Page 42 of Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers

Julia nods. “Yes, exactly. Anyway, even though I dropped out, I’d accrued a lot of debt, so I had to take whatever job I could find to start paying it off. Marshall too.”

“Why do you drop out? You fail your classes?”

“No.” Julia laughs. But the laugh is short-lived. “Well, Marshall said college is overpriced. I mean, he’s not wrong,” she adds a tad defensively. “Especially to study something like photography. He said I could just pick the skill up myself rather than waste tensof thousands of dollars on it. I thought he had a point. So I dropped out, found a job at a department store. He also wanted to start trying for a family, and that took a lot longer than we expected.” Her voice fills with pain at the memory, but then she forces a smile. “Anyway, he proposed sometime after he graduated and we kept trying for a baby, and finally after years of trying, I had Emma, and that was that. I never had a chance to do much photography. I had all these plans, all these dreams for it, but... I guess that was all they were. Just dreams.”

“Unrealized dreams are one of saddest things in life,” Vera says. “Well, after serious illness and death and all that.”

“Yes, it’s kind of a first-world problem.” Julia snorts. “I feel like an asshole complaining to you about it when your shop was broken into.”

Vera waves her off. “Oh, you don’t worry about that.” Then she claps, once. “So! What is stopping you from doing photography now?”

Julia stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“You go online and look, I’m sure there are many people looking for photographer. You do portraits?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then start there. Charge very little, you are only starting out. Maybe even do it for free until you are more comfortable.”

“But there’s Emma, and—”

“I look after Emma,” Vera says.

“Wh—” Julia’s mouth drops open. “Uh...”

“I am mother too. Actually, I am Chinese mother. You can’t get better than that. We raise the best children in the world, you just look at any hospital, all the surgeon are Chinese.” Vera beamswith pride, as though she has personally been responsible for all the surgeons in every hospital.

“Um... but... she’s very—” Julia gestures helplessly. “She’s not very good with being left behind with other people. Believe me, I’ve tried. I found this affordable childcare place right down the street—it’s actually a neighbor who runs a little nursery from her house—but oh god, when I tried leaving Emma there, the screaming...” Julia grimaces from the memory. “My neighbor basically refused to take her in.”

“Tch, then your neighbor is not a good caretaker,” Vera tuts. “You see how Emma is with me. She knows I am safe.”

She can see that despite everything, Julia agrees with her. It’s true; Emma has taken to Vera like a baby duck recognizing a mother duck.

“You don’t have to leave the house if you don’t want,” Vera continues. “Just work in bedroom, or maybe in backyard. Don’t worry about Emma, okay? Good. I am glad we agree.”

Without giving Julia any time to answer, Vera pats Julia on the shoulder and stands. She stretches dramatically and says, “Okay, now you go on computer, look for photograph job. I will make healthy snack for Emma and then wake her up.”

Julia looks slightly dazed, something Vera has become familiar with over the years. Vera is pleased to see, however, that after a few moments of stunned silence, Julia gets up, fetches her laptop from the dining table, and carries it into the bedroom.

TWENTY-THREE

VERA

It takes a surprisingly short time for Vera, Julia, and little Emma to settle into a new rhythm. The first day, Julia foolishly tries to prevent Vera from taking over the running of the household—telling Vera not to bother cooking dinner for them, telling Vera not to bother cleaning up afterward, telling Vera not to try to teach Emma mathematics. She soon learns, however, that “telling Vera not to” is a futile act and before the second day is over has surrendered completely to Vera’s machinations.

When Vera moved into Julia’s house, she’d naïvely thought that she would only stay for a day, two max, before returning to her quiet life atop her deserted tea shop. But the shop is now closed for the time being, something she thought would’ve absolutely devastated her in the past but is in fact a bit of a relief now. Yes, she does miss it, but it’s also freeing to not have to worry so much about not having any customers and wondering how much longer she can keep it open. She’s sent a text to Alex, letting him know that she is staying at a friend’s and apologizing for the lackof teas, and sweet, kind Alex replied immediately, telling her not to worry.

Last night, Tilly called, asking why she hasn’t texted him for days. Hah, what a turnup for the books that was.

“Oh, you know,” she said, “the shop had break-in, so my friend say come stay at her house.”

He sputtered for quite a long time at that. “What?Ma, what do you mean the shop was broken into? Did you report it to the police?”

“Tch, the police, what good are they? They can’t even solve murder, you think they can bother to solve a burglary? No problem, I solve myself.”

“Jesus, Ma! And where are you staying right now? What friend?”

“I have many friend now, Tilly.” She hadn’t quite been able to keep the smugness out of her voice.

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