by Taylor Dean
“In a small way, I think living in China is a little similar. We become obsessed with all things familiar to us in America.”
“Being here does make me long for home.”
“What do you miss the most?”
“Cheese,” I answer right away.
He chuckles. “There is a distinct lack of cheese around here.”
“I’m craving a smothered burrito, covered with lots of enchilada sauce and melted cheese.”
“Mmmm, that does sound good.” When we reach the front of the apartment building, he says, “Will you be all right?”
“Eventually.”
“I don’t think he’s the love of your life, Savannah.”
“What if he is, but he just has a few faults?”
“Can you live with those faults?”
I start to protest, then stop. “No, I can’t.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
When Julian isn’t joking around, he’s actually quite subdued. He makes me feel safe and secure; grounded. It isn’t a feeling I’ve felt with a man before. My father always made me feel safe, but never a man I’d dated. I assumed it was a feeling only fathers could bestow; one of the magical qualities of fatherhood.
Julian possesses that quality. However, he’s miles away from a father figure in my mind. My eyebrows furrow with worry. If I compare Julian to Paul, Paul comes up wanting, and it bothers me more than I care to admit.
I’m not ready to explore that thought any further. My mind still rests on Paul Brooks. Right now, Julian is a friend—and that’s all he’s offering anyway. I appreciate his friendship.
“Have a good night. If you need to talk, you know where I am. I happen to have a very comfortable shoulder.”
I answer with a watery smile. He watches as I head toward the back of the building.
“Where are you going?”
“I take the back entrance. I really, really like stairs.”
He laughs out loud as he jogs to catch up with me, but he doesn’t make a joke about my elevator phobia. “I’ll walk you to the door. I forgot about your bad experience in an elevator.”
The thought of getting stuck in the elevator with Paul Brooks makes tears gather in my eyes again. I miss him. “Thanks again, Julian.”
“Are you going to plummet once you go inside?”
“Probably.” He has no idea how long I’ve searched for Paul. Now it was over before it had really started.
“Don’t cry too hard over him. I don’t think he deserves it.”
He’s right. But it isn’t just Paul I’ve lost. I just lost my future, my dreams. My prospects seem rather bleak. What now?
Holding back another onslaught of tears, I say, “Goodnight, Julian . . . and thank you.” I head inside. Mr. Zhu opens the door for me.
“Good evening, Savannah. Life is good, right?”
“It’s good. It’s just not good today.”
“So sorry. Please give Miss Li my kind regards.”
“I will.” Since Miss Li is just around the corner, I wonder why he doesn’t tell her himself.
Miss Li stands in the middle of the corridor as if waiting for me. “Savannah, are you all right?”
How does she know? I shake my head as tears besiege me once again. Sympathy always makes me cry, even when I think I’m all cried out. My mother’s funeral service was a nightmare. Every time someone approached to express sympathy, I burst into tears.
Miss Li opens her arms and I bury myself in her maternal embrace, letting my tears flow for the second time that evening. I’ve never missed my mother more than in this very moment. I still can’t believe she’s gone from my life. When I return to America, nothing will have changed on the home front. My mother and father will still be gone. The thought leaves me gasping.
Miss Li tenderly pats my back. “You’ll be all right, Savannah. I promise. A life filled with happiness is simply waiting for you to find it.”
“I wish it would come out of hiding.”
“All in good time. Who is the man who walked you home?” Miss Li asks.
Her line of sight from her desk doesn’t reach outside. Perhaps she’d been spending a little secret time with Mr. Zhu. Their clandestine affair is rather cute.
I wipe my now swollen eyes. “That’s Julian. He’s the chef and part owner of Burger, Burger. He used to teach here. Maybe you remember him?”
“I know him well. He is . . . awesome.”
I can’t help but smile at her choice of words. “He’s very kind.”
What happened to the one?”
“He’s not the one. I was wrong.”
“Is this what makes you cry?”
I nod.
