35

A Friday movie with Jess had been the weekly high point of Vân Ước’s life for a long time. The tradition started because their year-six teacher, Ms. Clegg, had been worried about the parents putting too much pressure on the girls in the run-up to high school entrance exams. She took the trouble to write a letter and get it translated. The thrust of the letter was that the girls needed leisure time as well as study time, that it could be instructive and help their English study. She knew the way to the mothers’ hearts. An example she used was the selection of suitable DVDs, which could also help the girls understand popular culture and improve their idiomatic English.

Ever since that fateful letter, the Friday movie had been acceptable to the mothers, as much as music practice or math or French grammar. They’d come to think of it as actual homework. And it coincided with Vân Ước’s parents’ regular dinner with her dad’s cousin in Footscray, to which Bác Bảo was also invited, and from which Vân Ước, the only kid, was excused.

Thank god for Ms. Clegg. They’d started off with anthology packs that Jess’s mother sourced from who knew where, such as Classic American TV Shows of the 70s, Sitcom Medley, Favorite Hollywood Musicals, etc., but had long ago graduated to whatever they wanted to watch.

Mind you, the Favorite Hollywood Musicals boxed set had prompted many hilarious nights teaching themselves to tap-dance, an adaptable life skill. And even though dance scenes from Pulp Fiction and (500) Days of Summer had replaced those from early musicals as their favorites, films like Singin’ in the Rain would always rate highly with them.

Jess was able to report back favorably on Billy from the afternoon’s encounter at homework club.

“Okay, he came and found me—I was upstairs, so good effort. He called me Jessica, making eye contact.”

“You sound like a private investigator.”

“I was investigating him—assessing his suitability as a possible boyf for my bestie.”

“He seems to have been reading Jane Eyre, too.”

“Check. He is stuck in the quagmire of Jane’s stay with the Rivers family.”

“Understandable. It does get very religious there.”

“Some, including me, would say boring. But it’s also a good two-thirds of the way in, so he’s put some time into it since last week.”

“True.”

“He’s passed my tests and I can only confirm that my original diagnosis was correct. He is besotted.”

“For whatever reason,” Vân Ước said darkly.

“You are lovable, whatever you choose to think. And he can’t help it that he comes from the right side of the tracks.”

At the mid-movie food break, she told Jess about the L-word conversation.

“Despite your beauty being… great… it’s the least of the reasons I love you… Those were his exact words?”

“Yeah. He may have been like three-quarters flippant.”

“But he didn’t take them back? Or make a joke of it?”

“No, he seemed surprised to hear himself say it. He said, I’ve never said that before.”

“That sounds more like three-quarters serious. Or even four-quarters.”

“Or like someone who is under an influence he can’t control.”

Jess held up her hand. “No crazy talk on film night.”

While they assembled their food, Vân Ước also divulged the physical status of the Billy relationship.

“You let him flick the bean?” Jess nearly choked on her mini-frankfurter in a bun with jalapeño sauce and coleslaw.

Vân Ước was breaking up the family-size block of Snack chocolate, feeling dreamy as she remembered. “I would not have thought I could—you know—with someone, but it was like we were under a spell. I’ve done it so many times with imaginary Billy, it was kind of weird to actually have him there in real life.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Is it time for our visit to a faraway land to buy you some condoms?”

“Nope. That’s it for now. At least till I sort out what’s going on.”

“What’s going on? You’ve committed school crime with the guy. Which I still think is dumb. He’s stood up for you in public against former friends of his, like horrible Holly and tedious Tiff. You’re going out. And he explicitly asked you. He loves you, and not just for your looks. And he said those words, too. You let him flick—”

“Hey, you were totally against him until this afternoon.”

“It’s called an about-face. He was a probable arrogant twat who, surprisingly, has proved himself to be a possibly worthy mew for you.”

“And you know what I mean. Sort it out. IT. The wish. I’ve got that writer’s address. I’m going over there tomorrow. I hope I’ll have the guts to knock on her door.”

“Be serious, what could you possibly say to her?”

“I know.”

“But say that first thing was a wish, and you got another wish, you would just take a moment and think carefully about how you phrase it, wouldn’t you? You know that whole ‘be careful what you wish for’ thing?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a thing for a reason.”

“Of course I’d be careful.”

“Okay, good, but seeing as how in real life there isn’t a wish on the horizon, the only things you really need to sort out are (1) how you feel about him, and (2) if it’s serious, how you can hide it from your parents.”

Jess hit PLAY but Vân Ước was only half tuning in to the film. It would be tricky phrasing a re-wish. She ran through some options:

I wish Billy just liked me to an appropriate extent.

(Appropriate according to whom?)

I wish Billy liked me as a friend, and let’s see where that takes us.

(Not bad. But what if it took them nowhere?)

I wish Billy loved me for all time.

(No. What if she only had Billy-love maximum capacity of a few months?)

I wish Billy believed we were destined to be together.

(See above.)

I wish Billy liked me the same amount he did before that creative writing class.

(That was not at all. And, it wasn’t much fun.)

I wish Billy thought he’d like to get to know me better.

(Tepid.)

I wish Billy wanted to get to know me really well, and that would lead to love.

(Better. But what would the perimeter of this love be? Time frame, extent, exact nature of the love, etc.)

I wish Billy only had eyes for me.

(Could risk falling over and injuring himself or others. Unappealing, narrow worldview.)

I wish Billy loved me.

(Could be caught out in a past tense technicality: loved, not loves?)

I wish Billy liked me, in real life, to the same extent that he likes me now, but not because of a wish.

(Could be like a double negative equivalent to wish for an outcome that was not the result of a wish.)

Hmmm, she’d slipped into the realm of “better wish,” rather than “negate the wish,” too. More work needed.