by Jackie Lau
I hope she’ll let me be by her side.
I slap my bottle of beer on the table and turn off the TV. I can’t stand to sit here any longer. My inclination is to go to Ginger Scoops, but I need to give her the space she asked for. I need to be patient.
Instead, I go to the Thai rolled ice cream place and order the same thing that Valerie and I shared. Chocolate-strawberry. Except this time, I eat it all by myself, and I don’t bother taking any Instagram pictures.
Afterward, I head to the bar where we went dancing and have another beer. Then I go to Graffiti Alley, where I walk past two couples making out and a bunch of teenagers smoking pot.
I’ve never acted like this after a break-up. Never moped about the city, reliving our dates.
I wasn’t wrong; I really never have felt this way before.
I can’t regret my previous relationships, and they were what I wanted at the time. But now, I’m committed to building a future with Valerie. I will do whatever it takes.
I’d buy a durian, smash it open with an ax, and eat the whole goddamn thing if that would convince her of my commitment. I’d even eat a pint of durian ice cream every week for the rest of my life if it meant I get to be with her.
Of course, that wouldn’t be preferable, but I’d do it. Not that Valerie would expect me to suffer like that for her.
I have to trust her the way I want her to trust me, and when she comes back to me—I tell myself it’s “when,” not “if”—I’ll do something to show how devoted I am, to prove how special she is to me. Something that doesn’t involve durian. Something more, well, traditional.
I hurry home and start doing some research.
Chapter 27
Valerie
Sunday night, I’m hanging out at Sarah’s apartment with my friends. There’s khao soi, pad Thai, beef massaman curry, and rice on the table before us, and we’re already on our second bottle of wine. I’m full, but that doesn’t stop me from taking seconds of the massaman curry.
It’s like I keep eating to fill up the emptiness inside me that comes from missing Peter, but there’s no food that could make up for Peter, of course.
Not even every dessert from Doctor Durian.
I was convinced I needed time apart, but it hasn’t helped me feel ready to say “I love you.” And I still feel like this is something I need to sort out by myself before I can go back to him. I need to let go of some of my fears about relationships.
I tell myself over and over that Peter is nothing like Stephen and he would never do anything to hurt me. I know that in my bones.
But knowing my fears are irrational doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.
I’ve come so far with Peter. When I invented a relationship to please my mother, I never could have imagined being in this position a couple months later.
Once my friends and I finish all the Thai food—I must say, I’m impressed we managed it—we move on to dessert: coconut pie with green tea ice cream, plus durian ice cream for me. Nobody else here appreciates durian as much as I do.
I look around the table at my friends, and tears prick at the back of my eyes.
There’s Chloe, who’s been friends with me since the beginning of high school. Somehow, she’s managed to put up with me for more than a decade. Now she has Drew and her ice cream shop—and I’m glad I got to be a part of her dream. She’s had some struggles with losing her mother and finding her place in the world, but she’s doing well now, and I’m so happy for her.
Then Sarah, whom I haven’t known as long, but I see her regularly since she owns the pie shop across the street. We first met when she looked in the window while Chloe and I were painting the back wall of Ginger Scoops. And soon after, Sarah started dating Josh.
She doesn’t know what happened before Ginger Scoops. Well, she knows I was a software developer, and I may have told her that men are assholes on numerous occasions, but she doesn’t know the details.
I don’t want everyone to know, but suddenly, I want to tell Sarah.
It will be easier this time, now that I’ve done it with Peter.
I finish my coconut pie and durian ice cream, then take a large sip of wine. “I have to tell you something,” I say to Sarah. “About what happened before we met.”
And so I tell her the story that I told Peter, in slightly less detail. About Stephen, my old job, and my old boss. My week from hell. She doesn’t speak much, just mutters “those assholes” a couple times and squeezes my hand.
By the end, I feel a sense of relief, but I’m also angry.
Maybe that anger will never completely go away, but unlike a year ago, I feel like I could have a future that I want. I’m no longer just scrambling to get through each day, putting one foot in front of the other.
Plus, the best revenge is living well, isn’t it?
I hate asking for favors, but maybe I should think of it as using connections instead. “Sarah, do you think Josh—”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t even hear the question!”
“I know what you’re going to say.” She tops up my wine. “Yes, I’ll talk to Josh and find a time for you to go to his office and speak to him. I think they’re hiring.”
“It doesn’t have to be him. I’m sure he’s busy. It could be someone else in the company. I don’t need special treatment; I just need someone to actually consider me for a job. Or if Hazelnut Tech isn’t hiring, maybe he has other ideas for where I could apply.”
Sarah places her hand on top of mine. “You’ll talk to him and see what happens, okay? One step at a time. And I believe everything you told me, you know that, right?”
“Thank you,” I whisper, then turn to Chloe. “I hope to quit my job at Ginger Scoops soon. You’ll have to find someone else—”
“Don’t worry about it. I never expected you to stay more than six months, and it’s not busy now that it’s November. It’s fine. I want this for you, Valerie.”
