I remembered my grandmother’s cooking. She practically lived in the kitchen, trying to keep enough food on the table to feed our giant family. I loved the simple things she made, like pan-fried Chinese sausage and eggs with pickled turnips. She always gave me a little extra meat because I was the eldest grandchild, and she’d wanted me to physically be the biggest.
I remembered my mom staying up late one night, her cool hands on the nape of my neck as she held my head up to help me drink her homemade ginseng tea. I’d hated the taste at the time, so she’d added honey to help it go down. The flavor combination was so soothing to me now.
I remembered my dad...and for the first time in a while, the memory was full of joy and laughter, not grief.
I was eight, and my dad was eating his half of a Boston cream donut. He’d given me the other half, and I’d already shoved the whole thing into my mouth.
“Ba, do you know how to make these?” I’d asked him, mouth still full.
Dad chuckled. “No, I don’t know how to make donuts. Your Ayi on your Ma’s side knows how to make something similar, though. ”
“Chinese donuts?” I looked at him, wide-eyed.
“Jiandui.” Sesame balls.
I frowned. “Those aren’t the same at all.” My aunt’s fried sesame balls had red bean paste in them, and they weren’t as sweet.
He chuckled. “They’re still good, though. You should ask your aunt to try to make one for you with cream inside sometime.”
The memory shimmered away as I opened my eyes and smiled. Then I fumbled with my phone again and sent a text to my aunt. I hope I don’t sound obviously high, I thought, closing my eyes again.
I released another contented sigh and slipped back into my memories. Memories of Anna.
The silkiness of her hair between my fingers, the weight of her head on my chest as we lay languid and spent, cuddling in bed after a long bout of love-making.
The sound of her laugh, so loud and full-bodied, honest and pure, whenever I tickled her stomach or told her an especially corny joke.
Her utterly euphoric expression whenever she discovered a new song that she loved, and her boundless excitement when she shared it with me.
Then...the hurt in her eyes when I’d betrayed her trust, and belittled her, the day of our fight. The moment I’d lost her.
That night when she’d told me her story, I tried my best to just shut up and listen, to be sympathetic. But deep down, I couldn’t believe that she’d just throw away her family forever, especially her mom.
And after experiencing the shock and pain of a parent’s death, I’d thought that she didn’t know what it meant to truly cherish someone, to compromise and fight for them. If you really love someone, how could you just give up on them like that?
But looking back…maybe I was the one who’d given up too easily.
I sighed, long and wistfully.
◆◆◆
Later that evening, sober and more clear-headed than I’d ever been, I called my aunt.
“Hi, Ayi,” I said. Ayi meant aunt.
“Ian. What did your text mean? ‘Crem balls = $$$’. I don’t understand.”
I laughed. “Sorry, Ayi. That was a reminder for me. I wanted to ask you to teach me how to make jiandui.”
“Oh, jiandui. Why do you want to learn how to make jiandui all of a sudden?”
“So that I can spend some quality time with my aunt?” I teased, though I did want to get to know her better, too. What were her secret dreams? “But really, I have some ideas for fillings and different flavors. I’d like to try making them with you.”
“Mmm, I can never say no to my nephew. I can teach you. When?”
“Are you free tomorrow? I can come by anytime.”
“Sure. Come here at 10am. Can you pick up the ingredients?” She told me what they were and I jotted them down.
After she hung up, I looked up recipes online, just to get some additional ideas for things to try. I went out and bought some ingredients, then stayed up late trying different variations on the recipes that I’d found.
By the end of the night, I fell into bed exhausted, yet proud and excited. I finally looked forward to what the next day would bring.
◆◆◆
A month later, I told Cassie, “I’m opening a food truck.”
I’d just turned in my two-weeks notice to Stumpstash and Cassie had been the first to know, other than Isaiah. She pulled me into a conference room to discuss the details and started flipping out.
“No way. Seriously? Oh my god.” Cassie held her hands against her forehead, as if I were completely boggling her mind. “What kind of food?”
“Sesame balls. You know the kind you can get at dim sum, with red bean filling? I’m going to have different fillings and toppings and put my own unique spin on them.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow. That sounds SO GOOD. Oh my god. You need to bring some to the office before you quit.”
I chuckled. “I will. I’ll need you guys to help spread the word.”
She squealed in excitement, hopping from foot to foot. “Ah, Ian, I am SO EXCITED FOR YOU!” She paused, then quickly sobered, her voice dropping an octave. “But seriously...I’m going to miss working with you. You always made meetings more entertaining. And I really loved that you got your team to deliver pretty close to on target, most of the time.”
“I feel like that was mostly you, breathing down everyone’s necks.”
We both laughed. Then I got up and hugged her. “Thanks for everything, Cassie.”
Chapter 23
-Anna-
There were three excruciatingly awkward weeks between when Ian and I broke up and when he moved to San Francisco.
We nodded at each other in passing and exchanged pleasantries in the
