I absolutely despise any form of negging. For those who don't know what negging is, it is basically when a guy verbally undermines a woman to make her more vulnerable to him, usually mixing back-handed complements with passive-aggressively insulting banter to twist things into their favor. Usually, the idea behind this is that if you shake up someone's confidence and work into their insecurities enough, you would have the upper hand and could manipulate their attention to your favor, especially when they try to work harder to fill that oh-so-empty hole you created by crushing their poor soul. (note the mocking tone)
Gross.
I'm going to be honest, I don't really know when it works. But I'm guessing it works in situations involving deep rooted insecurity issues to begin with. I don't think negging actually works, I think that when it does, it just happens to fall in line with one's need for self-validation. Fortunately, when you neg a girl in most situations in a sober setting, you are simply an asshole and people hate you. As they rightfully should.
Well, I came home from work today with the strong impulse to write about negging, because I have had, yet another, day of mean boys. It's partially my fault; I chose to work at a male-dominated environment and there will always be that one asshole in a group of anything. On the other hand, it just totally sucks to have to deal with this type of egotistical, misogynist macho-man behavior. Hey, I'm a person too. And I'll tell you what, MOST GIRLS DON'T LIKE ASSHOLES. The unfortunate thing is that most assholes insist on being one, and brag about their "achievements" the most, making push-overs believe that the asshole strategy works. And when a girl like me tries to tell an asshole to stop being a jerk, you know what happens?
I'll tell you what happens: the assholes think I am being jealous. They think I am dying for more attention and that I must need them to give me more of some kind of a special treatment. They think I'm being a princess about shit and I can't handle any form of negativity. Of course, they're thinking the problem is ME, not THEM. When I stop talking to them, they think I am just giving them the cold treatment, and I'm still playing a part of their cat and mouse game. They think I'm into the drama. This is when they continue to think their negging works.
Well this is complete horse shit.
Most of the time when this happens, I start to say something back, not because I'm falling for this stupid negging trap, but because as a human who is being emotionally evoked, I will have an unhappy response back. And when I start to get quiet, I am simply past the point of being able to tolerate the negativity and I just do not want to talk about it anymore. As much as I don't want to admit it, a lot of times, these moments really do hurt my feelings.
Contrary to popular belief, the girl you think that's getting all this attention doesn't always solicit it herself constantly. You don't have to shut her down all the time thinking that it makes you a better man than the rest. Look, when I am at work, dudes have their reactions to a girl walking around and most of the time it's positive attention. But that kind of shit just happens. I just have to deal with it in my own way in a way I believe is not malicious or awkward. If you don't want to shower me with attention, that's fine. That wasn't even my intention in the first place. But the alternative isn't to shoot me down. The alternative is just to be... (surprise!)... normal! In fact, I would prefer it if you talk to me like gender-less being. I actually prefer to engage in conversation--excessive complements unnecessary.
Honestly, most of the things that guys say to me, whether they mean to neg, or subconsciously try not to feed into (what they think is) my need for attention--is still pretty douchey even if you take our genders out of the picture. I just don't understand this machismo persona some men take into giving me this kind of shit. If you really need to take out some aggression or prove some kind of male dominance, take it out on someone who cares. Let's just have a normal conversation without your need to prove that you are better than me or your belief that I'm just some girl who is in dire need of your validation.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Honey, it's been a while
When I thought about it, the last time Eric spoke to his younger brother, Will, about anything remotely personal, it ended with one question and a swift punch to the face. It was on a humid summer night in Baltimore, outside of Will's first run-down apartment downtown. They stood for a while in silence under a flickering street lamp. Eric's breathing grew louder and louder as his blood boiled with impatience, until he finally clenched his fists and focused his stare at Will's expressionless face.
"When the fuck're you gonna grow up already and own up to yourself as a man?" Eric's calloused knuckles immediately slammed against his brother's cold cheekbone, with arms relaxed and right fist flying at full force. Will fell to the ground and didn't say a word. That was the end of it. Later, they would meet again for family gatherings with just enough small talk to fill the air, but for the next few years, they would not speak as brothers.
Being the oldest son in a family of six, Eric always took himself on as the most responsible sibling and had spent most of his time and attention dedicated to his work, his wife, and his kids, living in the quiet suburbs about fifty-five minutes west of the city. He did nearly exactly everything his parents wanted him to. Graduated from Ivy League, got a high paying desk job, and married a quiet Vietnamese wife who would later stay at home to take care their two kids. Eric didn't speak much to anyone else in the first place, aside from his parents and three younger sisters. So, nobody really noticed that any friction had happened between the two.
But even I didn't know the story either, until a couple of years later, when Will got completely shitfaced at the bar. We hadn't spoken in a while, and I was in town for winter break. I thought we were just going for drinks to catch up, but instead, he really dropped a bomb on me that night.
"Elie," His head bobbed with a hiccup, and I pushed his glass of water closer to him, but he didn't look up. "Do you remember that one fight we had? I don't even remember what it was about. I swear it was about soup. Didn't you cook me soup because I was sick, and I said... I said I hated it. You cried, and you didn't know this, but Eric found out. God, Eric was so pissed, he thought I completely disrespected you. So that fight, that story, was because of you, isn't that funny?"
