Chapter 48
48
Melissa was talking but through a fog of some kind. The sensation was one of tripping over a phantom step on a flight of stairs. I had a moment where I felt like the universe was tilting before the world righted itself on its axis. When the swoon had passed, I began to pack.
What had happened was my mother had had a heart attack in the wee hours of the morning. She’d been traveling back with a friend from Beijing; she’d landed in KLIA and taken a taxi when she started having bad cramps in her chest. It was lucky the taxi driver had recognized the symptoms and had brought her to the emergency room, or—
I shuddered.
The hospital had tried to call me, Melissa said, but couldn’t reach me. So they had called her, the other emergency contact. It was the only good thing to come out of this, that my sister had been the one to be with my mother just before they had wheeled her into the operating room.
I told her I’d be there on the next flight out tomorrow morning, since it was already close to midnight Omahaian time, but that it would be difficult to know exactly what time I would land. Sometime Saturday night. After I had taken a Valium and waited for myself to calm down, I called Eric, who was in Hong Kong for a couple of board meetings, and he immediately offered to fly over.
“Thank you for offering,” I said, touched. The grand opening of his new Lana hotel in Phu Quoc, Vietnam, his first eco-hotel in the region, was on Monday; I knew how important it was for
him to open that hotel in person, since his family had fled China through Vietnam. “But don’t change your plans; it’s really not necessary.”
“Of course it is. I’m coming over. You need support.”
“No, it’s really OK,” I insisted. “She’s stable for now. Please, stay, open the Dulit Lana Phu Quoc.”
“You sure? I mean, it’s fine. My deputy is here.”
I laughed nervously. “Well, it’s just . . . I haven’t told her anything about your proposal.”
“I see.” I could hear the wry grin in his voice as he said, “Don’t you think it’ll make her recover faster if she hears your good news?”
“I think so,” I said cautiously. “But my mother is unpredictable at best.”
“I’ll fly over after the opening. I know how to charm mothers,” he said.
Says the man who’s never been married.
—
After the call I got dressed in sweats and knocked on the door of Langford-Bauer’s room, since I would need to leave earlier than expected, before the due diligence was completed. I prayed that he would be dressed so I wouldn’t have to see his legs.
He was, in pajamas and a robe. I thanked God. It’s hard to hate men with stick-thin, hairless legs.
Langford-Bauer was less than understanding. “What do you mean, you have a family emergency?” he said, having grown up never experiencing familial love. “Is anyone at death’s door?”
“Actually,” I said, squaring my shoulders, glad to be able to rub his face in my truth, “someone is at death’s door. My mother . . . had a heart attack.”
Langford-Bauer’s face was a picture. “Oh my, this is unex— What I mean is . . . I’m, ah, dreadfully sorry,” he stammered. “I
didn’t know, I mean . . . I’m so sorry, really.” If he had pearls he’d be clutching them now, the bastard. “Are you two, ah, close?”
“How can you even ask me a question like that, at a time like this?” I said, disgusted. “So if I said no, that would make it OK?”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant at all!” He blanched and actually started backing away from me. “You should, ah, definitely take some time off. Leave. Go. I’ll take it from here.”
“I will,” I said. “And you’ll just have to deal with the slack. You haven’t had to deal with much of the slack so far because I’ve been an awesome, valuable team player.” And then, fiercely: “And I’m an awesome, awesome woman.”
“You certainly are.” He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “You have been, of course, since the beginning. A strong . . . intelligent . . . team player, in spite, I mean, regardless of your, ah, gender.” The way he was saying this you’d think I had just made him admit to the possession of a micropenis. “I, ah, I’ve always . . . admired your, ah, strong work ethic.” I could see his eyes were crossing, so I let him off by waving his feeble compliments away.
“See that you do not text me during the next few days,” I warned him. “Unless the sky is falling, and you’re flat out of sky-umbrellas.”
“Right,” he said humbly.
I strode off to my room, booked the earliest flights back, and slept.
Friday 7 October
Early in the morning, I called to see how my mother was. Melissa assured me that she was stable, which was a huge weight off my shoulders, since I was so far away.
When Eric called to coordinate our schedules, I told him about the connecting flights I had to take.
“It’s so complicated. You need to switch off and just relax in this difficult time. Why don’t you let me fly you back?” he said.
“With what private jet?” I replied, halfheartedly teasing. “You told me you were too ‘real’ of a billionaire to have one.”
He chuckled, sounding uncomfortable. “I do have a friend or two with idle jets who owe me favors. So, if you want . . .”
I rolled my eyes. “No, thank you, I’ll take commercial. It’s going to be tough, but I’ll survive, even if I can only afford, horror of horrors, premium economy.”
I could almost hear him flinch, even long distance. “When would you land?”
