I remained silent, shocked at these revelations about my dad. I thought about the sketchbook that I’d found among his belongings. What else had I not known about him? Why hadn’t he shared those dreams with me?
My mom sighed again. “And I was almost a professional ping pong player.”
I stopped and gaped at her. “You were almost a professional ping pong player?”
She nodded and swished her hands around as if she were grasping an invisible paddle, penholder style. “I was number one in my school. But your grandparents convinced me to come to the US with your Ba instead.”
I shook my head, astounded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “We didn’t have a ping pong table. If we did, I would have taught you. And besides,” she said, leveling a look at me, “you never asked.”
“Seriously?” How could my parents not have mentioned these things to me before? These secret dreams of theirs inspired me more than their lectures or praise ever did. They added color and beauty to the simple reality of their lives—rough and plain on the outside, but with a dazzling, kaleidoscopic interior that I wished I’d known about earlier. I smiled, eyes misting, and silently vowed to learn more about my mom and her secret life. And maybe, when it didn’t hurt so much, she could tell me more about my dad’s, too.
My mom continued walking, so I followed, placing my arm around her shoulders again.
“The point is, we came to the US and had to start from scratch. We gave up our dreams so that we could survive, build a life together, and have you. But there’s no reason why you have to give up your dreams. We’re fine now.” She smiled. “You don’t need to watch Asian dramas like we do.”
My tears spilled over, and I pulled her in for a hug. As their only child, I’d thought that their dreams for me were so simple, and so different from my own—that I had to sacrifice something for them to be happy. But really, our dreams were the same, a beautiful jug shimmering just out of reach, waiting for me to make a big, committed move.
I’d given up without even trying. That was the worst kind of climbing mentality.
She briefly patted my back before releasing me and saying, “Speaking of dramas, we should go back so that I can watch my show. It starts in ten minutes.”
I laughed, wiping my tears away. “You don’t have to watch them anymore, either, mom. Maybe you should pick up ping pong again.”
She waved her hand, dismissing the idea. “No way. I like dramas. This one is especially good. It’s about the ghost of a man who possesses his former wife’s dog and saves her from constant danger. The last episode ended with her stuck on a cliff. I want to know what happens.”
I roared with laughter. “Is the dog going to climb up the cliff and save her?”
She patted my hand and walked faster. “Let’s go find out.”
We got back in time and I ended up staying to see what happened.
The dog climbed up a cliff to save his lady love. He even did a slow motion doggie dyno.
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrf.
My mom, aunt, and I were all crying, but I was the only one rolling on the floor.
◆◆◆
Cassie could also tell that there was something a little off with me. She checked in on me frequently and invited me over for dinner sometimes. I usually refused, citing too much work to get through, which was often true. But by the fourth or fifth time, I felt rude refusing any longer, so I gave in and promised to come over on a Tuesday night after work.
“How are you doing, Ian? What’s going on in your life these days?” She popped the cork out of the bottle of wine that I’d brought and poured me a glass, followed by another glass for herself. We walked over to the dining table, where Michael was already sitting with a neat glass of Bulleit.
“I’m okay. Just trying to figure stuff out.” I took a sip of wine and sat down at the table.
“Like what?” she asked. She picked up the salad tongs and began serving each of us some strawberry arugula salad.
I laughed dryly. “Ah, everything. What I want to do with my life. My goals, my dreams…” I paused and gave Cassie a look. “Relationship stuff.”
She nodded knowingly, then glanced at Michael. “You know, Ian,” she said, putting more salad onto my plate, “Michael and I were thinking about doing shrooms this weekend.”
I raised my eyebrows. I’d known that things like acid and shrooms were pretty common in Silicon Valley, but I hadn’t thought that Cassie was a user. She seemed so innocent sometimes. Except when she was drunk, which she currently was not.
Michael also raised his eyebrows. “We were?”
Cassie glared at him. “Yes, we were. Remember?” She placed more salad onto his plate too, though he tried to move his plate away and she had to chase it a little. I smiled at their antics.
“Oh yeah? What’s it like?” I asked, genuinely interested. I’d toyed with the idea of trying psychedelics before, but wasn’t sure how to get my hands on any.
Cassie sat down and steepled her fingers. “Well. Let. Me. Tell. You. They totally blew my mind.” She spread her fingers out from her temples and made a “bwah” sound, demonstrating the blown-ness of her mind.
I laughed. “Uh huh. In what way?”
She went on,