"Sure, but I don't know what you want me to do about it," I sighed, and with my arms rested on the bar counter, I leaned forward. I tried not to make more out of the story than it needed to be. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but I kept wondering, why me? "I don't get how it's all related to Hannah. I mean, unless she's--"
"Look!" His face suddenly shot up to make eye contact with me, but he was still wavering side to side. "I know you guys, well it can be complicated, and. I. Well. Anyways. She really likes you okay?"
"Okay." I stopped talking and caught the bartender's attention to close my tab. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. His drunken state of mind was an insult. Will was completely silent as I signed the bill and put my credit card back in my purse. For a second, I thought he could've been completely passed out on the counter, but I was so angry that I didn't want to check. I thought of turning around and saying something to him--anything--to keep up our long supposed friendship of nearly twenty years. I thought of being mature. But being that Hannah is my cousin, and this conversation was brought about because Hannah and Will decided to fuck each other behind my back, well yeah. I wasn't in the mood to be mature at the moment. If he wasn't going to be mature about it, neither would I.
I didn't fully understand my anger then, I just knew that I was. At that moment I walked away, and like Eric, I didn't speak much to Will the next few years. Will didn't even try contacting me once.
Those years of silence were always funny to me when I thought about it. Growing up, Will had been my neighbor. As kids, we used to sneak out of the house early morning to ride our bikes down the cul-de-sac and to jump them off sidewalk curbs. We fought as kids over the stupidest shit, and it would always come back to bonding again over pulling pranks on the neighborhood. When we got older, he got in over his head. Went to a lot of parties, charmed all the girls, slacked off. Somehow, through enough ass-kicking from Eric, and a daring admissions essay appropriately derived from his rebellious risk-taking nature, Will surprised us all with his acceptance letter to John Hopkins. He stayed in Baltimore. I studied out-of-state. We started falling out. We caught up once in a while, but we lived on with our lives. No major details. So this is how his engagement would be a surprise to me. Correction: this is how their engagement was a surprise to me.
They never officially told me about it. I found out through a Save the Date card, after bumping into Eric. A business trip in St. Louis for a national conference brought us together. Eric's client needed a financial adviser for the budgeting, I was flown over to cover the press release. During the complementary luncheon, Eric tapped on my shoulder at the coffee bar. He asked how things had been going. I thought the conversation was going well until the mood suddenly shifted. His face relaxed into a serious expression.
"Had you talked to Will since the invite?" He asked coolly, almost as if he knew my response, but was patiently waiting for an unsurprising confirmation.
"What invite?" I responded. I realized then, Eric chose his words carefully. The invite. He must have known there were no conversation, no moment, in which anyone truly spoke to me. If I could feel any more like the butt of a joke, I stood there dumbfounded, blinded in what felt like deep in a bull's ass, covered in the pure shit of it all. I rushed home from the airport with anticipation in discovering the pink envelope with a red doily insert. The moment was surreal. I was confused when I read the card: save the date for our wedding. Was this really from the same Will who insisted he would never be tied down? And I hated the question that followed, and I hated it for haunting me for the months following: Why Hannah?
My memory rushed to the moments Will and I rode in his first car, the windows down. We'd bicker over stupid shit like the directions to take and which way would get us there faster. In the end, he would always end up taking his way, a special way he wouldn't speak of during our arguments. It would be a left or right turn to a back road, while we were arguing about two other, completely different, highways. The road would be one he knew I'd never been through before. It would always take us somewhere off track completely, but there was always an unspoken reason. I would look outside and see that the road led us to a scenic cliff, the perfect view of the moon, or rocky dirt path that wasn't marked on the map. He'd turn up the volume of the radio loudly, with his favorite song playing, while screaming, "I'm what?" "You're impossible!" I would scream back. He wouldn't turn over to look at me. He would just continue to look straight on the road, and a slow, sly smile grew from the right corner of his lips. He always said he only liked driving that car with me, or no one else. Only I knew why.
Everyone was under the impression that Hannah and Will decided to rush into a full blown wedding without the whole hoopla of that Vietnamese engagement party--the kind where everyone would wear their áo dài with presents covered in red velvet fabric, eat roasted pig and be fake-happy--was because all that shit can get expensive and exhausting, but whatever. I knew the truth was that Hannah's parents are ridiculously traditional and would not allow for Hannah and Will to live together unless they were married first. Even if they were already in their late-twenties. So they married under a year after they started. Their parents were okay with the rush, since we were all family friends (at one point) anyways--and hurray--neither of the two were marrying outside our ethnic community so why don't we all celebrate before they change their minds like Elie over there who's now dating that mi trắng from New York.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not being bitter. I love my boyfriend Tim, but I know what people are saying. It's true, when we were kids, Hannah and I got compared... a lot. Everyone was asking: Who got better grades? ... Who played the piano better? ... Who's cooking was better? ...you know, those sort of cliche Joy Luck Club type questions. But the difference between Hannah and I always started here. She cared more about what was more expected of her. So she followed suit. At some point, I fell off the face of our family rumor mill, because I decided to piss everyone off and do my own thing. Facing my own existential rediscovery at the ripe age of 9, I fantastically found the world of sports through Monday Night Football in our living room. As my obsession grew, it made things a lot easier for me because Hannah automatically won everything in the wife-contest realm, and it made everyone lose interest in what I was doing and they stopped talking about me. Nobody likes an Asian girl in sports. Especially the Asian relatives. The only people who ever appreciated me were my cousins, brothers, including Eric and Will. That's how we all grew close.
