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Glenn is busy with his family, so it’s another week before we’re able to meet at the bar. I sit sullenly at a table in the back, imperial stout in hand, as I wait for him.
It’s been a shitty week. I haven’t slept well, and I had another dream—I refuse to call it a nightmare—about unicorns. Also, a colleague stole my chocolate at work again, and it took every bit of restraint I had not to yell at him.
I’ve spent most of my free time at home, moping and thinking about Chloe. About how it felt to wake up with her pressed against my chest, about the way her laugh made me smile. I remember eating dinner with our hands clasped together under the table. I want more of that, but I can’t. I can’t do that to her.
And after a year of not being able to eat ice cream, I’ve finished two pints in a week.
A video of me being chased out of the bookstore has gone viral, and it’s racked up millions of views and thousands of comments on YouTube. Some people have commented on my resemblance to Chris Pang, and there’s even a petition to cast Chris Pang as Marvin Wong in the movie adaptation of Embrace Your Inner Ice Cream Sandwich. There’s also wide speculation about why I was at the book signing. Some people suspect I was trying to win Lisa back; others think I was there to give her a piece of my mind. One weirdo thought I was trying to warn her of an impending alien attack.
A Korean-American journalist used the video as a starting point for his rant about how tough Asian men have it in the dating world. Of me, he said, “This guy has it all. A good job, good looks, a full head of hair, and rather than chasing after him for a date, women are trying to run him out of a bookstore.” Actually, that video spurred a number of discussions about race, which I’ve done my best to avoid, though I did see a post by someone who complained that my bad reputation was making things even worse for Asian men in the dating world.
“Hey, Drew.” Glenn sits down across from me. “I saw the video.”
“You and everyone else in the world,” I mutter.
“Is that why you look like trash?”
“Do I?” I say mildly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He gives me a look.
“I had a break-up.”
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. I thought you weren’t dating anymore.”
“I wasn’t, but Chloe...she was special.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “But I was wondering if you could ask Radhika to do me a favor.”
“Sure, man. What is it?”
“Chloe owns an ice cream shop on Baldwin Street. Homemade ice cream, Asian-inspired flavors. Taro, Vietnamese coffee, Hong Kong milk tea ice cream—things like that. It opened a few months ago, and business is not as great as it could be. I was wondering if Radhika could review it on her blog?”
Radhika is a fairly well-known Toronto food blogger, and if she gave Ginger Scoops a good review, I think it would make a difference for Chloe.
I only want the best for her, and the best isn’t me.
Glenn regards me for a minute. “Are you trying to win her back?”
“No, I’m the one who ended the relationship, but I still want to do this for her.”
“Why did you end it?”
I open my mouth to tell him the truth. That I’m no good as a boyfriend. For anyone, but especially for Chloe, who is such a sweet and lovely person—I couldn’t bear the thought of changing her. I don’t want another woman to have to go on a long journey of self-discovery because of me.
I shrug. “Just didn’t work out, you know? But I want her business to succeed.”
“I can’t believe you dated someone who owns an ice cream shop.”
“I can’t believe it, either.”
“I’ll talk to Radhika and see what I can do.”
* * *
Saturday morning, I’m drinking a cup of black coffee and scowling at the sunlight coming through my window when my phone rings.
“Buzz me up!” shouts Adrienne.
I have no idea why Adrienne is here, but I let her in.
A few minute later, my entire family comes through my door. Mom, Dad, Adrienne, Nathan, and Michelle.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“You want to visit my girlfriend again?” I snap. “Well, she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
“I knew it.” Mom turns to my father. “Didn’t I tell you? You thought he was being anti-social because of the video, but I knew it was more than that.”
Dad claps me on the back. “Good to see you’re alive. You look like crap.”
“What on earth is going on here?” I demand.
“Nobody had heard from you in a while,” Adrienne says. “Not even a text message.”
“Then why didn’t you call?”
“I did call, but you didn’t answer.”
