39
There was something distinctive about the door buzzer: it never buzzed without them knowing in advance who was buzzing. It would be Bác Bảo on Saturday. If it was Vân Ước or her parents without their key—rare—they would tap on the security grille and call out. If it was Jess or her mum, they’d do the same. So when the buzzer buzzed at 6 p.m. on Saturday, the three of them froze.
“Who is it?” her mother asked—not into the buzzer intercom, just into the room.
Vân Ước leapt to her feet. What if… It couldn’t be Billy, could it? He would know the apartment number from the class list. But surely he’d call before buzzing.
She hurried across to the intercom. He must not be accidentally clicked through. She wasn’t ready to show herself to Billy quite this close up and personal. Not yet.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Is this a bad time?”
“Kinda.”
“Can I come up for a few minutes?”
“Wait there—I’ll come down.”
She neutralized her expression, took a deep breath, and turned to face her parents.
“It’s the tall friend of Eleanor’s. Billy. From school.”
“What does he want?” her father asked. He’d been in a comfortable nod over the newspaper before the buzz.
Her mother jumped up and started clearing things away. “He wants to come up here?”
Eleanor visited once a year; it was always an occasion for pride—generous hospitality, way too much food preparation and a little anxiety.
“No! No—it’s for our English homework. He just wants me to go over one thing with him.”
“Why not do it over the phone?”
“You’re right.” She rolled her eyes and nodded, hoping it looked convincing.
Both her parents were clearly thrown by this unscheduled intrusion.
She ducked into her bedroom and picked up her copy of Ariel. “I’ll be ten minutes.”
They were not convinced.
“It’s still light outside. We’ll be in the garden.”
“Take your phone,” her mother said.
She headed down in the elevator, which had been renovated not so long ago, lined in fashionable patterned stainless-steel sheeting, but had by now been defaced and thoroughly scratched up and written on. Shame. She swiped her bangs across with one hand and straightened her back. She’d just eaten an apple, so her breath should be fine. Like Jane, she didn’t really have much in the way of finery—I had no article of attire that was not made with extreme simplicity… It was a jeans and T-shirt day, as usual. She smoothed down her T-shirt.
The elevator picked up on eight, six, and three, and finally, with a ping and a shudder, they hit the ground floor.
She stepped out last and walked through the heavy security door to Billy, leaning against the wall on the other side.
She smiled at the front desk guy, Ralph, on her way out. He was her favorite night-shift guy.
“Your doorman looks like a bit of a Rottweiler,” Billy said as they walked into the mild evening.
“He’s got to protect innocent tenants from people like you.”
“He was extremely suspicious. I waved for him to let me in, but no-go.”
“He probably thought you were a debt collector or a process server.”
“What are the people who live here like?”
“Like me.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s low-income housing, so there are old poor people, young poor people, families of poor people. Take your pick.”
“But is it, like, transitional, or do people stay?”
“Both.”
“How long have you been here?”
“My parents have been here for thirty years. They won’t leave.”
“Will you ever invite me up?”
“Maybe.” Maybe not.
“That must be some view from the twelfth floor.”
“It is. So, why are you here?”
“Where can we sit?”
Vân Ước led them to the empty playground. The site of her own play, as a child. The site of many boring hours babysitting kids from the apartments. The site of stupid behavior of the boys she knew from primary school. And now the site of side-by-side swings, with Billy. Oh, life.
He leaned way back, holding the swing chains and closing his eyes. “Man, that still feels like being a kid.”
She remembered—there’d been another big regatta on this afternoon, while she was busy at work, rolling rolls.
“How’d you go today?”
“We won. Too easy.” He groaned and sat back up straight. “That’s a lie. I’m totally wrecked. And I split some blisters. My own fault; I should’ve toughened my skin up more.” He held up a bandaged hand and she had to stop herself from picking it up and kissing it better.
“You could be home, resting in the lap of. What are you doing here in the tanbark?”
“Seeing you.”
“Where do your parents think you are?”
“At Ben’s. I’ll go there in a while. You’re invited, if you want to come.”
“I’m only allowed out in exceptional circumstances.”
“How come you could go to mine last weekend?”
“I pitched it to my parents as an official school community celebration of a rowing victory event.”
Billy laughed. “It’s just a tweak, I guess.”
They swung in silence. The mild air smelled like autumn and damp and tanbark with the background whiff of hundreds of kitchen exhaust fans.
Even without the troubling existence of the wish question mark, how would they ever be able to go out? How far could she push her parents? How far could Billy push his? How could she ever fit in at all these social gatherings that happened, invisibly funded by parents? How could she even take the time out from study for them?
He obviously had mind-reading skills. “The girls—they’re not as smart as you, but they’re not so bad when you get to know them. Except Holly, maybe.”
“You’ve obviously changed your mind about her.”
“I guess everyone’s allowed to make the occasional inebriated mistake.”
“True. I just wish you’d made it with someone else.”
“Me too. Hey, I finished Jane Eyre.”
“And?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. I can see why it’s stayed in print for a hundred and sixty-seven years.” He reached over and pushed her off course so she was swinging in a half twist and had to stop. “Tell me why you like it so much.”
“I love Jane.”
“Because…”
“She has no ostensible power, but she is powerful. She’s inconspicuous—modest and unprepossessing—but her presence is strong. She stands up to injustice. She has self-respect. She isn’t afraid to speak plainly about her feelings. She is so passionate, despite all the restrictions and confinement of her background. She’s generous. And she’s an artist.”
Billy looked at her in his assessing way. “It’s the Vân Ước as English teacher making a rare but persuasive appearance.”
She smiled. “Do I sound like an idiot?”
“I just like it when you talk. You’re so quiet most of the time.”
“No surprise I like the quiet girls’ hero.”
His eyes lit up.
“Not you. Jane.”
“Oh.” He reached over and touched her face, stood up, pulled her up from the swing, and kissed her like he really meant it.
She broke away with a sigh. “We can’t do this here.” She turned him to face the building. “See all those windows? Potential informants, the lot of them.”
“But one day… we’ll get to go out on a date and kiss all we want.”
She smiled. “Date night. The final frontier.”