Nelson smiled faintly as he poured tea into two small cups: first Mayling’s, then his own. Mayling watched him concentrate his gaze on the cup of tea between his hands, bringing it to his lips at measured intervals and letting loose deep, satisfied sighs after each sip. Mayling started to grow restless. She took out her phone to check her messages, prompting Nelson to finally speak.

“Did you, uh, keep your word?”

“About Mom and Dad?” Mayling nodded. She put the phone back down on the table. “You put me in an awkward position.”

“It would upset them to know I was here.”

“So you said.” Mayling took a sip of tea. Too weak. “This needs to brew longer,” she said. “So. Have you been okay?”

Nelson shrugged. “Life’s pretty simple these days—work, eat, sleep. The only expectations people have of me are ‘don’t be late,’ and ‘don’t break anything, asshole.’ Suits me fine.”

“Emphasis on ‘asshole,’” said Mayling. The words surprised her, and she braced herself for Nelson to fire back an insult or make some kind of dramatic exit. But the comment didn’t even break his smile; rather, it fixed it in place, the look in his eyes hovering between amusement and provocation.

“Well, I guess we agree on something,” he said, sounding almost conciliatory. Then, brightly, “So, Sis, tell me about your life. Then it’s my turn. Deal?”

Mayling felt the wind go out of her sails, though she couldn’t think what it was she’d been readying herself for. She found herself dutifully describing her job as a patent lawyer, employing the same spiel she used at bars and parties, where she’d insist on the general dullness of her work, then throw out a few entertaining examples of wild inventions or dramatic copyright battles.

Nelson asked if she was happy with her life, and Mayling said she couldn’t complain. She had risen quickly at her firm, which, if not the most prestigious, was a respectable stepping stone to other prospects. She’d bought a house earlier that year without help from her parents (many of her peers couldn’t say the same), and she had a circle of close friends whom she saw on a regular basis. She was not yet thirty, and she had all of this. Yes, things were going quite well.

Nelson had been listening closely and with great investment. Finally he said, “Sounds to me like you deserve every good thing that’s happened to you.” He raised his cup. “I always knew you’d do good.” He spoke with a nostalgic sort of pride that Mayling found surprising and a little sad.

“Anyone special in your life?” he asked.

Mayling shook her head.

“No lucky guy or girl?”

“I was seeing someone for a while. But between our crazy work schedules—she was a medical resident—we barely got to see each other. It just got to the point—”