Page 92 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
I laugh but sober quickly; I can tell he’s preparing to say something serious.
“I got along better with her than my mom and dad.” He looks down. “My parents favored my brother—his grades were always a little better than mine—and they weren’t thrilled with the whole brewery thing, of course. I used to try to please them, but I’ve mostly managed to let it go. I’ll never fully get their approval, and that’s okay. I can live with it.”
“Cam…”
“My grandma wasn’t disappointed in me. It felt like she understood me better than anyone else in my family. I’m not sure why.” He wipes his eyes and chuckles. “Sorry. This is a little heavy for a second date.”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “It’s fine.” He’s never told me any of this before. I guess it wasn’t something he felt the need to talk about on June 20. I’m glad he’s opening up to me, even if I’m annoyed with his parents for not appreciating him.
I squeeze his hand, and he holds on for a moment before withdrawing.
“What about you?” he asks. “Do you have any grandparents left?”
“No, and I never knew my mother’s parents. They weren’t good people, so I was told, and she didn’t talk to them anymore. When I was little, I didn’t understand, but later, I trusted her judgment. My father’s parents—we saw them regularly, and they lived with us for a while. The language barrier was a bit awkward, though. My dad was always playing translator because my grandparents weren’t fluent in English.”
Even then, he didn’t translate everything. I think there were things he didn’t fully understand himself. His Chinese isn’t perfect; though it was his first language, he’s more comfortable speaking English. As a child, there were years when he refused to speak Chinese. A few white kids at school had made fun of him, and the mother of a friend from Hong Kong had criticized how he spoke—she considered his Chinese low-class.
In addition to my dad’s issues with the language, I suspect there was a little censoring going on too. Perhaps he didn’t approve of everything his mom and dad wanted to say to us.
But I knew my paternal grandparents and loved them.
Most people in my family gravitated to the humanities, butI was the one who’d rather write a math test than an essay, and my grandfather seemed more like me. He was quick with numbers. He wanted his children and grandchildren to get an education because he’d never had the chance himself.
“Where did your father grow up?” Cam asks.
“Here. My grandparents were from southern China. They left…” I make some vague gesture that’s supposed to mean “Communist Revolution.” The specifics of why they came to Canada were never discussed with me. I’m not sure how much my father even knows. “What about your family?” I know the answer to this question, but I ask it anyway.
“They left Taiwan in the eighties.”
“Have you been?”
“A couple of times, but not in a while.”
I look around and suddenly realize that there aren’t many people left. The restaurant is supposed to close in five minutes.
“We should get the bill,” I say.
This time, when he tries to pay, I let him.
Once again, we kiss before we get on the subway. The kiss is achingly familiar, and I wonder if it’s familiar to him too. There’s a part of me that thinks it must be, however foolish that seems, and I can’t help longing for him to recall our past.
My feelings are a complicated mess of joy, sadness, and confusion.
A new year, a new start, is exactly what I need.
35Noelle
I call my father while I’m waiting for the bus, but I don’t mention my date with Cam. It’s been so long since I dated someone, and I’m unsure of when I should bring it up. Once I consider him my “boyfriend,” whenever that is? Once we’ve been seeing each other for a month? Three months? Only when I’m ready for everyone to meet?
I decide to wait at least a few weeks, in part because, even if I’ve been on numerous dates with Cam in the past, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it last. And I can’t casually mention a guy and expect the conversation to move on to another topic shortly thereafter; no, if I bring up something like that—with either of my parents—I need to be prepared for questions.
Although I don’t say anything about Cam, I do ask, “Will Madison be there tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Dad says.
“She’s okay with me coming?”
“Yes, but please don’t…” He sighs. It’s not a video call, so I can’t see him, but I imagine him rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t antagonize her. Don’t ask too many questions.”