Hmph. That’s entirely possible.
“We were worried,” Adrienne continues. “We wanted to make sure you were okay, especially after we saw that altercation on YouTube.”
“Wait!” Michelle says. “Uncle Drew, did you say Chloe isn’t your girlfriend anymore? You broke up?”
“Yes.”
“But Chloe’s my hero!” Michelle sounds tearful.
God, I’m making my little niece cry. I’m a monster.
Well, I already knew that.
“You can still go to Ginger Scoops and see her,” I say.
Michelle glares at me. Despite her short stature, it’s a terrifying glare. “Why did you break up with her? What did she do wrong?”
“She did nothing wrong.”
“Why were you at that silly woman’s book signing?” Mom asks. “What good did you think that would do? Or are you still not over Lisa? She left you at the altar and wrote a book about it. What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t worry, I’m over Lisa.”
“I don’t understand what happened. I liked Chloe.”
“You didn’t like that she runs an ice cream shop and doesn’t have a university degree.”
“Maybe I was too harsh on her.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I don’t know,” Mom says. “She seemed nice.”
“Wow, what a ringing endorsement.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“I know what happened,” Adrienne says.
“Please, enlighten, us.” Dad sits on the couch, hands behind his head. “Because I frankly have no idea.”
My sister crosses her arms and walks around me in a circle. “Drew, you see, has a rather fragile male ego.”
“What’s a fragile male ego?” Michelle asks.
Adrienne ignores her and jabs her finger into my chest, “You read Embrace Your Inner Ice Cream Sandwich recently, didn’t you?”
I nod.
“When you went to Lisa’s signing, you wanted answers. You wanted to know why she wrote that stuff about you. You wanted to know if it was all true. But you didn’t get to ask your question because you were run out of the room by a bunch of angry women, and you took that as your answer—that you don’t deserve love.”
I roll my eyes. “Who made you a psychologist?”
“Aiyah!” Mom looks at me. “Is she right? I can’t believe this. What’s wrong with you?” She hits my shoulder. “One woman didn’t appreciate you, and now you think that’s it?”
“That woman left me at the altar and wrote a book that sold millions of copies in twenty-three languages.”
“Oh, cut it with the twenty-three languages crap,” Adrienne says.
Mom throws up her arms. “Did I raise you to be such a wuss?” She turns to my father. “This is your fault.”
“I’m not a wuss,” I protest. “I just...I didn’t want to...” God, how to say this? “I didn’t want to melt another woman’s inner ice cream sandwich.”
“You mean by leaving it out in the sun?” Michelle asks.
I chuckle. “No, not like that.”
“That book is a load of crap,” Mom says. “Why are you quoting it?”
“It helped a lot of people,” I mutter.
“Those people are idiots! I did not raise my son to listen to such bullshit!”
“You said the S-word!” Michelle says.
“Okay, this is getting out of hand.” Adrienne turns to my parents, then Nathan. “Why don’t you all go to the playground with Michelle? I’ll stay here with Drew. I don’t think the big family intervention is working.”
Mom grumbles, but she leaves with Dad, Nathan, and Michelle. I make some more coffee for Adrienne, and we sit at the table together.
My older sister looks at me like I’m a pathetic creature. “So, you think you’re being noble by letting Chloe go?”
“Something like that.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “You think she’s better off without you, but I don’t believe that. You love each other—”
“Who said that?”
“I just know.”
“What, you have some kind of sixth sense?”
“Stop being an ass. I understand Lisa’s book got to you, but aside from being an annoying little brother—”
“Thanks.”
“—you’re a good person, and Chloe would be lucky to have you. I don’t know if Lisa’s talk about you stifling her spirit was complete bullshit or just mostly bullshit, but I doubt most people feel that way about you, even if you’re a bit of a grump. I mean, that’s not what you’re like with my daughter. You always encourage her interests.”
I do. I’ve even been looking up recipes to make with Michelle and ensuring I know how to spell any pasta shapes and cheeses she might think of.
