TWENTY

XIULEI

“Ma, I’m back.” I call as the familiar wooden door creaks open. From the kitchen to my right, I hear some hacking coughs, deep and filled with phlegm.

“Ma? Are you okay?” I ask, rushing to take my shoes off and see her.

“D-don’t worry, I’m fine.” My mother’s small form bustles out, carrying a plate full of food. At first glance, her figure appears skinnier, more frail. I feel the creases in my forehead deepen.

Seeing my concern, my mom shakes her head, making a tsk tsk sound. “Don’t just stand there. Hurry up.” She says, taking the cover off the plate. The smell of hong-shao-rou and steaming rice wafts over, and a grin replaces my worried frown. It’s been too long.

“Wei, you’re staring at the meat already, aren’t you? You’re going to have to wait until dinner to have at it.” My mother scolds. “Go bring in your luggage first and then shower. A flight from California might not be as bad as a flight from Atlanta, but it still means you didn’t shower for over a day. Go.” She shoos me towards the bedrooms with my two cases.

“Alright, alright, yeesh. And you don’t even greet your daughter first, my gosh. You haven’t seen me since Christmas. It’s been half a year and you don’t miss me.” I complain jokingly. I open the door to my room, smiling when I see that all those Junkai posters were still up, remnants of my fangirl phase at seventeen. Dragging my luggage inside, I huff as I stack them in a pile near the closet. Better not unpack too much… only here for a week. I remind myself.

I grab a t-shirt and shorts along with a towel for my shower and then turn around. My eyes widen in surprise when I see the rose from two summers ago, sitting in a glass vase across from me, its shape shrunken and brown. A dried flower… At the sight of it, my heartbeat quickens as I remember.

Luhan’s fingers pushing back my hair, him resting the flower against my ear.

His voice… Smile. You look prettiest that way.

My confession, that white gardenia whose meaning he never understood. My cheeks burn at the thought.

“M-Ma? Why do you still have this?” I ask shakily, trying to stop the barrage of memories while taking the vase out. “I thought you tossed it after I left.”

My mother looks up at my hand while wiping at the dinner table. “What, that?” She pauses, staring at me strangely. “I thought it was weird; where’d you get a pretty flower like that, anyways? It looked too nice to toss so I let it sit in a vase for a while, and then made it into a dry flower. Doesn’t it look beautiful?” She smiles proudly. “I usually keep it in my room, but took it out when I was cleaning and forgot to put it back.”

“O-oh. Well… do you think I can have it in my room while I’m here? I mean… you can have it back after I leave…” I realize how stupid I sound after the words came out.

Mom looks at me, confused. “It’s just a flower, you can even take it if you want. Why would I care about something like that?” She laughs. “Who is it from, anyways?”

I get caught off-guard like a deer in headlights. “It’s from… uhh… an old friend. It was a goodbye gift from him, before I left for college.”

She stops wiping, her eyes narrowed. “‘Him’? It’s from a he??” I facepalm. , I let it slip.

“Er… he’s just a friend, I swear!” I whisper a silent prayer that my face doesn’t turn pink, and then mentally prepare for the barrage of questions sure to follow.

“What’s his name? What major does he study in? Was he a high school friend, or someone you met online?”

Anddd... here they come.

“Ma…” I whine. “He’s not someone significant. His name is Luhan, he’s… he studied music. I met him… um, I met him in high school.” Well… that wasn’t a lie, I did meet him while I was in high school. And he studied music as a trainee? Kinda?

“Music? Is that even a stable career?” My mom scolds. “Don’t you dare think about marrying him.” She says, a serious look pasted on her face.

“What? Marry?? Ma, no, I-I’m not!” I protest, face flushed. Damn, that escalated quickly. “He’s just a friend! F. R. I. E. N. D. Friend!”

Her eyes remain narrowed. “He’d better stay that way.” She threatens. “Now put that flower down and go shower! You stink.”

I shake my head, not sure if I should be cowering in fear of her wrath against professional singers or laughing at her words. Seeing my reaction, my mother raises the washcloth threateningly. “Are you going or not?”

I laugh. “Alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a long shower, my mother finally let me have my go with the dinner while she turns on the TV in the background. Between bites of rice, as I reach for the meat bowl, her chopsticks stop mine midway. I look at her, still chewing. “What?” The word is muffled by the food in my mouth.

