Thirty-Nine
It takes me a couple of days to come down from my interview high. The downloads on Eppy keep going up, and even better, people like it. They really like it. I take careful note of the suggestions that come through on the Twitter feed I hastily set up and already have a rough version 2.0 ready. I send the link to Anjali to test.
Anjali: That fast?
Me: Maybe I didn’t sleep.
She answers with a GIF of a disappointed Dolly Parton.
I’m on the couch debating the merits of having a nap when the doorbell rings. Was I expecting a delivery? I can’t remember, but I like packages so I yawn and stumble over to the door to check.
Fangli stands there.
I freeze. I might have sent that text but I’m not ready to talk to her face-to-face. I thought she’d call me. Or text or email back, but that it would be a distance communication that would give me enough time to script out my response or at least think.
“Open the door, Gracie.” She closes one eye to peer through the peephole. “I can hear you.”
It takes me two tries to open the door because my palm is so sweaty.
Then we stare at each other. Fangli looks like, well, she looks like me. Her hair is pulled back in a neat, low ponytail that comes over her shoulder, and a ball cap shades her face, bare except for some gloss on her lips. She looks a bit tired and a lot nervous.
“You got my message,” I say.
She waves to herself as if to say, obviously.
“Sorry.” I move away. “Come in.”
Like Mei did, she takes off her shoes and pads barefoot into my place. Then she smiles. “It’s nice here,” she says. “Homey.”
“Would you like a drink?”
She snorts, a delicate sound as if from a small animal. “I would like to know what information you have about my mother. And why you left me like that. I would like a lot of things, Gracie, so I think we can skip the drink for now.”
“Fair.” I take a deep breath. “Give me a second.”
I go into my room and grab the duplicate photo album. When I get back to the living room, Fangli’s sitting stiffly on the couch, knees pressed together and hands folded in her lap. She looks small and a bit scared, and I feel like an asshole. I must have worried her with that message when I was doing my best to be sensitive.
Nice one, Gracie.
I open the album to the photo of Fangli and Wei Rong. She glances down, then brings the album closer as if to see better. “This looks like my father. With you?”
“No. With you.”
She flips the page as if to check to see if there’s more information about the photo on the other side. “Why do you have a photo of the two of us?”
As gently as I can, I tell her what I learned from Mom. Her escape from China, the secret baby who died, the deserted elder daughter who became a global superstar.
Who looks almost identical to her younger Canadian half sister.
“We’re sisters?” she repeats, hands splayed over the photo.
“It looks like we are.”
Fangli turns the pages until she gets to the one of Mom and Dad. “That’s her?”
“Yes, Agatha Wu Reed. Her Chinese name is Wu Miaoling.”
“She’s not dead? My father said she was dead.”
“Not dead,” I assure her. “Her Alzheimer’s means she drifts in and out so it was hard to get the whole story. I might have misunderstood parts, and we should get a DNA test to confirm it.”
“How sure are you that we’re sisters?”
I don’t hesitate. “Almost one hundred percent.”
Fangli slams the album shut and sets it down with trembling hands. I don’t know what to say or if I should reach out. I know how difficult it was for me to understand and Fangli is coping not only with a new sister but a living mother.
I shift on the edge of my seat, silent for fear of saying the wrong thing when Fangli opens the book again. She analyzes every page, her eyes fixed on the mother who left her. Her hands run up and down the pages and I watch them. I have Dad’s broader hands but Fangli’s are like Mom’s, with long, smooth fingers. She even wears the clear polish Mom always favored.
“Tell me again what she said,” Fangli says, flipping another page.
I go through the story again, right from Mom thinking Sam was her brother. She doesn’t look up from the book but I can tell she’s listening to each word, testing it for truth.
I finish the story as Fangli reaches the last page. Finally she looks up. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
“She left me?” Her voice breaks. Then she repeats it, changes the tone. “She left me.”
“I’m sorry.” This isn’t a trauma I can help with because I imagine it wounds Fangli to her core. I can only sense the edges around my own pain of all the things Mom stole from me when she decided to keep her secret. I also can’t fault Mom for trying to do the best she could, but I won’t blame Fangli if she can’t do the same. She’s just heard what must be one of the most painful rejections a child can know. No matter how much Mom might have loved Fangli, she chose to leave.
Fangli stands and then sits again. “My father kept this from me as well.” Her laugh is more of a bark. “Everyone lied to me.”
