AVERY
found that truth existed in lies when he was young, around the age of seven,
when he told his mother that his little brother broke her favorite vase; it was
hand painted by their great-great grandmother during the times where women were
oppressed by wrapping bandages around their feet. Technically, if Jonny hadn’t
thrown his favorite race car across the room, he wouldn’t have thrown a temper
and chased him around the house, knocking the delicate piece off the piano. And
the best part about the entire situation was that his brother was more ashamed
than he was, and took the blame.
Lies are better than truths. He
believed that the Chinese notion of yin and yang not only pertained to negative
and positive energies, but also with circumstances. Lies can transform into
truths, and truths are laced with undertones of lies. The lies are the yin and
the truth is the yang. They can’t ever escape one another.
He recalled what he couldn’t understand. He couldn’t
understand, so he never had an answer when someone asked him about it. If he
could, it wasn’t important enough to remember, and so he wouldn’t have an
answer for it anyway. And he liked it when people get frustrated when he
pretended he doesn’t know what one plus one was. Basics, he knew. Humans, he didn’t.
Take his mother for instance. He didn’t understand why he
has to run the dishes under water first before he wiped it down with a sponge.
Or why she had to yell at him when she found out that he hadn’t done what she
told him to. Actually, he didn’t understand why they don’t just use the
dishwasher. And when his school psychiatrists asked him why he doesn’t simply
listen and do as his mother told him, he could never answer them.
He understood algebra well enough. And that was why he
could never do well on tests. He didn’t deem anything that is easy to
understand as something worth remembering. After all, if it was that easy to
figure out, what was the point of remembering it? Challenges were fun,
exciting; societal expectations boring, uninteresting, and expected.
And in all cases of parenting, a parent loved their child
unconditionally, regardless of the children’s indiscretion, naughtiness, and
even their ignorance and wickedness. He couldn’t understand and, on some level,
refused to understand, and so he ceased to care.
He spent his middle school days sneaking cigarettes up to
the roof to smoke, high school days smoking cigarettes in his uncle’s old
Camero. He even had the brilliant idea (if he did say so himself) of shitting
on the floor of the teacher’s lounge when they were in some meeting or other.
The hour they spent the next day at their ‘emergency’ assembly on the ‘lack of
respect on the students’ part’ was worth it. When Rattykins ratted on him, he
could only reply, “I don’t know” when they asked him, “Why?”
University days were out of the question. He didn’t know
how he got into the local state college, but when he received the acceptance
letter, he felt obligated to go as there was the belief that he would turn down
the offer. So he accepted, and moved across the state to attend overly
expensive courses in which he had no interest.
It wasn’t until his senior year did he meet a girl. A
quiet, mousy sort of girl who didn’t give him an ounce of her attention. He
found her in his philosophy class, a class about Confencius and Menucius –
whoever they are – and what purposes their different philosophies served. All
he knew was that she talked too goddamn much, and if she didn’t shut up, he was
going to fight her, knowledge for knowledge.
He passed the class with his first A since elementary
school.
They met for coffee several times the following semester,
and he found his first impression of her inaccurate and too prejudiced.
She was now married to his younger brother, who had more of
a direction in his life goals.
The ultimate happiness, and the ultimate goal, of the human
race are to produce offspring to carry on the family genes and name. At least,
his mother thought so. His mother was traditionally Chinese, where the eldest
son was expected to carry the family name into prosperity and fortune, and
bring forth little male bundles of joy. Nothing else would suffice for a
peaceful slumber and journey into the Land of the Dead. She cried all eight
years—high school and most of university—wailing that he disappointed all of
their ancestors and crushed their expectations of him; of how he was the least
filial of all sons in the universe; and would he please, just please,
shape up and honor his family, his roots, by getting a good job, getting married,
and producing a male heir?
