Page 87 of If You Could See the Sun
I try not to think about Henry Li.
But then one afternoon, when Baba’s still at work and I’m watching the last episode ofYanxi Palacealone in my bedroom, a knock sounds on our front door.
“Alice,” Mama calls from outside, and I know right away that something is wrong. She’s using her fake polite voice, usually reserved for chats with the neighbors at the local park or large family gatherings.
I bolt upright from bed, pulse already racing, and call back, “What is it?”
“Someone’s here to see you.”
Henry Li is standing in our living room.
There’s something so surreal about the scene that I’m half convinced it’s a hallucination. Henry—with his perfect posture and ironed button-down shirt and polished shoes, the very image of wealth and privilege—next to our battered sofa, our yellow-stained walls with bits of old newspaper pasted over the holes.
He seems too big for the room. Too bright.
It’s like one of those“Which of these things is out of place?”games, except the answer is painfully obvious.
Then Henry’s eyes land on me, and I realize howImust look. I’m wearing Mama’s baggy plaid pajamas—the ones that have a wide tear in the sleeves—my eyes are still single-lidded and puffy from crying, and I haven’t washed my hair in four days.
A hot, sticky sensation fills my stomach, humiliation turning into anger and back again, and suddenly I want to crawl out of my skin.
“Hi, Alice,” he says, his voice overwhelmingly soft.
“Bye,” I blurt out.
And I flee.
Our flat is so small that it takes only seconds for me to sprint back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me with such force the walls tremble. I haven’t felt this kind of panic, this mad, heart-pounding, nauseating rush of adrenaline, since the last Beijing Ghost task. Since everything fell apart.
My mind whirs as I fall onto the bed, pulling the blankets high over my head as if I can somehow pretend this nightmare scenario away. I have no idea why Henry’s here, but I need him to leave. Now.
Maybe I’ll tell him I’ve developed a rare but very serious allergy to other humans, I think desperately.One that will cause intense choking and potential death if anyone comes within three feet of me. Or maybe I’ll say I have a dog in here who’s terrified of strangers. Or maybe—
“Alice?” He knocks on the door once. Twice. I hear the faint rustle of fabric, and imagine him sliding his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to the side. The image is so vivid, so terribly familiar it makes my chest hurt. “Can I come in?”
I open my mouth to give him one of my very flimsy excuses, but I choke on the words. After all that’s happened, I’m still a terrible liar. Maybe it’s for the best.
“Um—wait a second,” I tell him, scrambling out of bed. In one sweeping motion, I clear the dirty laundry and empty snack packets and wads of tissue off the sheets and stuff them all into a basket, cringing at the thought of Henry witnessing such a mess. When I’m absolutely certain there are no more unwashed bras or socks lying around, I open the door.
“Thank you,” Henry says, his tone and expression so formal I’m almost tempted to laugh.
Then he steps inside and examines the tiny bedroom carefully, as if trying hard to come up with a compliment. Him and his manners. At last, he points to a plastic tiger statue by the bed that was a Lunar Festival gift from Xiaoyi to Mama—the only object in the room that isn’t a necessity.
“This is really nice,” he says.
“Thanks. It’s my mum’s.”
He quickly drops his hand.
I debate offering him a seat out of courtesy, but there’s barely enough room for him to stand as it is. “Sorry this place is so small,” I mumble, then realize who I’m talking to. Remember how he usually acts in such cramped spaces. “Wait. Aren’t you afraid of—”
“I’m fine,” he says, but he doesn’tlookfine. Now that he’s this close, I can make out the familiar lines of tension in his shoulder and jaw.
God. As if I needed another reason for this arrangement to be a bad idea.
“You should get out,” I tell him. “I mean, not as in I want to kick you out or anything, but if you’re not comfortable—”
“Iwantto be here,” he says, like that settles everything. Then he adds, quietly, “It’s been ages since we last saw each other. I...” He clears his throat. “I’ve missed fighting with you at school.”
