The Stand-In(99)

All those things Anjali said are right. I did do those things. I take care of my mom. I do my best.

As if she knows she’s hit a sore spot, Anjali backs off and we have a final glass of wine and talk about her trip to New York and a new spa we both want to try but don’t want to spend the money on. When we leave, Anjali surprises me again with a hug. “Call if you need me,” she says. “You’re not going to bother me.”

I get on the subway with her words in my ears. I do worry about bothering people. I worry about taking too much space, too much time, too much attention. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s possible to take up the perfect amount.

A Gracie-sized amount.

***

I’m a little hungover the next morning but a glass of water does the trick. I check my Eppy and see I have enough time to doze before I start my day but it’s not a comfortable rest.

Two choices lie in front of me. I can contact Sam and Fangli, apologize, and explain my side of the story and hear theirs. Or I can pretend this entire month never happened. I didn’t meet Fangli and Sam. I didn’t find my sister. I didn’t fall in love.

How can I turn my back on that, even if I risk getting hurt?

I need to think so I jump out of bed, grab my head when I realize the hangover isn’t completely gone, and then throw on my clothes and sunscreen before steeling myself to swim through the heavy summer humidity. I swing open the door and stop dead.

Mei stands there. She looks the same as always, cool and collected, her hair in a perfect center part that doesn’t cowlick to the side at the rear. She’s not even sweating.

“Hi?” I step back, a silent invitation for her to come into the house. She must be here on a mission from Fangli, and I’d prefer to have the conversation in the air-conditioned living room rather than on my steaming steps.

Mei follows me in, leaving her black flats tidily at the door. Her gaze flits from the mess of blankets on the couch, where I’d been nesting yesterday, to the half-empty cans of diet root beer scattered on the floor. My laptop is precariously balanced on the edge of the table.

She sits on the yellow quilted chair, a garage sale find from two years ago, and doesn’t say a damn word.

Now that the sun’s not in my eyes, I can make out a few more details. Her shirt is a bit wrinkled and her eyes look swollen. “Is there a problem?” I ask, anxiety climbing fast at this unusual Mei behavior. “Is it Fangli?”

“I was the one who called ZZTV.” Her shoulders are straight as she delivers this news.

“Huh?”‘ Not the most articulate response but honestly? It’s been a hell of a week for bombshells.

Mei’s dark eyes meet mine. “You heard me.”

I suppose I did. “Fangli knows? Sam?”

She looks down. “Yes.”

“You called ZZTV.” I let the words settle. “Why?” A thin rush of anger starts to trace through my veins. “Why the hell would you do such a thing? Did you hate us so much?” Because Fangli wouldn’t come out of this undamaged. I should kick Mei out of my house but her body folds in on itself before I can act.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is so feather soft it barely reaches me across the room.

I can tell she is, that she’s sorry for something, but I can’t tell if it’s for what she did or because she got caught. “But why?” I repeat.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Wasn’t thinking clearly about what?”

She looks me right in the eye. “I wanted you gone.”

Oh. Not what I expected. I knew she never liked me but this level of sabotage is beyond the pale. “Got your wish, then.” That was sharper than I wanted, and I don’t like the satisfaction I get from making Mei wince.

She doesn’t say anything and again I’m stuck in the role of having to force conversation with this woman. “How did Fangli find out?” And Sam, who tried to tell me in the café but I was too stubborn and sad to listen.

“I told her.”

I have grudging respect for that. “I thought it was Todd.”

She shakes her head. “He went away after Sam sent him a copy of the dossier he had the detective collect on his behavior. Sam also warned him that he would be watching to see if he treated other women poorly.”

Some good news at least. The final bit of tension that had sat under my skin about Todd loosens. I don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s a repulsive little worm but at least he won’t be taking his inadequacies out on other women.

I suddenly see that I’d stood up without noticing and sit down because I need all my energy to process what she’s saying. “I don’t understand why you did this. Why did you want me gone?”

Mei is silent. We never had a close relationship but don’t I deserve a reason why she hated me? I think back over our interactions. I did my best to be good to work with, eventually. I tried to be polite and friendly. Had I overstepped when I asked her for help?

Then I remember the way she shut the door when she gave me the umbrella for my date with Sam. When she saw us holding hands. Even before that, her face, watching Sam as he entered a room. I should have recognized it, because it was so close to how mine must have looked.

Dear God, it wasn’t me at all. She was in love with Sam? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her but I freeze. Despite what she’s done, the question is too intrusive for me to say out loud and it’s too egotistical to ask, Did you try to wreck my life because you thought I was a rival for Sam?