This archaic notion
of ‘family’ and this pedestal-placing of boys in the family was irking. But he
never cared. The logic was there. It didn’t really affect him either way,
because he wasn’t ever planning on listening to her. As long as Jonny fulfilled her expectations, his mother wouldn’t really care either way if Avery was
married, offering baby boys to her on a silver plate.
His phone rang, incurring death glares from people around
him in the theater.
“Yeah?”
“Avery, can you please put that away?” his girlfriend
whispered as the actors continued to move around the stage in a ghost-like
daze. “You’re bothering everyone.”
“Hang on; let me get out of this place.” Avery stood and
made his way out of the theater, bumping knees and receiving loud complaints.
When he made his way outside, he leaned against the red-stone building, pulling
his scarf tighter around his neck. “Hey, Kylee, what’s up?”
“I can’t stand her.”
Avery laughed, “Mom’s crazy. Don’t let her get to you.”
“What is wrong with her? I did everything!”
“You know mom. She’s still got that whole boys over girls
thing stuck in her ancient head. You’re in fucking New
England —whatever she says shouldn’t bother you. And you haven’t
kept in touch for months, so how’s college life?” Avery blew at his hands,
rubbing them to keep warm. It was chillier than usual for October. He knew this
conversation was going to take some time. He lit a cigarette. “You comin’ home
for Christmas?”
“Ave, you know I can’t stand being home.”
“It’s the holiday season, kiddo.” Avery felt his phone buzz
and rejected the call. “At least come home to see your dear ol’ bro.”
“Funny.” He could hear chattering in the background. “I
love you, Ave, but I don’t love you that much.”
Avery laughed again, “All right, fair enough. How’s
college? Are you learning things or have you written papers about what you’ve
learned and then forgot it all?”
“I’m not you,” she huffed after a bit of silence. “But I’m
learning a lot.”
“Yeah?” Avery stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What are
you learning?”
“Just the basics now.”
“What’s your major again?”
“This is why I don’t bother calling you. You never bother
to remember anything I say.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Last time, I promise.”
“I’m studying to be a chemist.”
“I won’t forget this time!”
“I hope not. Hey, how’s Jonny?”
“He’s doing good.” Avery began to walk down the lit street,
avoiding those in a hurry to get out of the autumn wind. His phone buzzed again
with another call. He ignored it and took another breath of his cigarette. He
flicked the still-lit butt at the foot of a nearby trashcan. “He and Janine are
going on their whatever-number-eth anniversary next week. Apparently, he’s got
something big planned for the both of them, which effectively means that I’m
stuck watering their plants again.” Kylee was silent for so long that he was
afraid the call dropped. With his current carrier, he wouldn’t be surprised. “Kylee?
You still there?”
“You know what, Ave, maybe you should just go do something
with your life instead of mopping around and complaining about Jonny.”
“Whoa, whoa.” His free hand rose as if to physically stop
her from speaking. “Where’d this come from, kiddo?”
“And you know, you could stand up to mom once in a while
and tell her to stop meddling in your life.”
“Hey.” Avery’s voice was quiet. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” Kylee’s voice was shrill. The background
noise disappeared for a moment before starting up again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she
repeated, calmer this time. “At least our mother cares about you.”
“Is this what this phone call was about? About Mom?”
“It’s always been about Mom.”
“Look, Mom has nothing good to say about anyone anyway; why
are you so caught up on this?” Avery ducked into the coffeehouse to his left,
shaking the cold out of his jacket. He nodded a greeting to the cute barista
with the lip ring as he seated himself on the frumpy armchair.
“I worked hard, Ave. A 4.5 GPA in high school with merits
and honors and awards for all of my extracurricular activities; I was valedictorian;
I’m at an ivy league school, so then what’s wrong with me? Why won’t she just
look my way?”
Avery could hear her sniffle and winced. All of their
conversations involving their mother ended up with Kylee in tears. He could
hear some murmuring and shuffling in the background, the ding of a bell, and
then the sound of traffic.
“Kiddo,” Avery sighed as she remained silent. “You’re
amazing, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve got a damn good future ahead of you.”