Adrienne has a sip of coffee. “I’m not sure exactly what happened with Lisa, but you shouldn’t assume that what she said applies to all your relationships. That woman’s not the brightest crayon in the box. She climbed out a window when there was a perfectly good door right there.”
I let out a long sigh and scrub my hands over my face. “I’ll think about it.”
“By the way, would you be able to babysit Michelle tomorrow for a few hours? Nathan and I want to spend some time together alone, now that he’s back from Seattle.”
“Alright,” I say, “but we’re not going to Ginger Scoops.”
* * *
Sunday afternoon, Michelle and I are walking down Queen Street, heading to a ramen restaurant she wants to try.
“It’s supposed to be really good, Uncle Drew.” As she skips along beside me, she recites some facts about miso that are surprising to hear from a six-year-old, but that’s Michelle.
I’m in a weird mood. I couldn’t sleep well again last night. I kept thinking about my family’s visit, about what Adrienne said.
I’m still not sure about any of it, but I admit it might be possible for me to be with Chloe, though the “he would make a horrible father” line in the book still haunts me.
Michelle stops skipping and points at a window. “Look! It’s Colonel Mozzarella.”
I’m so confused right now. “Who’s Colonel Mozzarella?”
“The alpaca you got me for my birthday. I named him Colonel Mozzarella.”
I realize we’re standing in front of Libby’s Gifts, and there’s an alpaca, like the one I bought Michelle, in the window.
Michelle jumps up and down and points at something else. “It’s a unicorn suit.” She giggles. “You should try it on.”
There is indeed a mannequin wearing a unicorn onesie. It’s mostly blue, though the chest is white. There’s also a hood, featuring little ears, a pink mane, and a goddamn yellow horn.
It is the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life.
Yet I smile because it makes me think of Chloe.
My niece grabs my hand and drags me toward the door. I could resist her if I wanted to, of course, but I let myself be dragged inside. She insists that I ask the store clerk if the unicorn suit comes in children’s sizes, preferably in the color purple.
It’s a no on both counts.
Michelle frowns, but then she jumps up and down again. “Please try on the adult one, Uncle Drew!” She goes to the rack of unicorn onesies at the back and picks one up. “It’s perfect for you.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Why do you think it’s perfect for me?”
“It matches your eyes.”
I stare at her.
“That’s what Mommy said about the last shirt she bought for Daddy!”
“Right.”
Michelle clasps her hands together. “Please?”
I look into my niece’s pleading eyes and think, What the hell? Why not?
I head to the store’s only change room, unicorn onesie in hand. It’s pretty loose, and I’m able to pull it on top of my clothes once I take off my shoes.
I admire myself in the mirror.
Well, “admire” is the wrong word, but you get the idea.
To my horror, I discover that in addition to the ears and the horn and the mane, the unicorn onesie has a pink tail.
Sullenly, I pull back the curtain to the change room, and Michelle shrieks when she sees me, then doubles over in laughter. “You’re a unicorn!”
I do unenthusiastic jazz hands. Or hooves.
“We need to take a picture,” she says. “Where’s your phone?”
Great. Just what I need. Photographic evidence.
But whatever, I’ll do it for my niece. Besides, millions of people have already watched an embarrassing video of me, so what does it matter at this point?
I had the phone over to Michelle, who doesn’t need any help taking a picture.
“Smile!” she says. “Unicorns should always be smiling.”
I manage a smile.
To my surprise, it’s a genuine smile. I’m not going to buy the unicorn onesie, and I desperately hope there are no other customers in the store, but I don’t mind embarrassing myself if it makes my niece laugh.
Michelle takes a couple pictures, then says she wants to be in the photos, too. The store clerk is happy to oblige. I pick Michelle up in my arms, and he takes a picture.
