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Iris went to work on Wednesday, but she wasn’t as productive as usual. If she hadn’t just told Scott about her conflict of interest, she might have taken the day off because her grandmother was having surgery, but she felt like she couldn’t afford to be away from the office. She needed to prove she was a good, dedicated employee.
At lunch, her parents texted to say the surgery had gone fine, and Iris breathed out a sigh of relief.
She didn’t go to the hospital after work, not wanting to overwhelm her grandmother with visitors soon after her surgery, but she went on Thursday. Rebecca was already in the room when she arrived.
“You’re not allowed to worry about me,” Ngin Ngin was saying as Iris entered. “Not good for baby if you worry.”
“You can’t just tell me not to worry about you,” Rebecca said.
“I’m old and sick. Everyone should do what I want.”
“Hi, Ngin Ngin.” Iris took the seat beside Rebecca. She reached over and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.”
Iris managed a smile. “You sound like yourself.”
Ngin Ngin’s voice was a little fainter than usual, but otherwise, it was true.
“Of course I sound like myself,” Ngin Ngin said. “Who else am I supposed to sound like? Justin Trudeau? Can’t wait to get out of here.”
“You’ll need to stay for at least a few days,” Rebecca said.
“Aiyah. Iris will blow up my kitchen by then.”
Iris chuckled. “I’m really not that bad.”
“Make sure you water the herbs in the window box, okay?”
“Okay.” Iris paused. “You won’t be able to go home right after you get out of the hospital. You may go to a rehabilitation facility for a few weeks, or Mom and Dad said you can live with them. It’ll be better for you as you regain your mobility. Their house is more accessible, and there will be more people to look after you. They will arrange any physiotherapy and other appointments you might need.”
She wasn’t sure if anyone had had this conversation with her grandmother yet, but they needed to start getting Ngin Ngin used to the idea. She couldn’t go back to the life she’d had.
It pained Iris to say that to her grandmother, but it was the truth.
“Hmph,” Ngin Ngin said. “I don’t like this plan.”
“Like it or not, you are ninety-one years old and you just broke your hip.”
“Living with Carolyn will drive me crazy.”
“I know. Living with Mom drives me crazy, too, but they’ll take good care of you, okay?”
“I prefer to live with you.”
“I can stay with my parents for a little while,” Iris said.
“But then you won’t live at my house. Who will water my plants?”
“I can come down often enough to water your plants. Or we can get one of your friends in the neighborhood to do it.”
“You must call my friends,” Ngin Ngin said. “Tell them I’m in hospital. You know where I keep my address book?”
Iris nodded.
“You call Rosetta, Dee, and Mrs. Yee.”
“I’ll do that.”
“You know the last time I stayed in hospital? Very long time ago.” Ngin Ngin looked at Rebecca. “When your dad was born. I was so scared. Not knowing what was going on, so much pain. Doctor said mean things. I don’t know what he said because I didn’t speak English then, but I knew they were mean. I told myself, I must do everything so I never need to stay in hospital again. And I succeeded for more than sixty years. See? I’m stubborn. You tell them, I’m stubborn. I will be able to go back to my house very soon.”
On one hand, it seemed good that Ngin Ngin was so positive, but she was in denial of reality, and that wasn’t like her. Iris didn’t feel like pushing it now, though. Ngin Ngin would still be in the hospital for a little while.
Rebecca gasped.
“What is it?” Ngin Ngin asked. “Is baby coming?”
“No, he’s just kicking,” Rebecca said. “He’s very active.”
“Let me feel.”
Rebecca waddled over to the bed. She took Ngin Ngin’s hand and placed it on her belly.
“I don’t feel anything. Maybe he doesn’t like me.” Ngin Ngin frowned, but then her face brightened. “There. I feel a kick.”
Iris felt unequipped to handle all the changes in her life. Her grandmother had just had surgery, her cousin was days away from giving birth. It was too much.
She wished Alex was beside her, but she’d sent him away.
It was necessary. I had to.
“Where’s Elliot?” Ngin Ngin asked Rebecca.
“He’s at work,” Rebecca said, sitting back down. “He should be here soon.”
“He will be in the delivery room when you give birth?”
“That’s the plan.”
“In my day, husbands were not in the room. Probably for the best. Your yeh yeh wouldn’t have handled it well.” Ngin Ngin turned to Iris. “Where’s Alex?”
“At work.”
Actually, he’d probably be home by now, but she wouldn’t be seeing him today.
“When I’m better, you invite him over. I will cook for him again.”
Iris smiled sadly. “Okay, Ngin Ngin. I’ll do that.”
* * *
Alex snagged a booth near the back of The Thirsty Lumberjack and drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for Jamie. He scowled at his beer. The bar didn’t have any stouts on tap right now, so he was drinking a pilsner.
It was just like the night he’d met Iris here more than two months ago, except that time he’d been in a bad mood because of his father’s unexpected visit with an unnecessary box of food, and now he was in a bad mood because Iris had rejected him.
He’d sent her a few text messages today, the first one asking if her grandmother’s surgery had gone okay. Iris had told him that Ngin Ngin was fine, but she hadn’t said anything else.
