my mouth. “How did you know about me? How did you know I was gay too?”
“Oh, I just knew. I’m your best friend, Simon. I know you better than you know yourself. Truthfully, it’s been hard not saying anything. Like super hard. Like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But I knew you would come to me when you were ready; it was just a matter of time.”
When I think about it, it is true. She does know me better than I know myself sometimes.
“So, did you tell your moms yet?” she asks. “Also, what was up yesterday? Why did you blow me off?”