“In twenty-three hours. It’s fine.”
“I could get you back in almost half that time,” he said.
Under the circumstances, it would not have been unreasonable to acquiesce. But his tone rubbed me the wrong way, for some reason. “She’s stable, so I think we can afford to not take the private jet.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, sounding, to my ears, just a tad frosty.
I texted Linda to update her about the situation. And then I called the one person I knew would be able to sort everything out for me at work: Suresh. When I told him about my mother, he immediately assured me that he would handle it, since he was working from Singapore this week.
And this time, I trusted him whole-heartedly.
“Just send me your flight details and I’ll sort everything out in the office.”
“Thanks, Suresh, I—I really appreciate you.” I swallowed hard. “Also for the honorable thing you did for me . . . with Sungguh.”
A pause. “It’s nothing, really. Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked. His voice was soft, reassuring. “Name it.”
I had a crazy urge to ask him to meet me in Kuala Lumpur—it was almost a physical craving. “No, thank you, just handle work and I’ll be fine.”
Work. It might seem insane to an outsider that I cared about work at a time like this, but they didn’t get it. I’d been hardwired for too long to just throw everything aside even when my personal life was in chaos. Work had always been there for me, no matter how bad things were. Work was family, a drug. Work was life.
Saturday 8 October
Almost a whole day of traveling later, I landed in Kuala Lumpur, jet lagged and disoriented, and almost wishing I’d given in to Eric’s private jet offer. Almost. I headed straight to the government hospital where my mother was recovering. The last thing I expected to see was Suresh and Linda, both standing awkwardly in the waiting lounge.
“Surprise!” Linda said. She threw her arms around me.
“You guys! You’re both here!” I wheezed through a mouthful of Linda’s hair.
“I think we got here on the same flight,” Suresh said with a grin. “And we’ve had time to introduce ourselves and gossip about you, don’t worry.”
“Did you think I’d let you go through this alone, you dingbat?” Linda said, sniffling.
“No,” I said, gratified. My eyes met Suresh’s.
Thank you for being here
, I mouthed.
You’re welcome
, he mouthed back.
Melissa met us in the cafeteria, a coffee in her hand. If she was surprised to see Linda and Suresh, especially if she might have expected Eric in the latter’s place, then she was too distraught to show it. Kamarul, her fiancé, had not stayed with Melissa after dropping her off at the hospital in order not to trigger my mother.
We took the elevator to the third floor, where my mother was resting in the coronary care unit of the ICU and under sedation. She had come through the emergency bypass surgery fine, but the attending cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. Ng, a harried-looking woman in a severe bun who had seen far too many operating rooms and not enough sunlight, said that while the surgery had gone well, she was not yet out of the woods and they would have to monitor her for a few days. Going forward, we would have to take extra care to not upset her, and monitor her lifestyle and diet to manage her preexisting high blood pressure. “Don’t stress her out,” she admonished, like the heart attack had been our fault.
Don’t stress her out? She was the person who stressed her children out, I almost shook my fist and shouted at her retreating back. Instead, I whispered this as the doctor strode off. Years of conditioning by Asian society had drilled into me a Buddhist reverence for medical authority.
“It’s my fault,” Melissa said, breathing hard. “I sent her an invite last week to our engagement party.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “And let’s not forget the real culprit: her diet of instant noodles, crackers, lard, and full-fat everything.”
“Yeah, Auntie Jenny eats like she’s a teenager,” Linda chimed in. “Plus, Kamarul seems like the kind of guy any mother would have loved to have dating her daughter.”
Suresh had been keeping a respectful distance in the waiting area so that we could have some family time. I motioned him over. “Suresh’s one of the good guys I work with,” I said, as he approached. “He’s been a real rock.”
Melissa eyed him shrewdly. “Where’s Eric?” she asked in a low voice.
“In Hong Kong—or maybe Vietnam by now. He sends his regards,” I said, offhandedly.
I introduced Suresh to Melissa.
“Any news?” Suresh asked, his brows furrowed.
I updated him, uncomfortably aware of how both Melissa and Linda were communicating furiously without speaking behind his back. There was a lot of lascivious winking on Linda’s part.
“It’s good that we got here in time,” Suresh said, looking relieved that my mother was doing fine.
“Not too bored hanging out with us Tangs, Suresh?” Melissa teased, fluttering her tear-gunked eyelashes. Ah, the good ol’ Suresh Effect. I rolled my eyes. Also, annoyingly enough Melissa always acted like she was the elder sister instead of me. I mean, just because she was in a functional relationship with a man and had money. But guess who was still on speaking terms with old Mumsie? That’s right:
me.
A wave of exhaustion hit me in the gut and I had to grab onto the back of a chair to steady myself.