“This is a coincidence destined by heaven, Savannah. Nothing happens by accident.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t understand. Everything seemed so perfect.”
“No, no, no. The coincidence hides like a tiger in wait. You will see it soon. Some have the destiny to meet across a thousand miles.”
Yeah, well, it isn’t my destiny. Fatigue makes Miss Li’s words of wisdom sound like riddles. I bid her a quiet goodnight and slowly make my way up yet another flight of stairs, abject weariness in my bones.
Now I have to admit to my sisters that I didn’t find Paul.
He isn’t here. He isn’t anywhere.
Does he even really exist?
Chapter Fifteen
September
NO MATTER HOW hard I try, I can’t shake off a deep feeling of melancholy all day. Even dinnertime at Burger, Burger hasn’t improved my mood.
After another crying binge on Dakota’s shoulder last night, I’d poured out the entire sordid story. Dakota felt shocked by Paul’s behavior.
“I’d like to slap his smug little face,” she’d spouted.
Her anger helped to assuage some of my grief. While I greatly appreciated Julian, Miss Li, and Dakota, I’d felt ready for some alone time. After the heart to heart with Dakota, I hunkered down under my covers and shut the world out. It took me awhile to fall asleep as I processed the day’s events. A few more silent tears had fallen, then I’d slipped into an exhausted slumber. In the morning, I’d skipped breakfast, telling Dakota I didn’t feel like seeing anyone. She’d understood and I thanked my lucky stars for a wonderful roommate.
Presently, I’m cried out and numb, but ready to face the world again. Julian is MIA this evening. After the way he’d comforted me last night, I’m a little nervous about facing him.
The antics in the kitchen are lively as usual and I direct my focus on their crazy cooking techniques.
But I miss seeing Julian deep within all the action. My eyes are always drawn to him.
“Where’s Julian tonight?” Stacy asks, echoing my thoughts.
“Where’s Hunter tonight?” Dakota returns as if Stacy has her priorities all wrong.
“Probably out with his China girl,” Lori says, a touch of worry in her expression.
“Are you concerned about something?” I ask.
“I don’t think he came home last night,” Lori says bluntly. “I’m not sure what to do.”
“He’s an adult,” Stacy points out.
Lori sighs heavily. “I know, but it’s my responsibility to make sure he’s safe.”
I have to admit, I’m a little worried about Hunter. “He taught today. I saw him at school.”
Lori says, “He’s never missed teaching his classes and he does an excellent job. But he needs to make curfew or I have to report him.”
“Would you like me to talk to him?” I ask. I don’t want to see Hunter get into trouble.
“I’d appreciate that. You two are friends and I think he’d be more open to talking to you than me.” Lori looks relieved.
“I’ll talk to him first thing tomorrow.”
Everyone’s food arrives then and the table turns quiet. Dakota ordered a bowl of noodles. Stacy has a juicy burger and fries. Lori and Jason are sharing a plate of green bean and steak stir-fry.
O
ur waiter barely speaks English. He looks at me, waving his hand in the negative, and says, “No for you.”
“No for me?” I repeat. I assume that means the dumplings I ordered aren’t ready yet.
After ten minutes pass and my food still hasn’t arrived, my stomach growls impatiently. The rest of the group has nearly finished their food.
Now I’m sad and hungry. I stare down at the table and wonder why life hates me. I slowly look up just as “Best Day of My Life” begins to play on the jukebox. I immediately catch sight of Julian nearing our table, a slight swagger in his step. His intense eyes are trained on me—directly on me, taking me back a little. It’s like one of those slow-mo movie moments; the music, the man, the swagger. I can’t look away.
His thick hair is combed back on his head, the ends forming into slight curls. I wonder what it takes to tame that head of hair. Maybe that’s why he often covers it with his signature backwards baseball cap. The stubble on his chin gives him an earthy appearance and suits his organic lifestyle. This evening, however, he isn’t wearing his usual denim jeans and Henley. He’s wearing black jeans with an open necked white dress shirt, crisply tucked in. I blink a few times. He looks . . . well, let’s just say he cleans up well and I have a hard time tearing my eyes away from him.