“Should I have told you?” Now I’m uncertain I made the right decision.
“Yes.” She’s sure. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I know. I guess I feel…” I hesitate, trying to name the emotion. “Guilty?”
She puts the album down on the coffee table. “Is that drink offer on?”
“Fuck, yes.” She follows me to the kitchen, where I skip the beer and wine and grab a bottle of gin from the cupboard. I pour us two very generous drinks, dump in some ice and soda, and we toss them down like water.
“Guilty.” She says it slowly. “Why?”
I shrug but when I go to pour myself another drink, she puts her hand on the bottle. “Later,” she says. “After we talk.”
She’s right. “I feel bad I had time with Mom that you didn’t.”
When she laughs this time, it sounds more like Fangli. “Not much you could do about that.”
“I’m mad at her, too,” I burst out. “I’m mad and I can’t be because I know she tried and she’s sick and what she did to me is nothing to what she did to you and I don’t understand why no one told me and—”
My big sister steps forward to enfold me in a tight hug. I clutch onto her, feeling her warmth under my hands as she simply lets me be safe in her arms. As we stand there, I feel her shake and she exhales, thin and unsteady.
“It’s okay,” I tell her and feel her nod hard against me. “We’ll be good.”
“Right,” she says, laying her head on my shoulder. “Fine.”
When we untangle, we look at each other. Fangli’s a mess, with a red nose and swollen eyes and creases along her cheek from pressing into the seam of my shirt. I assume I look as bad. This time, she doesn’t stop me from pouring another shot and edges her glass forward when it looks like I’m going to stop pouring.
“You don’t drink,” I remember when she refuses more ice. “I was never allowed to drink wine when I was out as you.”
She takes a sip. “Because it’s too hard to control my words when I drink. No filter. This, however, is a special occasion and a time for honesty if I’ve ever seen one.”
We go back to the living room. Now that we’ve reached the first base camp on Mount Reconciliation, I’m not sure if I need a break or want to power on.
Fangli paces around my space. “I have so much to say and I don’t know where to start.” She sits down and drains her glass before clinking it down on the table. “No. I’m going to say it. Next topic is Sam.”
We’re climbing again.
“Right.” I hold up my hand. “I need to…” Congratulate you on your engagement. I can’t get the words out.
“Did you see the announcement? That we’re getting married?”
“I did. Congratulations.” There, I managed it with a smile.
“A lie,” she says vehemently. “That snake Lu Lili told that story.”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“Sam isn’t in love with me, nor I him. We are friends only.” She narrows her eyes. “You knew that. He made it clear enough.”
I avoid that. “Why would she say that?”
“Sam went home and told her to stay out of his life.” She smiles proudly. “He’s never done that before. Lili is a power and he finally had it out with her.”
“Then where did the announcement come from?”
“Lili tried to force his hand. Sam was furious, as was my father. She overstepped.”
I thump back into the chair. “What are you going to do?”
“Say we broke it off and hope it plays well for Sam’s movie release.” She adjusts her sleeves. “We have to let Lili save some face, but this is enough for her to know her limits. At least there was a gold lining because she’ll never try to do that again. Sam feels free.”
“Do you mean silver lining?”
She laughs. “Gold. Lu Lili would have nothing less than the best.”
To know they’re not engaged buoys me up and I can’t stop grinning, even though it doesn’t mean anything for Sam and me. “About Sam…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
“I’ve never seen him more miserable,” Fangli says. “It’s hard for him to connect with people.”
“Sam?” I raise my eyebrows.
“His mother is a monster, as you know. She kept him on display and he grew up quite the little emperor, petted and spoiled. She sees him as an extension of herself and sometimes he does, too.”
“He told me about her.”
“It’s hard for him to trust that people like him for himself, not for his family or his money. Or his looks.”
I take a deep breath. “I never knew if he was with me or you. Whether he’d prefer to be with you.” That’s hard to say.
“We are friends.” She claps her hands for emphasis. “Long-time friends who love each other, but what I have with Sam isn’t what you have with him. I never saw him so relaxed as with you. You brought out the best of him. It was like being with the old Sam, the one who used to laugh with me and Chen.” Her expression looks wistful.
I run my finger around the edge of my glass. “I screwed it all up.”
“He told me he tried to talk to you.”
