This trip had been more emotional than I’d anticipated—which was saying something, since I had anticipated PMS-level roller coasters. It wasn’t just about my father’s possible-but-definite illness, but everything. Part of me even wished I could have a few more hours with my parents, but I’d picked the earliest flight out to avoid going to church and seeing Hongbo. And because I couldn’t afford to rent Andrew another day.

Andrew shook hands with my father, then hugged my mother.

“Safe travels,” my mom called out, waving her hand up and down so frantically it looked like she was trying to fly with one arm.

“Are you trying to be the golden duck, Mǎmá?” I joked. To my delight, she laughed and flapped harder.

“If I’m a golden duck, I’m twenty-four karats!” she called back.

My chest hurt as I piled into the Uber with Jorge, 4.9 stars.

“Are you okay?” Andrew asked as I stared after my parents, too many thoughts fighting for center stage in my brain.

I ignored him as I continued to stare, worrying about my parents’ health, worrying about what I was supposed to do next, wondering when everything had become so messy.

“Remember when you were young,” I said, still gazing out the window even though my parents were out of view, “and things seemed so easy yet so hard? I wish we’d known then to enjoy it while it lasted.”

“Or maybe things would hurt more now if you’d enjoyed it then,” Andrew said quietly. Then he quickly changed the subject by asking me again if I was okay.

“You’re off the clock,” I replied. “You don’t have to bother.”

I could feel him shaking his head even though I couldn’t see him.

“C’mon, Jing-Jing.”

It’s Chloe, I wanted to tell him, but instead I said, “That’s not even my name, at least not outside my church community. Just like how I’m guessing you aren’t Andrew outside these jobs.” I turned to face him. “I don’t really know how I got here. I feel like I blinked and then—poof—I’m caught in the middle of a ridiculous web of lies I created, and now I’m going to have to spend the next month finding the money to hire you again. I thought this was going to be a one-time thing.”

But my plan was obviously poorly thought out and on fire.

It was silent in the car. Even Jorge the driver seemed to have stopped breathing.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to help, not…” Andrew paused, but I didn’t want to hear what he had to say next.

“Where do you want to be dropped off?” I asked.

“Here’s fine,” he said, voice robotic.