The Wangs vs. the World(107)

With every bite, a few grains dropped off the heaping spoonful as it made its way into his mouth. Andrew started to like the skittering noise they made as they fell back on the Styrofoam shell.

There should be a German word for that sound. That was a good idea; he should remember to work it out—something riffing on all those tiny, leftover-floss-in-the-teeth-type things that there could be German words for. He was going to have to start coming up with some stuff that wasn’t so Asian soon. Especially if, well, what if he did stand-up in China? Did that even exist? His doing material about being a minority wouldn’t go over that well here. Even the guy emptying the trash was Chinese.

“Andrew!”

With a shout, he was being hugged from both sides and the take-out container slid dangerously down his lap.

“Guys!” He squirmed his arms out of the pile of sisters so that he could embrace them. They smelled like airplane food and other people’s perfume, but they also smelled like home.

“Ew, Andrew! What are you eating? That looks gross!” Grace couldn’t believe that her brother was downing a giant pile of fried rice for his first meal in China. Shouldn’t they be having, like, Peking duck or something?

Andrew squeezed her tighter. “It’s kind of gross, but I’ve been eating donuts and beer for the past few days, so it’s actually delicious.” When they finally let go of each other, he couldn’t hold the anxiety down any longer, trying to sound casual as he asked, “So, guys, are we worried?”

Saina pulled back. It had been almost a year since she’d seen both of her siblings at the same time. They looked back at her, anxious, and she remembered the mom feeling that she hated and missed. “About Dad?”

They nodded.

“Yes and no? I’m not sure, you guys really know as much as I do. I only talked to him for a minute before some nurse came in.”

“Do you think Dad really got into a fight?” said Grace. “I can’t even picture him jogging.”

Andrew thought that was kind of unfair. “He plays tennis.”

“Yeah, but tennis is more like a country-club activity. He plays tennis and goes on people’s boats. That’s not exercise.”

Saina laughed. “I don’t think it was a boxing match! He said he was okay, though, but he seemed to want us to come, so who knows.” And then, as much as she had been trying not to think about Leo at all, he came back to her mind. Had he called? She reached into her bag. “I forgot to turn my phone back on. Maybe Dad called.”

Grace was surprised. “You got international calling?”

“It’s still on my phone from when I was in Berlin.”

“Isn’t that expensive?”

The truth was, she didn’t really know. It could have been, but all those bills were deducted automatically from her checking account—phone, Internet, cable, car insurance, house insurance, water, gas, electricity, garbage, membership to the gym that had no branches outside of Manhattan, the CSA that she had only picked up twice, and, embarrassingly, phone, Internet, and cable for her long-sold apartment. She’d tried to cancel them, but the customer service person seemed much more determined to keep her than she was to leave. “Well, we still have to be able to communicate somehow, right?” she replied, guilt making her voice sharp. Frugality was a new thing, and none of them knew quite how to handle it.

“It’s just kind of weird that you’re still acting like we’re rich,” said Grace, angrily.

“He-ey,” Andrew broke in. “So, uh, did I pick the right baggage claim?”

His sisters were silent for a moment, and then Saina relaxed against Andrew. “You’re still the sweetest.”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant, of course, and knew that his sisters would be looking at each other now, smiling. He checked. They were.

“Don’t worry,” said Grace. “We still love each other.”

“Wait! Here’s the real question: Where’s Barbra?”

“Her passport was expired.”

“No!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, poor Babs. So what’s she doing now? Is she all alone in your house, Saina?”

Yes, Barbra was alone in her house, with the keys to her rickety Saab and her friend Graham’s phone number in case she needed anything. It had been strange leaving someone else in the house that she’d spent the last few months hiding in and obsessing over. When they were saying goodbye, a thought had struck her.

She’d asked Barbra, “Isn’t it weird?”

“Zen yang?”

“That you’re here. I mean, when you were growing up in Taiwan, would you ever have thought that you’d end up spending time alone in a farmhouse in upstate New York? When I bought the place, they told me it was built in 1902. I bet that first farmer would never have expected that some Asian lady would end up in his house.”

Barbra had looked at her for a moment, confused. “But you are also some Asian lady.”

Oh god, she remembered thinking. How could I be so obtuse? “You’re right. I guess it felt . . . different? But you’re right. That’s dumb. It’s the same thing.”

Unexpectedly, Barbra had laughed. “Who knows where we end up in a life? Could be anywhere. Even some farmhouse. Some Asian lady.”