Lunar Love (61)

Pó Po’s words linger in the air.

“I can’t remember the last time I let myself do that,” I concede, remembering what I told Bennett at the drive-in.

Pó Po grabs for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Then maybe now is a good time to start.”

“Bennett said something to me about how I’ll miss out on good people if I believe compatibility is the one and only way to love,” I recall.

“The man has a point,” she says resolutely.

“Why do you sound like you’re trying to convince me of something?” I ask. “Are you telling me that you are not only supporting an incompatible relationship, but are actively encouraging it? There’s no way.”

Pó Po taps my hand and then lets it go.

Not finished with my thought, I grasp for examples. “What about with Uncle Rupert? When he married Aunt Vivienne, weren’t you mad?”

“At the time, it was a surprise,” she explains. “It was always in one ear, out the other with that boy. But he loves her. What could I do?”

I stare at Pó Po in disbelief. “What could you do? What you’ve done to every other client who came in wanting to test out incompatibility. Tell them no and find them someone compatible.”

Her face remains neutral. It’s as though the roles are reversed.

“I don’t understand,” I add. “You and Gōng Gong were compatible, you started a business around compatibility, Mom and Dad are compatible, all your matches have been compatible. Well, mostly. Your entire life and career are built on compatibility.” I grab two plates from the cupboard.

“You don’t have to be compatible with someone in order to love them, Olivia. There is such a thing as attraction that not even a chart or algorithm can explain. It’s an indescribable science.” Pó Po gives me a small smile. “I’ll say this. Everyone is different and may have varying viewpoints of the Chinese zodiac, whether they use it as something bigger to believe in, a guide for compatible partnership, or to better understand themselves. Take the moon, for instance. Farmers rely on the moon in times of harvest, sea creatures synchronize their biological clocks with the moon’s light and phases, and sometimes the moon is used as a mystical backdrop for spooky nighttime campfire stories.”

“The moon represents something different for everyone,” I agree. “It has more of an impact than we give it credit for.”

“True. When’s the last time you heard someone ask, ‘Wow! Did you see the sun today?’ It’s always ‘Wow! Did you see the moon last night?’ For good reason, too,” Pó Po says. She peeks through the pot lid to check on our dinner. “Speaking of, keep an eye out for the moon next weekend. It’s a rare blue moon. Two full moons in one month!”

“The sun is only pretty when it’s rising or setting, but the moon is always beautiful. It’s bold, bright, mysterious, elusive. We only see it in glimpses, catching it here and there from lucky angles.”

“Ah, you are my granddaughter,” Pó Po says, nodding. “Remember, Liv, our greatest qualities can also be our most inhibiting. You are similar to me in that way. Our stubbornness prevails.”

“Being persistent is one of the traits I’m most proud of,” I declare.

Pó Po uses chopsticks to move the cooked dumplings from the pan to our plates. “My stubbornness has served me well over the years. When I was buying the building Lunar Love is in now, the previous owner wanted to sell it to me for double what it was worth. He thought I didn’t know better. I made him my offer, then in my broken English I told him to take it or leave it. Two days later, he called and accepted.”

“You knew your worth,” I say, scooping mounds of rice next to the dumplings.

Pó Po sighs. “I knew how to bluff. I had a week to get the money together. I had lied and told the owner I had the money ready to go, but that money was beyond my wildest dreams. Luckily, I made some kind friends like Mae and Dale who helped keep my head above water. Anything and everything helped. Don’t misunderstand, being stubborn has helped get me where I am. I was determined to improve my English, put my children through college, and make a new life after Gōng Gong passed.” Pó Po quickly inhales. “But perhaps I’ve been too stubborn in some cases.”

“You didn’t want Lunar Love to fail,” I say.

“And neither do you.” Pó Po rests her hand on my forearm. “But don’t let your stubbornness get in your own way.”

It takes a few seconds to process what I’m hearing.

“The last thing I want to do is disappoint you,” I say.

“What would be disappointing is if you don’t take a chance to try to make Lunar Love your own. If you don’t put yourself out there, even when it means humiliating yourself. Don’t get in the way of your own future,” Pó Po instructs. “Now let’s eat! Our food is getting cold.”

We settle onto the couch in the living room and hit Play on the movie. In a toast, we tap our dumplings together with our chopsticks.

I’m finishing up my third dumpling when a message from Bennett lights up my phone screen. Pó Po is enthralled with the movie, hardly noticing that I’m using technology in the Movie-Screen-Only Zone.

I had a great time with you yesterday, he writes.