I nod.
And then I burst into tears.
I didn’t cry a year ago. I feared that if I started, I would never stop. I moved on to my new normal of living with my parents and sister and helping Chloe start her ice cream shop. I didn’t let myself hope for much.
Now, I can cry, and I don’t feel helpless. I’m not much of a crier, but it’s nice to let it out.
“I love you two,” I say, putting my arms around Chloe and Sarah. “Even though you insist on filling my life with rainbows, unicorns, and pink walls...”
“I know,” Chloe says, squeezing my shoulder. “I know.”
“I think I’m drunk.” I take another sip of wine. “But I meant everything I said, and I will remember it in the morning.”
“Do you want to stay here?” Sarah asks. “I doubt you want to go back to Scarborough now. Or you could go to Peter’s.”
“Peter and I are taking a break.”
“What? I thought it was going well. What did he do?”
“Nothing. He’s wonderful.” And then I admit something out loud for the first time. Not to Peter, but maybe it’s a start. “I love him.”
Chloe smiles at me. “I thought you did.”
“I never expected to fall in love again, and I’m too scared to tell him.”
My friends nod in understanding. None of them have my past, but Chloe had struggled with close relationships for many years before finding Drew, and Sarah had never had a real relationship until this past year. And I’ve seen how despite these things, they’ve managed to make love work with the right person.
I don’t feel like talking about it anymore, but I draw strength from being with people who care about me and from what they’ve managed to do.
Wow, I sure am sappy tonight. All the emotion I usually don’t let myself feel is leaking out. I wipe my eyes and smile.
“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” I say, and I truly believe that. “Now, is there any more durian ice cream in the freezer?”
* * *
When Mom comes
home from mahjong on Monday, it’s only midnight. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop and a cup of tea.
“Daphne was cheating, I swear,” Mom grumbles. “No way she got that lucky.” She hangs up her keys. “What are you working on?”
“My resume.”
“Ah, you’re going back to a proper job. Good.”
I roll my eyes. “I already have a proper job. It’s just not what I want to do with my life.”
“I know. That’s what I meant.”
“My friend’s boyfriend has a mobile app and custom software company. I’m going to talk to him tomorrow.”
“Good, good.”
I close my laptop. “Mom, do you believe me?”
“What do you mean? I believe you about what?”
“About what my boss did.”
“Of course I believe you. You think I don’t know this stuff happens? You think it didn’t happen to me?”
That never occurred to me, no, even though it’s a common experience.
“You didn’t approve of me quitting my job right away,” I say.
“It’s not what I would have done, but maybe that is wrong. How can I expect my daughter to put up with that kind of boss?”
“It wasn’t that bad, not compared to what some women have to deal with.” That’s something I’ve thought several times in the past year: it could have been worse.
“It was still inappropriate. Plus, who knows what he would have done next. No, I thought about it more, and I’m glad you quit. You were lucky to have a choice. You would not be homeless without that job because you could always live with us.”
Yes, in some ways, I’m quite lucky. I could speak up without fearing that I wouldn’t have a roof over my head or food on the table. Not every woman is in such a position.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask my mom more questions, ones about her life before she met my father and came to Canada.
But I know she won’t tell me.
My mother loves secrets.
She doesn’t love me keeping secrets—she wants to pry and know every detail of my life—but she has her own.
“I was angry at the situation, not at you,” she continues. “Worried you would struggle to find a new job and have the career you wanted. And that’s what happened. Your colleague, he gave you a bad reference, yes?”
I nod.
“Lack of security...it scares me. The—what do you call it? Patriarchy. It can destroy women’s careers. I know you think I just care about appearances, but I saw how proud you were of the work you did. Though you didn’t even want to take a computer science course at first, do you remember that?”
I do. I thought I’d be bad at it. I don’t know why; I was generally a good student, and I’d already taught myself some HTML for LiveJournal. Fortunately, my dad convinced me to take it in grade ten, and I discovered I had an aptitude for it.
“I saw how you loved figuring things out,” Mom says. “I want that career for you because it’s what you want for yourself, even if you sometimes pretend you can live without it. And yes, I like to brag, too, I will not lie.”
“What about Peter? Are you still disappointed he’s not a doctor?”
I don’t tell her that we’re on a break. I think it would just confuse her.
“I was mainly upset that he was lying to you!”
“But I told you, he wasn’t lying to me. It was all my idea.”
“Silly girl, inventing boyfriends.”
“I did it because I didn’t want to be a disappointment to you.”
“You are not a disappointment! Well, sometimes, but not most of the time.” She pauses. “I have so much respect for doctors. Plus, good job, good money. So I thought it would be nice if one of you was a doctor, or married a doctor. And Peter reminded me of one of the doctors in the NICU when you were little, too little.” Her normally strong voice wavers. “I came to Canada to start a new life. I got pregnant, all was good, then...” She shakes her head. “Aiyah, I will make a scene.”
