White Ivy(39)

* * *




IVY KNEW NOW why her parents were so chummy toward Kevin Zhao: they were trying to set her up.

This should have been obvious to her from the get-go but it hadn’t been. She’d let her guard down, thinking that Austin’s problems were enough fodder for her parents’ meddling, and that her own life would be spared.

She sat, humiliated, through the free peanuts and spicy pickles, through the twelve dishes Shen had ordered, which the waitress had to push another table to hold, through the dessert course of boiling-hot pumpkin pastries, which, in her rush to end the meal, she’d eaten too quickly and burned the roof of her mouth. The conversation was all but a farce. Nan would ask Kevin a question like: “How often do you call your mother?” To which Kevin would glance at Ivy, then downplay his filiality: “Once a week.” Nan would correct him: “Ping says you call home every day. She says you save up all your money to visit them in China. Ivy only lives a few hours away and never visits us.” Occasionally, Meifeng would chime in comments like: “Ivy’s not a ting hua child like you are.”

The cycle would start again: “Ping says you exercise every day?” “I play basketball sometimes.” “And you swim, too, I heard! Healthy habits… Ivy likes to swim, too, don’t you?… You don’t? Well, you like the outdoors! You go on those camping trips. I think it’s so dirty sleeping outside, but our Ivy’s tough…”

And again: “Kevin, what do you do when you’re not studying?” “I like to travel. I was in Berlin visiting a friend over spring break.” “Berlin! Where’s that?… Germany! Ivy’s never even been to Europe… Ivy, I hope you learn from Kevin. You can’t get through life just from reading books… Kevin, did I tell you Ivy’s a great writer? Her mind is so busy with new ideas… she is very independent, our Ivy…”

It was a bizarre form of matchmaking. Nan couldn’t seem to decide whether she was trying to talk Ivy up to Kevin, or shame Ivy into being a better person. Perhaps love and shame always went hand in hand, even in romance.

Shen finally asked for the check. Kevin went to use the restroom. All five Lins watched him go.

Nan said, “What do you think of Kevin?”

“Mama—no.”

“He’s in medical school—you can be good friends—”

“No.” Ivy looked at Meifeng accusingly. Meifeng picked her teeth with a toothpick.

“How are you going to meet a man surrounded by women teachers all day long?” Nan flared, abandoning her innocent act. “Listen to me. Kevin’s father is a wealthy businessman back in Hangzhou. They’re da fang people. Not stuck-up or stingy like the Shanghainese. I already asked him if he thought you were pretty—”

“When?”

“Your aunt Ping says he doesn’t have a girlfriend. This is your chance.”

“I have a boyfriend,” said Ivy.

“You said his parents were divorced.”

“This is a different boyfriend.”

Nan looked at her suspiciously. “Chinese?”

“American.”

“Then it won’t last. Haven’t you learned by now?”

Ivy slammed her teacup on the table.

Kevin returned to the table. He said he had a few friends in Boston who were going to meet him in front of the restaurant. Nan insisted that they wait with him at the curb until his friends came. Ivy knew her mother wanted to see if these “friends” were female. Ten minutes later, a matte black Acura greeted them at the curb. When Kevin opened the door, a blast of hip-hop music—shake, shake, shake your money maker—reverberated into the quiet night. “Bye, KZ.” Ivy waved. “Happy birthday, Ivy,” Kevin said cheerfully before sliding into the front seat. The Lins blinked in surprise. They’d all but forgotten it was her birthday.

Her family left the next morning. Nan had a dentist appointment—she’d just bought dental insurance—and Shen said he was meeting with someone who would be helping out part-time with the packaging and inventory. Ivy cut him off before he could go into details. She despised hearing anything about the family business. She associated all that with those dark years when they’d first moved to New Jersey. Andrea’s therapist would probably tell her it was PTSD.

During their goodbyes, Ivy gave Austin a stiff hug. “Be cool,” she said. He looked down at his shoes.

“Your brother really wanted to be here for your birthday,” Nan said, something strangled about her tone that made Ivy turn away.

Shen was overly hearty as he patted Austin on the back. “Soon, you’ll be living on your own in some city and we’ll drive up to see you like we do with your sister.”

“I doubt it,” said Austin. They were the first words he’d spoken since the restaurant.

On each of these trips, Ivy told herself she would sit Austin down for a long, private siblings-only chat, but there never seemed to be the right circumstances or opportunity, and after they parted, he never responded to her texts or calls. She was seized with an impulse to give him something, to convey both her affection and inadequateness, so she took off her scarf and wrapped it around his neck. “It’s really expensive,” she said. “Cashmere and silk blend.”

She held the door open for Meifeng as her grandmother hoisted one leg into the car, then another. “My knees haven’t stopped hurting since we got here,” she said.