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It’s two in the morning, and I’m waiting for my mother to come home.
This is not the way things are supposed to be. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m the one who should be out late having fun, but I spent the evening watching Netflix in my pajamas.
After a few years of living away from my parents, it’s been an adjustment to move back in with them and my younger sister. But after everything that happened last year, it was the best option, unfortunately.
And then two months ago, my mother retired.
Ever since, she’s been determined to have the time of her life. Late nights playing mahjong are a regular occurrence. I mean, they were before, too, but not to the same extent. She’d always been home by freaking two o’clock in the morning.
I make myself another cup of tea and waste some more time on my phone.
It’s two thirty now, and my mother still isn’t home.
Two thirty on a Monday, that is. Monday’s my day off, and now that Mom’s not working, days of the week don’t matter to her.
How did it come to this? My sixty-year-old mother has a more exciting social life than I do. I feel pathetic.
A common theme in my life these days.
I send my mother another text. I’ve been sending her texts once an hour since midnight. I don’t think anything bad has happened to her, but this is rather disconcerting.
Finally, at three fifteen, I hear the key in the lock and breathe out a sigh of relief. My mom comes in, slips off her shoes, puts on her slippers, and tiptoes into the kitchen.
“Why are you still up?” she asks.
“You know I can’t sleep until you get home.” My father and my sister are sound asleep, but for whatever reason, I’m unable to rest if anyone in the household is out. It’s annoying. I feel like I’m the mother. “What’s that in your hand?”
My mother, who had been so careful to tiptoe through the house, slams a piece of paper down on the table. “I got a parking ticket!”
“What did you do? Park in front of a fire hydrant again? Mom, I told you—”
“Don’t be silly! Of course I didn’t do that. I learned my lesson the first time. Besides, I wasn’t parked in front of that fire hydrant, just too close to it.”
“Same difference,” I mutter.
She waves the ticket in the air. “Apparently, you cannot park on the streets in Markham after two thirty in the morning. What a silly rule!”
“Maybe you should consider not staying out until three fifteen in the morning and have some mercy on the daughter who always waits up for you.”
“That’s your problem, not mine. Plus, I stayed up until three waiting for you to come home when you were in high school. This is payback!”
I sigh. “That only happened once. On prom night. I was very good at being home by eleven when I was in high school and university.”
I went to the University of Toronto, so I was able to save money while doing my degree by living at home. I moved out as soon as I was finished, though. Stephen and I got an apartment together in the west end, far from my parents’ house in Scarborough.
I push Stephen out of my mind. That asshole isn’t worth my brain power. I still can’t believe I gave him so many years of my life.
“You were not as good as you seem to think,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes. “I was a very good daughter.”
“What about now? You work at an ice cream shop! You’re wasting your degree!”
Not this again.
I have a degree in computer science, and I used to work as a software developer. I was a damn good one, too. And then a whole bunch of shit happened. Shit that can be summed up quite succinctly: men are assholes.
“I told Minnie we could set you up with her nephew,” Mom says. “Remember Kent?”
“Yes,” I say with a sigh. I’ve met him a couple times.
“He is studying to be an optometrist. I think he would be good for you. Encourage you to pursue your career in software development again.”
“I don’t want to be set up with Kent.”
First of all, I am completely off men at the moment and have no interest in dating. Second of all, I don’t think Kent is attractive. Third of all, he has bad breath. Fourth of all, he’s an entitled brat. Fifthly, going out with Auntie Minnie’s nephew sounds like an absolute nightmare. She and Mom would interfere non-stop.
And I can’t return to software development as easily as Mom thinks.
She sniffs. “Well, lucky for you, Minnie refused to set you up. She’s concerned you would distract him from his studies, plus she doesn’t think you’re good enough for him.”
Although I have no interest in Kent, that hurts.
You know what? It’s goddamn three thirty in the morning and I stayed up late to wait for my mother. I’m feeling tired and cranky and pathetic...
“I already have a boyfriend.”
It pops out of my mouth before I can think about what I’m doing.
That’s right, I just invented a boyfriend.
“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” Mom screeches, probably loud enough to wake everyone up.
“We haven’t been together long. That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”
“What’s his name? Where did you meet him? What does he do?”
“His name’s Peter.” Why is that the first name that comes to mind? Probably because I watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before tonight. “We met at Ginger Scoops. He’s a doctor.” Of course he is. He’s my fake boyfriend, so I might as well go all out and say the thing that will make Mom happiest. “Well, he’s doing his residency right now. In pediatrics.”
Yep, I’m dating a pediatric resident who nobly goes around saving children and puppies and God knows what else.
“I don’t see him very often,” I continue. “Because, you know, he’s doing his residency. He works all the time. That’s why you haven’t noticed me going out more than usual.”
“Is he Chinese?” Mom asks hopefully. She would be okay with me dating a guy of any background, but she does have a slight preference.