Jamie ambled in and sat across from him. “Weekday night at the bar. Must be serious.”
Alex shrugged.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
He hadn’t seen Jamie in a while. His friend had no idea what had happened with Iris in the past two weeks.
“I invited her out for coffee,” Alex said, “and then...”
He told Jamie about meeting Iris’s grandmother, the two Friday nights and Saturday mornings they’d spent together, and then Tuesday, when Chris had shown up on site instead of Iris. Hard to believe that was only two days ago. He described going to Iris’s grandmother’s house, the evening spent in the hospital, the fight on the staircase.
Walking down the hallways of the hospital had given him heart palpitations, reminding him of all the times he’d visited his mother at East Markham Hospital as her body withered away. But he’d pushed those thoughts aside and stayed there for Iris.
He’d thought she cared for him, too, but then she’d told him she never wanted to see him again. She was racked with guilt, and he understood. If he were in her shoes, he would have felt the same way, even if logically he knew it wasn’t his fault.
“And then,” he said with a sigh, “I told her I love her.”
Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you?”
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. Who do you think I am?”
“Okay, okay.” Jamie held up his hands, palms out. “Just making sure.”
“Anyway, it didn’t change anything. She told me to leave.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Maybe an hour. Do I look like complete shit?”
“Yeah, you kind of do.”
Alex held up his middle finger, and Jamie laughed.
The waitress came around. Jamie ordered a beer, then slung his arm along the back of the booth once she’d left. “Come on. Pour out all your sappy, melodramatic feelings. I can take it.”
“I’m not sure you can,” Alex said.
“That bad, eh?”
“How did you get so fucking lucky? You start dating, you fall in love, six months later, you’re engaged. Smooth sailing. No problems.”
“I wouldn’t say there were no problems, but compared to what you’ve been through, I see your point.”
“Why did it have to be her? She’s so stubborn and hot-tempered, and sometimes she just pisses the crap out of me.”
Jamie gave him a smile. “And yet you want to kiss her senseless. It could still work out, you know.”
“Don’t give me false hope.”
Alex had thought it himself, of course. He hadn’t been able to help himself from looking for hope. Iris had been dealing with a lot when she’d forced him out of the house. Maybe once a few days had passed, she would feel differently. She would realize she loved him, too.
But maybe she didn’t feel the same way.
Alex gulped his beer. “Distract me. Tell me something about the wedding. Hell, talk about flowers for twenty minutes, or cake tasting. I don’t care.”
“It’s a bad sign when you’re asking me to talk about flower arrangements, not that I could fill even five minutes on flowers. Instead, I’ll tell you about some of the ridiculous things my future mother-in-law wants for the ceremony...”
* * *
Friday evening, Alex was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, half-watching the Jays game. He was trying—unsuccessfully—not to think about the first time he’d sat on this couch with Iris, when she’d been wearing that gorgeous blue dress. They’d had sex, then eaten rice crackers.
Dammit. He might need to move. Everything in his apartment reminded him of her, and it sucked big time. It felt like she was everywhere.
There was a knock at the door, and Alex let out a string of curses. His father. Just what he needed.
Unless it was Iris, and she’d changed her mind...
He hurried to the door and swung it open.
It was his dad, accompanied by a large box of food.
Alex sighed as he ushered his father inside. Hopefully the man would be out of here in five minutes. He really wasn’t in the mood for this.
“What was on sale this week?” Alex grumbled. “Char siu again?”
“Strawberries.” Dad pulled two plastic containers out of the box, followed by a few long eggplants and a package of tofu.
“Great,” Alex said, sarcasm edging his voice. “Just what I need.”
His dad gave him a look but didn’t say anything else as he proceeded to unload the rest of the box. There were cans of water chestnuts and bamboo shoots, a bag of oranges, some lychees, butternut squash, hoisin sauce, cashews, frozen shrimp ...
He was getting sick of this.
“Do you like cauliflower?” Dad asked. “You didn’t when you were little, but I can’t remember if that changed. It was on sale this week, and I wasn’t sure whether to buy it for you.”
“You do realize I live less than a ten-minute walk from a grocery store, don’t you?”
Dad shrugged.
“I can buy my own food. I don’t know why you think I’m incapable of doing so.”
“I don’t,” Dad said mildly.
“Then why? Because you know who isn’t eating? You. Not me. I swear you must have lost at least ten pounds, and you were hardly big to begin with. Maybe you should keep the food for yourself and skip the visit.”
Alex knew he shouldn’t talk to his father like this, but he couldn’t help it. The words just tumbled out of his mouth. He was so pissed off at the world right now, and Iris still wasn’t answering his texts.
“You liked it when she did it,” Dad said quietly, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dad hesitated. “Your mother.” He looked guilty as soon as he said the word, as though he wasn’t allowed to talk about the woman he’d been married to for thirty-eight years. “She used to drop in unexpectedly and bring you food. Every week or two.” His voice wavered. “I was trying to be like her.”
Oh.
