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I’m hyperventilating.
Earlier, Lisa Mathieson was in Ginger Scoops—I recognized her from her author photo. She ordered a sugar cone with Vietnamese coffee and ginger ice cream, then took a number of pictures with her phone. I wonder if she’s going to say something on social media about my store. A part of me hopes she’ll change her inner ice cream sandwich from mocha to ginger ice cream, but somehow, I doubt that’s going to happen.
And now, Radhika in the 6ix is here! I recognize her face from her food blog, which is one of the biggest in Toronto. She’s here with a man who’s pushing a toddler in a stroller.
God, I hope she likes my ice cream. That would be amazing for my business.
“Very cute store,” she says.
“Thank you.”
“I’d like to try the matcha cheesecake.”
My hand shakes as I hand her the spoon. She tilts her head to the side after she tries it, then smiles. “That’s amazing. I’ve never had anything like it before.”
“Th-thank you.”
“You’re Chloe, the owner, right?”
I nod.
She introduces herself, asks me a few questions, and takes a picture of me standing behind the counter. She also tries a few more samples before ordering a waffle cone with matcha cheesecake and Hong Kong milk tea.
“How did you hear about us?” I ask as I make the bubble waffle.
“My husband is friends with Drew.”
Oh. I understand now.
Drew must have asked both Radhika and Lisa to come to Ginger Scoops. I feel a strange pressure in my chest.
I hand Radhika her order, and she tells me she’ll have her review up tomorrow.
* * *
“Your grandmother has a boyfriend,” my father says.
“I know,” I say, cutting off a piece of my grilled chicken. “She mentioned him in a text message.”
“Has she been texting you, too?”
“Yes. She sent me a bunch of inappropriate emojis.”
He laughs, but it sounds brittle.
It’s Monday night. Dad invited me over for dinner, and I didn’t say no. Because he’s my father, and we’ve hardly talked in the past couple weeks, and I miss him. I’m glad he finally called, but he hasn’t brought up our argument yet, and our conversation is a bit tense, even as we talk about inconsequential things like emojis. I can’t help feeling anxious about where our relationship will go from here.
“Her boyfriend is Vietnamese,” Dad says. “Came here in the seventies. He’s eight years younger than her.”
“A younger man. How scandalous!”
Dad laughs again, but then his expression turns serious.
Okay, here we go.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he begins. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. First of all, about dental school. The reason I wanted so badly for you to go was because I refused to accept that your mother’s death had changed you, like it changed me. I wanted you to want the same things you did before. Like...proof it hadn’t completely altered the direction of your life. I was clinging to the past.”
I nod. I get it.
“But, unfortunately,” he continues, looking away from me, “she’s not here anymore, and I have to accept the effect it’s had on our family. You’re different now, and that’s...okay.” His voice wobbles. I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “So I won’t bother you about it, not anymore, when it’s clear you have no interest in it.”
“Thank you.”
“She would have been proud of you.”
I swallow. I know she would have been proud, and it’s nice to hear my dad say it to me.
“About...the other things. I thought ignoring your race—and your mother’s—was the best way to move beyond the racism we see in the world, but I was erasing our differences rather than accepting and celebrating them.” He pauses. “I do know that people treated her differently because of how she looked. You also have to understand that your mother didn’t like to talk about these things. She was brought up in a different time, in a part of Toronto that was very white back then, and felt a lot of pressure to be just like everyone else. The world around her told her that she should hate who she was, and she often resented her background and felt ashamed of it. So, I know it might sound strange to you, but she might have even liked it if I said ‘I never saw you as Chinese.’ To her, it might have meant ‘I see you as a person, not just how you look different from me.’ But now, I understand how what I said is problematic.”
Oh. Thinking back... My mother would buy a tin of mooncakes for the Mid-Autumn Festival and give me a red envelope at Chinese New Year, but that was it. She didn’t talk about these things with me, either. I wish she had. I wish she’d passed more on to me, but I get it now.
I hate that she was made to feel ashamed of who she was.