“Yes.”
She grins. “Wait until I tell Minnie!”
“You see?” I say. “If Peter is interested in me, I’m good enough for Kent Lo. But it’s too late. I’m taken.”
“When can I meet him?”
“Not anytime soon. Like I said, he’s pretty busy.”
And with that, I head upstairs to bed.
* * *
When I wake up at nine the next morning, my head is hurting and I’m full of regret, even though I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol last night. But I didn’t get enough sleep, and my late-night impulse to make up a boyfriend immediately rushes back to me. I trudge downstairs and pour myself some coffee. My mother is talking animatedly in Cantonese to someone on the phone, boasting about how her daughter is dating a doctor.
Dear God. What have I started?
“Valerie!” She smiles at me and puts down the phone. “Come sit!”
“How many people have you told about Peter?”
“Oh, just Minnie and Daphne and Connie.”
So basically half the city will know by the end of the day.
I don’t know how my mother has so much energy. She was up as late as I was last night, yet somehow she woke up earlier than me and seems quite perky.
“You have to tell me all about your boyfriend,” she says. “What’s his last name? Who are his parents? Aiyah, I know almost nothing! Cannot brag properly.”
God, I have a headache. “This is why I never tell you anything! I say one word and the whole world knows about my life.”
“Invite him over. Please. I promise to be good.”
I snort. “Look, Mom, we all know that’s a lie.”
My sister, Sabrina, walks into the kitchen. She doesn’t have class until eleven on Tuesdays. “What’s this? Valerie has a boyfriend?”
“His name is Peter and he’s a pediatric resident,” I say morosely.
“He sounds boring. I bet he’s ugly.”
“Why do you assume he’s ugly?”
“Past experience.”
My sister thought Stephen was bad-looking. Not that I’m going to defend Stephen now.
“Peter is very good-looking,” I say, raising my chin. If I’m going to have a fake boyfriend, he might as well be hot, right?
“He probably doesn’t exist,” Sabrina says.
Well, she’s right on the money, not that I will admit it.
“Show me a picture,” she says. “Surely you have one on your phone.”
I slam my coffee mug down on the table. “I’m going to work.”
* * *
“I can’t believe you made up a boyfriend!” Chloe Jenkins says during a lull at Ginger Scoops.
Although it isn’t busy right now, we had a pretty good summer, and I’m happy for my best friend. This is her business; I’m just working for her.
I look around the cutesy ice cream shop. It’s clear she did the decorating, not me. There are rainbows and unicorns and alpacas and a bright pink wall.
Not my thing, in other words.
But I have my reasons for working here, even though any job that involves dealing with the public makes me want to stab myself with the horn of that rocking unicorn. People are just so damn annoying and inconsiderate.
I miss sitting in front of a computer all day.
“I can’t believe it, either,” I say. “Mom was going on about her friend’s nephew being too good for me, and I felt pathetic. Now I feel even more pathetic for making up a boyfriend.”
“You’re not pathetic.” Chloe touches my shoulder. “But what are you going to do? If only there was a chance your mother would forget, but she won’t.”
“Plus, she’s already told everyone she knows.” I feel bad for complaining about my mother in front of Chloe, since her mother passed away when we were twenty. “I suppose I’ll make up stories about him for a week or two, then say we broke up.” I shrug. “Whatever. How was your dinner last night?”
Chloe and her boyfriend, Drew, have been together for a few months, and she recently moved in with him. Chloe has always been the cheerful sort, but she’s seemed happier since she started the ice cream parlor, and since she started dating Drew a couple months later, even if Drew is a little grumpy, like me. He’s good to her. For her.
“We went to that new izakaya place,” Chloe says. “It was pretty good. A bit loud, though.”
The chimes above the door tinkle and Sarah Winters, who owns Happy As Pie across the street, walks in. “Do either of you want to go for laksa?” she asks. “There’s a two-for-one special today.” Paulie’s Laksa, an Indonesian restaurant, is one of the other businesses in Baldwin Village. It’s a few doors down from Ginger Scoops.
“Mm,” Chloe says. “I’ll go, if that’s okay?”
“Sure,” I say. “I’m not hungry.” Not even for laksa, though I usually love the spicy noodle soup.
Sarah raises her eyebrows. “You okay?”
“My mother didn’t get home until after three because she was playing mahjong, and then, in a fit of inspiration or stupidity, I made up a boyfriend. So, you know, everything’s peachy.” I bet this is evident from my monotone.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Chloe asks.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Someone needs to stay. I’ll do it.”
My friends head out the door and I stare blankly at the rainbow painted on the wall. I’m not in the mood for laksa, but maybe I’ll treat myself to durian ice cream when I take a break later this afternoon. I try to limit myself to eating ice cream once a week, and I haven’t had any since last Wednesday. After the crappy night I had, I figure I’m due.
Durian ice cream won’t make all my problems go away, but at least it’s something.