The Night Counter (24 page)
Authors: Alia Yunis
“Yes, yes, great to hear from you,” Brenda continued on the phone, teeth clamped on the end of the pen. Her loud voice gave no consideration to the other waiting patients. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Let me run some numbers and different scenarios and get you a quote by tomorrow.”
Brenda winked at Decimal, both knowing that Brenda already had figured out the quote and was just playing hard to get in sales, the way she never did in her personal life.
Decimal tuned out her mother and dug out another pen from her Hello Kitty bag.
Brenda’s super skills at math—and the fact that she is totally charming—make her a good insurance salesperson. She can do her job and sell polices and stuff anywhere, including waiting in doctor offices.
There are two reasons we spend so much time in doctors’ offices. One is that I was born with eye and ear trouble and allergies to lots of stuff—strawberries, dust, pollen, eggs, dairy, wheat, you name it. Oh, and animals (Hello Kitty stuff—which
Gran gives me all the time—is the closest I’ll ever get to having a pet, which is why I still like her at my age). I kind of blow that theory that I read in Parenting at the allergist’s last May that the younger you have your kids the healthier they’ll be and stuff. The other reason we come here a lot is that Gran and Dr. Wang are both doctors and so sometimes we go to visit them at work. We live with Gran, but we only ask her for money at work. Brenda says it’s harder to say no at work than it is at home or over the phone. Gran is always giving me things anyway, including this Hello Kitty pen I’m writing to you with. Dr. Wang gives us money just so he can see us disappear from the sight of his colleagues, especially all the other Asian doctors with their highly overachieved children. “Practically the entire brown and yellow population of this state worked on this campus when I was a kid,” Brenda always tells me. “Now, their kids are even more successful.” Brenda says “successful” like it’s a dirty word but I think it’d be kind of cool to be successful, don’t you?
Now that Brenda and I are older, we don’t really need money much from either Gran or Dr. Wang. Brenda does pretty good and stuff at her health insurance sales. But sometimes we still go to Dr. Wang’s office and ask. Brenda says she just likes to freak him out, but I think she misses him. Gran says they used to be really close when Brenda was a kid. Brenda was Dr. Wang’s favorite until I happened. I kind of think sometimes that he’d like to get to know me better, maybe take me to his chess games, like he used to take Brenda, but I can’t be sure because he has never made eye contact with me.
“Check this out, Decimal.” Brenda gasped. Decimal stopped writing and took the health insurance application from her mother.
“Greg Sorenson, thirty-eight, divorced, nonsmoker, takes cholesterol medication, no other illnesses or sexually transmitted diseases,” Decimal read, jiggling her leg up and down. “Cool.”
“He’s going with the PPO 1500 plan,” Brenda added. “Doesn’t like HMOs.”
“And smart, too,” Decimal agreed.
“We’re going out to dinner on Friday,” Brenda said. “That is, if you’re going to be feeling okay to stay home alone.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Decimal assured her.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Brenda said. “I’m hungry.”
“Maybe if you’d bought a Snickers with that five dollars, you wouldn’t be hungry,” Decimal reprimanded her, jiggling her legs faster. “Give them the Beanie Baby back.”
“Don’t start, missy,” Brenda said. “Let’s not forget why we are stuck in this building.”
Decimal bowed her head. Then she went into the Hello Kitty bag and pulled out a few more dollars. “You need to eat more protein,” she said. “With the five dollars, this should be more than enough for a hamburger.”
“You need protein, too,” Brenda replied. “We’ll go to the Dairy Queen afterward.”
Even if the only things Decimal could eat were Mr. Mistys because they were the only dairy-free item, she liked Dairy Queen. It was almost impossible for Brenda to shoplift anything at the Dairy Queen.
“Call me if the doctor calls us in,” Brenda yelled back as she walked to the elevator. “And tell my grandma I said hello and stuff. No, wait, better not mention me at all. Just tell her we’re having nice Dairy Queen weather.”
As Brenda got on the elevator, waiting room focus shifted from Decimal’s wool to Brenda’s sleek midriff. Decimal put in some eyedrops and went back to writing.
