Dating, Imagineering
“Well, my great grandmother’s still alive, and you can see how that would be an issue.”
I looked at him and jotted the words great grandmother in my notebook. He stared at his hands.
“She wants grandchildren to see me get married, so, you know, if that’s okay with you, maybe we could pretend that…” He took a breath and forced the words out. “Maybe we could pretend that it’s something we’re planning on doing.”
I scribbled down the words marriage and children. “That’s no problem at all.” His shoulders relaxed, and picked up his coffee for the first time since we sat down. Another couple entered, and the two of us immediately turned our heads and watched as they and moved to the counter.
“Is that it? I can give you the rest of the money now, if it’s easier.” He said.
“I need to learn a little bit more about you, like where you grew up, what you were like in school, things that we would’ve talked about if we actually had been dating.”
“Right. Do you — is it alright if we — ” He stopped. The couple at the counter laughed and he turned to monitor them. I slowly moved my hand so that it barely touched his, still cupping his drink.
“Holding hands is okay. Shoulders are fine, as well as hugging. No lower back. No kissing under any circumstances. I’ll leave on the spot.”
“That’s totally okay, I wasn’t planning on anything like that. It’s more so that my great grandmother wants to see five generations in one room and I don’t want to spend the new year getting yelled at. Again.”
Venice, Florida. Debate team. Wasn’t too good at it. Chemical engineering. Was good at it. Venice, Florida. Debate team.
The door opened and his mother appeared out of a thick cloud of steam. I handed her the wine and candy that was handed to me just before we knocked on the door.
“Do you need anything? You can hang your coat up there, it’s so lovely to meet you! Let me get you a drink. Are you hungry?”
His mom turned a corner in the apartment. I gave his hand a squeeze and whispered that he was sweating. He used his sleeve.
In the living room, a table was set up on the floor, adorned with plates of raw meat, vegetables, tofu, noodles, and in the center was a large pot. Two of his grandparents were sitting on the couch, a small hill of peanut shells next to them, and his great grandmother was sitting in a loveseat. His father entered, introduced himself, said thank you for the wine, and left.
“Is this your fiancée? She’s skinny!” Her mandarin was high pitched, with the spirit of a small bell ringing through her every time she spoke.
“We’re not engaged yet.”
“When will you be engaged?”
“When the economy isn’t so bad.”
“Kids are born even in times of war, you know.”
I smiled. Every small detail in the room rushed in. Every streak of white in the raw lamb slices, the stillness of the water in the pot, the crack of each new peanut shell, the presenter on TV slowly droning on in the background. I saw the balcony and imagined the cold air against my skin and the hardness of the pavement.
“I was hoping…” Suddenly everyone turned to me and I realized that I had spoken.
“She speaks mandarin? Great!”
His mom entered and brought in a plate of steamed dumplings. “You should eat! Eat now before it gets cold. Really, eat! We’ll start putting ingredients in the hot pot too, let’s start, let’s start.”
“Don’t you mean California?” His mom asked. He stirred in his seat and his neck snapped to look at me.
“I did, I’m so tired. I grew up in Florida so I always mix the two up.”
“You should eat more.” She said, and used her chopsticks to put more fish balls on my plate, more cabbage and udon.
His great grandmother stared at me and smiled. I met her eyes and felt embarrassed for ever feeling sad.
“Could I have a beer?”
“Are you sure?” He looked at me confused. “Wasn’t that…one of your…rules?”
“I would love a beer.” I smiled and took another bite. He nervously opened a bottle and handed it to me. His mom snapped at him and told him to hurry up and hand me a beer, and that if his girlfriend wants a drink he shouldn’t be so uptight about it.
His grandparents and his dad were talking about retirement on the other side of the table.
I used a spoon and put a shrimp on his plate from the hot pot. His mom and great grandmother gave me a look. My eyes darted back and forth from each of their faces.
“I’m allergic to shrimp, remember?”
“Sorry, I forgot.”
We convinced their parents to allow us to bring dishes into the kitchen after the meal. He ran the tap as he put down a stack of bowls.
“Are you okay? What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! I don’t know. It’s almost over, right?”
“There’s a big tiramisu cake.”
“Fuck.”
“I thought you took a bunch of notes about my personal details.”
“I did.”
“Then why’d you give me the shrimp?”
“I don’t know! There is a certain…joy about this situation that I can not explain. It is very distracting. I feel like I’m breathing easier and noticing things like…the pattern on the plates.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sorry. For getting a few things wrong. Let’s just go back in there and eat the ice cream.”
“Tiramisu.”
I stayed quiet over dessert, only answering questions about myself. His great grandmother grabbed my hand when we were sitting next to each other, and I felt the thickness of her skin.
His dad cleaned up the table and I could see the indents left by the legs on the carpet.
The tea had finally gone cold. The conversation slowed and he mentioned that we should get going since he didn’t want to drive too late at night. His mom offered to let us stay in the guest room but he argued that he was an adult, and that he wanted to sleep in his own bed.
We put on our coats and I thanked everyone for the food. His great grandmother waved from the living room and I caught her glance. I felt my shoulders go heavy. I wanted to apologize for everything except the lie.
His mom told us to come back soon.
“Of course Alex, I’d love to visit again.”
I finished tying the laces on my boots.
“Did she just call you ‘Alex?’”
Everyone went quiet. Their smiles slowly drained from their faces.
“I…” I looked at the ground.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been lying to you. I was single and I convinced your son to pretend to be my boyfriend so I could have somewhere to go on New Years. I’m very very sorry.”
I ran as fast as I could, smiling. I turned to face the balcony one last time and remembered how the noodles curved on my plate.
