“Thank you for calling Chan’s Chinese Café. What would you like to order?”
—
The following Saturday, I’m counting down the minutes until we close after a hellish day of wrong orders, customers refusing to wear masks, and even a small kitchen fire. That’s not counting the number of times food delivery app drivers mistook me for a middle schooler and asked to speak to my parents. The only thing that kept me from quitting was watching the hilarious TikToks Pri kept sending me. She keeps trying to convince me to do one with her, but just the thought of someone at school seeing it gives me hives.
Even the sight of Evan walking through the door half an hour before nine does little to brighten my mood. Dressed simply in a sky blue T-shirt emblazoned with our school mascot and a pair of shorts, the lower half of his face covered by another blue mask, he still manages to look like he stepped off a magazine shoot. He follows the makeshift path we created by stacking chairs atop tables and comes to a stop in front of me. I tilt my head up to meet his gaze.
“Hi,” I say, smiling shyly. “Picking up another order?”
He grins. Or at least, his eyes do, forming twin crescents as he nods.
“And it’s under Evan this time.”
I quickly pull up the information on the computer, grateful my hand is steady despite the mad drumming of my heart.
“Just egg drop soup and broccoli beef with brown rice?”
“Yup. My parents are at the hospital, so it’s just me tonight.”
I turn to him, eyes wide. “Oh my god! Are they okay? How are you doing?”
He doesn’t respond for a full second. Then he bursts out laughing, waving his hands in front of him.
“No, no, I’m sorry! I should’ve explained better. My parents work at the hospital. They’re both doctors at St. Mark’s.”
“Oh! That’s good!” I swallow a groan. “I mean, it’s not good that they’re working at the hospital. Good that they’re not sick.”
“I know what you meant,” he assures me. “And I’m glad they’re not sick too. But they started working a lot more this week, so I haven’t seen them in a few days.”
The light dims slightly in his eyes, and I suddenly feel very lucky to have Mom and Dad in the next room.
“You must miss them.”
He shrugs. “I mean, I’m kind of used to it since they’ve always been busy. But this is different, you know?”
There’s a mixture of worry and sadness in his voice. I resist the urge to reach across the counter, and ball my fists at my sides instead.
“What kind of doctors are they?”
“My dad is an ER doctor, and my mom’s a pediatrician.”
“Have they seen a lot of COVID cases?”
“Yeah, and it’s really bad. They say the public has no idea how serious things are. Mom came home crying yesterday after one of the kids she took care of didn’t make it.”
My heart clenches. “Oh, wow. That sounds so tough.”
Silence falls between us. Unsure of what to say next, I gesture toward the kitchen.
“I’ll go check and see if your food’s ready.”
“I’ll be here.”
I push my way through the swinging metal door and step into the kitchen. Dad’s standing at the stove, one hand gripped tightly around the handle of the wok he’s working while ladling a small amount of chicken stock over the meat and vegetables cooking within. Nearby, Mom’s busy transferring the orders that are ready into the black plastic to-go containers she’s placed in a line to speed things up. I pick my way past the center island to peek over her shoulder.
“What are you looking for, Michelle?” Mom asks without turning.
“Um, broccoli beef with brown rice.”
She tosses her head toward Dad. “I think that’s what he’s got in the wok right now.”
“Do you want me to get the soup ready for the order?” I volunteer.
I take her grunt as an affirmative and move to the large black pots we keep the soups warm in. I carefully scoop in a portion of the egg drop soup and seal the plastic lid, bringing it to the window that separates the kitchen from the dining room. Evan waves at me from the other side, and a giggle escapes my lips.
“What are you laughing about?”
I turn to Mom. “Nothing. I just…thought of a joke.”
She frowns, but I rush out of the kitchen before she has a chance to ask any questions. I circle around and grab the egg drop soup off the sill, placing it on the counter before adding napkins and a condiment. As I reach for the utensils, I pause.
“Um…do you want me to include a fork and knife too?”
His brows furrow, and somehow, I know he’s pouting under that mask. Of course, it could also be the countless number of hours I spent pretending I wasn’t studying every inch of his face during class.
“I know I was a disaster during chem lab, Michelle, but I promise I know how to use chopsticks responsibly.”
He sounds so offended that I immediately regret my words.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply…”
I freeze as he burst into laughter. “I’m just playing with you. Chopsticks are fine.”
At a loss for words, I finish adding the rest of the items to his bag just as the bell we use to signal the food is ready goes off behind me. I turn and find Mom eyeing Evan, her expression a cross between curiosity and suspicion. As I reach up to grab the broccoli beef off the counter, she puts a hand over mine.
“Who’s that?”
I force myself to hold her gaze. “Just a classmate from school.”
“Why is he here?”
I point at the container between us with my chin.
“He’s picking up a to-go order. That’s his food.”
She immediately relaxes. “Oh. Well, make sure you pack it well.”
Mom leans to the side and smiles politely at him. “Thank you for ordering. We appreciate your business.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he answers. “My parents love
