by Camy Tang
Lex paused to stare for a moment, then got in her Honda and thrust the key into the ignition.
The engine sputtered, hacked up a loogie, and died.
Lex turned it again. Click. Click.
She collapsed back against the headrest. “No way.” She jumped out and knocked on Trish’s driver’s-side window before she drove away. “Got AAA?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Trish dragged out her cell phone and her wallet for her card. “You’re such a cheapskate. You drive that death mobile and you don’t have roadside ser vice? You still live with your dad — ”
“Yeah, and in a few months, I’ll have saved enough to buy my own condo. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”
Trish got out of the car. Lex leaned against the trunk while Trish spoke to AAA on her cell phone.
One of their cousins, her husband, and their two children exited the restaurant. Things must be wrapping up inside.
As the family passed Lex and Trish, their cousin gave Lex a guarded look — the kind young mothers give to the snake exhibit at the zoo as they hustle the kids past. Her husband also gave only an abbreviated wave as they bolted for their car, dragging the kids after them.
Lex straightened. Trish did too. “Did you see — ?”
An old aunty and uncle also walked out the restaurant doors. As they hustled past Lex and Trish, Aunty gave Lex a weighty, disapproving look just before she sniffed and stuck her nose in the air.
Trish gasped and thumped her car trunk. “That old bat . . .”
Lex looked away. Why did Aunty’s look cut her so deeply, when with other people, like at work and volleyball, she really couldn’t care less what they thought? A single look from one of the women in her family struck her an almost physical blow, like a mallet pounding sweet rice grains into mochi. Lex felt soft and bruised. Was she really that strange to everyone?
Stop that. There’s nothing wrong with you. Lex shook off her mood. She was strong and stubborn, and she didn’t care who she offended. “I don’t want to just give in to Grandma. I don’t like being forced.”
“Yeah, but how much do your girls mean to you?”
Lex sighed. “The other day, one of the girls’ moms came up to me and told me she was so excited the girls could go traveling for playoffs because she hadn’t been able to afford it when my mom coached her in high school. How am I going to tell her that the girls won’t be able to go if Grandma pulls funding in four months?”
Trish didn’t say anything.
“At the same time, how can I meekly walk into Mariko’s wedding with a boyfriend on my arm, like a good little granddaughter?”
Trish fingered the filmy chiffon of her dress. “Do you . . . do you think you’re ready to date?”
Lex tensed at her gentle tone, while at the same time, a restless quivering started in her hands and just under her ribcage. “Yeah, I think so.”
“We could tell Grandma about — ”
“No. We’re not telling anyone about it. It was eight years ago.”
Trish blinked at her harsh tone.
Lex immediately deflated. “I’m sorry — ”
“No, don’t be. I understand.”
Of course. More than anyone, Trish understood. She’d stood by Lex through everything — the hospital, the police report, the three years of counseling — when none of the other family even knew it had happened. It relieved Lex to have Trish be with her whenever she needed her. “Actually, it might not be too bad.”
Trish looked at her as if she’d said she could fly. “Oookay.”
“No, really. I’ll ask Kin-Mun on a date.”
Trish’s eyes bugged out of her head. “No way! Finally.”
“See? Desperation does wonderful things to my level of chutzpah.”
A thoughtful look settled on her face. “Do you think he’ll go out with you? You guys have been friends for decades — ”
“Don’t you be bashing my age. You’re only three months younger.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. My point — ?”
Lex shoved aside the niggling of doubt that had settled south of her stomach. It nagged like Grandma. “I’ve just never given him the chance to think of me as someone other than his bud.”
Trish took a second to absorb that. “Um . . . okay.”
“And in the meantime, I’ll ask some family friends if they’ll sponsor the girls’ team. Then I won’t have to worry about Grandma pulling funding.”
“Do you really think you could? You’re not a businesswoman like Grandma. She’s used to pulling money from rocks — ”
“Whenever I put my mind to something, I do it. I can be logical and charming at the same time.”
Trish kept her face solidly neutral.
