Page 98 of Okay, Cupid

Alice’s gaze lingers before she says, “Go eat.”

Huy says “Come on!” really loudly and jumps up. As I follow him, I wish I could command my heart; I wish that it would listen to me. I wish whatever chemicals in my brain that controlled my attractions would just give me a break.

We start at one end of the endless line of food, weighing all our options, my stomach only growing more and more hollow with every passing vendor. There’s bánh mì, of course, and smaller plastic tubs of all kinds of soups and pickled onions with scallions. Fried chicken that makes my mouth water. Like the chả giò Alice grabbed, and thịt kho—which Huy picks up two orders of for us—nem chua, and chả lụa. There’s also mountains of desserts, the sugary-sweet air filling my nose, and stalls dedicated to boba and Thai tea.

It’s a literal food heaven with how many options there are and how everything smells and looks more delicious than the last options.

Huy spies his parents right where Neve said they’d be, closer to the end of the line, tucked near the stage with their full donut selection on display, with a mobile frier going just outside the tent. They’ve also brought other desserts too, like these white jellies, and much smaller but longer strips of fried dough covered in powdered sugar.

“Ah, there’s Jude!” Mr. Trinh smiles at me when he spots us. “Thịt kho, you got that from Lam’s? Good stuff!” Mr. Trinh clacks at me excitedly with his tongs.

“Yes, Ba,” Huy answers for me because I have no idea when or where we got this food; all I know is that the longer I stand here with it, the more my stomach grumbles. “How’s everything here?”

“Good, no one but Alice wants sweets yet, so we’re prepping.”

“Do you guys need any help?” Huy asks.

Mr. Trinh waves off his son. “No, no. Enjoy your night, Huy. Please.” Then he turns to me. “Jude, are you free next week? We need a make-up dinner.”

“Oh, uh …” Again, the focus is on me, and again, I hate it. “Yeah, I should be.”

Except I won’t.

“How’s next Friday sound?”

I nod, forcing out my best fake smile for Mr. Trinh.

“Good!” he says. “Huy can give you a ride from school.”

Except if everything goes right, Huy won’t even know who I am come Friday. He’ll never remember making these plans with his father, he’ll never remember stealing a donut for me, he’ll never remember leading me back to the tent and feeding me a piece of squid because he wants to see how I’ll react. As if I’ve never had squid before.

Alice won’t remember me either. And neither will Neve. No one in this tent will. Whatever impression they once had of me will be replaced by a shadow. If they ever try to recall the memory, my face will be blank; they’ll be so unsure of who they were with that night, the name just on the tip of their tongue before they lose it, before they decide it’s not worth remembering.

I wish I were them.

I wish I didn’t have to remember this night. I wish I didn’t have to recall the pop music in my ears, the smell of the food, the braised pork touching my tongue. I wish I didn’t have the sound of Huy’s laugh committed to my memory, where I guarantee it’ll live for such a long time.

I don’t want the image of his smile, his giddiness as he takes Alice’s hand and they lead each other to the makeshift dance floor, spinning with each other, her hand looped together with Huy’s non-sling hand as they’ve never looked happier.

There’s a moment when Alice stumbles, someone knocking into her by accident as she collides with Huy’s chest, staring up at him. I can almost imagine the moment playing in slow motion for her, because I’ve been in her shoes.

I’ve never hated her more.

Which is awful to think, and only makes me feel worse about myself. In this moment, in this life, I’d give anything to be able to swap places with her. Huy smiles, and they both laugh almost like they’re drunk or something before they’re forced to clear the floor. The tent flaps at the back open and these two large, ornate dragon puppets dance their way in, the crowd going absolutely wild at their incredible feats of acrobatics. Seriously, they’re leaping onto each other’s legs, jumping high in the air, moving in careful synchronization all while controlling the face of the dragon they’re dancing with.

And after that, the San Francisco and Oakland dance teams all file out, dressed in gorgeous áo dài with these large fans as they twirl around onstage. It really is a magical festival.

“God, I wanna marry this pig.” Huy’s eyes flutter closed as he finally finishes seconds of his food.

“Get a room, why don’t you,” Alice tells him, biting into another donut.

“I would!” Huy tells her. “I absolutely would get a room with this pork and make sweet love to it all night.”

“Stop!” Alice shoves him. “You’re going to make me vomit.”

“I’m so sorry our love is forbidden to you.” Huy slumps toward her, laying his head on top of hers. “I thought you’d be more progressive than that, Alice.”

“Sorry, I’m porkphobic. I just can’t support human/pork unions.”