The Wangs vs. the World (42 page)

Charles plucked a piece of grass and put it in his mouth, chewing cautiously. It was peppery and green-tasting, and that was China, too. He licked a little mud off the edge of his thumb. It didn’t have much of a taste, just a rich, dirty essence. He could have made a meal of those things, could have lived on nothing else for the rest of his life.

This was the New World. He’d gotten it wrong. His father had gotten it wrong. Never mind the Communists, the Japanese, the murderous urchins of the Little Red Guard. This was China, and the Wangs, the great and glorious Wangs, never should have left.

Still half dreaming, Charles made his way to the far end of the stand of trees and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his penis and aimed a stream of urine against one of the tree trunks, then tilted towards another, reveling in the feeling of release. He would piss over every inch of this land, feeling more awake with every second that he continued to splatter the silvery bark. As he turned left, ready to water another tree, he saw a sign at the far edge of the clearing. Who dared lay claim to his land? Cutting the urine abruptly and shaking the end of his penis, Charles tucked himself back in and zipped up his pants.

The sign, when he reached it, was taller than it looked. He craned upwards, but still had to step back a few feet to read it.

APARTMENT CITY

NEXT SPRING: 3,000 LIVING UNITS

四十三
New Orleans, LA

ANDREW SAT in the meager shade outside of the Greyhound station, eating a slice of pepperoni pizza. In the end, he’d let Saina buy him a ticket from New Orleans to Helios, but he’d insisted on taking a bus instead of an easy plane ride. The route wound through Alabama and Georgia before heading up through the Carolinas and stopping at the Port Authority in New York City, where he’d transfer.
Maybe I should just stay there,
thought Andrew.
Maybe if I stay, I’ll end up on
Saturday Night Live. He took another bite of pizza and chewed, happy.

四十四
Helios, NY

HELIOS CENTRAL HIGH was a long, two-story structure built of brick-colored blocks at the end of a country road that crested around a hill before it slid straight into the student parking lot.

“I don’t like this,” said Grace.

“You haven’t even been inside yet!”

“Look at the sign. I mean, seriously?”

The sign was hard to miss. It was the tallest thing around for miles, a thick blue pole topped with a glowing billboard that wouldn’t have been out of place on Broadway. Framed by lightbulbs that shone even though the sun was at its highest point in the sky, a giant, grinning cartoon lion—his name, apparently, was Growler—leaned up against the first
H
of the school.

Under the mascot, in perfectly placed letters:

HELIOS VS. M’GTVILLE @ 6 P.M.

NEW DRESS CODE TODAY

“You’ll be fine,” said Saina. “You’re not exposing any unnecessary skin.”

“I’m aesthetically offended by the whole thing. Football and rah-rah and, like, monster trucks.”

Saina laughed. “It won’t be that bad. You’ll get to be the mysterious new girl. I bet the captain of the football team will think you’re cu-ute!”

“
Ugh
. Muscles. Beefy necks. Gross.” Grace slumped down in her seat. “Come on, let’s just put it off for a day, okay? Just one day. Tomorrow I’ll be a happy camper, but not today.”

“We’re just going to enroll. You don’t have to go to any classes today, school’s already been in session for hours.”

“No . . . just no! Saina, please. Look, I’m a traumatized youth! I’ve just spent a week in an old car with my father and stepmother! My father got us in a car accident and then he deserted us! I have to sleep in a room with a weird ceiling!” Grace threw herself back against the car door, one arm sweeping dramatically across her forehead.

Saina always enjoyed her sister so much more in the particular than in the abstract. Grace in person was funny and self-aware. Grace on the phone was unrelenting and concerned with the smallest of slights—in between visits, that became the only Grace that she remembered.

Peeking out from under her arm, Grace tried again. “I know what we could do instead.”

“What?”

“I haven’t posted on my blog in forever. And you have so much cute stuff. Let me style you! And then we can take pictures!”

“Isn’t your blog just pictures of you?”

“Yeah, but you can make a guest appearance!”

“You just want an excuse to get into my closet.”