“I can be charming.” Lex glared at her.
Trish blinked but didn’t speak.
“How hard can it be?”
Trish guffawed.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Great game, guys.” Lex slapped hands with the last member of the team they had just creamed and walked off the volleyball court.
She dodged players from the other court as they sought out their gym bags, and finally snagged some floor space next to hers. She tugged at her shoelaces as she craned her neck, searching for Kin-Mun.
There, his team was still playing on the far court.
The ref briefly removed her whistle. “Last point!” She sent a piercing blast and signaled the serve.
Kin-Mun, in the middle back, passed the difficult floater serve as if it dropped right in his arms. The setter sent the ball arcing to the strong side-hitter, who whaled on it —
Right into the other team’s perfectly timed, perfectly setup block. Bam! The ball came back faster than the player hit it, landing on the sideline. The line judge signaled it was in. Point and game over.
Dummy! Lex yelled at her distracted self. She should have been taking off her shoes while watching the play. She scrambled to undo her double-knotted laces while keeping an eye on Kin-Mun as he circled with his team for a “Team rah!” and then filed in a line to slap hands with the other team. He beelined for his gym bag and sat on the floor to take off his shoes.
Lex finally undid her laces and tugged her shoes off. She shoved her feet into her street sneakers and leaped to stand up.
Where had he gone? He’d been right there a second ago.
“Lex, great game.”
She dashed a passing glance to her teammate as he walked past her with his bag slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, you too.” Where was Kin-Mun?
Oh, there, talking to Lex’s team captain, Jill. Lex picked up her gym bag.
What would she do, ask him out in front of everybody? She hadn’t thought of that. She’d have to wait until they all went outside to their cars, where she and Kin-Mun would have semi-privacy. The plan had seemed so easy two days ago, at Saturday’s Red Egg and Ginger party.
Until then, she’d stick to him like gum on his shoe.
“Hey, Kin-Mun. Jill.”
“Lex, I was asking Kin-Mun if he’d play with us at the Vegas tournament in a few months. Can you play, too? No one sets him like you do.”
Lex shrugged. “Sure, I’ll play. Email me.”
“Let me check my work schedule first.” Kin-Mun’s unusually deep voice growled in the noisy gym. Lex had to move in to hear him better.
“No prob. Thanks, guys.” Jill drifted away.
“I hope I can play.” Kin-Mun sat down to tug off his volleyball shoes. “’Cuz then Jill can set me instead of you.” He roared with laughter.
“Very funny. I’ll tell her you like your sets low and tight to the net so the blocker will stuff it down your face.”
“Aw, you’re so mean.” He rose and picked up his bag.
Excellent. Maybe she could hustle him out of the gym early. “Going out to eat?” Lex started ambling toward the door.
“Yeah . . . Where’s my ball?” Kin-Mun wove his way toward the folded-up bleachers, examining balls lying on the fl
oor.
Lex went to the other side and helped him search. Anything to get him out to his car faster. She spotted the faded blue Sharpie graphic he’d drawn over the “Tachikara” emblem. “Here it is.”
“Thanks.” Kin-Mun put the ball into his bag, then dropped back down to the floor to stretch.
Stretch?!
Lex could have a cow or just be patient for once. She dropped to the floor next to him.
They were a little removed from the other players, out of earshot if she spoke low. “Hey, Kin-Mun — ”
“Hi guys.” Robyn walked up to them. “Will you buy magazine subscriptions for my son’s fundraiser?”
Another interruption. She’d never ask him out at this rate. “Sure.” Lex fumbled in her bag for her purse. The faster she paid Robyn, the faster she’d leave them.
“Kin-Mun?” Robyn gave him a coaxing grin.
“Uh . . . sure.” Kin-Mun searched through his bag for his wallet.
Robyn handed Lex the tattered flipcard listing the magazines. Lex barely glanced at them. “Golf.”
Kin-Mun gave her an adoringly confused look. “You don’t like playing golf.”
“I like keeping up with the sport. And I already have ESPN and Sports Illustrated.” She handed Robyn some cash.
