Chapter Twenty-Two: Linh

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO LINH

I’ve been thinking about Bảo’s hand a lot, his thumb unthinkingly brushing the top of mine. A moment brimming with potential, but neither of us could say a word about it. Because we know. We both know the risks that we were taking, just sitting next to each other. We barely escaped our mothers back then.

“What do you think, con?”

It’s after dinner; the dishes have been cleared and a pot of freshly brewed Jasmine tea sits between us. Ba and Mẹ push a large binder of fabric toward me. They’re thinking of ordering newer place mats and tablecloths for the restaurant, eager to keep up the momentum from Phở Day. Usually they don’t bring me into business decisions about the restaurant, but I’ve “always been good with colors,” Ba said. One of the only occasions he’d acknowledge my art abilities as an asset, like the ad that I’d done for the restaurant.

I touch one that is the lightest green available, which might soften the harsh lights in our restaurant. We can find a light beige place mat to match it. Add a small vase of flowers, and I can see it happening. “This could work.”

My parents lift it up, assessing it. There’s a glint in my mom’s eyes that I’ve only seen for food. She’s having a vision for the restaurant, just like my dad. Things are going so well. They’re happy. I’m happy too, even though I have a list of things to do. This… thing with Bảo has to be kept safe, confined to what we do in the art room, secreting moments away from everyone’s eyes.

I can’t do anything to upset the balance.

“Good, con,” Ba says in approval. “Good.”

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I got the text from Bảo asking if I could go to the next restaurant. There’s a blank feeling to his message, a straightforward ask, and I wonder if Bảo’s determined to pretend that our hand-holding didn’t happen, too.

I told everything to Ali, about volunteering, our near escape, our held hands. She said it’s like we’re in some romantic comedy or something, but also freely expresses how she thinks we’re both being ridiculous. In fact, she hasn’t shut up about it, even as we’re trying to finish some homework at the restaurant. Ba’s out running errands, specifically finding a saucepan to replace one of ours with a broken handle. I glance at the tables that used to have our worn white tablecloths, which have now been replaced with the pastel green I liked, the beige place mats to follow soon.

“Linh, is that why you missed out on the Malaysian restaurant the other day?” Ali asks, light bulb turning on. She asked this after Bảo handed in his review and she noticed I hadn’t sketched anything. I told her how busy I was, mentioning the Gold Keys, and she understood; now my friend rather than the editor in chief was asking me.

“Yes,” I say finally. “But it would have been so awkward.”

“So what are you going to say to Bảo’s text? No? Then he’ll really think something is up. Don’t avoid this, Linh.” She grabs my hand. “I know you. I know you want to disappear into your paintings.” I try pulling away. “I know you want to keep things inside. Bảo seems to want to explore more with you, but if you don’t want that, you have to tell him.”

I look around to make sure my mom isn’t nearby. She’s in the kitchen. “That’s the problem, Ali. I do want him.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “Then talk it out, at least.”

“But our families—”

“Again, I’m not going to pretend I know everything about your families. But sitting here avoiding him will not help at all.”

She reaches for my phone and places it between us. “Call him. Or text him. But silence isn’t the answer. It’ll make things worse.”

“What will make things worse?” Mẹ comes by with two glasses of iced coffee for us. She glances between me and Ali expectantly, but neither of us answers. Wants to answer.

As always, Ali’s right. Avoiding Bảo isn’t the right way to handle this. And I miss having him in the art room with me.

“If we didn’t get our iced coffees, which we seriously need if we want to stay awake. So much homework,” Ali says, suddenly perky. She takes a loud sip of her drink. “Tastes great, Mrs. Phạm.”