But don't get me wrong. My parents were fine with it, and they were the ones who gave me the extra nudge to accept my scholarship to Indiana University to chase my dreams of sports journalism. Hell, that's where I met my white boyfriend, as the relatives call him. Unintentional on my part, but I don't have any complaints. There weren't many Asians in my journalism courses, let alone in Indiana, which is what most people fail to note. Meanwhile, if I stayed in Maryland, there would've been a better chance of me finding a proper Vietnamese husband, I get that. So maybe that's why Hannah's parents were more apt to send her on a fast track to pre-pharmacy programs locally at the University of Maryland. Way to fight the stereotype, Hannah. While Hannah and I began close as cousins who met up for every holiday for family gatherings, our differences only made us more distant. She didn't even tell me she ran into Will during their undergraduate years in Maryland without me.
So, of course I had my suspicions that her request for me to be her Maid of Honor had a hidden agenda. I had enough free time as a freelancer to not have the excuse of being "too busy," and I was already traveling a lot. What difference did it make to make yet another trip to Maryland? It might also have been a mixture of guilt and familial obligation that pushed me forward, but I went with it. Hannah didn't need me to do much anyway except to stand in for the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and the main wedding weekend. Tim and I flew in town for the weekend. It wouldn't be the first time my family met him, but for some reason everything seemed like a bigger deal in contrast to Hannah.
When we first arrived to meet everyone in Maryland, Hannah would smile widely as she presented Tim, Elie's boyfriend. Elie, you know, Will's old neighbor. When he used to live in that quaint home, outside of Baltimore. Those years. She has a boyfriend. It's Tim. We're so glad you're here, Elie and Tim.
"The truth is, Elie," she'd say often during the wedding planning. "I really needed you. I've always needed you. Remember when we were kids, and it was just you and me as girls at Grandfather's? Everyone else were boys? Remember flag football? Your brother would always pick Danny, Joseph, Ricky, and John all the time? I was always last, remember? It's like that one Thanksgiving, when you won the spot fair and square for 2nd captain and you chose me first. You chose me first."
"Sure," I agreed, after hearing the story yet again at the rehearsal dinner. Those past few events we held in honor of her royal brideship were awkward. There were a few forced bonding moments like the ones brought about by the flag football story. It was as if we didn't have enough good memories so she could only repeat the same mediocre anecdotes that ended with cheesy one-liners. The one chance I had at getting a break with alcohol would have been her bachelorette party, but she insisted we all go on a spa day as girls together with the bridal party. Realistically, she only spoke to me once or twice during the whole thing. Her colleagues flocked around her like a bunch of undead zombie Dodo birds, nodding their head and squawking, Yes! Yes! Sometimes I felt like I didn't even know her.
"So, your speech. Let's see it," she grinned deviously, almost eerily, like she expected the worst from someone who knew her fiance so well. I looked around to scan the room. The rehearsal dinner had been slowly ending, with a few people continuing to leave quietly and politely. Hannah and I found ourselves at an empty table with no one paying much mind to what we were doing or saying. I took out my phone, and thumbed through a few notes. I handed Hannah the phone. She hesitated for a slight moment before snatching the phone from my hand. She giggled, and I couldn't tell if it was another forced effort, or if the power she had as a bride to order me around made her giddy as a school girl.
"Oh," Hannah started to tear up as she scrolled down the note. "Oh!" Her tears grew to an overflow, and as they poured over her rosy cheeks, she stood up immediately, dropped my phone on the table and excused herself. Once again, I turned around to scan the room. Interesting how in a room dedicated to her, no one noticed the bride run frantically to the restroom. Ironic. So I ran after her. For a girl who never had to run a lap in her life, she was damn fast in heels. I lost her down the hallway of the restaurant. I finally made it to the door and barged in. Hannah was sobbing over the sink.
"Hey Hannah," I walked over to her. I put my hand on her shoulder gently. "You know, I was kidding. You were really just reading lyrics to a Willie Nelson song. I'm sorry. I thought you'd laugh over it or something, I don't know. It was stupid. I'm sorry." Hannah took deep breaths to give herself a chance to speak.
"Well," she gasped. "It was very good." And she continued to cry harder. I looked around the bathroom in anxiety. Where the hell was I? The counter was made of marble. The restroom--mind you--smelled like a pleasant bouquet of spring flowers. There were silk dupioni curtains around the mirror. Hannah must have noticed my concerned facial expression. She gasped through her sobs again. "I know what you're thinking."
"What ply these embossed paper towels are made of?" I suggested weakly. My jokes become immediately awkward when someone is under emotional distress. I heard Hannah choke on air softly. I hoped it was from a chuckle.
"I know that these past few years haven't been easy," Hannah finally started to calm her breath. She straightened up and looked at me. "Between us, I mean."
"Hey, it's cool," I tried to reassure her, but I wasn't exactly sure what she was hinting at.
"I know that after a while, when we got older, we didn't talk very much, especially after you moved to Indiana. But I swear, I didn't know that much about you and Will, but all I knew was whatever you told me. But he sounded... like a great guy. So one day, it was like, I don't know, fate or something. We were all at a party in Baltimore, right across from this street actually, and wouldn't you know it? We had mutual friends. Outside of you. Anyways, you know that feeling, when you meet someone and ... it just clicks? I'm sure you had that feeling when you met Tim--everyone loves him by the way--and anyway, I like, had no idea that you even knew Will, or I mean, that he was your Will, but I mean, he wasn't even really your Will, right? I mean."