“I overheard you speaking and thought it was about me.” I tell her about the translator, and her face is an exact replica of the mixed disbelief and pity Anjali had displayed. “Mei came and apologized.”
“We knew as soon as ZZTV called who the leak was.” Her expression is grim. “I couldn’t see what was in front of me. I didn’t know she had feelings for Sam and what she would do. She wanted him. You were in the way.”
I shake my head. “Unbelievable.”
“I trusted her,” says Fangli, her voice breathy. Then she shakes her head. “She felt terrible after. She said it was like being in a fog. I had to let her go, but we didn’t press charges.”
I’m glad. Mei wasn’t a friend, but I understand the regret of bad decisions. “I didn’t see the story.”
“Mei told them it was a lie. They decided not to run with it because they couldn’t corroborate and we threatened to sue. She said it was the least she could do.”
Poor Mei, even though she could have caused much damage.
Fangli grimaces. “My manager was furious, rightfully so, but once I explained, it was better.”
“That’s good.”
“He hadn’t realized how bad things had become for me. He’s listening now.” She smiles. “Another thing I have to thank you for.”
“Thank me?”
Fangli pauses to look at me carefully. “Do you not know?”
“Know what?” I can see my expression reflected in hers, pursed lips, tilted head.
“Gracie. You changed my life.” She says it so simply, like it’s a fact. “I was exhausted and you brought me rest. Confused and you brought help. Now you bring me a mother I thought was dead? A sister I never knew I had? How can that not change me?”
“We have each other.” When I say the words, it’s a revelation. I thought when Mom died, I would be alone.
I have Fangli.
She smiles as if she knows what I’m thinking and says, “We have each other.”
“We do,” I say. Wow. I mean, wow. “What does this mean?”
This makes her laugh and it’s toned with delighted excitement. “I don’t know. I never had a sister. I think we’ll fight and make up and do sheet masks with each other. I see that happen in American movies.” She comes over and gives me a spine-cracking hug. For a small woman, she’s strong.
“This is a lot for you,” I say.
“I need to talk about this with my therapist.” Fangli sees my look and goes red. “It’s hard to say that.”
“You should be proud you’re helping yourself,” I say gently.
“I can’t talk about it at home, not yet. I can’t help others. I will, one day.”
“First get yourself in order.”
“I’m trying.” She hesitates. “About our mother. Should I visit?”
“She might not recognize you. I know she thinks of you.” I smile. “She always wears a pendant. Your name is engraved on it.”
Fangli squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. “Is she well treated?”
“I hate the home Mom’s in. I want to get her into the Chinese home with private care.” I say it without thinking but realize what I’ve laid on Fangli when it comes out of my mouth. “I mean, it’s good enough,” I hasten to clarify. “She’s safe.”
“Safe isn’t happy. We’ll get her in. I’ll have my manager make some calls and I can pay.”
I’m too grateful to argue. “Thank you.”
“She’s my mother, too, although I have a lot of feelings. I need to process what to do.”
“When you decide, I can bring you to her. If you want. Only if you want.”
“Do you think she wants it?” Her lids flutter to keep back the tears.
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate or explain. I don’t want to pressure Fangli but she needs to know that Mom wants her.
Fangli curls in a ball. “I need to think.”
“I know.”
“It’s too much.” She looks apologetic.
“She’s stable,” I say. “Nothing’s urgent.”
That seems to reassure her because she lifts her chin and then gives me her old small smile. “I should go. I need some time before the show tonight. I’ll see you soon? Promise?”
Her eagerness sets aside any anxiety I had that I’ll be intruding on her life. “Yes, soon.”
“I can’t convince you to be my double for a very boring party tomorrow?” she teases.
“Not a chance in hell.”
She tucks her hands between her knees. “I’m sorry I made you do that when you weren’t comfortable with it. I shouldn’t joke.”
“I did it because I wanted to,” I tell her. “I stopped when I had to. It was my choice.” It was my decision and I know now there’s more power in owning my own decisions than pretending I had no alternative.
“Before I forget.” She sends me a text and I check my phone.
“Did you change your number?”
“No.” She stands up. “It’s Sam’s.”
Sam. I look at the daunting gray text bubble. “Do you think he wants to talk to me? What do I say?”
She’s already in the hall and looks at me over her shoulder in the pose I’ve also mastered. “I think the globally trending creator of the hottest planner on the planet can figure it out.” She winks. “Good luck, Sister.”