Brenda wanted me to tell you that it was Dairy Queen weather here today. Brenda’s really trying to be good but it’s slow going, especially with the new shoplifting thing. Don’t mention it to Gran because she would probably flip out. I’ve taken charge of the money, making sure she always asks me for some, so maybe that will help. And Brenda is beginning to date
a much higher caliber of men and maybe that will help with her depression. Before, she used to go out with any cute guy she sold a policy to, but now they have to also look good on paper. So that’s a big improvement and stuff.
Have you ever thought about how many great-grandparents I have? Eight. And you and Mr. Abdullah are the only ones still alive. That must make you feel pretty good. On the other hand, I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. I doubt yours was as easy as Brenda’s and Tyrone’s because they didn’t have anything to divide except me. And Tyrone let her keep his half of me. As far as divorced teenage dads go, I was pretty lucky. Tyrone eventually bought that gas station where he worked, and he sends me money every month. And I go to see him every now and then, and he calls me once a week so we can talk about my college plans. He’d be pissed off big time if I didn’t go to med school. Tyrone says that although he knows Dr. Wang hates him, he cared about education more than anything and that’s why he respects him. Brenda says if it weren’t for me, she probably would have become a nuclear physicist because that’s the least Dr. Wang would have expected. She says she wouldn’t have minded because she liked science a lot. Brenda also says Dr. Wang doesn’t like me because I’m half black. But the truth is he blames me for Brenda not having the time to become a nuclear physicist. Brenda makes it a racial thing and stuff so I don’t take it personally. Tyrone says that Dr. Wang might not be a racist but he’s an ass. Dr. Wang and Gran got separated over me 17 years ago. But Brenda and Gran say not to think of it that way. That would be like you, Mrs. Abdullah, not forgiving yourself for Gran and Dr. Wang getting separated the first time, on account of all of the nagging of you and Mr. Abdullah and Dr. Wang’s parents, and all the ensuing fighting between Gran and Dr. Wang.
Despite her bad role models, I think Brenda would really like to get married. I mean why else would she be dating so many
policyholders? It’s not just for sex. Everyone on TV with all their kissy faces and stuff make you think there’s nothing better. But I think it’s like a drug—a happy feeling that lasts a really short time and then you have to pay for it for the rest of your life. But don’t worry, I’m a good girl—I don’t do drugs. Even if I wasn’t a good girl, I’m sure I’d never do drugs because I’d be allergic to them. Still Gran always gives me a gift certificate to Marshall Field’s every Christmas just for not doing drugs.
I tell Brenda that it’s not like second chances never work. Tyrone’s been married to the same woman since I was two, so that’s a pretty long time. She’s fat and always lecturing everyone on what they’re doing wrong so I call her the Holy Roly Mother. She doesn’t like me, and neither do their three kids. Sometimes I try and talk all hip-hop and stuff around them so they’ll like me, but I don’t do it very well. They don’t even bother to laugh at me. But Gran insists I stay in touch with them. She says they’re the closest people I have to siblings and you never know when I might need them for an organ donation or something. She’s a doctor, so she thinks about these things.
Gran says that you were very proud of her becoming a doctor but didn’t like Dr. Wang because he wasn’t from your village. I have to say that I don’t agree. There are a whole heck of a lot things I don’t like about Dr. Wang that have nothing to do with him not being from your village. Like how he abandoned his favorite daughter and how he doesn’t like Tyrone. Dr. Wang’s parents were FOBs like you but from China, which really isn’t that different from your village in Lebanon, if you think about the rice in your families. Both Dr. Wang and Gran told Brenda that a meal almost always had to have rice because that’s how they grew up. So they had more in common with each other than regular Americans, who wouldn’t have needed rice at every meal, maybe would have even preferred potatoes. And you know what? I prefer rice to potatoes.
We studied Lebanon in school a little. Hopefully, all the bad stuff is exaggerated, in the way that people think everyone in the Midwest is fat and likes to go bowling. Still, I guess it’s good you left all that trouble. And if you hadn’t come here, Gran would have never met Dr. Wang, and Brenda wouldn’t have ever been born and met Tyrone, and then I wouldn’t have ever been born. So thanks for coming to America.
Do you ever wonder what the world would be like without all the people that you helped somehow bring into it? From what Gran says it sure seems like a lot of people.
“I’m freezing,” Brenda announced as she returned. She opened her compact to wipe away some ketchup. Then she offered it to Decimal, as she always did.
“I can’t look at myself today,” Decimal said. “And you’re freezing because that’s what happens when you walk around a hospital without a coat. Eat a breath mint. That will calm you down.”