"Yeah," I reached my hand out to rest it on Hanna's shoulder for what assurance I could give her.
"I love him, you know?" She gasped, and it turned into a laugh. She dabbed her eyes with the fancy paper towel.
There was a pause from me. I did not know for how long I had this pause. What could I tell her? Would I tell her everything I had been keeping inside me for this long? That I was worried they were rushing into things? That I knew them both, and I knew how they were both so different? Will was the person I grew up with, he was literally the boy next door, and if that Will was standing here in this bathroom at this given moment, he would laugh. He would have just laughed at how ridiculously overpriced and yuppie-centric this place was. She had no idea the feeling of loving someone for so long, as a brother, as a friend, as the person you learned and grew together with. She met Will at a party on a drunken night and somehow, now they are supposed to be in love? All I could think of was how much I wished she could give me one true trait Will had that she loved, rather than he fit the bill of the perfect, handsome, well educated, well-to-do husband. She doesn't even know a damn thing about football. Is this what happens when we grow older? We fall apart and interview a spouse to marry, and mask it all with the facade of fate and destiny?
"Yeah," was all I could make out. It came out with gritted teeth and unrelenting guilt.
"The thing is," Hannah continued. "I'm standing here with you, here, and I'm looking at you like an idiot. I waited for your response like you had an answer. Like you had been this secret lover all along that he had been pining for. But that's ridiculous. Did you know," she paused to laugh. "I thought you were going to pull a Julia Roberts on me and try to ruin my wedding?"
"I'm going to be honest with you Hannah," I finally spoke up. "I am not here to push you at the alter and make out with your fiance."
"You see," Hannah's voice softened and her eyes lowered with sincerity. "Will and Eric don't talk anymore. And I think it's because of me."
I quickly remembered the story, and with my own guilt, I immediately responded, "No, I don't think it's you!"
"No, it has to be." Hannah shook her head. "I know Will met with you for drinks that one night to try to talk to you about us. He told me. But what you don't know, is that the party we met at was actually a couple of years ago. Everyone thinks we've only been together for nearly a year, but we couldn't tell anyone the truth. Anyways, ... I never met him before that party, right? So he was going on that night, telling me about some girl he and his brother were fighting about. You know Eric. He always fights for what he thinks is right. He never thought I was right for Will. He doesn't even go past small talk with me. I always thought there was another girl. Someone else meant for Will. I came in at the wrong time and interrupted everything selfishly." Her eyes widened, like there it was, the truth of how we felt finally laid right there in front of us, and it was blinding us. I was her concern all along?
"Hannah," I laughed from relief. "Oh Hannah. You know, Will has a choice. Every day he has a choice to not be with you. But he is. Look at where you are now. He chooses you every day, and for the rest of his life. It'll be fine. Everything is going to be okay." I reached in to hug her. And as we did, I thought of my own thoughts and how I suddenly answered them so simply.
"Thanks, Elie," Hannah began to cry again.
"Hey, it's fine, don't let the nerves get to you. This is not the night to get cold feet!" We smiled silently, letting this moment settle in. How could all these years of silence finally lead up to this moment of understanding? I breathed out before letting go of Hannah's embrace. It felt like a sigh of relief. As we walked out of the restroom and through the hall, I began to notice that nearly everyone had left, except for Will--and wouldn't you know it--my Tim. They were both talking casually at an empty table, but quickly turned to our attention.
"Hey, is everything alright?" Will rushed to Hannah. She nodded and laughed off how nerves of all the planning were just getting to her. He held her closely for comfort. "Oh, before I forget!" He suddenly exclaimed. Will rushed over to a table across the room and ran back with a box wrapped in Sunday comics paper. He handed it to me. "It's for you. Open it later."
"What is it?" Hannah suddenly asked with curious eyes.
"Oh, it's just an inside joke," Will propped his right arm across Hannah's shoulders. He squeezed her in this way.
"No, open it now," She nervously laughed. I looked to Will, and he shrugged his shoulders. Without realizing it, my hands started unraveling the wrapped box. I threw the paper to the floor and found a brown packing box. I lifted the flaps slowly, carefully, unsure of what kind of joke Will and I still shared. I reached into the box and felt the cool touch of a porcelain bowl. The familiar red color, with its yellow border and rigid square patterns, chrysanthemum flower design and Chinese characters. I never really took a moment to look at this bowl before, but I didn't even ever understand this bowl, or the meaning behind it. Whenever I see this particular design, it brings a certain feeling back to me. A familiar feeling that I don't understand, I only come to know.
"Oh?" Hannah exclaimed in confusion. "You gave her an old phở bowl?"
"I found this while I was moving," Will stated finally. "Funny thing, Elie left it at my house one day, but I used it anyway. Well, anyway, it's old. It's really her parents'."
"How did you know it was her's?" Hannah asked. "I see that bowl everywhere."
"I don't know," He paused and put his hands in his pockets. He looked up, out somewhere, to the corner of the room thoughtfully. "I guess there are some things you don't forget."
"Thanks, Eric," I reached over to hug him quickly. It was the first hug I'd given him in years.