“So that’s where I’m coming from,” Dad says. “And it’s why your mother insisted you grow up in a diverse neighborhood, so you wouldn’t have her experience. When you weren’t teased at school for how you look—like she was—I guess I thought your race just wasn’t something we’d need to talk about. But I’ve been doing some reading, and I recognize there were problems in the way I looked at the world, at my own wife and daughter. Of course the world still sees you differently than me. And I’m glad you aren’t embarrassed by her family’s background and want more connection to it.” He squeezes my hand. “I promise to do better in the future. I can’t promise to be perfect, but I will do my best to understand. I see you, Chloe. I won’t continue to ignore what you say. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I want so badly for us to have a good relationship. For years, I couldn’t bear to tell him how I was really feeling, afraid it would harm our relationship further, but now, I feel like I don’t have to hide everything from him for us to get along.
“How’s your boyfriend?” He’s trying to change the conversation to an easier topic, but...
“Drew isn’t my boyfriend anymore,” I say, “but I hope we can work things out.”
I know Drew sent Radhika and Lisa to Ginger Scoops. He’s thinking about me.
Maybe he’ll come back to me.
Maybe, if I still haven’t heard from him in a few days, I’ll go to him.
“I want to clarify something,” I say to my father. “Even though I had a boyfriend, that doesn’t mean I’m straight.”
“I understand that.”
“When I was twelve, after I had that conversation about bisexuality with Mom, I heard the two of you talking. You told her that she shouldn’t encourage me to define myself that way, not when I was so young.”
“I remember. She talked me out of it.”
“Once she was gone, I felt like nobody understood me.”
He smiles sadly. “We’ll be okay, Chloe, even if it’s not the life I’d imagined for us. I said she would be proud of you, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you, too. For everything you are.”
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice rough.
Before I leave that evening, he gives me a long, long hug.
It might not be perfect between us, but he’s listening to me and accepting the choices I’ve made, and it’s a good start. And he’s helped me understand my mother better, too.
If only she were here to have these conversations with us.
* * *
Radhika hadn’t published her review when I got to my dad’s—I checked obsessively all day—and I refrained from looking at my phone while I was there. But as soon as I leave his house, I pull it out of my purse.
Unlike usual, I have dozens of notifications for my Ginger Scoops Twitter account.
Radhika has put up her post, Ginger Scoops: The Hot New Ice Cream Shop in Town, with a picture of her bubble waffle and ice cream, and the picture of me at the counter. She has lovely things to say about it.
Lisa has also put up a blog post and tweeted about my ice cream shop. Torontonians: Haven’t found the perfect ice cream for your inner ice cream sandwich? Try one of the inventive flavors at Ginger Scoops in Baldwin Village.
I roll my eyes, but OMG.
OMG.
People are actually talking about Ginger Scoops!
I run back into my dad’s house. I’m talking a mile a minute, and I’m not sure how Dad can understand what I’m saying, but he does. He grins and hugs me again, and I do a little dance, not ashamed to be who I am in front of him.
* * *
Ginger Scoops is busy on Tuesday. No line-ups out the door, but Tuesday is usually a slow day, and there are twice as many customers as usual. I’m busy scooping ice cream and making bubble waffles and ringing up orders—and realizing I need to make a new batch of matcha cheesecake ASAP. I’m so busy that I don’t even have time to think about Drew.
Ha. No. That’s a lie.
I think about him all day, wishing I could feel his strong arms around me once more, his skin against mine.
I’m different because of him. Before, I’d been coping, going through the motions and working toward the life I wanted but struggling to connect with people.
Now, because of Drew—a man I once compared to Oscar the Grouch—I’ve changed. It started with me opening up to him, but now I feel like I can do that with my friends and family, too. I can allow myself to really feel the emotions I used to keep locked in a box, and it’s okay.
I am me, and I think I’m pretty awesome.
It’s almost nine o’clock in the evening now, and I’m heading to the door to change the sign from “open” to “closed” when my phone buzzes.
Grandma: Lillian says you’re very popular on something called Twitter?
Grandma: My boyfriend (tee-hee, I have a boyfriend!) got me a selfie stick so I can take better selfies now. Here is a picture of us.
In the photo, they’re sitting at a table with a platter of deviled eggs and a bowl of lime Jell-O salad. Some things never change.
But other things do, thank God.
Sarah walks in. “You’re closed now. Time for you to come with me.”
I stare at her in confusion. “I have to clean up.”
“I’ll do it.” Valerie steps out from behind the counter.