Alex sat down at the table. His chest felt like it was being clamped in a vise.
“Obviously, I’m not your mother,” Dad continued, “but she’s not here anymore, and I’m doing the best I can. Because you miss her.”
Alex did miss her. So very much. “She would drive halfway across the city to bring me blueberries because they were on sale. I’m sure she used more in gas than she saved on blueberries.”
“Yes.” Dad smiled faintly. Sadly. “And you’d tell her that, and then you’d bicker, but it was always good-natured. You’re different with me. I realized I almost never talked to you without her around, and I don’t know how to be with you now that she’s gone.”
“I realized the same thing.”
“It’s my fault. I’m your father. Maybe it’s partly because I wasn’t around enough when you were little. She got pregnant as soon as we moved to Canada, and I was working so hard, trying to be successful in our new country. I didn’t spend the time that I should have with you. And now you’re all I have here.”
Alex swallowed. “Stuart will move back soon.”
“I’m glad, but I can hardly bear to think of their baby. It just reminds me of how she isn’t here anymore, and she’ll never get to see her grandchild.”
The air was heavy. It felt like it was compressing his body, weighing him down.
“I think about that, too,” he said softly. “Mom would have already bought a box full of things for the baby.”
“Yes.” Dad paused. “So, I bring you food, because I don’t know what else to do. More food than she would because, well, I’m trying to show how much I care.”
“Dad,” Alex whispered.
“You look good. I mean, aside from the fact that you obviously haven’t been sleeping enough, but it looks like you’re training for the Olympics.”
“Lots of time at the gym, because...”
“I understand,” Dad said. “That’s just what you do. Whereas I haven’t been eating.”
“You should really—”
“Some days, I just can’t. And to be honest, I don’t really know how to cook.”
“You don’t?”
“She made sure you and Stuart knew what to do in the kitchen before you moved away from home. But not me. She thought she’d always be there to cook for me.”
And now she wasn’t.
Alex pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes.
“Sometimes I try to make things,” Dad said, “but they taste awful and I have no appetite anyway. Then I bring the ingredients I don’t use over to you. That’s the other reason I give you so much stuff.” He stood up to get a tissue box. “Here.” He touched Alex on the back before sitting down.
Tears ran down Alex’s face. There had been tears since his mom had died, but very few. He’d kept moving, kept separating himself from his feelings, so this didn’t happen.
But it was okay to cry.
It was good to actually talk to his father for once, rather than getting mad at him for bringing over five tins of water chestnuts.
“What about that girl you were seeing?” Dad was probably attempting to cheer Alex up, but it was the wrong thing to say.
“We’re not seeing each other anymore. Her choice, not mine.”
“Maybe one day...”
His father was probably talking about him meeting another woman, but Alex hoped that maybe one day, Iris would change her mind. One day.
“I bet Iris is worse in the kitchen than you are,” Alex said, managing a smile. “She screwed up scrambled eggs.”
“I don’t even know how to make scrambled eggs.”
“I can teach you.”
It was hard to believe this was his life now. Offering to teach his father how to make scrambled eggs.
“You could take cooking classes,” Alex said. “Something to do in the evening.” Instead of going home to an empty house.
“I don’t know.”
“I could take them with you, if you like.”
“Would you?”
Alex nodded. “Yes.”
Something for them to do together rather than his father dropping in unexpectedly with too much food once a week. A way to learn to be together, without any other family members around.
“I’d prefer Cantonese cooking,” Dad said.
“It’s Toronto. I’m sure that won’t be too hard to find. We’ll try for something in the fall. And, Dad, you don’t have to try to be like Mom. You’re not her, and that’s...” Alex’s voice trembled. “That’s all right. I can’t get my mother back, but I still have my father.”
“Okay.” Dad’s voice trembled, too, on that single word. “Okay.”
“I’ll make more of an effort as well. I know I haven’t been the best son. I don’t know what to say to you, and then I end up saying nothing. It’s not all your fault.” Alex stood up, and hesitantly, he went to his father and put his arms around him. It was new and a little awkward, but they were finally making progress. “You can talk about Mom whenever you want. I get the sense you try not to mention her because you’re afraid of upsetting me, but there’s a good chance I’m already thinking about her. It’s okay, Dad.”
His father shook his head. “It’s not okay. I miss her every day. Every hour. I thought if I did the things she used to do for you, you’d miss her a tiny bit less and that would be worth it, but I can never replace her. She was one of a kind.”
“She was,” Alex agreed, a lump in his throat. “She was.”
* * *
After they ate scrambled eggs and toast for dinner, followed by strawberries and lychees for dessert, his father left, and Alex lay down on the couch. He didn’t even have the energy to turn on the TV. He’d been scraped raw by his conversation with his father, though he was glad they’d finally talked for real.
But now, all of his limbs felt like they were made of lead, and his chest still felt like it was being squeezed between two bricks.
Now, more than ever, he wished he had Iris. He wished he could hold her, feel her fingers moving through his hair, scraping across his skin. Making him feel whole.
Dammit, he missed her.
He loved her.
He loved her so, so much.