“Yeah.”
“What matters most,” Avery gazed up as the coffeehouse door
opened, and he saw his girlfriend’s raging expression as she stomped in, “is
how you see yourself, and I’m not talking about seeing yourself through Mom’s
eyes. Don’t do that. Mom just doesn’t understand how fucking amazing you are;
you can’t fault her for that. Just keep living and doing what you’re doing and
you’ll just laugh at everything later.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” His girlfriend breathed out
fire. He could have sworn she morphed into a dragon just then.
Avery covered the speaker on his phone, “Talking to my
sister. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Ave? Everything okay?” Kylee’s voice sounded far away.
“Just hold on a sec.”
“So you’re just going to talk to your sister and leave me
hanging in the theater after you’ve distracted people from enjoying the play?”
“If my sister needs to talk, I’m going to talk to her. And
that means walking out of a horrifyingly boring, experimental piece with
absolutely no story and no dialogue.”
“I wrote that piece!”
Avery could feel anger bubbling in his veins, “And here’s
my review of it: horrifyingly boring, experimental piece with absolutely no
story and no dialogue.”
The girl let out a frustrated scream, raised a hand to slap
him, thought better of it, and then stomped back outside. The cute barista shot
him a curious look, and he gave her a shrug.
“What was that?” Kylee’s voice suddenly made him tired.
“Just a bit of lover’s quarrel,” he sighed as he sank
further down into the armchair. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Sorry.” Kylee sounded like she did back when she was nine.
“Nah.” He gave a short laugh. “I was just giving her my
honest opinion. Though I probably could have said it better.”
“You think I can get through this?”
“Yeah, kiddo,” Avery smiled. “I know you can. You’ve always
been strong, and the more mature out of us siblings. I can’t see anything but
brightness wherever you end up.”
“Yeah.”
“And I know Mom bothers you. Don’t let her. You’ve got a
lot on your plate. And hey,” Avery
smiled as the cute barista set down a cup of black coffee in front of him with
a wink, “if you’re lucky, I’ll have an apartment for December. You can stay
with me.”
“If I’m lucky,” echoed Kylee.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You call me when you need to talk, all right?”
“Yeah.”
“And hey, how’s my sister’s love life, eh? Should I be
heading over there and beating some dick senseless?”
Kylee’s laugh was empty, “Nah. Too busy for that.”
“Good.”
A silence followed afterwards. Avery couldn’t quite read it
and wished that they were back at home where they would sit out on the porch
late at night and look up at the stars. He could go inside and make her a cup
of hot white chocolate, grab her favorite stuffed cat, and hold her hand under
the blankets until she fell asleep.
“Hey, gē.”
Avery was surprised. Kylee always refrained from using
Chinese, even to call him ‘big brother’.
“Yeah?”
“I gotta go.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“Just think about coming home for the holidays, all right?”
Kylee was silent. “If I get an apartment, will you at least think about it?”
“All right. Bye.”
“Bye,” but Kylee had already hung up.
Avery
spent the next month working extra shifts at the local deli. Marge, his manager
and after whom the deli was named, took pity on his request that she began a
“Thanksgiving Delivery Service”, which, consequently, placed Avery in a pilgrim
costume. He didn’t complain, as the other options were less than ideal (a
turkey or a misrepresented Native American).
He knew the little city like his
favorite comic book. Down this road here, turn left there, and find the
building with bright red bricks. The large pilgrim buckle at his waist was
starting to cut into his skin.
The only thing he remembered about
their father was that he was intent on ‘being a family.’ He never understood
what that meant, so he kept trying to find the answer for it. If one was
already bound by blood, what is the need for actually “being” a family?
The only Christmas he remembered
clearly was one where he had been scolded by his mother for opening all of the
presents under the tree before the 25th, and he was hiding behind
the Christmas tree. He cried and sobbed into the sleeve of his Old Navy sweater
so that no one would hear him, until he fell asleep. When he awoke, he was lying
in bed, and his father was asleep next to him.