"Well you two, I guess we'll be seeing each other in the morning, so we should get some rest," Tim smirked. "Can't be late for tomorrow."
The four of us walked to the entrance of the restaurant, where the host had been waiting for our final departure. He held the door for us to walk out. Standing outside, we all said our good byes, and gave each other hugs, the usual. Tim rose his hand for a taxi to take to our hotel. I watched Will and Hannah walk to their car. They laughed in the fading distance. And without realizing it, I smiled. Tim nudged me gently to let me know the taxi had pulled up. He leaned in the window, spoke to the cab driver, and opened the door for me. Together, we sat in the back seat and I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"Tim," I began. "Is it alright we're taking our time?"
"Of course," he chuckled. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know, I guess Hannah really shook me up tonight. You should've seen it. Emotional madness in the restroom. What's all this about 'the one?' What am I missing?"
"How do I explain?... Well, you know I'm not that much of a romantic...."
"That's fine, go on," I took his hand. I began to yawn. It was a long night.
"The way I see it is, there are great people out there and there are horrible people, and chances are, we will eventually meet some or one of each in our lives. That happens all the time. Most of us just don't pay much attention to it. We let the good ones slip away, and the bad ones stay without fully realizing the full extent of what we've done with each passing chance. Meanwhile, I knew one day I would have my day. My best day. That's when I met you. I saw that you were my one lucky blessing, you were so good to me and I appreciated that so much that I just couldn't let you go. So, I do my best to treat you right, give you back the good fortune you lent to me, only because I feel like you deserved nothing less." He paused. "The only smart thing an idiot like me ever did in his life was to not let the one good thing in his life be the one that got away."
"Did you rehearse that one, or was that just one you had been thinking about for a long time?"
"I felt it, I knew it for so long, but it didn't make sense into words until this moment,"
"Well. That was the most romantic thing I've ever heard," I smiled, and slowly drifted to sleep.
"When the fuck're you gonna grow up already and own up to yourself as a man?" Eric's calloused knuckles immediately slammed against his brother's cold cheekbone, with arms relaxed and right fist flying at full force. Will fell to the ground and didn't say a word. That was the end of it. Later, they would meet again for family gatherings with just enough small talk to fill the air, but for the next few years, they would not speak as brothers.
Being the oldest son in a family of six, Eric always took himself on as the most responsible sibling and had spent most of his time and attention dedicated to his work, his wife, and his kids, living in the quiet suburbs about fifty-five minutes west of the city. He did nearly exactly everything his parents wanted him to. Graduated from Ivy League, got a high paying desk job, and married a quiet Vietnamese wife who would later stay at home to take care their two kids. Eric didn't speak much to anyone else in the first place, aside from his parents and three younger sisters. So, nobody really noticed that any friction had happened between the two.
But even I didn't know the story either, until a couple of years later, when Will got completely shitfaced at the bar. We hadn't spoken in a while, and I was in town for winter break. I thought we were just going for drinks to catch up, but instead, he really dropped a bomb on me that night.
"Elie," His head bobbed with a hiccup, and I pushed his glass of water closer to him, but he didn't look up. "Do you remember that one fight we had? I don't even remember what it was about. I swear it was about soup. Didn't you cook me soup because I was sick, and I said... I said I hated it. You cried, and you didn't know this, but Eric found out. God, Eric was so pissed, he thought I completely disrespected you. So that fight, that story, was because of you, isn't that funny?"
"Sure, but I don't know what you want me to do about it," I sighed, and with my arms rested on the bar counter, I leaned forward. I tried not to make more out of the story than it needed to be. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but I kept wondering, why me? "I don't get how it's all related to Hannah. I mean, unless she's--"
"Look!" His face suddenly shot up to make eye contact with me, but he was still wavering side to side. "I know you guys, well it can be complicated, and. I. Well. Anyways. She really likes you okay?"
"Okay." I stopped talking and caught the bartender's attention to close my tab. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. His drunken state of mind was an insult. Will was completely silent as I signed the bill and put my credit card back in my purse. For a second, I thought he could've been completely passed out on the counter, but I was so angry that I didn't want to check. I thought of turning around and saying something to him--anything--to keep up our long supposed friendship of nearly twenty years. I thought of being mature. But being that Hannah is my cousin, and this conversation was brought about because Hannah and Will decided to fuck each other behind my back, well yeah. I wasn't in the mood to be mature at the moment. If he wasn't going to be mature about it, neither would I.
I didn't fully understand my anger then, I just knew that I was. At that moment I walked away, and like Eric, I didn't speak much to Will the next few years. Will didn't even try contacting me once.
Those years of silence were always funny to me when I thought about it. Growing up, Will had been my neighbor. As kids, we used to sneak out of the house early morning to ride our bikes down the cul-de-sac and to jump them off sidewalk curbs. We fought as kids over the stupidest shit, and it would always come back to bonding again over pulling pranks on the neighborhood. When we got older, he got in over his head. Went to a lot of parties, charmed all the girls, slacked off. Somehow, through enough ass-kicking from Eric, and a daring admissions essay appropriately derived from his rebellious risk-taking nature, Will surprised us all with his acceptance letter to John Hopkins. He stayed in Baltimore. I studied out-of-state. We started falling out. We caught up once in a while, but we lived on with our lives. No major details. So this is how his engagement would be a surprise to me. Correction: this is how their engagement was a surprise to me.