“Whoa,” Suresh said, grabbing me, “you OK?”
“I just need to rest. I think all the travel is starting to catch up with me,” I said.
“Let’s go find a hotel,” Linda said. “The doctor did say she won’t be able to receive visitors tonight, anyway.”
“Don’t be stupid, you guys can stay at our place. We have two spare rooms,” Melissa exclaimed. She waved away our (admittedly feeble) protests. “You girls can share a room, and Suresh can take one. Or, you know.” Now she was making weird facial expressions behind Suresh’s back at me. I gave her the middle finger.
“Whoa, is that how you Tangs thank each other?” Suresh said.
“We have our ways,” I said airily. Such as emotional blackmail, but still.
—
Melissa and Kamarul’s home was a splendidly renovated, sleek and spartan three-bedder condo in Mont Kiara. It was the first time I was visiting their home since they had moved in together a few months ago. Kamarul showed us around while Melissa made us
hot chocolate laced with a heavy dose of Amarula “to help with the nerves.” Then the three of us girls hung out in the living room for an impromptu family reunion, catching up and trading Tang family gossip, Kamarul having shepherded Suresh to his man cave to play Counter-Strike. We finished chatting around 1:30 a.m., exhausted but feeling much more cheerful.
When everyone had gone to bed (Linda was snoring on the two-seater couch in the living room, passed out drunk), I hung out in the living room, drinking decaf coffee and scrolling through my Instagram. I was too hyped up to sleep.
I kept thinking,
What if?
What if the heart attack had been more severe? What if it had debilitated or killed my mother? Despite how aggravating she could be, she was still my mother. I owed her, and my dad, everything I had in life. And I love her. I have to: she’s my mother. She’s sacrificed so much for me. If my mother wanted me to get married and have kids, and I could do that for her, why shouldn’t I? It’s not as though I was opposed to children and marriage. I wouldn’t mind both. Actually, I’m not going to lie: I want both.
Eric wants to get married to me. Eric wants kids. Eric is at the right stage of his life. Eric and I were both cruising in the right direction.
After all, there was no such thing as a perfect partner. Even if I envied Melissa and Kamarul’s easy way with each other, who’s to say I would never have that with Eric one day? Why did we always assume that these things were supposed to just “come with the territory”? Didn’t farmers have to, like, till the earth and fertilize it before they could get the soil to yield crops? Maybe my relationship with Eric was like that: a potato farm in the making. But scoff ye not at the humble potato, for were they not the most delicious tuber on God’s green earth? I—
“Am I interrupting?” a voice said in the darkness, making me jump. It was Suresh.
“Not really, I was just stalking celebrities, no biggie,” I said.
He sat down next to me on the couch. I was very aware that he was wearing only a pair of tartan boxer shorts and a thin white T-shirt that left little to the imagination.
Unfortunately, I had a very healthy imagination.
“Thanks for being here,” I said, looking around him so as not to get distracted.
“Anything for you,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Worried, but much better, thanks.” I just noticed how golden brown his eyes were in the warm light. He had such soulful eyes. “Thanks for being here.” I realized I was repeating myself.
“There was no question about me not coming over. I wanted to.”
“You didn’t need to, really. I have Linda.”
We looked at Linda’s prone figure on the couch, where she had passed out after the sixth Amarula hot chocolate. Actually, come to think of it, maybe the last two had just been straight-up mugs of Amarula.
“Does . . . does Anousha know you’re here?”
Suresh shrugged. “Anousha and I had a fight. We’re not speaking to each other.”
“What about?” I asked. I wondered if it had been about me. Maybe it had been. There was, after all, that text that she had sent to me. She must suspect that we’d come close to crossing the line, once or twice.
“About my leaving the firm, actually.”
Of course. What else would it have been about? I was being silly.
“What was her reaction?” I asked.
“She won’t allow it. Her father is livid and—”
My phone buzzed and I started. An unidentified number—who could it be at this hour?
“Andrea, hey.”
It was Eric. I excused myself and raised the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“I just wanted to let you know I’m flying in from Vietnam. I’ve got the first flight out tomorrow morning. Where are you?” he said without preamble.
“At Melissa’s,” I said, a little surprised. “Wait . . . what? What about your hotel opening?”
He made an impatient noise. “Andrea, your mother had a heart attack. I bought a ticket as soon as I heard your message.” He seemed bewildered that I would ask a question. “I am your man, am I not?” He said this without the least ring of irony.
Eric was at his most attractive when he was being authoritative. Suddenly there was no one else I wanted to see more. “Yes, you are. Where are you staying tomorrow?” I asked. I was vaguely aware that Suresh was gone.
“Park Suite at the Mandarin Oriental, where else?”
“I’ll get my things and stay with you.”