Voicemail from Chloe’s mother

December 22

Eh, Jing-Jing. Wéi? [long sigh] Why didn’t you call me back before you got on the plane? You haven’t boarded yet. Why aren’t you picking up now?

I guess I can understand why you couldn’t uninvite Andrew. But… don’t put all your duck eggs in one place, okay? At least see Hongbo this break. Keep thinking about the proposal. Who wouldn’t want to wear that huge ring? Did you know it’s twenty-four-karat gold? The Kuos know what’s best! Andrew hasn’t even proposed yet. Don’t lose a sure thing for a maybe.

Think about it, okay? For me, your poor mǎmá who is constantly worrying about you so much her blood pressure is high. Don’t send me to the grave early!

CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR

Drew CHAPTER 25 CHRISTMAS COOKIES

December 23

I was outside, sort of behind a tree, waiting for the Uber with Jing-Jing in it to pick me up. It was routine, but my hands were clammy.

I fidgeted with my UChicago scarf (the only emblem I was sporting today) and cringed, remembering that this was the very dagger that had killed my dinner date two nights ago. Okay, that was dramatic, and obviously my actual date the human didn’t die, but the abstract idea of that date had met a fiery end.

After a dinner of pad see ew, yellow curry, and crab Rangoon, she had asked to come over so I could draw a caricature of her (twenty-five miles away, my mother was having herself a good laugh). Caricatures I had no problem showing others, so I said fine (meanwhile thinking, As long as she doesn’t ask to see any of my real work, which was hidden away in boxes). But I didn’t have to worry about any of that because, not one minute after she entered my room, she noticed my UChicago scarf on the floor, then the Harvard sweatshirt peeking out of my closet, and she’d marched right up to the closet door and flung it open to see STANFORD, MIT, BERKELEY, UCLA on the sleeves of hung-up shirts.

“What the fuck?” she had asked, but I’d said nothing. Just stood back and watched as she pawed through, pausing on each one just long enough to verify that it was, indeed, yep, another school.

I’d tried to lie about having family ties to all those colleges, but given that those clothes made up the majority of my closet (the company paid for them, okay?), she fled. I yelled sorry after her, then felt weird about the rush of relief that came over me.