Kin-Mun scanned the magazine listings with agonizing slowness. His methodical nature really annoyed her sometimes. Like now. Sometime this century . . .
“Entrepreneur.”
“You don’t invest.”
“I’d like to.” He handed Robyn the card and his money.
“Thanks, you guys.” Robyn finally left.
“So, Kin-Mun — ”
“Unca Kin-Mun!”
The screech came only a millisecond before a three-year-old hurtled in between them. Lex caught a flailing hand across her eyes. “Oof!”
A burning sensation crawled across her eyeballs. She squeezed her lids shut, and the pain radiated laterally to the corners. What did that brat — er, child have on his hands?
“Oh, buddy, your hands are all sticky.” Kin-Mun’s jovial voice spoke through Lex’s dark pain.
“Oh-jay.” The boy giggled like he’d made a joke worthy of Sesame Street.
Tears finally welled and gushed out. The burning eased. Lex rubbed at her eyes.
“Go back to Mommy.” Kin-Mun gave him a pat on his well-diapered bottom as the toddler stumbled away.
“So, Kin-Mun — ”
With a fluid motion, he hoisted his lanky frame to his feet. “You going out to eat with everybody?” He turned toward the door.
Kin-Mun didn’t even wait for her as he walked out. Lex swallowed her ire as she stood up, grabbed her bag, and followed behind him.
Well, at least he held the door open for her as they exited the gym.
Other players walked beside, in front, and behind them as they all made their way to the parking lot.
“Do you know where we’re going to eat tonight?” Kin-Mun dodged a branch that had fallen onto the sidewalk.
Lex shrugged. “Probably the usual.”
“I’m getting tired of Michael’s Diner.”
“Well, then convince some other restaurant to stay open past ten on a Monday night.” Didn’t they have this conversation every week?
When they reached his car, Lex shifted to stand closer to him as he unlocked his trunk. “So — ”
“Hey, Kin-Mun, did you catch the Giants’ game the other day?” One of his teammates jogged up, lugging his monstrous bag.
“No, I saw the highlights on SportsCenter. Did you?”
“Yeah, I have it saved on Tivo.”
“Hey, can you burn it onto a DVD for me?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“See ya.” He and his bag lumbered off.
Lex wouldn’t be interrupted again. “Kin-Mun, go out on a date with me.” Oops, that sounded kinda like a threat.
Bushy eyebrows waggled upward, creasing his tanned forehead, reaching for his hairline. “What?”
“Um . . . would you like to go out on a date with me?”
“Date? Like in . . .”
“Date.”
“Well, we always hang out.”
“No, I mean, hang out like more than friends.” Man, she hated this kind of DTR stuff. Wait, was this a Define The Relationship discussion? Whoa. This was weird.
“Um . . .” Kin-Mun scratched the back of his head and looked down at the ground.
Okay, that was a bad sign, right? No immediate, Oh, that’s something I’ve never thought of before. Sure, let’s try it.
“Is that it? ‘Um’?”
“I like being just friends.”
Aaargh. “Nonono. Not acceptable.” Oops . . . did she say that out loud? Try again. “You’ve never thought of me as anything else? Not even considered it?”
“You’re like . . . a brother.”
“A brother? One of the guys?”
“Yeah.” He started to smile.
“What am I, genderless?” It came out just short of a screech. Grandma was not correct, she didn’t need bigger breasts to catch a man.
His smile flitted away. “No. You’re like . . . a sister. Yeah, a sister.”
Was she really not attractive — No, stop that thinking right there. Don’t be ridiculous. “But I’m not your sister.”
“Uh . . . no, I guess not.”
“So why would you think of me as a sister?”
“I dunno.”
Lex needed to hit the restart button on this entire conversation. “So why not give it a try?”
“What?”
“Dating.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
As Kin-Mun stood there, Lex could almost see his left-brain logic gears whirling. “Uh . . .”
“Give me a good reason.”
“Well . . .” He scratched his head again. “I guess.”
“Great!”