They never officially told me about it. I found out through a Save the Date card, after bumping into Eric. A business trip in St. Louis for a national conference brought us together. Eric's client needed a financial adviser for the budgeting, I was flown over to cover the press release. During the complementary luncheon, Eric tapped on my shoulder at the coffee bar. He asked how things had been going. I thought the conversation was going well until the mood suddenly shifted. His face relaxed into a serious expression.
"Had you talked to Will since the invite?" He asked coolly, almost as if he knew my response, but was patiently waiting for an unsurprising confirmation.
"What invite?" I responded. I realized then, Eric chose his words carefully. The invite. He must have known there were no conversation, no moment, in which anyone truly spoke to me. If I could feel any more like the butt of a joke, I stood there dumbfounded, blinded in what felt like deep in a bull's ass, covered in the pure shit of it all. I rushed home from the airport with anticipation in discovering the pink envelope with a red doily insert. The moment was surreal. I was confused when I read the card: save the date for our wedding. Was this really from the same Will who insisted he would never be tied down? And I hated the question that followed, and I hated it for haunting me for the months following: Why Hannah?
My memory rushed to the moments Will and I rode in his first car, the windows down. We'd bicker over stupid shit like the directions to take and which way would get us there faster. In the end, he would always end up taking his way, a special way he wouldn't speak of during our arguments. It would be a left or right turn to a back road, while we were arguing about two other, completely different, highways. The road would be one he knew I'd never been through before. It would always take us somewhere off track completely, but there was always an unspoken reason. I would look outside and see that the road led us to a scenic cliff, the perfect view of the moon, or rocky dirt path that wasn't marked on the map. He'd turn up the volume of the radio loudly, with his favorite song playing, while screaming, "I'm what?" "You're impossible!" I would scream back. He wouldn't turn over to look at me. He would just continue to look straight on the road, and a slow, sly smile grew from the right corner of his lips. He always said he only liked driving that car with me, or no one else. Only I knew why.
Everyone was under the impression that Hannah and Will decided to rush into a full blown wedding without the whole hoopla of that Vietnamese engagement party--the kind where everyone would wear their áo dài with presents covered in red velvet fabric, eat roasted pig and be fake-happy--was because all that shit can get expensive and exhausting, but whatever. I knew the truth was that Hannah's parents are ridiculously traditional and would not allow for Hannah and Will to live together unless they were married first. Even if they were already in their late-twenties. So they married under a year after they started. Their parents were okay with the rush, since we were all family friends (at one point) anyways--and hurray--neither of the two were marrying outside our ethnic community so why don't we all celebrate before they change their minds like Elie over there who's now dating that mi trắng from New York.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not being bitter. I love my boyfriend Tim, but I know what people are saying. It's true, when we were kids, Hannah and I got compared... a lot. Everyone was asking: Who got better grades? ... Who played the piano better? ... Who's cooking was better? ...you know, those sort of cliche Joy Luck Club type questions. But the difference between Hannah and I always started here. She cared more about what was more expected of her. So she followed suit. At some point, I fell off the face of our family rumor mill, because I decided to piss everyone off and do my own thing. Facing my own existential rediscovery at the ripe age of 9, I fantastically found the world of sports through Monday Night Football in our living room. As my obsession grew, it made things a lot easier for me because Hannah automatically won everything in the wife-contest realm, and it made everyone lose interest in what I was doing and they stopped talking about me. Nobody likes an Asian girl in sports. Especially the Asian relatives. The only people who ever appreciated me were my cousins, brothers, including Eric and Will. That's how we all grew close.
But don't get me wrong. My parents were fine with it, and they were the ones who gave me the extra nudge to accept my scholarship to Indiana University to chase my dreams of sports journalism. Hell, that's where I met my white boyfriend, as the relatives call him. Unintentional on my part, but I don't have any complaints. There weren't many Asians in my journalism courses, let alone in Indiana, which is what most people fail to note. Meanwhile, if I stayed in Maryland, there would've been a better chance of me finding a proper Vietnamese husband, I get that. So maybe that's why Hannah's parents were more apt to send her on a fast track to pre-pharmacy programs locally at the University of Maryland. Way to fight the stereotype, Hannah. While Hannah and I began close as cousins who met up for every holiday for family gatherings, our differences only made us more distant. She didn't even tell me she ran into Will during their undergraduate years in Maryland without me.
So, of course I had my suspicions that her request for me to be her Maid of Honor had a hidden agenda. I had enough free time as a freelancer to not have the excuse of being "too busy," and I was already traveling a lot. What difference did it make to make yet another trip to Maryland? It might also have been a mixture of guilt and familial obligation that pushed me forward, but I went with it. Hannah didn't need me to do much anyway except to stand in for the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and the main wedding weekend. Tim and I flew in town for the weekend. It wouldn't be the first time my family met him, but for some reason everything seemed like a bigger deal in contrast to Hannah.
When we first arrived to meet everyone in Maryland, Hannah would smile widely as she presented Tim, Elie's boyfriend. Elie, you know, Will's old neighbor. When he used to live in that quaint home, outside of Baltimore. Those years. She has a boyfriend. It's Tim. We're so glad you're here, Elie and Tim.