“Eat slower, or else you’ll seriously turn into a pig.” She warns, eyebrows raised. I flinch involuntarily at her statement, remembering the biting comments from three years ago, when Luhan’s fans had insulted my weight and my lack of curves. Then I attempt to brush it aside.

“Aiya, Ma, don’t worry so much. I barely have enough to eat in California, they keep us so busy. Look at me, didn’t I lose weight between December and now?” I give her a playful wink, trying to appear like her words didn’t hurt.

Mom rolls her eyes. “Even if you did lose weight, it’d be a waste to gain it all back now. At least tell me about Stanford before you go on eating like a person who hasn’t seen real food in a year.”

I roll my eyes, and start talking between bites of vegetables and rice. “Stanford is Stanford. You know the drill: few breaks, hard classes, tough profs, part-time jobs, studying. The works.”

“But how are you doing recently?”

“Don’t worry, Ma, I’m doing okay. I got an internship relating to corporate law and economics in a decently big company. I got it with Soomyeon, you remember how I told her she was majoring in the same thing at Stanford too? And I’m still maintaining that 4.0 so that I don’t lose the scholarship; everything else I’m paying for through the two part-time jobs at the Japanese hibachi place and a Chinese restaurant.”

“An internship and two jobs on top of undergraduate school? Do you even sleep?” Her face is contorted into a concerned look.

On the library floor, surrounded by homework. I go against telling her the truth, not wanting her to worry.

“Aiya, of course I sleep. How could I not?” I say instead.

“Alright then… then how long are you staying in Fuzhou this time?”

“A week. Then I’m going to Beijing for another week, and then rushing back just in time for summer internship to start.”

My mom nods contemplatively. “How about your next visit? When’s that?”

I stop chewing, swallowing hard. “About that…” I say, looking down at my bowl. “I… don’t think I can come back for a while. Making visits every winter and summer break last year and this year was already a stretch, and third year undergrad is when crunch time starts hitting, where we have to prepare for the LSAT. I… I don’t think I can take another vacation in these next two years, at least until I earn my Bachelor’s in finance.” I eye my mother as she swallows, trying to digest the information.

“So… you’re saying… this is the last time I’m seeing you for two years?” She asks.

I nod, feeling the guilt lodge in my throat. Maybe I should’ve chosen an easier career with a shorter education path; then I’d be able to support her sooner… Regret churns in the pit of my stomach.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make the most of it, then.” My mom smiles sadly. She coughs another one of those hacking coughs into a napkin. Through her fingers, I see specks of red seeping through the paper.

My eyes widen. “M-ma? Are you… bleeding?”

She stands up hurriedly, crumpling the napkin into a ball, not meeting my eye. “No. That was only from my tooth, the one I had removed the other day.” She says, tossing the paper into the trash can. I look from the trash can back to her, still worried.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should call a doctor…”

“No, no.” My mother waves her hands in disagreement. “You keep forgetting that I studied medicine myself; I’m practically a doctor, I know what I'm doing.” She rolls her eyes. “You just eat your food and get your two weeks of rest. Then go back to Stanford and make me proud. I'll be waiting to see that graduation diploma and lawyer certification.” She gives me a wry grin.

Eyebrows still furrowed, I swallow my worry,  knowing that refuting would only make it worse. “Alright.” I resign. “I’ll make you proud. You’ll see.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week in Fuzhou passes like a blur, each day filled with the most sleep I've gotten since winter break, home-cooked meals for the first time in forever, and a schedule not wrapped around the alarm on my phone. But, while the days pass fast, the weekend approaches faster.

Now, at the high-speed rail station, standing before the gates, I hug my mom goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Ma.” I whisper into her hair. She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

“Have a safe trip to Beijing.” She says. “And then make me proud in Stanford. Call me when you have the time, okay? But don't call too much. It costs a lot.” I shake my head; she’d finally picked up the habit of stinginess from my father, after all these years.

“Alright.” I promise, and then head to the gate, not wanting to turn around for fear that she would see the tears in my eyes. Instead, I wave, knowing that she'd be watching my retreating form. Behind me, I hear the hacking cough that she'd tried to hide from me during my stay, reminding me of that little pit of worry still lodged in my stomach.

Bye, Ma. Please… please take care of yourself while I'm gone. I need you to be okay…

I hesitate for a second, my feet uncertain of whether to go back or to go forward. Then, hands shaking, I press my ticket card to the scanner, pushing the metal lock.

Biting my lip, I walk on.