“Okay, maybe . . .” Grace batted her eyes. “I bet there’s lots of stuff that you don’t want anymore. Things that you’ve outgrown. Things that would be
perfect
on someone just a
leetle
bit younger.”

Saina laughed. “That line of argument really shouldn’t work, but okay, fine. No pictures of me, though. After that article, I don’t need to be on any fashion blog, not even yours. But I’ll take pictures of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She gunned the engine and made an extravagant U-turn. “You’re free! But just until tomorrow.”

It only took Grace one quick spin around the closet to pull out a vintage Ossie Clark dress, a pair of old motorcycle boots still caked with dirt, and a burgundy felt hat that she instantly made ten times as appealing by attaching a silver and turquoise petit point necklace around the brim. Saina was impressed with her sister. It was the kind of mishmash that a civilian could never have assembled and worn with any kind of ease, but somehow Gracie layered it on like a crazy bag lady and came out looking like a fantasy of the 1970s—more substantial than an Olsen twin, and more accessible.

Draping her camera around Saina’s neck, Grace led them over the neighbor’s collapsed wood-post fence to the horse paddock where a sweet old chestnut mare drank from a hay-flecked trough even as it pissed out a powerful stream of urine. Grace waited for the horse to finish and then led it to the west end of the enclosure, where she positioned the horse so that its nose nudged into the frame and placed herself where the setting sun could glint through the crook of her elbow as she reached for her hat, a motion she repeated effortlessly, each time making the gesture look fresh.

“Do you want some more poses?” asked Saina.

“No, that’s my thing. One perfect shot each time. No one needs to see me pretending to look delighted with the world in twenty different ways. Also, I already know the quote I’m going to pair it with.”

“What?”

“‘I am rooted, but I flow.’ It’s Virginia Woolf.”

Was Gracie some kind of stylist savant? And why couldn’t that be as worthwhile, in the end, as dragging a brush over canvas or putting a pen to paper?

They got her one perfect shot and then, still feeling indulgent, Saina let Grace dress her for dinner. As soon as they walked into Graham’s restaurant, the three of them—Saina, Grace, and Barbra, the Wangs without their center—spotted Leo, who was waiting for them at the bar. Saina felt self-conscious in the tiny skirt that her sister demanded she wear. Sensing her hesitation, Leo held up one smooth palm to give her a high five, but as they connected, a quick sting of skin on skin, he reached out and pinched her earlobe, deftly avoiding her gold ear cuff, then he wrapped his fingers around her palm and pulled her close, kissing her. Their lips were springy against each other, happy to meet.

From that joining on, everything about the evening was fun. Leo was warm and inquisitive; Barbra, wry and observant in a way Saina couldn’t remember witnessing; Grace lit up under Leo’s attention, describing the potential horrors of the local high school. Graham tucked them in a corner of the restaurant and kept their votives afire and their wineglasses full, bringing them treats from the kitchen that he insisted were mistakes on the part of his incompetent chef and, at the end of the night, dancing Grace across the empty dining room floor as Cat Stevens played.

When they finally left, every star in the sky was out, shining as hard as it could on them, and Grace and Barbra were actually leaning towards each other, giggling about something.

Her sister turned around. “So,” she said sweetly, “when are you guys gonna get maaawied?”

“Grace! C’mon. Don’t be embarrassing!”

“What’s embarrassing? You love Leo! We love Leo!” She swayed a little on her heels. Oops. Someone should have been watching Gracie’s glass. “Leo. Leo! Leo, let me tell you, you’re so much better than Saina’s last boyfriend. He was super-hot, but he was kind of a dick.” Grace clapped a hand over her mouth and looked at Barbra. “Sorry! Sorry! It’s true, though!”

Saina tensed. Every time Grayson came up—and she tried to make sure it was as rarely as possible—she imagined Leo imagining them together that morning, a postcoital shame that had never quite dissipated.

But Leo let his dimples show and was about to say something as Grace talked over him, drunk. “Also, your babies will be so cute! Mixed babies are the cutest!” She shot Barbra a look, not noticing as Leo winced. “It’s true! They are! C’mon, Leo! Don’t you want to see what it would look like if you reproduced?” She stopped abruptly and looked down at her shoes. “Oh! I have to tie these.”

