Page 76 of You Had Me at Hello World
Khoi laughs and then stops upon catching our faces in the rearview mirror. “Oh, you guys aren’t joking.”
It’s surprisingly difficult to come up with a schtick that will buy a few minutes. Michael isn’t big on politics, so posing as a canvasser won’t work. Khoi isn’t the right age or gender to be slinging Girl Scout cookies. And after I get him to do his best impression of a Jehovah’s Witness? Let’s just say that he should strongly consider other careers besides cult leader.
“Dad really likes to gamble,” Olive says. “If you try toconvince him to take a crazy bet with huge upside, that could work.”
So Khoi decides to spread the gospel of Bitcoin.
Step 2: Fetch Mom.
Olive pulls up a block away from the house. She’s still got a key to the back, so while Khoi climbs the steps to our front door, I dip around. The doorbell rings, and then there are heavy footsteps from inside. The door opens and Michael hits him with, “Whaddya want, son?”
“Hi, sir! Do you have a few minutes to hear about a fantastic money-making opportunity?” Khoi’s voice is plastic and two octaves higher than normal—a dead giveaway he’s freaking out. But he powers on. “I’ll give you this amazing twenty-dollar bill if you listen to my entire pitch.”
“Why not.”
Michael steps out onto the porch, and the front door closes.
I immediately unlock the back door and rush inside, not bothering to take off my shoes. Michael can scrub away whatever muddy footprints I leave behind. I hope they stain.
My mother’s curled up in the master bedroom, swathed in blankets. The lights are off and the blinds are shut. Everything is bathed in a grayish gloom. The faint glow of the TV flickers against the wall. It’s playing some C-drama on low volume, so the dialogue comes out muffled and distant. The air smells faintly of stale tea.
She looks listless and sad. Her hair hangs around her face in damp, limp strands. I can’t recall the last time she seemed truly happy.
But when her eyes land on me, there’s a spark of life. “Char? You can’t be here. Michael will be upset.”
“Get up. We need to go.”
She pauses the show. Onscreen, Wang Yibo freezes mid-sentence. “What are you talking about?”
“Olive is parked around the corner. We have a plane ticket so you can come stay with me at MIT. But we have to go,right now.”
“Why would I leave? I’m fine here.” But she says it like she isn’t sure she believes her own words.
“No. This isnotfine.” I gesture wildly at our surroundings. “This is not a life. Mom, when’s the last time you even went outside? How long has he been keeping you in here?”
“I have to pack,” she says. “Everything I have is here. I’m not ready at all.”
“Iknowyou’re not ready.” Frustration simmers in me. “It doesn’tmatter. Michael is keeping you trapped. This is fu—um, messed up. How do you not see that?”
“Stop,” she says. Her eyes glimmer with tears. “Please stop.”
“Mom. Right now, my—myfriendis distracting Michael, but I don’t know how long he’s going to be able to do that. We have to run. We have to leave before Michael returns.It isn’t safe here.”
She still isn’t moving, so I pivot. “If you’re not going to leave for yourself, leave for me. I can’t ever be happy, even if I’m thousands of miles away, if you aren’t safe.”
“You can learn to be happy, Char,” she says. “I’m so proud of you. And the new life you found for yourself. You’re so brave. Unlike your old mother.” She says it like she’s on her deathbed, and it makes me want to cry.
“I’m not leaving until you leave too. And how do you think Michael is going to react if he sees me here, in his house, after he told me never to come back?” I fold my arms and stare her down.
Here we go. It’s finally time to find out if she loves me enough to conquer her own fear.
Please, I silently beg.Please, make the right choice. Because if Michael actually catches my ass here, I don’t know what he’ll do. Not even Khoi will be able to save me from my stepfather’s wrath.
After what feels like a century, she stands up. Relief floods me.
Without a word, she takes my hand and we’re shadows, sneaking out of the bedroom and past the kitchen. She slides on her shoes and snags her purse.
“Leave your phone,” I whisper. “He can track your location with it.” Thank God Michael never cared enough to add me on Find My Friends.