"The truth is, Elie," she'd say often during the wedding planning. "I really needed you. I've always needed you. Remember when we were kids, and it was just you and me as girls at Grandfather's? Everyone else were boys? Remember flag football? Your brother would always pick Danny, Joseph, Ricky, and John all the time? I was always last, remember? It's like that one Thanksgiving, when you won the spot fair and square for 2nd captain and you chose me first. You chose me first."
"Sure," I agreed, after hearing the story yet again at the rehearsal dinner. Those past few events we held in honor of her royal brideship were awkward. There were a few forced bonding moments like the ones brought about by the flag football story. It was as if we didn't have enough good memories so she could only repeat the same mediocre anecdotes that ended with cheesy one-liners. The one chance I had at getting a break with alcohol would have been her bachelorette party, but she insisted we all go on a spa day as girls together with the bridal party. Realistically, she only spoke to me once or twice during the whole thing. Her colleagues flocked around her like a bunch of undead zombie Dodo birds, nodding their head and squawking, Yes! Yes! Sometimes I felt like I didn't even know her.
"So, your speech. Let's see it," she grinned deviously, almost eerily, like she expected the worst from someone who knew her fiance so well. I looked around to scan the room. The rehearsal dinner had been slowly ending, with a few people continuing to leave quietly and politely. Hannah and I found ourselves at an empty table with no one paying much mind to what we were doing or saying. I took out my phone, and thumbed through a few notes. I handed Hannah the phone. She hesitated for a slight moment before snatching the phone from my hand. She giggled, and I couldn't tell if it was another forced effort, or if the power she had as a bride to order me around made her giddy as a school girl.
"Oh," Hannah started to tear up as she scrolled down the note. "Oh!" Her tears grew to an overflow, and as they poured over her rosy cheeks, she stood up immediately, dropped my phone on the table and excused herself. Once again, I turned around to scan the room. Interesting how in a room dedicated to her, no one noticed the bride run frantically to the restroom. Ironic. So I ran after her. For a girl who never had to run a lap in her life, she was damn fast in heels. I lost her down the hallway of the restaurant. I finally made it to the door and barged in. Hannah was sobbing over the sink.
"Hey Hannah," I walked over to her. I put my hand on her shoulder gently. "You know, I was kidding. You were really just reading lyrics to a Willie Nelson song. I'm sorry. I thought you'd laugh over it or something, I don't know. It was stupid. I'm sorry." Hannah took deep breaths to give herself a chance to speak.
"Well," she gasped. "It was very good." And she continued to cry harder. I looked around the bathroom in anxiety. Where the hell was I? The counter was made of marble. The restroom--mind you--smelled like a pleasant bouquet of spring flowers. There were silk dupioni curtains around the mirror. Hannah must have noticed my concerned facial expression. She gasped through her sobs again. "I know what you're thinking."
"What ply these embossed paper towels are made of?" I suggested weakly. My jokes become immediately awkward when someone is under emotional distress. I heard Hannah choke on air softly. I hoped it was from a chuckle.
"I know that these past few years haven't been easy," Hannah finally started to calm her breath. She straightened up and looked at me. "Between us, I mean."
"Hey, it's cool," I tried to reassure her, but I wasn't exactly sure what she was hinting at.
"I know that after a while, when we got older, we didn't talk very much, especially after you moved to Indiana. But I swear, I didn't know that much about you and Will, but all I knew was whatever you told me. But he sounded... like a great guy. So one day, it was like, I don't know, fate or something. We were all at a party in Baltimore, right across from this street actually, and wouldn't you know it? We had mutual friends. Outside of you. Anyways, you know that feeling, when you meet someone and ... it just clicks? I'm sure you had that feeling when you met Tim--everyone loves him by the way--and anyway, I like, had no idea that you even knew Will, or I mean, that he was your Will, but I mean, he wasn't even really your Will, right? I mean."
"Yeah," I reached my hand out to rest it on Hanna's shoulder for what assurance I could give her.
"I love him, you know?" She gasped, and it turned into a laugh. She dabbed her eyes with the fancy paper towel.
There was a pause from me. I did not know for how long I had this pause. What could I tell her? Would I tell her everything I had been keeping inside me for this long? That I was worried they were rushing into things? That I knew them both, and I knew how they were both so different? Will was the person I grew up with, he was literally the boy next door, and if that Will was standing here in this bathroom at this given moment, he would laugh. He would have just laughed at how ridiculously overpriced and yuppie-centric this place was. She had no idea the feeling of loving someone for so long, as a brother, as a friend, as the person you learned and grew together with. She met Will at a party on a drunken night and somehow, now they are supposed to be in love? All I could think of was how much I wished she could give me one true trait Will had that she loved, rather than he fit the bill of the perfect, handsome, well educated, well-to-do husband. She doesn't even know a damn thing about football. Is this what happens when we grow older? We fall apart and interview a spouse to marry, and mask it all with the facade of fate and destiny?
"Yeah," was all I could make out. It came out with gritted teeth and unrelenting guilt.
"The thing is," Hannah continued. "I'm standing here with you, here, and I'm looking at you like an idiot. I waited for your response like you had an answer. Like you had been this secret lover all along that he had been pining for. But that's ridiculous. Did you know," she paused to laugh. "I thought you were going to pull a Julia Roberts on me and try to ruin my wedding?"
"I'm going to be honest with you Hannah," I finally spoke up. "I am not here to push you at the alter and make out with your fiance."