They were all quiet for a moment, and that was beautiful, too. The night was both liquid and crisp, delicious and dark, the leaves rustled wildly in the trees. And then Leo was tugging her gently by the elbow, leading her away from Barbra and Grace, who had headed towards the car. The silence extended onward, but Saina didn’t notice until she realized abruptly that it should terrify her. Finally, Leo said, “Actually, I should probably tell you something. Saina, I do have a child. A daughter.”

Time stopped. Space collapsed. Every star shut down. There. There was the catastrophe she’d been waiting for.

“Before you say anything, I know. It’s bad I didn’t tell you,” he said.

“But
why?
Why not? I wouldn’t have cared!”

“I don’t know! It was stupid! I was scared to! The first real thing you told me about was how your fiancé knocked up this girl and left you, so I didn’t really think that I should lead with that piece of information. What was I supposed to say? And then everything was so good, and it’s not like I meet a million amazing girls up here.”

“So you just wanted to hold on to me because you were worried that no one else would come along?”

“No! No. I wanted to hold on to you because I
fell
for you.”

“And how long were you going to keep it a secret?”

“It was never the right time. When we got back together, I was going to tell you, but at first it was . . . it was just so good that I didn’t want to mess everything up, and then you were worried about your speech, and then your family was coming, and you were stressed about that. You’ve had a lot to deal with, and I didn’t want to be the guy adding to it.”

“So I’m the delicate flower who can’t handle anything?”

“No! No. I was trying to be considerate. I was trying to be a gentleman. Okay, I hear myself. I know. It sounds so stupid now.”

“Do you see her?”

“My daughter?”

“Of course your daughter!”

A long pause. “Not right now.”

Suspicion pulled at her. Why not? What did Leo do? Was this becoming one of those stories where the perfect man turns out to be a murderous imposter?

“Since when?”

He sighed, long and heavy. “Since a few months ago.”

“Why not?”

“Her mom and I got in a fight about stupid shit.”

“What.”

“What?”

“The stupid shit. What was it.”

“She and I had started hooking up again and I guess she thought, you know, that since we had a kid together, and we were sleeping together, that it was going to be happy families.”

“And then?”

“I met you. That day. At Graham’s restaurant.”

“And then she wouldn’t let you see your
kid?
That’s crazy.”

“I know!
She’s
crazy.”

“I hate it when people say their ex-girlfriends are crazy. It’s so fucking misogynistic.”

“Saina, life is messy, okay? It’s not . . . things don’t just fall into place for everyone.”

“Why are you saying that to me? You think I don’t know that? Hello, you were there when we read that article, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but shit happens in your life and it becomes a
story
in a glossy
magazine.
That doesn’t happen for other people. Shit happens in my life and it just sucks. Nobody writes an article about it.”

“You think that makes it better? No. No. That just makes it all so much worse. It’s like living in a tiny village where you know that everyone’s talking about you, but it’s all of New York City.”

“But I
do
live in a tiny village. And the only reason I’m still here is because this is where they live.”

“Why don’t you have any pictures of her? What’s her name? How old is she?”

“I have a million pictures of her!” He took out his phone and swiped at it, scrolling past photos of him and Saina laughing together at a barbecue and astride his tractor. “Her name is Kaya, and she’s three.” He thrust the glowing rectangle at her.

“Oh. She’s really, really cute.” Seeing these photos of a chubby little girl who could only be Leo’s, Saina felt unaccountably sad. Is this what would happen forever afterwards now? Would every man she met have some sort of secret progeny who would expose him as an asshole? The future felt dead and unthinkable.

“I don’t know, Leo. I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t do anything. Just think about this for a minute, okay?”

“Did you hide pictures of her in your house because of me?”

“No! I don’t have pictures of anything in my house!”

It was true. Leo’s house was spare and undecorated, a reaction, he said, against the chaos of his childhood. His childhood. How could an abandoned child abandon his own?