The Many Daughters of Afong Moy(60)
Her phone lit up with a text message, from Sam.
Hmmm… you didn’t reply to my invite to go walk around Green Lake. I know you’re busy, so if I don’t hear from you, no worries, I understand. Thinking of you, wishing you great love, abundant happiness, and most of all, parental approval.
Greta closed her eyes and grimaced. She was so busy, so angry, so confused. Then she remembered that Sam knew how to fight. Like, really fight.
She replied: I’ll meet you at the Green Lake Library. About six?
She stared at her phone, impatiently waiting for a reply.
Then her phone lit up.
Sam: Perfect
* * *
Greta sat on the steps of the Carnegie Library across from Green Lake Park, watching cyclists, joggers, dog-walkers, and teens who cruised by on longboards when she caught Sam’s eyes as he emerged from a crowd with a beverage in each hand.
“I stopped at the Blank Space Café and grabbed us a couple of bubble teas.” Sam held them up with a boyish grin. “Would you like mango or lychee?”
Greta thanked him and took the lychee tea, which smelled tart and sweet. She took his arm as they crossed the street to the walking path around Green Lake.
“Thank you for wanting to spend time with me again,” Sam said. “For a moment there, I was worried that I’d somehow upset you, that urban picnicking was a little too… brazen, I guess. Or maybe you finally read my file…”
“I threw it away,” Greta confessed as she sipped her tea through a fat straw, chewing on the mochi. “Sorry. That was more of an overreaction to my parents. Not your fault. I guess I’m like you, I’m not into dating apps, even though I helped create one.”
Sam nodded and listened intently.
Greta shared how she took the job at Syren because she needed to pay rent and student loans, not that she had any interest in playing digital Cupid. Though the idea of working in an all-female environment was intriguing. At first, Syren felt like a secret club—Wonder Woman’s Paradise Island—where Amazons led a magical existence far from the affairs of mortal men. But she quickly realized they were all more scholar than warrior—mathematicians, coders, oddballs, and uber-geeks—whose superpowers were the ability to work twenty hours a day and debug software platforms without complaint.
As she talked, she led him past a flower garden overflowing with daffodils and found a nice bed of grass that hadn’t been overrun by ducks. They sat and took in the view, listened to the sounds of the city, cars, buses, birds chirping, a group of grade-school violinists warming up before a lesson near the shore.
They shared a relaxing moment of silence and she realized she felt unusually comfortable in Sam’s company—more than comfortable—she felt like her true self. Far from the money and machinations of Carter Branson, far from the stressful round-the-clock programming obligations of Syren, where she felt responsible for pairing up millions of users. She tried not to think of how many hearts would be broken if her algorithms failed. That’s when she remembered what her mother had shared about Sam.
“I didn’t read your folio,” Greta said as she set her tea down and began pulling at blades of grass. “But my ah-ma did tell me you were married once. I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t mean to bring up the past. I just wanted you to know that I knew, in case that was ever something you wanted to talk about. If so, I’m happy to listen.”
Sam stared out at the lake as happy couples churned by in paddleboats. “That’s very kind, very generous.” He turned to her. “What would you like to know?”
Greta shrugged. “Whatever you feel like sharing.”
Sam looked down at where a wedding band used to be. “We were both teaching English. Both expats, with families back in the states. She was…”
Sam looked away.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He turned back toward her. “It’s okay. I’m glad you did. What isn’t in my file was that she cheated on me two weeks before our wedding.”
Greta stopped drinking her tea mid-sip.
“It was a one-time thing, I guess. An impetuous moment with an old flame. I know I sound like I’m making excuses, probably because she’s been gone for a while now, but at the time I didn’t know. We got married. Everything seemed perfect. Our honeymoon was amazing. Those first few weeks as a married couple were the happiest moments of my entire life.” Sam smiled but his eyes betrayed his sadness. “I never doubted that she cared for me.”
Greta leaned toward him. “But then she got sick.”
Sam nodded. “But then she got sick. It was during a hard week of radiation and chemo that she confessed, told me everything. I think she was feeling guilty, maybe thought that she didn’t deserve someone looking after her. I suppose it was her way of trying to drive me away, so I wouldn’t see her in so much…”
Greta looked in his eyes, which were glossy with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
Sam shrugged. “I was hurt, of course. How could I not be? I was angry. But I realized that I loved her more than all of those other feelings combined. I guess that’s what love is, and when someone is counting the time they have left in weeks instead of years, none of that other stuff seems to matter as much.”
Sam looked at Greta and she took his hand, which was firm, rough, his knuckles calloused. But the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, was gentle, tender.