“Mom, it’s just me here, no one else.”
She hesitates. “You were sick, and I thought maybe I was being punished for...” She doesn’t finish that thought, and I’m not surprised. She said something similar once before but refused to tell me what she meant. “But the doctors and nurses were good. Eventually, I brought you home, you turned out okay.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You took so long to learn to talk. I was worried, but then you were so smart, especially with numbers.” She sighs. “Anyway, Peter is fine, if he treats you better than Stephen. Stephen seemed like a good boy, but he did terrible things to you.”
“Peter is very different from Stephen.”
“So, I approve. I think you will make cute babies.”
“Mom!”
She laughs. “It’s okay, you can worry about that later. I’m going to bed now.”
She goes upstairs, and so do I, after putting the finishing touches on my resume.
* * *
The informal interview with Josh goes well. We talk about the work I used to do, and at the end, he offers me a job in the custom software division. He tells me about some of the projects they have right now, and it all sounds good to me. I just want to do something, anything. Get my foot in the door.
Afterward, I stand at the corner of Yonge and Queen, the Eaton Centre across the road, and debate where to go. I’m wearing my trench coat, which isn’t quite warm enough in the November weather, and a “business casual” outfit. I didn’t want to dress up too much for the interview, knowing Josh always dresses casually; I wanted to look like I would fit in.
He won’t regret hiring me. I have the skills to do this job, and I can be great at it, I know.
I stand there at the corner, with the cool November wind in my hair, and I smile.
But then I’m overcome with agony, an aching emptiness inside me. I miss Peter so much. I wish he were here to share this moment with me.
“I love you,” I whisper into the wind, unable to keep the words inside.
The time apart has made it clearer than ever that I love him, and I’ve started to feel at peace with my overwhelming feelings. I’ve had time to accept them, and after talking to Sarah and Chloe and my mother, I’m less afraid and can see a way forward. I no longer feel like running away.
But I think part of the problem was that I felt like I had to be perfect before I could declare my love for Peter. I had to have the job lined up first, and I wanted to take that step by myself, although it’s not like he could have done the interview for me anyway.
Even if it’s been a while since we spoke, part of the reason I was able to do this was because of him. He believes in me, and he helped me to really start living again, rather than just going through the motions. My friends helped, too.
I needed those months of working for Chloe. I don’t regret them. After the disappointment from those interviews, I was in a rough place, and as I told her, I’m glad I got to be part of her dream.
Now, however, it’s time to move on, and I’m lucky I have this opportunity.
Sadly, there’s no guarantee I’ll never be harassed like that again at work, but I’m not going to let those assholes keep me from what I want to do. And there are people who will support me, no matter what.
Alright. I’m going to have a chicken pot pie at Happy As Pie for lunch, and then I’m going to Peter’s apartment—I still have his key—to prepare for when he comes home from work. I have a few ideas.
Although there’s no way to be sure it’ll last forever, I have a really good feeling about us. Plus, it’s worth the risk for something this great.
Peter might not have said everything he feels out loud, but I trust in his feelings for me.
And now, I’m ready to talk.
Chapter 28
Peter
“Here you go.” The concierge hands me a small box, which was delivered while I was at work.
“Thank you.”
I
know exactly what this is.
It’s the U-shaped vibrator I ordered for Valerie.
I haven’t seen her since last week. I’ve been giving her the space she requested and hoping, every day when I come home from work, that she’ll be in my apartment—either in the bathtub with a glass of wine or...
Hell, I don’t care, as long as she’s there.
I take the elevator up to my floor, snickering as I look at the box.
God, I miss her.
I put my key in the lock and turn it, and when I step inside, something seems different. Smells different.
I glance toward the kitchen, and my mouth falls open. There’s food on every inch of the table and covering half the counter. That must mean...
“Hey.” Valerie steps out from my bedroom. “You’re home early.”
I take off my boots and walk toward her. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
Valerie is wearing a light blue blouse and gray pants. She’s a little more dressed up than usual, and she’s utterly lovely of course.
“I got a job,” she says. “I start in two weeks.”
“That’s amazing!”
“It’s with Josh’s company. I had an interview this morning, and he was impressed with what I’d done before. It’ll be a little work to get back into it, but...” She grins. “I’m thrilled.”
I lift her off the ground and spin her around.
When I set her down, my heart is beating rapidly. Not from the exertion of lifting her up, but because she hasn’t said anything about us yet.
But she’s here, in my apartment.
She brushes her fingers over my forehead. “You had some dirt there.”
“I was saving it for you. Sexy, isn’t it?”
She laughs, and then her expression sobers. “I’m sorry I put you through that break. After my interview, I realized something.” She swallows. “I thought I had to be perfect to be with you.”
I frown. “I don’t have a fancy job, or make a lot of money, or—”
“I don’t care about those things, and I always liked how you’re secure in who you are. Don’t start lacking in confidence now.”