Brenda smirked before she opened her purse so that Decimal could see that she hadn’t lifted any breath mints. But now there were two Beanie Babies in one bag.
“They have a psychology department on the second floor,” Decimal said, and went back to writing.
I look at myself in the mirror a lot. I guess most teens do. But today …
“Decimal, what time is it?” Decimal looked up to find Brenda jiggling her leg and shaking her watch as if she could make it work that way. Decimal grabbed the watch from Brenda.
“It just needs a new battery,” Decimal explained. “I’ll get one after school tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, honey?” said Brenda. “I don’t think—”
“Do you like Mrs. Abdullah?” Decimal interrupted.
“Right, your letter,” Brenda said after a final shake of her watch. “We were here in Minneapolis, and she was all the way over in Detroit. Like Dr. Wang would say, when you have so little vacation time, do you really want to spend it in Detroit?”
“Did she knit you sweaters and bake cookies and stuff?” Decimal said, thinking of all the things Gran didn’t do.
“She didn’t have time for that,” Brenda said. “Shit, she was a raising a boy and a girl that weren’t much older than me. I would have just died if I had more kids. Do you believe I have an aunt that’s only like six years older than me? I got cousins older than my aunt.”
“That’s far out,” Decimal said, trying to sound amazed.
“That aunt, Lena. She lives in NYC, New York,” Brenda raved. “She must be almost forty by now, totally single and free and stuff and I bet gets weekly massages and pedicures—how glamorous is that, you know?”
“Well, maybe we could go visit her one day,” Decimal suggested.
“That life’s not for people who screwed up,” Brenda said.
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“I screwed it up in the best possible way, honey.” Brenda smiled. She kissed the top of Decimal’s head. “As long as you don’t do the same.”
Brenda’s cell phone rang again. Decimal sneezed and handed her another pen.
“This is a big one, Decimal, a company policy,” Brenda practically bubbled when she looked at the incoming number. She handed her phone to Decimal. “Make it sound good.”
“Brenda Wang’s office,” Decimal said very efficiently, deepening her voice a third of an octave and holding her leg down to stop it from jiggling. “Just one moment, please.”
“What in the world would I do without you?” Brenda whispered. “Hello, hello,” she said to the phone, walking away.
Like I was saying, I look at myself in the mirror a lot. I see sickly and pimply, but I don’t see Arab, or Chinese, or Black. I do see someone who could definitely pass for Latino but not a hot
one like Shakira or Jennifer Lopez. The good thing about not looking Black, Chinese, or Arab is that I’ve never been a victim of a hate crime, at least not for what I really am. Once a couple of black kids called me a wetback and a white kid called me a Spic. But since I’m not Latino, I didn’t get offended. I bet I could have marked Latino on all those college applications. It would require three less pen checks than marking Asian, Caucasian, African-American, and Other on college applications—or on Match.com, if I end up trying that out in my lifetime, although Brenda says it’s totally not worth it. But marking Latino would be a lie. Then again I love tacos, but I don’t know how to eat with chopsticks, don’t get turned on by Barry White, and I’m allergic to something in falafel. I used to think I would look weird ice fishing, but once someone thought I was Eskimo, so I guess I could go ice fishing one day if Brenda would ever want to do anything fun. But she says we spend too much time freezing in medical plazas, so there’s no need to go freeze our asses off on the lake and stuff.
“Aren’t you Dr. Abdullah’s granddaughter?” a nurse asked Decimal.
“Is she in today?” Decimal said.
“Isn’t she always?” said the nurse. “You have a super day now.”
Decimal held an insincere smile until the nurse was gone. Then she went to the attending desk nurse. “How much longer is it going to be?” she inquired.
“Just a few minutes, hon,” the nurse answered. That meant at least another fifty-five minutes. Decimal grabbed some extra Kleenex and went to the pervert. “If my sister comes back up, tell her I went downstairs to see our mom for a minute.”
Decimal walked across the street to the Boynton Student Health Center, where Hala counseled university girls on birth control and safe sex and did pregnancy and Pap smears for them. A grateful patient had given Hala flowers, and so Decimal’s arrival was announced with an allergic sneeze. Hala, the white of the coat highlighting the white in hair that
she hadn’t had a chance to cover in months, hugged Decimal tightly, as if she hadn’t just seen her at breakfast.
