"Did you change your mind or is it still something you want to do?"
"It wasn't an acceptable career path. Good Chinese boys go to good colleges," he replies tersely.
Somehow I don't see him as a "good boy." In fact, his vibes suggest the opposite.
"That must've been hard giving up something you enjoyed doing."
"I didn't give it up completely. I raced without my father knowing. I stopped racing when my cousin died. We were racing Taike Road between Taiyuan and Jiaogu when her car spun out. I should have known she couldn't handle going into the “Devil U Shape” at my speed. But I was selfish. I wanted to take the turn fast even though I knew there was a chance she wouldn't slow down."
"I'm so sorry," I say quietly.
He blinks away the pain in his eyes and fixes the intensity of his stare upon me. “Did you say your parents were black?”
I nod. “Lila and Mo adopted me when I was three and a half. I don’t remember much of my early years, but I remember hanging on to Lila’s leg a lot. Mo said I didn’t give her much of a choice but to adopt me.”
“Was that unusual?”
“You know, it wasn’t to black folk. At Lila’s church, which was mostly black, I never felt out of place. It was more white folk who thought it strange. Actually, they usually assumed Lila was my nanny. But I remember when I was eight years old, and we were driving home from a restaurant, Mo got pulled over by a cop. He said Mo didn’t come to a complete stop at the stop sign, but I was sure he had. He and Uncle Ray often talked about how they have to drive extra careful because they could get pulled over anytime for a DWB.”
“What is a DWB?”
“Driving While Black. The cop kept asking me if my parents knew where I was. I was so confused and scared. He told me he was going to call my parents for me. He didn’t believe me when I said Lila and Mo were my parents. We had to go down to the police station, and I was placed with Child Protective Services. I thought they were going to take me permanently away from Lila and Mo. It was the scariest moment of my life, next to finding out that Mo had lung cancer and the time Andre got a concussion.”
“Andre’s your brother?”
“My parents adopted him when he was ten. He bounced around the foster system a lot. I want to go into social work because Lila made such a huge difference in my life and Andre’s life.”
“And she approves of your career preferences?”
“I think Lila would support me in just about anything—within reason. She probably wouldn’t be too happy if I went into something like modeling—not that I would ever qualify to be a model—but even then she probably wouldn’t strictly forbid it.”
Prostitution on the other hand...
“Would she forbid selling your virginity?”
If Tony were polite, he wouldn’t have addressed the elephant I let in the room, but it didn’t surprise me that he went there. Like I said, he didn’t strike me as a “good boy.”
“Well, there’s nothing she can do about it now,” I retort. “She would be mortified, and, yes, there was no way she would have let me do it. She’d work extra hours, all while suffering from arthritis and GERD, so that me and Andre could have the life we want. And I just—I don’t want her to have to do that.”
The bowls of steaming hot noodles arrive then, and I’m glad for the distraction. I’m not sure why I’m so chatty. Maybe sex makes me loquacious.
“I’m not sure how the French eat,” I say as I prepare to dig in, “but I’m totally fine with slurping. My friend James Fan, who introduced me to pho says it’s a must because you want to eat the noodles and soup when it’s nice and hot, but you have to draw in air so you don’t burn yourself.”
“This James tell you anything else about pho?”
“Just that the sauces are a must, too.”
We focus on eating, and after a few mouthfuls, I realize I’m not that hungry, having eaten earlier in the hotel.
“So how’s the pho?” I ask.
“Good,” he acknowledges as he adds more hot sauce into his bowl.
“Do you eat mostly French, Chinese or Vietnamese cuisine?”
“Depends where I am.”
“Do you prefer one over the other?”