"You see," Hannah's voice softened and her eyes lowered with sincerity. "Will and Eric don't talk anymore. And I think it's because of me."
I quickly remembered the story, and with my own guilt, I immediately responded, "No, I don't think it's you!"
"No, it has to be." Hannah shook her head. "I know Will met with you for drinks that one night to try to talk to you about us. He told me. But what you don't know, is that the party we met at was actually a couple of years ago. Everyone thinks we've only been together for nearly a year, but we couldn't tell anyone the truth. Anyways, ... I never met him before that party, right? So he was going on that night, telling me about some girl he and his brother were fighting about. You know Eric. He always fights for what he thinks is right. He never thought I was right for Will. He doesn't even go past small talk with me. I always thought there was another girl. Someone else meant for Will. I came in at the wrong time and interrupted everything selfishly." Her eyes widened, like there it was, the truth of how we felt finally laid right there in front of us, and it was blinding us. I was her concern all along?
"Hannah," I laughed from relief. "Oh Hannah. You know, Will has a choice. Every day he has a choice to not be with you. But he is. Look at where you are now. He chooses you every day, and for the rest of his life. It'll be fine. Everything is going to be okay." I reached in to hug her. And as we did, I thought of my own thoughts and how I suddenly answered them so simply.
"Thanks, Elie," Hannah began to cry again.
"Hey, it's fine, don't let the nerves get to you. This is not the night to get cold feet!" We smiled silently, letting this moment settle in. How could all these years of silence finally lead up to this moment of understanding? I breathed out before letting go of Hannah's embrace. It felt like a sigh of relief. As we walked out of the restroom and through the hall, I began to notice that nearly everyone had left, except for Will--and wouldn't you know it--my Tim. They were both talking casually at an empty table, but quickly turned to our attention.
"Hey, is everything alright?" Will rushed to Hannah. She nodded and laughed off how nerves of all the planning were just getting to her. He held her closely for comfort. "Oh, before I forget!" He suddenly exclaimed. Will rushed over to a table across the room and ran back with a box wrapped in Sunday comics paper. He handed it to me. "It's for you. Open it later."
"What is it?" Hannah suddenly asked with curious eyes.
"Oh, it's just an inside joke," Will propped his right arm across Hannah's shoulders. He squeezed her in this way.
"No, open it now," She nervously laughed. I looked to Will, and he shrugged his shoulders. Without realizing it, my hands started unraveling the wrapped box. I threw the paper to the floor and found a brown packing box. I lifted the flaps slowly, carefully, unsure of what kind of joke Will and I still shared. I reached into the box and felt the cool touch of a porcelain bowl. The familiar red color, with its yellow border and rigid square patterns, chrysanthemum flower design and Chinese characters. I never really took a moment to look at this bowl before, but I didn't even ever understand this bowl, or the meaning behind it. Whenever I see this particular design, it brings a certain feeling back to me. A familiar feeling that I don't understand, I only come to know.
"Oh?" Hannah exclaimed in confusion. "You gave her an old phở bowl?"
"I found this while I was moving," Will stated finally. "Funny thing, Elie left it at my house one day, but I used it anyway. Well, anyway, it's old. It's really her parents'."
"How did you know it was her's?" Hannah asked. "I see that bowl everywhere."
"I don't know," He paused and put his hands in his pockets. He looked up, out somewhere, to the corner of the room thoughtfully. "I guess there are some things you don't forget."
"Thanks, Eric," I reached over to hug him quickly. It was the first hug I'd given him in years.
"Well you two, I guess we'll be seeing each other in the morning, so we should get some rest," Tim smirked. "Can't be late for tomorrow."
The four of us walked to the entrance of the restaurant, where the host had been waiting for our final departure. He held the door for us to walk out. Standing outside, we all said our good byes, and gave each other hugs, the usual. Tim rose his hand for a taxi to take to our hotel. I watched Will and Hannah walk to their car. They laughed in the fading distance. And without realizing it, I smiled. Tim nudged me gently to let me know the taxi had pulled up. He leaned in the window, spoke to the cab driver, and opened the door for me. Together, we sat in the back seat and I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"Tim," I began. "Is it alright we're taking our time?"
"Of course," he chuckled. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know, I guess Hannah really shook me up tonight. You should've seen it. Emotional madness in the restroom. What's all this about 'the one?' What am I missing?"
"How do I explain?... Well, you know I'm not that much of a romantic...."
"That's fine, go on," I took his hand. I began to yawn. It was a long night.
"The way I see it is, there are great people out there and there are horrible people, and chances are, we will eventually meet some or one of each in our lives. That happens all the time. Most of us just don't pay much attention to it. We let the good ones slip away, and the bad ones stay without fully realizing the full extent of what we've done with each passing chance. Meanwhile, I knew one day I would have my day. My best day. That's when I met you. I saw that you were my one lucky blessing, you were so good to me and I appreciated that so much that I just couldn't let you go. So, I do my best to treat you right, give you back the good fortune you lent to me, only because I feel like you deserved nothing less." He paused. "The only smart thing an idiot like me ever did in his life was to not let the one good thing in his life be the one that got away."
"Did you rehearse that one, or was that just one you had been thinking about for a long time?"
"I felt it, I knew it for so long, but it didn't make sense into words until this moment,"
"Well. That was the most romantic thing I've ever heard," I smiled, and slowly drifted to sleep.
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