“Ave.” His father opened an eye and
spoke just as Avery was climbing out of bed. He caught Avery around the waist
with an arm and brought him back on the bed, “Let’s talk.”
When Avery started elementary
school, he was taught that Christmas was about family coming together. He made
Christmas wreaths out of newspaper with the help of Ms. K, and made strings of
popcorn, and he was careful making his Popsicle stick art because he wanted to
make something nice for his parents. His mother told him that his father would
be back with them for Christmas. But he never did.
“Thanksgiving Delivery from Marge’s
Deli!” he sang as the door opened. The singing part was a dumb idea. He was
going to give Marge a hard time for suggesting it. “Spread the thanks around!”
“Hey, thanks, man.” One of the local
university students raised a beer at him. “What are you dressed up as? Lincoln
“I’m all right, man.” Avery handed
the bag over to the brown-haired girl behind him and accepted the money. “Enjoy
your day!”
On his way back to the deli, he
stopped by the old apartment complex located just next to one of the three
churches on the same street. He lit his fourth cigarette that day. When he was
finished, he straightened his pilgrim hat and knocked on Mr. Anderson’s door.
“Back, eh, Big Chen?” Mr. Anderson
was a wizardly old man who wore a midnight blue robe with faded silver stars on
them. Had Avery offered him a wizard’s hat, he would have looked exactly like
the sorcerer from Disney’s 1940 Fantasia, minus the long beard. Most of the
neighborhood children liked Mr. Anderson, except the ones that were sure they
were on Santa’s naughty list. It was rumored that Mr. Anderson was the one who
monitored them while Santa was on vacation.
“I’ve got the money for the deposit
and next month’s rent,” Avery said as Mr. Anderson stepped back and allowed him
to walk in. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Nah.” Mr. Anderson gave him a wink.
“I know that you’re a good kid. How’s your mother?”
“She’s good.”
“She know you’re moving out?”
“It’s just temporary.”
“Ah,” Mr. Anderson nodded. “Well,
you tell Mother Chen that I look forward to her apple pie this holiday season.
One of the perks.”
“I will; thanks.”
“Just sign this, and you can move in
whenever you’re ready.” Mr. Anderson placed the key into his hand. “Be sure to
give your mother a fair warning before you do.”
“Thanks, Mr. Anderson.”
The one thing that he didn’t
understand but cared enough to carry on doing, was being polite to elders.
Especially ones who was in charge of Santa’s naughty list. Actually, he
respected Mr. Anderson. The old man always took it upon himself to drop by
every Sunday after church to sit down with their family. He wasn’t good with
names, so he dubbed them Mother Chen, Big Chen, Middle Chen, and Little Chen.
As the three siblings grew up, they saw less of him and more of their friends
and computer screens, but the man never minded. He was always constant and in
those ridiculous robes.
After Avery’s shift, Marge gave him
a pat on the back and gave him a warm, brown bag. “I know these are your
favorite. Tell your mom I said hi,” she said.
He walked home, fingering the keys to his new apartment,
wondering how he was going to tell his mother about next month.
“Good, you’re home,” Daisy said from
the kitchen. She tossed a pile of mail at him. “There are a few things of yours
in there. Put the rest on the mail table. And Jonny and Viki are coming over
for dinner. They’re spending Givingthanks at Viki’s parents’ house tomorrow.”
Avery said, “Thanks. Marge says hi.”
“Oh, good. You tell her I say the
same when you go to work tomorrow.”
“There’s no work tomorrow, Ma; it’s
Thanksgiving.” Avery placed the paper bag on the table. “And these are from
Marge too. Turkey
“You know I don’t like the smell of
turkey.” Diary wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure Jonny will like it.”
“Right.”
“Your sister’s not coming home for Givingthanks
then?”
“No.”
“All right. What are you doing
tomorrow?”
