Counting by 7s(42)

I show him the new channels that I’ve programmed, and he gets angry because he’s been paying for a year for premium services.

He’s pretty worked up about it.

I know for certain that we will now have things to talk about in our weekly counseling sessions, because he’s asked me to review every appliance in the place.



Tonight the new living arrangements take effect.

Mai and I still sleep in the second bedroom. Pattie is now in Dell’s old room. Dell is down the hall at Sadhu Kumar’s.

Quang-ha has officially taken over the living room. He has blankets and a pillow on the couch because he sleeps right in front of the big TV.

And I mean right in front.

This could cause eyestrain.

But he looks so thrilled with everything about this new arrangement that I don’t bring it up.



I wake up in the Semper Fi bunk bed this morning to the realization that I’m going to need to pull my own weight.

At least as much as a twelve-year-old kid can.

My parents didn’t have life insurance, or much in terms of a savings account.

They were responsible and hardworking, but it turns out they didn’t excel in the long-term planning department.

I will start by putting Pattie’s accounting from Happy Polish on a new computer program.

Everyone has made sacrifices for me.

I feel that it’s the least I can do.



Three days have passed.

Maybe it’s some kind of joke, but Quang-ha leaves an avocado pit in the window ledge in the kitchen.

Apparently he loves guacamole.

Mai says when Quang-ha was little he put toothpicks in the sides and tried to grow avocado trees. Quang-ha then gets mad and throws the pit in the garbage can.

I have not thought about cultivation since Before.

It’s too painful.

But when no one is looking, I rescue the avocado pit from the trash. I almost cry just looking at the thing.

Suddenly, I can’t help myself. I start to think about soil composition.

I try to push it out of my mind.

But later, when I glance out the window, my eyes fall on the scrubby trees across the street.

Three different species.

I consider the possibilities of grafting the woody stems from one plant to another.



I’m lying in bed.

Everyone is asleep.

It is late.

Night is always the hardest.

The shadows pull you under.

I hear a dog somewhere outside barking.

I shut my eyes, and instead of darkness, I see rooting hormones.

I have placed what Mai calls “my lucky acorn” on the box next to our bunk beds, which serves as a nightstand.

I open my eyes and stare at it.

The world of plants is a slippery slope.

It’s hard to care just a little.





Chapter 39





It’s the weekend.

I come into the living room. Quang-ha is sprawled out on the sofa, moving from channel to channel as if being paid by the number of programs that he can simultaneously track.

His agitation is some kind of internal struggle.

But it isn’t muscular, it’s mental. I know the difference.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the television, but he says: “Are you looking for something?”

I want to say that yes, I’m looking for anything that could make a world gone flat return to its original shape, but instead I just mumble: “No. I’m getting a glass of water. Dehydration is the cause of ninety percent of daytime fatigue.”



Someone is knocking at the door.

It’s Saturday and Pattie’s at work. Mai is out with friends. Quang-ha and I are both home at the Gardens.

I go open the door and Dell’s standing there. He starts to say something, but nothing comes out.

I know how that feels.

This is all weird for so many reasons.

We live in Dell Duke’s apartment. And he has to knock to even come inside.

Pattie set down some ground rules on Thursday. She is tough. She actually took away his key because he locked himself in the bathroom the second day for over an hour and he should be using Sadhu’s from now on.

But I pull open the door for him, which is welcoming. If we were in the wild, I would part the leaves of the tree and move back on the branch.

He takes a step inside.

Quang-ha shouts over his shoulder:

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

Quang-ha has a real persecution complex, which is no doubt legitimate.

The chubby counselor says:

“I don’t have a television down the hall. I’m missing all of my shows.”

Quang-ha answers:

“You can watch with me as long as you don’t do anything nasty.”

I see Dell’s face soften. I think he likes the word nasty.



I’m invisible now, which is fine with me. Dell moves closer to the big-screen TV, asking: “Do you watch a lot of sports?”

Quang-ha’s response doesn’t seem like a joke:

“Not if I can help it.”

This is the right answer, because Dell seems relieved as he drops down onto the couch.

It’s a real thud and I feel bad for whoever lives underneath us.

I didn’t have siblings and my dad never had friends over to hang out on the couch and talk back to the television set.