After I remove the unicorn onesie, I tell Michelle that I’ll buy her an amigurumi—I’d feel bad about asking the store clerk to take pictures if we didn’t buy anything—and my niece, unsurprisingly, picks a unicorn. I see a peach amigurumi, like the one I gave to Chloe, and my heart twists.
For fuck’s sake.
I can’t get that woman out of my brain.
On impulse, I select an ice cream cone amigurumi, then go to the cash register to pay. We then proceed to the ramen restaurant, and fortunately, we don’t pass any more stores with stuffed alpacas, unicorn onesies, or similar.
The ramen restaurant was featured on Glenn’s wife’s blog, Radhika in the 6ix. (Frankly, I think calling Toronto “the 6ix” is beyond stupid, but somehow it caught on.) It’s quite busy, and the only table available is a high top. I boost Michelle into the chair and sit across from her. She puts her unicorn amigurumi on the table.
“What are you going to name him?”
She glares at me. “It’s a her.”
“Right. Of course it is. Because it’s pink.”
“No, not because it’s pink, but because I decided. It’s a her.”
“Okay.”
“She’s named Miso Glitter!”
“Hello, Miso Glitter, are you going to join us for ramen?”
Michelle giggles, and my heart twists again.
I want this. With my own son or daughter, and I no longer believe I’d make a horrible father. I tried on a freaking unicorn onesie for my niece. I would do whatever it takes to be a good dad.
Yesterday, I started wondering if I was wrong to break up with Chloe, and now, something unclenches in my chest.
There’s no reason I can’t have a future with her. I know I can be a good boyfriend, too. If she still wants me, that is.
My phone beeps and I pick it up.
Adrienne: lol lol lol
Apparently Michelle sent one of the unicorn onesie pictures to her mom.
There’s another text message, too. It’s not from someone on my contact list, but I recognize the number.
Lisa.
* * *
I wait for Lisa at a Starbucks not far from my condo.
I’m not in a great mood. Adrienne and Nathan picked Michelle up an hour ago, and I’d rather spend this time trying to figure out how to get Chloe back, but instead, I’ve agreed to meet my ex-fiancée.
Five minutes later, Lisa Mathieson sits down across from me with a grande Frappuccino. I wonder if she’s planning a sequel to her bestseller. Embrace Your Inner Frappuccino.
I hide a smile.
“Drew.” She sweeps an assessing gaze over me. “How are you?”
I shrug. “I’m alright.”
“I want to apologize for what happened. I’m so sorry. Calling you ‘Marvin’ at the bookstore was an honest mistake.”
“I know.”
“I had no idea it would inspire a rampage.”
“I know.”
“Or that the video would get millions of views on YouTube.”
“I know.”
“Though perhaps I should have expected it. My life’s been pretty crazy for the past year.”
“I know.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Do you know any other words?”
“I accept your apology.”
I can’t believe I once planned to marry this woman. She’s pretty, and she carries herself with more poise than she used to.
But she doesn’t do anything for me now.
I swallow. “Did you mean everything you wrote about me in your book?”
I don’t need answers from Lisa, not anymore, but she wanted to meet up, and I thought it might provide closure. I’m curious to know why she wrote what she did.
“I meant it at the time,” she says slowly, “but in the two years since I wrote the book, I’ve come to see that I exaggerated. I was the main reason I wasn’t in touch with my inner ice cream sandwich. I shouldn’t have blamed you for melting it.”
Ugh. I really hate the idea of an inner ice cream sandwich. It’s ridiculous.
“I don’t regret breaking up with you, though,” she says. “You and I never quite clicked. But I do regret the way I left you on the day of the wedding. I had doubts before, and I should have talked to someone about it, called the wedding off beforehand. I hope you’ve found someone else.”
“Sort of. It’s a long story. I couldn’t bear to think of dating again after what happened, and then I did, but...” I pause. “Do you really think I’d make a terrible father?”
“Did I say that in the book?”
The one line that haunted me, and she doesn’t even remember it’s there.
“I mean, I remember thinking it,” she says hurriedly, “but I don’t remember putting it in.”