“Does it matter?” Avery felt like a
cigarette.
“I need you to salt the sidewalks
and the driveway.”
“It’s not snowing. And won’t until
December.”
“Just do it.”
Avery picked out the battered postcard from
the pile and tossed the rest onto the mail table by the stairs. It was a
generic island photograph with the words “Wish You Were Here!” written in
cursive at the top.
The door opened before he could read
it and he stuffed the postcard into his pocket.
“Hey, gē!” Jonny came through
the door, cheeks tinged with pink. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
“You’re a day early.”
“Well, we’re spending the actual
with Viki. They celebrate it the traditional way. Turkey
“You don’t even like cranberries.”
“Ah, my little son!” Daisy came out
of the kitchen with a warm smile. “And my only daughter-in-law!”
“Hello Ma.” Viki’s blue eyes
sparkled underneath her knit hat with a yellow yarn-puff-atrocity on the top of
it. “Hey Ave.”
Avery gave a careless wave as he
left them in the hallway with their greetings. Jonny followed.
“How’ve you been?”
“Great.”
“C’mon, talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Life.”
“Life is life. It goes on.”
“You aren’t still upset that I ended
up with Viki, are you?”
“Are you testing me?”
“Just trying to get something out of
you.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then there’s nothing to talk
about.”
“Come on.”
Avery’s eyes caught Jonny’s tapping
right foot.
“You’re not here just to bear
Thanksgiving wishes upon our happy home. Why are you here?”
“Let’s just eat first, all right?”
“Dinner’s almost ready.” Daisy poked
her head in. “Come to the kitchen.”
As they sat down to their meal—no
prayers were said—and Avery could feel walls caving in. He was looking at them
through a small scope and he was being pulled back away from the table. The
subs he brought home were on the counter, still in the bag, and the low rumble
of thunder threatened the sky. The two pressure points at his temples were
throbbing at a low frequency.
“I’m moving out next week, Ma.”
“You don’t have to ask my
permission,” she laughed. “You should be living on your own at your age.”
“I’m not asking for permission.”
Avery ignored Jonny’s toe at his shin. “I’m telling you I’m moving out.”
“Are you sure you can handle it? You
don’t have very good hands in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, gē,” Jonny snickered.
“Just make sure you don’t set the kitchen on fire.”
They all laughed and began
speculating the troubles he was going to have as a bachelor, and he slipped
away. Seating himself on his bed, he gazed around at the bare bedroom; there
was just a desk to his right and a closet next to the door. Packing would be
simple and quick. He couldn’t imagine what he needed to take with him.
He pulled out the postcard. It was
short.
Hey A,
Tried
to call before I left, but you were probs busy. Left the country. No plans.
Thanks for helpin me out back then. ‘preciate it.
S.B.
P.S. Sorry for lame postcard. Couldn’t find any better.
He remembered Scotty. He was a
strange kid; always made people suspicious of him for no real reason. He was
just quiet, and he was rumored to have a missing toe. He never saw what the big
deal was—so he was unfortunate enough to lose a toe. How does that make him any
creepier than he already was?
Some relatives back East had adopted Scotty, but Scotty
said that he was sick of their bullshit, so he upped and left. Avery never
really had the guts to run away like that. He’d often contemplated it during
his teenage years, but always ended up curled up under his mother’s bed. Scotty
had always been the brave one. Brave, quiet, and a little on the pale side, but
they got along fine. Avery skipped biology and spent time in the empty
chemistry lab with him, lighting their smokes on the Bunsen burners. Scotty was
younger by a couple of years, and always harbored an indifference towards everything.
Avery learned that nothing meant anything to Scotty and they spent their youth
smoking in silence, or panting as the adrenaline pumped through their veins,
hiding from the authorities.
Avery listened as the fake laughter continued downstairs.
He lit up a cigarette and texted Kylee: come home for the holidays. got my
own apartment now. And with an afterthought, he typed, please?