“Where are we going?” I ask as Sarah tugs me out of Ginger Scoops.
She shrugs, a smile on her face.
“Tell me!”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Interestingly, we’re walking in the direction of Drew’s building, and indeed, that’s where Sarah comes to a stop. She buzzes him and says, “We’re here.”
The door clicks, and she holds it open for me.
Drew wants to see me. I’m hopeful, but afraid to get too excited.
Sarah winks and walks back into the night, and I head to the elevator. My heart hammers as I walk down the hallway to his unit. When I knock on the door, he opens it immediately.
“You’re here,” he says.
“I’m here.”
We look at each other for a moment.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.
I follow his instructions, and he leads me through the condo and out the door to his balcony. He helps me into a chair.
“Now open them,” he says.
I do.
On the little table in front of me is the biggest sundae I’ve ever seen. There are several scoops of ice cream in a large glass bowl, and I’m pretty sure they’re flavors from Ginger Scoops: ginger, Vietnamese coffee, taro, and green tea. There’s also a generous amount of whipped cream. The whole thing is drizzled with strawberry sauce and chocolate sauce and topped with chocolate shavings, maraschino cherries, and rainbow sprinkles.
It looks amazing.
It looks like the sort of thing Drew wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and yet there are two spoons.
He gets down on his knees and takes my hands in his. It’s wonderful to feel his touch again, to see the serious expression on his face. It’s wonderful just to be with him.
“I screwed up,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I let my insecurities get the best of me. I let myself believe that everything in the book was correct, and I could never be a good boyfriend for anyone, but that’s not true. I might be the man who got chased out of a bookstore—”
“I saw the video.”
“I figured.” He clears his throat. “But I’m also the man who’s perfect for you. You were right about that. I love you, Chloe, and I’ve put my insecurities behind me. I’m a better, happier version of myself when I’m with you, and I promise I will always be there for you, whatever you need. We can do it together.”
He looks up at me earnestly.
I love him so much.
And he loves me.
“You’re an amazing woman,” he says, “who has turned my life upside down. A few months ago, I never would have imagined making a huge ice cream sundae. I never would have imagined wanting another serious relationship with a woman—and feeling like I was capable of it. But things have changed, thanks to you, and I want you to be an important part of my life.” He squeezes my hands. “You’re perfect for me, too. Please say it’s not too late. Will you take me back?”
I nod, unable to form words, and bend down to kiss him.
His kiss is exquisite, and it promises so much more, but right now...
“We should eat the sundae before it melts,” I say. “Is the ice cream from Ginger Scoops?”
“Yes. Valerie got it for me.”
“But you still don’t like ice cream, do you?”
“I started craving it after I broke up with you. Believe it or not, I’m looking forward to eating this.”
He sits on the chair beside me, then lifts a spoonful of Vietnamese coffee ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and strawberry sauce to my lips.
It’s the most delicious thing I’ve tasted in my life, and that’s partly because I’m with Drew. Plus, I make pretty great ice cream, if I do say so myself.
I scoop up some ginger ice cream and chocolate sauce and feed it to him. He even licks his lips afterward.
Wow. He really has changed.
“Michelle says you’re her hero,” he says, “and wants you to teach her how to make ice cream.”
“I will.”
“You’ll never guess what she got me to do the other day.”
He pulls out his phone and shows me a photo. It takes me a few seconds to make sense of it, but when I realize what it is, I can’t help bursting into laughter.
It’s Drew in a unicorn onesie.
OMG, it’s Drew dressed up as a unicorn.
I have to put my spoon down because I’m laughing too hard.
We’re together now, and everything is going to be more than okay. And when it’s not, I’ll just look at this photo and it’ll make me smile.
We eat our ice cream in silence for a few minutes, occasionally feeding each other bites. Then we share a kiss that tastes of ice cream and chocolate, and he presses his cool lips to my cheek.
“Thank you for asking Radhika and Lisa to come to Ginger Scoops,” I say. “We were twice as busy as usual today.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t like your ice cream. It’s because of you that you were so busy today, and because of you that I know Ginger Scoops will be a success.”
He has so much faith in me.
I know I can do it.
