Page 13 of The Other Side of Apart
“I am so happy to hear your voice.”
My throat dries, and the words shrivel and blow away in the gust of shock and confusion. I thought she was gone—deported by now. With Baba. I have so many questions but all I get out is, “Hi.”
“Are you well?”
Tears sting my eyes, and I wait for my mind to recover, squeezing out a single syllable. “Yes.”
“Good.” A pause. “Good.”
I clear my throat. “How are you?”
“Your father is in custody, and it is only a matter of time before we are deported. Together or separately, I don’t know, but I don’t care. I’ve been staying with Guo Mama. You’re safe, and that’s what I care about most.”
My mind snags on her sentence, examining it for truth.
“To answer your question, I haven’t been this good in a very long time.”
My legs surrender to the shock, and I drop into a chair, my hand at my mouth. Custody? Was Baba doing the same thing Nick was doing…? If so, I’m the one who called the police. I’m the one who sent him to jail.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” I whisper, my voice cracked and crumbling. “It’s my fault he’s in?—”
She shushes me. “No. It is his. All of this is his fault. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Silence stretches between us. The picture in the folder she gave me the last time I saw her rises from where it’s been buried under more recent worries. The Facebook profile of a guy I’venever met and a note in Mama’s handwriting:“He doesn’t know about you. But you should know about him.”
I search for where to start on the long list of questions I’ve been collecting since getting Peter Mitchell’s picture. “What you said before I left.” My heart drums, urging me to keep going. “Is it true? Is Baba really not my father?”
The silence on the other end is like gravity, pulling me into it, and I press the phone closer to my ear like that will make her answer faster.
“He’s not,” Mama whispers. “I’m sorry—I wish I had more time to explain, and someday I will, I promise, but that is not the reason for my call.” She takes a deep breath. “Nick’s been released. They didn’t have enough evidence to hold him, and he’s been asking questions. He doesn’t know where you are, but you must be careful. You can’t come back here, or he will find you and Marcus. It’s not safe here.”
My eyes burn, and I circle my hand around my throat like I can suffocate the scorching memory of Nick’s hands around it. How did the police not have enough evidence? There was a hotel full of it. I led them to Su Ling and the other missing women. If trafficking, kidnapping, and attempted rape isn’t enough to hold him, what is?
But I didn’t show the police the evidence he left on me. Only Su Ling saw. And Marcus. Guo Mama. My tip was anonymous.
And then there are the pictures on Nick’s phone—the ones of me and Marcus. The evidence that sent us both running.
“He should be locked up for the rest of his life. I don’t understand.”
“When the police found him, he was hurt. He told them you attacked him. We are all sure no one believes him, but they have no other evidence to hold Nick, only others. So now the restaurant is closed, and things are uncertain. Especially since Su Ling worked for us before she disappeared. It doesn’t lookgood.” She trails off, her voice thick when she talks again. “I didn’t realize the extent of what he was doing, and he threatened me when I asked questions. If I had known, I never would have let you go to L.A. I’m so sorry I didn’t stop it. I wish I never married that man.”
Old, stale anger crackles in my stomach. I’m sorry she didn’t, too, because now Nick has turned everything upside down and inside out.
“I just needed to know you are okay before I go back to Taiwan. And also…”
My breathing is trying to outrun her words.
“I needed you to know I love you, and I’m so proud of you. You are so brave. Guo Mama will keep me updated about you and Marcus. Look after each other. I will see you again.”
After she rushes a goodbye and ends the call, I keep the phone at my ear, frozen in the news and in the space between past and present and the fear that holds my two realities together.
I hate Nick more than ever. I hate that he’s part of my story. I hate that he’s been released. I hate that he lied to the police and blamed me and that he thinks he has the right to ask questions about me. I hate that he will never go away and especially hate that Su Ling and I didn’t kill him when we had the chance. But most of all, I hate that I have to tell Marcus any of this. Things have been so good this week. We started over and kind of forgot about anything from before. I haven’t had any flashbacks or panic attacks. We’ve fallen asleep curled together every night. We’ve made out like we used to, laughing and driving each other to the edge, teasing and torturing ourselves but loving every minute of it because there’s no rush. There’s no time limit. There’s no desperation to hold onto each other because someone could rip us apart. The threat of Nick was goneuntil this moment, and we were so light. But now, I have to drop this heaviness on Marcus once again. It could crush us this time.
“Mei Li?” Jill’s voice calls from the other side of the break room door. “Someone just came in and sat at table seven. I’m two tables over already, and I know you’re off, but I could really use your help. I promise not to lust after your boyfriend anymore if you do this for me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds then open the door. “I’ve got it.” I grab a tablet from the counter and make my way to table seven, signing in as I walk. I don’t look up until I’m in front of the table. In front of a guy with messy dark blond hair and blue eyes that cut through the dim restaurant as they meet mine with a smile that shatters this tiny spot on the planet with its light.
I collect myself, the surprise of seeing Marcus sweeping away my earlier news. Everything is okay. We’re safe. Somewhere Nick can’t find us. We’re together. “Hi. Welcome to China Isle. My name’s Mei Li, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
