Counting by 7s(47)

Dell looks confused.

“Say again?”

I repeat:

“Do you miss Cheddar?”

Dell’s eyes narrow.

“You mean, because Pattie cooks Vietnamese food?”

I don’t respond. He adds:

“What I miss is my meat loaf.”

I’m not going to follow up.



Pattie and Mai return and we’re ready to begin.

Pattie says she’d like to help us, but she’s testing some kind of new nail polish and it wouldn’t be fair to the product to stick her hands in dirt.

I’m surprised when Quang-ha comes downstairs to do the planting.

He picks out a container. (It is cloudy plastic and previously held strawberry-flavored imported Italian gelato.) I must admit that judging by the shape, this is the most intriguing of our Dumpster planters. It is rectangular, but has soft edges.

Quang-ha is confusing because just when I’m certain he has sawdust for brains, he’ll exhibit some real insight. He picked the best-looking container for his seedling.

While he obsessively pulls off the stickers from the sides of the former gelato carton, Mai and Dell and I fill up everything else with the fresh dirt.

When he’s finally ready, I hand Quang-ha the cookie pan, which has the moist seeds, and I say: “Plant three. Equidistant. About an inch down.”

Maybe he doesn’t hear me, because he takes a single seed. I say: “Take three.”

He mutters:

“I only want one.”

I don’t want to be bossing anyone around. Especially him. I say: “It might fail. They are only going to be in these containers for a short time. We are just starting out here.”

He will not be persuaded. I can’t read his expression, so maybe he’s making fun of me as he says: “I’m putting all my hopes and dreams into this one seed. That’s how I want it.”

Dell is now watching. His mouth opens and I think he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. Mai then turns to her brother.

“We’re doing this for Willow. Don’t be a jerk. She wants us to plant three seeds.”

Quang-ha looks from Mai back to me.

“This one is mine. I’m not doing it for her.”

Dell turns to us.

“You two girls do your own thing.”

I get a lump in my throat.

And it’s not because Quang-ha won’t listen, or because Dell doesn’t support my planting methods.

I feel moved because they aren’t treating me like I’ll break into a million pieces.

Maybe that means I’m on my way back to some kind of new normal.





Chapter 43





I can focus again.

If only slightly.

It doesn’t take long for a routine to really fall into place.

We all get in Dell’s car every morning.

We drop off Mai and Quang-ha at the high school and then Dell takes Pattie and me to the salon.

Most days Mai walks over after school and then she and I ride the bus to the Gardens of Glenwood.

Pattie stays later, but is home for dinner.

Mai and I get things started for the evening meal. Pattie can’t just walk across an alley to cook anymore, and a lot of her dishes take time.

This means that we’re in the kitchen in the afternoon, which opens right up onto the living room.

I can’t help but observe Quang-ha, and later Dell when he gets home from work and positions himself next to Quang-ha in front of the TV.

The two somehow understand each other.

Maybe because they are both on the outside of something.

I’m invisible to them, unless it comes to Quang-ha’s homework.

I helped him with a math problem, which is how it started.

I can do his assignments in a few minutes, but I take a lot more time than I need so that he won’t feel bad.

I know that doing his schoolwork is morally wrong, so I try to explain basic concepts before I hand over the material.

I can’t say that he is a good listener.

His only serious activity, besides watching anything on the TV, is doodling.

He draws cartoon-like people with large heads.

Quang-ha has a somewhat large head.

I’m not sure if there is a connection.



Every day Dell asks me when I plan to go back to middle school.

I want to say:

“How does never sound?”

But I don’t.

Instead I usually pretend not to hear or mumble something that has a few indistinct syllables.

Today Dell adds:

“There’s a lot you are missing there.”

I can’t help myself. I say:

“Name one thing.”

Dell looks confused.

But it’s not a trick question. I really want to know.

I can tell that while Quang-ha is changing channels, he’s paying attention. He can’t stand high school. Finally Dell says: “You don’t go to P.E.”

I just stare at him.

Dell’s belly looks like he has a basketball under his shirt. Yes, he’s lost some weight in the last month, but he’s got a long way to go before he’s any kind of athletic specimen.

But it’s as if he’s some kind of mind reader, because he says: “I’m going to start running. Tomorrow is my first day.”