Frankly in Love (Frankly in Love, #1)(74)

“I’ve been trying not to think about it, to be honest,” says Joy.

“Me and Ella will be at UCLA together,” says John, all bright and clueless. John and Ella’s first choice is nearby UCLA, and no doubt they’ll both get in.

“John,” says Ella, and throws a chastising look.

John opens his mouth to speak, but there’s a weird outcry from the grown-ups’ table nearby. It’s Dad.

“I never taking single loan,” shouts Dad. “Not even dollar, not even penny.”

Joy squeezes my hand and whispers. “Is he drunk?”

“Probably,” I say. I look closer. “Actually, no, he hasn’t touched his beer.”

The whole room falls silent.

“Mr. Li,” says Joy’s dad gently in his excellent English, “you have to understand, my businesses rely on leverage because of high up-front costs. That’s just life in the professional services industry.”

“I’m not be caring what is leverage or whatever,” says Dad, still loud. “Only thing you making is debt. You not making real money. This house not real. Bank owning.”

“What the fuck is going on?” I whisper to Joy.

“I have no idea,” says Joy.

I see Mom grasp Dad’s upper arm. “Daddy, stop it.”

But Dad shakes her off. He aims a finger at Joy’s dad. “Don’t criticizing me. I’m totally pay off my house. No debt, nothing. I’m working hard every day. You say my business not safe, somebody shooting me, I’m stupid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Mr. Li,” says Joy’s dad. “It was a bad joke.”

“?? ?? ??? ???? ???,” says Dad, his voice rising. “Somebody sue you, you go bankrupt. Nobody suing me. I making all the time cash only. Nobody suing me. I am okay.”

I can see Joy’s dad’s face twist darkly. Dad’s just called him a stupid fucker. In front of guests. In his own house.

“?~ ??? ? ?? ??? ??? ?? ? ????” says Joy’s dad. I’m not sure what that means. “No one will sue you because you have nothing to win. No one wants your tiny old house. No one wants your dirty broken car. That car is one month of my mortgage. That’s it, ? ???.”

Both men stand. I can’t catch any of this next part. My head’s spinning too fast to even really hear any of it.

“?? ?? ???? ?? ??? ???” says Dad. “??? ? ???? ??? ????”

“?? ? ???. ? ????. ?? ??? ?? ?????. ??? ??? ?? ????,” says Joy’s dad.

“?? ? ???. ??? ??? ??? ??? ??.”

“?? ??? ????? ?? ??? ?????. ??? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ?? ?? ???? ???. ?? ?? ??? ? ??? ???.”

“?? ??,” says Mom.

“??? ??? ??,” says Joy’s mom.

“?? ?? ?????” says my mom, incredulous.

“?? ?????, ?? ?? ??? ????,” says Joy’s dad. “??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ???? ?????.”

“?? ??? ??? ???”

“? ??? ?? ??. ??? ?? ??. ?? ??. ??? ?? ???!”

“?? ?? ????. ?? ??? ??? ???. ?? ??? ? ???? ??? ???. ?? ????? ? ? ?? ???? ??? ?? ?? ??? ??,” says Dad.

“?? ???? ?? ?? ???? ?????. ? ??? ? ??? ????,” says Joy’s dad.

Something in Dad suddenly hardens and dies.

“?? ??? ??? ??? ?? ??,” says Joy’s dad. “??? ?. ????? ???? ???? ???? ??? ?? ??? ?? ??? ??? ???. ??? ???? ??? ????. ?? ?? ??? ???.”

“Dad?” says Joy.

Joy’s dad ignores her. “??? ???, ?? ??????. ??? ??? ???? ?? ?? ?? ?????? ??? ???. ??? ????? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ??. ? ? ??. ??? ???? ? ??? ??. ??? ?? ?? ? ?? ?? ?????. ?? ??? ????? ? ??.”

Dad breathes in and out.

“We going now,” says Dad.





chapter 27


we are okay




I have two hands on a wheel.

Tilt the wheel counterclockwise, and my body shifts right.

Tilt the wheel clockwise, my body shifts left.

My right foot rests on something that pushes down. When it does, I press back into my seat.

Before me is a black-and-orange-and-gray freeway dotted with pairs of red lights.

I am driving an automobile. A strong flat belt rests snug across my chest and lap. Two bright lamps help me see ahead in the dark.

Must be a new moon tonight, because I can’t find any big white disc in the sky like normal. I drive in the dark and follow the lines before me.

My father, whom I call Dad, sits next to me.

My mother, whom I call Mom, sits in the seat behind him. She slips a new paper to-go cup into a cylindrical hole in the center arm of the front seat. Dad hands it back.

“I’m no drinking nothing,” he says with disgust. “I’m not be intoxicated.”

It’s the first words anyone has said for a few long minutes.

“Dad,” I say.

His voice rises. “I’m very clear mental awareness having now.”

“Dad, what—”

“I’m not accepting no nothing that man’s house,” says Dad. “No food, no drink, nothing.”

“Dad,” I bark. This seems to dislodge Dad out of whatever state he’s in. “What the hell happened back there?”

After Dad said, We going now, he grabbed his jacket, grabbed his wife (whom I call Mom), and grabbed his son (whom I call me). He pointed at our shoes in the foyer: put these on right now.