I want to punch the wall, and through the wall, this dipshit, on Hana’s behalf. “I assume you’re the Chinese woman?”
“All Asians are Chinese to Lady Wokeness.” She shuts her eyes and drops the phone on her lap. “She kept interrupting me, too.”
“You’re doing good work,” I encourage her. “Important. You might not see a difference right away, but over time you will.”
“I guess,” she says without enthusiasm. “It sucks to see all the excuses people will give to avoid thinking they should ever have to change. That woman can’t even see how she’s contributing to the problem.”
I reach over and give her shoulder a squeeze. “Take some time to relax,” I say. “You put a lot into your work, but you can’t burn out.”
She offers a tiny smile to the sky. “Too late.”
I get the hint to leave when she closes her eyes. I’m definitely going to be late but can’t bring myself to care as I check through their day once more to make sure it’s perfect, especially now, knowing how beat Hana is. I want to give her at least a few hours to enjoy herself.
My effort is validated when both Hana and Jihoon send me messages that run from happy emojis to photos of where they are throughout the day. First is their private docent-guided tour of the Bata Shoe Museum, with Hana posing in front of a gigantic sneaker, then lunch at a little place with the best caprese salad in town. Each message gives me a satisfaction that I’m not finding in today’s brisk emails and boring meetings. As I check my phone for the thirty-sixth time in the last hour, a notification drops down.
Phoebe:Hey
I slowly tip the phone back on the table and regard it like a tarantula. Phoebe is reaching out to me. Why?
You can figure it out by answering the text, genius.
I don’t want to because I am a vengeful and small-minded human. I don’t need to fully analyze the swirl of feelings in my gut right now because it’s enough for me to know that if I pick up that phone, I lose the upper hand. My refrain for most of my life has been that if Phoebe wants to talk, it’s up to her to make the move, family deserter that she is.
Now she’s calling my bluff.
I look out the window, wishing life could be straightforward. I want my sister, but I want to keep this anger. It’s familiar and protective.
She might not want anything from you. She might be telling you to pick up a pack of hot dogs for Dad.No, the heart attack. Tofu dogs.
Then it sinks in. I could have lost Dad. I didn’t and I was lucky.Now my only sister has sent me a single text that sayshey, and all I can do is angst.
I pick up the phone.What’s up?I text back.
Wanted to know if you were free tonight. Quick drink? I found a cool place near us.
I push away my instant no. It might be good for us to meet even though I’m suspicious about the timing. So little advance warning might mean she got stood up and she’s bottom-feeding for someone to go out with.
I nearly smack myself. Phoebe might not be a great sister, but she’s my sister. I need to have a better attitude.
Sure. I delete it. Too needy.
Fine.Nope, too passive-aggressive.
Sounds good.That’s the Goldilocks of replies, positive but not desperate. I take off the period to avoid pesky punctuation issues and send it.
Phoebe:9pm ok or do you need more time at work?
I eye the phone with suspicion, as this is not the Phoebe I know. That Phoebe would mock me for giving the man my youth and free time. I decide to take it at face value.That works, I reply.
See you then. She texts me the address.
Seventeen
The day drags on, and it’s hard to focus when I’m thinking about my date with Phoebe. The only bright spot is an invitation to meet the team at Hyphen in two weeks. Alex has told me enough to know that they’re a casual group, so that’s something to look forward to. At least Hana and Jihoon are having fun as they have boba at the park under the perfect oak tree.
I’m not jealous. I’mnot. Life’s about trade-offs, and I didn’t choose one where I have lazy weekdays because I want that corner office. The one with the leather and the view, the room filled with expensive furniture and awards.
The one filled with more loneliness and pressure.