“Savannah, will you come with me for a moment?”
My entire body shuts down. I’m pretty sure it stopped working for thirty seconds. “Me?” Why do I suddenly feel like Prince Charming has singled me out?
His eyes light up with mirth. “Yes. You.”
“Oh. Okay.” He probably wants to see how I’m doing after last night’s mega meltdown.
He holds out his hand, meaning I should take it, and I hesitate, staring at his hand, then looking up at his face, then back down at his hand again. I watch my thin and delicate hand land in his large and masculine hand. His fingers close around mine, his skin warm and comforting.
My eyes wander back up to his and a slow smile spreads across his face. I again feel a little like a deer caught in headlights. Julian makes me feel like he knows something I don’t, like he’s always one step ahead of me.
“Oh, I’d like to speak with you next, Julian,” Stacy hollers as we head to the back of the restaurant.
Julian doesn’t respond. He simply pulls me along, our hands connecting us as we pass through the chaos of the kitchen. I feel as though I’ve been chosen and stolen away by the good looking guy all the girls want. Maybe that’s a little silly, but the feeling remains nonetheless. And I like that feeling. I’ve never experienced it before.
When he takes me out the back door, I say, “Where are we going?” While standing this close to him, I notice how good he smells and I want to stand closer to him.
“I have a surprise for you,” he says enigmatically.
He leads me to a back staircase that takes us up to a rooftop deck. I freeze as my eyes take it all in. “Oh, wow.”
Lights are strung around the perimeter of the deck and soft classical music plays from a hidden device. A table for two sits in the middle of the deck, with stainless steel covers over two plates of food.
I gasp. “What’s all this?”
“It’s for you. I thought you could use a little cheering up.”
Stunned and speechless, I stand rooted to the spot. “Y-you did this for me?”
“All for you.”
With my hand still in his, he leads me to the table, pulls out my chair, and motions for me to sit down. He sits across from me and I look upon him with new eyes.
Who is this man? He appears in my life right when I need him the most and he makes me feel . . . noticed. He deliberately seeks me out and it always surprises me.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.
“It’s about to get even better.” He uncovers my food to reveal my plate, which I assume will be my missing dumplings. It isn’t. It’s a plate of enchilada sauce, smothered in glorious melted cheese. I can only assume a burrito sits underneath it all. It’s so wonderfully smothered in sauce and cheese, I can’t tell.
“Cheese?” My mouth hangs open. “How did you pull this off?”
“I have connections.” He reaches across the table and pushes on my chin, closing my hanging open mouth.
A huge smile overtakes my face and my eyes fill with immediate tears. “Thank you. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
His smile tells me he’s pleased with my reaction. Then he slightly turns his head and casts me a worried expression. “Are you gonna cry?”
“I might.” A tear slips down my cheek, belying my words and he chuckles. He grabs his cloth napkin and dabs at my face. I hold still for his ministrations, scared to breathe. “They’re happy tears though. Very different from last night,” I whisper.
“Those are the kind I can handle.”
“You did pretty good last night with the somewhat hysterical kind.”
“Yeah, I was proud of myself.”
A fluttery laugh escapes my lips. He’d been perfect last night. It isn’t easy to deal with female tears.
“It’s nice to see you laugh, Savannah. Now let’s dig in.”
He takes a bite, but I don’t move, just continue to observe him with a slight smile.
His glance turns questioning. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
I nod, feeling unable to move forward until I somehow express my thankfulness for his efforts. “Thank you for this.” That’s all I can manage before emotion overwhelms me again. It doesn’t properly express my feelings, but it’ll have to do.
“You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes glittering with a sensation I can’t read. “Now eat, woman.”