“Lisa invited me out for coffee,” he says. “She wanted to apologize for what happened, and she’s come to see that I wasn’t a terrible boyfriend, but a terrible boyfriend for her. We weren’t compatible at all, and our relationship shouldn’t have lasted near as long as it did. She also reassured me about the one line that stuck in my mind more than anything else...” He swallows. “The line about how I would make a horrible father. I...I always wanted kids, and that hurt a lot, and I believed it.”
“Drew! You didn’t tell me about that part. I don’t remember it.”
He shakes his head. “I was too ashamed. It was one of the reasons I broke up with you, because I suspected you wanted kids...” He looks at me questioningly.
I nod.
“...And I couldn’t bear to give your kids a terrible father.” He looks pained as he says the words. “But even if she hadn’t reassured me about that, I wouldn’t believe it anymore. I know I’m not terrible with children, and I don’t need to be controlled by a book about embracing your inner ice cream sandwich.”
“No, you don’t.” I pause for more ice cream. “If you were thinking about kids—”
“I’m serious about you, Chloe. I want a future with you. I don’t know exactly what the future will hold, but I want it to be with you.”
I climb onto his lap. I need to touch him. We kiss again, the lights of the city in the distance, the noise of traffic below...and the remains of an epic ice cream sundae on the table beside us.
I swipe up some whipped cream on my finger and feed it to him. He puts a dollop of whipped cream on my collarbone and licks it off. I try to feed him a maraschino cherry, but he shakes his head. “I don’t like them, but I figured you did.”
“You’re not going to change your mind about maraschino cherries, like you did with ice cream?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
That’s okay. We don’t have to like all of the same stuff.
But I’m glad he can now appreciate ice cream, since I do own an ice cream parlor.
“Which is your favorite?” I ask, gesturing to the bowl with my spoon.
“The Vietnamese coffee.”
“Good choice, but they’re all good choices, since I made them. I can’t wait for you to try the other flavors.”
“We may have to wait until next week.” He puts down his spoon, hauls me into his arms, and carries me inside to the bedroom.
I like where his mind is going.
We strip each other naked, and I sigh with pleasure when the length of his naked body presses against mine. We kiss, more and more frantically with each passing second, and I undulate my hips, wanting so desperately to join with him.
Finally, he rolls on a condom and enters me. It’s such an amazing feeling, to be together like this. It feels so right. We move in sync, and he presses kisses all over my breasts and my chest and my neck. Everywhere he can reach.
We finish at the same time, finding our peaks of pleasure as one.
Afterward, I lie on my stomach, my head turned toward Drew, who runs his hand up and down my back. I smile lazily at him.
This is the life.
I’m full of ice cream and blissed out on sex, and now I’m lying in bed naked with the person I love more than anything, while Havarti Sparkles keeps watch from the bedside table.
“Have you had any terrifying dreams about unicorns lately?” I ask.
“Not since last week.”
“Baby steps.” I glance around his bedroom. It looks just like it did before, except...
I bolt upright. “What’s hanging on the back of your door? Did you actually buy a unicorn onesie?”
“Um, well...”
“Ooh, can we get matching ones?”
“No, we can’t get matching unicorn onesies. You can buy your own if you want, but it can’t be identical to mine. I have a mental block when it comes to wearing the same thing as the woman I’m dating. Seems a little lame.”
“And yet you bought a unicorn suit.”
“You said it would make you laugh, and that’s the best sound in the world. Well, it’s a tie between that and when you come.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “I have a small gift for you.” He reaches into his bedside table and pulls out something colorful.
It’s an ice cream cone amigurumi.
“It’s so cute!” I exclaim. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
“But I’m not going to sleep until you try on that unicorn onesie for me.”
“Just so you know, I will only wear it once a month, no more than that. There are limits to what my dignity will withstand.”
“For a whole day once a month?” I bounce on the bed. “Twenty-four hours?”
He scowls at me as he gets up and pulls on his boxers, then puts on the unicorn onesie. When he starts to zip it up, I shake my head.
“Leave it undone so I can see your chest,” I say.
He pushes up the hood so the mane, ears, and unicorn horn are visible. As is his scowl. “Are we done?”
I climb out of bed and wrap an arm around him, sliding my other hand up his bare chest.
“No,” I whisper. “We’re just getting started.”
That night, I fall asleep in Drew’s arms, with a unicorn onesie thrown over the chair next to the bed and my heart full of love and hope.
This is where I belong.