Page 95 of Set on You

He nods, staring straight ahead as he takes a seat in the lawnchair beside mine. “Did I ever tell you how I started my cleaning company?”

I let out an exaggerated breath. Right when I start to get my mojo back, Dad has to swoop in with a lecture about financial stability. “Dad, I really don’t want to hear another sermon about getting a real job.”

He ignores me, waving a vague hand. “I’d just finished high school. Didn’t have the money for college. I was working at the laundromat downtown one night when your mom came in.” He pauses, eyes filling with nostalgia. “She was with one of her girlfriends. Her hair was teased, all bushy like a poodle. It was the style back then,” he says, nudging me with his arm before taking another swig of his beer.

“Anyway, she made eye contact with me and smiled. So I smiled back. I thought she was beautiful. Out of my league completely.” A chipmunk scurries across the deck and hurls itself off the far end. “I think it was five days later when she came back. She didn’t have any laundry with her this time. I thought maybe she forgot something from last time. But she walked straight up to me and asked me on a date.”

I snort. I can definitely picture Mom doing that. Despite her quiet demeanor, she goes after what she wants, elbows out, headfirst.

“I had forty dollars total to my name. But she wanted to go on a date, so I took her to McDonald’s and bought her a combo. Then she held my hand and kissed me.” He shudders with soft, easy laughter.

“Classic.” My cheeks warm at the foreign thought of a young Mom and Dad kissing in a McDonald’s.

“After that day, I knew I wanted to marry her.”

I think about being in Scott’s arms, knowing I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, no matter what it looked like, no matter the obstacles. “What does this have to do with your cleaning business?”

He puts his hand up. “I’m getting to it. On one of the first times I took your mother to a nice restaurant, I was late. She was already there when I arrived. I told the waiter I was meeting my girlfriend, and he gave me a strange look and said, ‘She’s not here.’ I only had to look over his shoulder before I saw the top of your mom’s head in the booth a couple rows back. I waved at her, and he gave me a look I’ll never forget. He said, ‘That can’t be your girlfriend.’ He didn’t say it to be cruel. He was genuinely confused. This happened all the time, especially in those days. People didn’t understand how a white woman would date an Asian man.”

I suck in a deep breath, shocked. I’d never thought about it before. As a half Chinese, half white woman, I’ve experienced racism and ignorant comments, asking some blunt variation ofWhat are you?But I’ve never been told I can’t date someone because of it.

“I didn’t know that,” I say, resettling in my seat.

He meets my eyes again. “Your mom used to think subtle racism didn’t exist. But it did. We had a lot of comments from people, little jokes even from our own friends that weren’t supposed to be insulting. But they were, because it reinforced the fact that me not being white was something they thought about whenever they looked at us. Even your mom’s parents were a little hesitant at first.”

“But Grandma Flo loves you, and so did Grandpa.”

“After a while,” he admits, running his hand over his chin. “Ifelt like I had to do more than a white guy to win them over. It didn’t help that I didn’t have two dimes to rub together. So I started the business... almost to prove to myself I was good enough for her.”

I meet his eyes, unable to accept this. My heart breaks, thinking about how someone so confident like Dad could feel unworthy because of his race. Nothing could be further from the truth. “But you were enough. You always were.”

“That’s what she told me. She didn’t understand why I’d let it get me down so much. We argued about it. But eventually I realized, no matter what, people are going to be cruel. And if I wanted to live a positive life, I needed to do what I could to protect myself.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Not allowing bigots into my life. Speaking up when someone says something offensive. But there’s a difference between speaking up and letting their ignorance have power over you.” He sighs. “Took a while to come to terms with. But I didn’t need anyone’s approval, nor did I need to feed into negativity and let it define me.”

The wordsI didn’t need anyone’s approvalreverberate in my mind. Scott said this too, but it feels different coming from Dad. Someone who’s actually been the one people have a problem with—the one who doesn’t fit society’s stringent mold. I’d been naive enough to think I was the only one going through this. That no one else could understand what I was feeling.

He continues. “But the biggest thing that got me through it all was your mother. Sure, I could have done it alone. But it was a lighter burden when I let her in. She didn’t always understand. Butshe tried to. She listened. And she helped me see the positive when I was down. She was my rock. Still is.”

I squint at him. “I know why you’re telling me this.”

He shrugs innocently, winking as he takes a sip from his beer. “I’m just telling you one of my stories. Whether you relate it to your own life is your prerogative.” He stands up to pull me into a hug.

When his arms wrap around me, my eyes begin to water as I realize I’m face-to-face with someone, my own father, who’s gone through what I’m going through. And he’s come out on the other side. He didn’t let hate ruin him, or his love for Mom. It made them stronger. Together.

“Don’t let anyone else dictate your worth. Ever. Not even your old man when he harps on you to get a job. And especially not strangers,” he says, stepping back to hand me a random tissue from his pocket.

“Dad?” I ask, sniffling.

“Mm-hmm?”

“I hate it when you bring up me getting a job. I’m happy about where I’ve taken my business. Especially lately. I don’t need the constant critique.”

He freezes momentarily before letting out a sigh. “I know.”

“Then why do you do it?”

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