Mom knows something we don’t, otherwise she wouldn’t have called us out here, but Grandma seems the same as before. The same wise, sassy, loving woman, even if she’s now bedridden. Family is most important to her, and she lights up whenever we are around. Having all her kids and grandkids with her brings her joy.
Bri was right, as she always is. This is the most time we’ve spent together since she lived in the States, and the first time in years since all six of us have been in one place at the same time for more than a week.
It reminds me of the days when Mom first took us away from Dad and moved us to Seattle. I was old enough to understand what was going on. She never said she was leaving him, only that we were moving so May could be closer to her new school. My aunties never married or had kids; my mom the only one with a “traditional” family like Grandma. It was a house of rivalries and bickering, my grandma providing acceptance and love. And while I’m still the odd one out, the only man in the room, I feel at home, my family complete.
Telling my dad I didn’t need anything from him freed me of so much pent-up anger. I didn’t need him to fix anything; I needed to be heard and to stop carrying the dead weight of a relationship that will never come back to life.
It feels right to relive the good times I had in his absence, to be with the women who raised and shaped me before everything changes. A bittersweet line at the end of a chapter.
Watching the sunset through the windows, I listen to the background track of my mom and aunties laughing in the next room,hear the shrill honk of a motorbike on the nearby street, and remember Brooklyn with Bri.
May sits next to me, placing a small plate of leftover duck between us. She smacks my hand when I reach for a piece. “This isnotfor you.”Why did I think she’d share?
“I can’t have a little piece?”
She gives me a side-eye, implying I am an idiot for asking. “Did you decide if you’re gonna move to San Francisco or not?”
Sure, let’s change the subject. “There’s no reason to. It wouldn’t save any time on travel to LA.”
“Then are you moving to LA?”
“Do you want me to leave that badly?”
She shrugs. “You’re not happy in Seattle. Move to the place with the most fun shit I can do when I visit you.”
Offering to spend time with me aside, thisemotionally supportive sister who listensrole May is playing is nice. “If I move to San Francisco, it will be a lateral shift for work because I could transfer. If I move to LA, it’s starting over, guaranteed demotion and pay cut. Either way, I’d be alone in a new place until Bri can join me in whatever capacity.”
“Oh, like you were planning on having a social life anyway.”
“I was.”
She laughs, almost choking on her bite before she swallows it. “You don’t want friends, Liem. You want someone who loves as deeply as you do. You want to be with Bri.”
Why am I being read? “Shut up.”
“Eat glass.”
We exchange a smirk. “I told her I’m in love with her.”
“Look at you growing a set. What did she say?”
“That she loves me too, but . . . I’m not sure that she’sinlove with me.”
“Okay, wait.” May straightens up in her chair. “Did you tell heryou’re in love with her or did you say ‘I love you so much’ and assume she got the message?”
Remembering our conversation, the mix of chemicals and desire and nervousness, I can’t remember what I said at all. “I’m not sure.”
“Dumbass. You have to be clear with her. The minute we leave here, you—”
She stops, both of us realizing what leaving here means. Getting back to the lives we led before means starting a new life without our grandma. This is the last time we’ll see her.
Even though May doesn’t want to show what she’s feeling, I still see the dimples in her chin while she tries to hold back her tears. I pull her into a hug I know she’ll pretend to hate.
“I’m not ready to not have a grandma,” she admits.
“Me either. I wish she could live forever.”
She hugs me back, hiding her tears beneath a deep breath.