“Okay,” I say with a giggle. The first bite is heaven on my tongue. For several minutes, we’re silent as we eat.
“You’re a very quiet person,” Julian says as he sips his water. “I don’t mean right now, I mean all the time.”
“Sorry.” My mind gropes for something to talk about, but I’m coming up blank.
“It’s not a criticism. I find you relaxing to be around.”
“Most people call me shy.”
“It’s not a bad thing to be.”
Okay, this I can talk about. “When my high school held the Senior Most competition, I was voted Most Shy. I wasn’t thrilled. When the Senior Most photos were taken for the yearbook, I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. The Most Spirited couple were jumping up in the air, giving each other a high five. The Class Clowns were standing on their heads. The Most Athletic had climbed a tree and hung upside down from the branches.”
Julian smirks. “They were just showin’ off.”
“Right? Then there was me and Mike Ritter, the Most Shy boy. We stood two feet apart from each other and stared at the camera awkwardly, our hands clasped in front of us like we didn’t know what to do with them. Our picture spoke to our personalities. Even the photographer laughed at our discomfort.”
“What did he expect from the two shyest teens in the school?”
“Exactly. He could’ve at least coached us. We certainly weren’t going to do something clever on our own. I wasn’t flattered by the nomination. Most Shy felt like the kiss of social death. But then, I wasn’t very social anyway.” I let out a deep breath. “To be honest, it didn’t make any difference in my life.”
Julian suppresses a smile. “I’m glad high school is over.”
“Me too. I know I’m shy, but my close friends and family laugh at the mere thought of me being labeled shy. When I’m comfortable I let my guard down. Then I don’t shut up and I’ll probably annoy the heck out of you. Like right now.”
Julian tosses his head back and laughs. “I find you delightful, Savannah. I’m glad you feel comfortable around me.”
“I do.” I realize I really do. I like his soothing presence. I take the last bite of my cheesy delicacy and say, “You are an amazing cook, Julian.”
“I’ll respond to that as the humble Chinese would. Oh, no, my cooking
could use a lot of improvement.”
“Why do they do that? Why don’t they just say thanks?”
“To say thank you to a compliment would risk sounding arrogant. The Chinese believe being humble helps people to improve. Even in the smallest of conversations, it’s important to appear humble. They don’t like arrogance.”
A light breeze picks up his hair and his blue eyes seem to shine in the dim light. He’s left the top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone—not in a ridiculous seventies disco kind of way—but in a casual and comfortable kind of way, leaving a glimpse of smooth tanned gorgeous man chest. He’s easy on the eyes, no doubt about that. It’s when he looks directly at me that I feel a little unsettled. Concentrate on his nose, Savannah. He makes me feel as though I’m being looked upon, as if I can physically feel his gaze. It disconcerts me and I find I can’t look in his eyes for very long. I think once again, “Who is this man?”
“You have a really nice nose,” I say and immediately wish I hadn’t.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” I twirl my fork through the remaining melted cheese and lift it up. A trail of deliciousness follows it up to my mouth. I remind myself to stick with the conversation, then maybe he’ll forget the dumb thing I just said. “We Americans must seem prideful.”
“Some come across that way. When I was a teacher, a few of my fellow teachers could be . . . let’s say . . . abrasive. Once, on a bus ride, they were talking loudly in English about the other people on the bus, as if they were all deaf or something. It was obvious many of the people on the bus understood basic English and knew what they were saying about them. I call it PDA. Public Display of Americans.”
I snicker as I set my fork down and wipe my mouth with my napkin. “I feel like I need to be on my best behavior. We represent America while we’re here.”
“I wonder what impression Jason and Lori leave?” he says, causing us both to laugh out loud. Then he imitates Jason, “If Lori was a lock, I’d be the key. If she was a car, I’d be the engine. If she was a book, I’d be a page.” He shakes his head with mock disgust. “I can only handle them in small doses.”
I agree, loving his humor. “You know what he did the other day?”
