moment.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said, reminding myself again of Xiao Wang.
I reached my hand down the collar of his T-shirt and stretched the cotton from his neck. Feeling the groove of his collarbone, I closed my eyes. He unbuttoned my shirt, pushed me onto the couch and deftly took off the rest of my clothes. I undressed him, listening for the varied rhythm of his breathing, counting his breaths as they came close together. Counting A-d-a-m i-s h-o-m-e. When his hips were pressed against mine, I rested my hands in the small of his back. When he rose, I slid my hands up to his shoulder blades, sharp and expansive as wings. I thought of the dragon scroll, realized Da Ge’s words—
pretty
and
extravagant
—were fluttering around in my mind. As was the phrase
when I find her
. There were occasional sirens in the street.
I kept seeing Adam that November, even as my interest in Da Ge intensified. Adam made me feel safe. Maybe like a dad. Whenever I was with Adam, the Da Ge business seemed like an innocent and contained crush. Da Ge skipped class more than he showed up, and we hadn’t spoken since he turned in the suicide essay. So I was free to call Adam while I cultivated my fantasy of Da Ge: one that involved my lifting him out of his dangerous, difficult life into mine, being his Adam, keeping him safe.
Da Ge finally came back to class one day in mid-November when I had assigned my students to do “chat skits.” It was almost Thanksgiving; people were in a holiday mood. I put them in unlikely pairs and situations: Xiao Wang and Chase, whose native language was Spanish, were strangers in a bar, having a “casual conversation.”
“Hello, lady!” Chase said, as soon as Xiao Wang had settled in a chair. I bent to take notes, stifled a laugh. I didn’t want to interrupt and prevent them from feeling casual.
“Hello, Chase,” said Xiao Wang. “Oh! I’m sorry. I forget! Hello, mister.”
“How are you doing?” Chase asked. It’s amazing what a difference the word “doing” can make at the end of “how are you.”
“I am doing okay,” said Xiao Wang. I had told them that “okay” sounds better than “well” in conversation, even though it’s grammatically less accurate. She smiled out at me from the skit stage, to see if I’d noticed her apt use. I smiled back.
“I would like to treat you to a drink,” said Chase. “It will be my treat. Is it okay?”
I scribbled a note to tell him about “Can I buy you a drink?”
“It’s okay for me to have the drink from you,” said Xiao Wang.
“What will you like?” Chase asked.
“I cannot drink beer,” said Xiao Wang.
“You do not enjoy beer. What will you like?” Chase repeated.
I turned a little bit to find Da Ge in my peripheral vision. He was watching Xiao Wang, perhaps with concern, but when he felt my eyes on him, he turned toward me and smiled, holding my gaze until I looked away.
“I would like the water with gas,” Xiao Wang said. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but Chase was, since apparently in Spanish water comes with and without gas, too. He nodded and beckoned an imaginary waiter.
Da Ge had turned his attention back to the performance, and now he said something to Xiao Wang in Chinese, in which the English word “bubble” made a cameo, and Xiao Wang covered her face with her hands.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Don’t stop.”
“Excuse me,” she said to Chase. “I would like bubble water,” she said.
“I will go to the bar to get bubble water,” Chase said. He stood.
“Thank you,” said Xiao Wang. She dipped her head in a kind of bow.
I clapped with the rest of the class.
“I’m sorry! This mistake of the bubbles!” Xiao Wang said. “I think you know that this in Chinese is like to carry gas.” She said two Chinese syllables. “I don’t know what this is in English.”
“You can call it mineral water, seltzer, or sparkling water.”
“Seltzer,” Xiao Wang said, without the
l
or
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said, reminding myself again of Xiao Wang.
I reached my hand down the collar of his T-shirt and stretched the cotton from his neck. Feeling the groove of his collarbone, I closed my eyes. He unbuttoned my shirt, pushed me onto the couch and deftly took off the rest of my clothes. I undressed him, listening for the varied rhythm of his breathing, counting his breaths as they came close together. Counting A-d-a-m i-s h-o-m-e. When his hips were pressed against mine, I rested my hands in the small of his back. When he rose, I slid my hands up to his shoulder blades, sharp and expansive as wings. I thought of the dragon scroll, realized Da Ge’s words—
pretty
and
extravagant
—were fluttering around in my mind. As was the phrase
when I find her
. There were occasional sirens in the street.
I kept seeing Adam that November, even as my interest in Da Ge intensified. Adam made me feel safe. Maybe like a dad. Whenever I was with Adam, the Da Ge business seemed like an innocent and contained crush. Da Ge skipped class more than he showed up, and we hadn’t spoken since he turned in the suicide essay. So I was free to call Adam while I cultivated my fantasy of Da Ge: one that involved my lifting him out of his dangerous, difficult life into mine, being his Adam, keeping him safe.
Da Ge finally came back to class one day in mid-November when I had assigned my students to do “chat skits.” It was almost Thanksgiving; people were in a holiday mood. I put them in unlikely pairs and situations: Xiao Wang and Chase, whose native language was Spanish, were strangers in a bar, having a “casual conversation.”
“Hello, lady!” Chase said, as soon as Xiao Wang had settled in a chair. I bent to take notes, stifled a laugh. I didn’t want to interrupt and prevent them from feeling casual.
“Hello, Chase,” said Xiao Wang. “Oh! I’m sorry. I forget! Hello, mister.”
“How are you doing?” Chase asked. It’s amazing what a difference the word “doing” can make at the end of “how are you.”
“I am doing okay,” said Xiao Wang. I had told them that “okay” sounds better than “well” in conversation, even though it’s grammatically less accurate. She smiled out at me from the skit stage, to see if I’d noticed her apt use. I smiled back.
“I would like to treat you to a drink,” said Chase. “It will be my treat. Is it okay?”
I scribbled a note to tell him about “Can I buy you a drink?”
“It’s okay for me to have the drink from you,” said Xiao Wang.
“What will you like?” Chase asked.
“I cannot drink beer,” said Xiao Wang.
“You do not enjoy beer. What will you like?” Chase repeated.
I turned a little bit to find Da Ge in my peripheral vision. He was watching Xiao Wang, perhaps with concern, but when he felt my eyes on him, he turned toward me and smiled, holding my gaze until I looked away.
“I would like the water with gas,” Xiao Wang said. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but Chase was, since apparently in Spanish water comes with and without gas, too. He nodded and beckoned an imaginary waiter.
Da Ge had turned his attention back to the performance, and now he said something to Xiao Wang in Chinese, in which the English word “bubble” made a cameo, and Xiao Wang covered her face with her hands.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Don’t stop.”
“Excuse me,” she said to Chase. “I would like bubble water,” she said.
“I will go to the bar to get bubble water,” Chase said. He stood.
“Thank you,” said Xiao Wang. She dipped her head in a kind of bow.
I clapped with the rest of the class.
“I’m sorry! This mistake of the bubbles!” Xiao Wang said. “I think you know that this in Chinese is like to carry gas.” She said two Chinese syllables. “I don’t know what this is in English.”
“You can call it mineral water, seltzer, or sparkling water.”
“Seltzer,” Xiao Wang said, without the
l
or
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