Kin-Mun jumped at her exuberance. His smile seemed a little pained. Maybe she had shouted too loud.
Now to make plans so he couldn’t change his mind. “I’ll email you. We can go out this Saturday night. You’re free, right?”
“Uh . . .” Gears whirling some more. “Yeah — ”
“Great! You can take me to FJL.”
Kin-Mun’s face brightened at the mention of his favorite Italian restaurant. “Okay.”
“I’ll make reservations. Pick me up at seven.”
“Okay.”
Lex walked away. That hadn’t been too bad. He had just needed a little prodding.
FOUR
Yes, I’ll hold.” Lex loosened her grip on the phone handset.
“Will you stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”
Trish plopped on the orange-and-brown striped couch. “So, Kin Mun’s reluctance doesn’t bother you even a little bit?”
Trish’s knowing look put Lex’s back up, even as a small part of her whispered, He wasn’t that reluctant, was he? “Can we talk about this later? I’m on the phone.” Lex leaned back in the ancient La-Z-Boy and rested her elbow against the scarred oak side table.
“You’re not talking to anyone right now.”
“I’m not going to be distracted by you.”
“I don’t distract you.”
“You make me emotional, and I need to be pleasant and calm with Mr. Tomoyoshi.”
Trish rolled her eyes but shut up.
“Hello, Lex?”
Lex turned her attention to the phone. “Hi, Mr. Tomoyoshi.”
“Haven’t seen you in the restaurant in a while. How are you doing?” The kind, jovial voice matched Mr. Tomoyoshi’s wide girth and generous nature.
“I’m doing well.”
“Still playing volleyball?”
“Yup. In fact, I’m coaching — ”
“I still remember when your grandma brought you into the restaurant and you wouldn’t leave your volleyball in the car, and you ended up hitting it into your ramen noodles and
splashing yourself.” He laughed.
“Heh. Heh. Yeah.” Was that the only memory Mr. Tomoyoshi had of her? He mentioned it every time she spoke to him. What about her graduation party in his Japanese restaurant? Or her dad’s yakudoshi birthday party? Or the numerous other times she went in there to eat and didn’t have a horribly embarassing mishap? “So, Mr.Tomoyoshi — ”
“How often do you see your grandma?”
“I just saw her at my cousin’s Red Egg and Ginger party.”
“Oh, Chester’s niece? That must have been nice.”
For the other guests there, maybe. “Yeah. Good food.” Not that she’d had any of it.
He chuckled. “You tell your grandma to have it in my restaurant instead next time.”
Hmm. Traditional Chinese party in a Japanese restaurant. She wasn’t quite seeing it. “Sure. You’ve got the best food.”
“Aw, thanks. You’re such a sweet girl.”
Lex grimaced at the “girl” remark. “I’m still coaching a junior high girls’ volleyball club team.”**
“Oh, good for you. Way to give back to the Asian community.”
Lex wouldn’t mention that most of her girls were from downtown San Jose. Well, a few of them were Asian. “I’m happy to do it. They’re the daughters of the women that my mom coached.”
“Ah, I miss your mom.”
Lex swallowed convulsively. “Yeah. So anyway — ”
“How’s your dad doing these days?”
“He’s good. He’s bowling a lot.”
“I see him every so often. He’s walking a little slower these days, you know?”
“Uh . . .” Actually, it didn’t seem that way, but Lex wasn’t about to argue with one of her elders, let alone a potential sponsor. “Sure.”
“Well, you should cut back on some of your volleyball so that you can take care of him. We’re all getting older.”
Lex was fully aware of the cultural and moral obligation to care for her parent in his old age, even if said parent insisted he didn’t want to be cared for. But why did people always think she needed to be reminded and that she needed to give up everything in her life to do it? She’d seen friends and relatives who gave up dreams to care for their family, and it was just sad, frustrating, and tiring for them.
Lex chose to ignore his comment. “Speaking of volleyball, my girls’ team will be traveling for playoffs over the summer, and I wondered if you’d be willing to sponsor us or donate to the traveling costs.”