“And why did you think that?”
“You were so uncomfortable with Michelle when she was a baby and a toddler. You didn’t know how to talk to her, how to play with her. But I understand now. My father says he was like that, too. He’d never been around babies before I was born, but he learned, and I think he was a great dad. Plus, there was also...” She looks away.
“What?”
“My mother thought you’d be a super-strict Tiger Dad and—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just because I’m Asian?”
“I know, I know, but for some reason, that got in my head. God, Drew. I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about how the book would affect you. Are you afraid to have children because of what I said?”
I look away. “Not anymore, but I was.”
“Shit,” she says quietly. “Shit. The book was meant to inspire people to change their lives and get out of a rut. I didn’t mean to do the opposite to you. Many women stay in relationships that don’t do anything for them. I stand by the message of the book, even if it seems hokey to you. Embracing your inner ice cream sandwich is a good approach to life.”
Oh, it does seem hokey to me, but I understand.
“But some of the details aren’t quite true. The ‘Marvin Wong’ I put in the book—that’s not how I think of you now, and I do think you’d be a good father and husband, if that’s what you want. Some men are total turds, but you and I just weren’t right for each other.”
Yes, that’s really what it comes down to. Lisa may be a bit clueless at times, but she’s the one who figured out what needed to be done. Not me.
“I was so caught up in the idea of getting married before I was thirty,” she says, “that I didn’t really think about whether it was for the best. I was too focused on that goal, and it was holding me back from being true to myself. Until the day we were supposed to tie the knot, and I realized what I was doing.”
I blow out a breath. “Well, I’m glad you did, even if the goddamn cookies in your inner ice cream sandwich have raisins, of all things.”
She chuckles. “How’s your family? Michelle must be five or six now.”
“She just turned six.”
“Do you have a picture?”
I pull out my phone, then realize the last picture I have of my niece is from Libby’s Gifts. When I was wearing a unicorn onesie.
Whatever.
I hold out my phone, displaying a picture of me in the unicorn onesie, carrying Michelle.
Lisa bursts into laughter. “Can I use this as a picture of Marvin Wong in my next book?”
I give her a dark look.
“You never would have done this for me,” she says. “Put on a unicorn onesie for my amusement, I mean.”
“Yeah, well. There are only two people in the world who could make me do that.” I put my phone down. “Actually, could you do something for me?”
She nods. “I owe you.”
“The woman I was seeing owns an ice cream shop.”
Lisa laughs once more.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s hilarious. Anyway, she could use some publicity, and you’re, well...” I gesture vaguely. “Your name is now synonymous with ice cream.”
“Does she make ice cream sandwiches?”
I shake my head. “She does bubble waffles, though.”
“Maybe I could do a blog post about her?”
“Yeah, something like that, maybe. I don’t know.” Most of Lisa’s readership isn’t near Toronto, but I figure enough of them are that it might make a difference.
“Okay.” She touches my wrist before standing up. “I hope you find your inner ice cream sandwich, Drew.”
Before I can reply, she’s gone.
* * *
I go home and read the Marvin Wong chapter again, now that I have a different perspective.
Lisa described me as grumpy and dour...and yes, that’s true sometimes. It’s who I am, and that’s okay—not everyone needs to be a freaking ray of sunshine. It doesn’t make me bad at relationships. She needed a different kind of guy, though, whereas Chloe and I have very different personalities, but we play off each other in a positive way.
Chloe helps me be a better person, and I will do everything I can to support her.
I’m no longer bothered by what the book says. If people want to hate me, they can hate me, but I know I’m good for the people who are most important to me, and that’s what matters most.
And really, Embrace Your Inner Ice Cream Sandwich is about how the life you envision for yourself isn’t necessarily the one you need; it’s about figuring out who you really are.
That’s not a terrible message, even if it’s wrapped in some pretty cheesy packaging.
I close the book.
Time to make a plan to get Chloe Jenkins back.