“Yeah, she’s off-limits as a client. For the both of us,” I add, smirking.
“How’s it been taking over the family business?” he asks cautiously. “Is it okay if I ask you that?”
I think through all the various politically correct statements I could answer with. I’m excited for the opportunity. Lots of challenges ahead, but nothing I can’t handle.
Maybe it’s the wine or the fact that Bennett’s so easy to talk to, or maybe it’s the magic of the moon hanging in the distance, but instead of saying something, anything, that makes Lunar Love look like it’s doing well, I just croak, “It’s been kind of rough.”
Hearing those words escape from my mouth feels wildly revealing. I look down at the ground beneath me. It’s still intact. The world didn’t end. Bennett doesn’t even look smug or happy to hear this. Instead, he looks surprised.
“Really? How so?” he asks, taking a step closer.
“There’s a lot of pressure from my family to turn the business around,” I say, continuing to divulge more than I probably should. “I took it over during a challenging time. Sometimes it feels like the business is too set in its ways to ever change. Or maybe people are just too focused on the new.”
“To turn the business around?” Bennett asks with an empathetic tone.
“We’re going through growing pains,” I say, using Pó Po’s choice of words. “I’m sure Pó Po told you everything there is to know, even though she’s in denial about it.”
“She didn’t say anything about needing to save Lunar Love,” he says. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with that.”
“There have been challenges for a while,” I confess, maybe more to myself than to him. There were challenges long before Bennett was in the picture.
Bennett takes a sip of wine. “How’d you even get involved in your family’s business? Was it something that always interested you?”
“I haven’t known anything else, really. I love what I do. I basically grew up in the business, yet I still don’t fully feel like I fit into the culture of what it represents.”
“Lunar Love is more traditional,” Bennett says. “Are you considering making it more modern?”
“Even if I were, you think I’d tell you?” I say suspiciously. “You’re still my competition, right?”
Bennett swirls the base of his wineglass in the center of his palm. “You know I don’t see it like that. I wish you wouldn’t, either.”
I sigh. “I love how traditional the business is and what it represents. Tradition tends to become diluted and reinterpreted over time, which is important so it doesn’t completely disappear, but I don’t want the business to lose its original charm. I know that’s a different way of thinking than the tech world you’re used to.”
“I think of it as iterating upon what’s already been done,” Bennett says.
“Right, traditions were meant to be broken,” I say flatly.
Bennett holds his free hand up in defense. “I said that in one interview, and you’re taking it out of context. I think traditions are meant to be broken when they’re rigid like rules and run the risk of being lost to history. My way of going about it is probably bolder than you’re used to.”
I tap my finger against the stem of my glass. “Maybe.”
“I do think it’s incredible you’re trying to preserve what your Pó Po started. In this day and age, that’s rare.” His eyes dart down at me before he refocuses them on the city view ahead of us. “Who in your family is involved?” he asks.
“My pó po and auntie were involved, as you know,” I say, emphasizing my last words. “My mom followed a different path. So did my sister. But I was hooked from the start. I purposely went to college in Los Angeles so I could keep working in the business part-time. I even tailored my major so I could be better at my job.”
“Business degree? Communications?” Bennett asks.
“Psychology. I wanted to better understand how people act and think and how they fall in love,” I explain. “I care about the work I do but I might’ve lost sight of who I am in order to keep the family legacy alive. And if I don’t succeed, I think I’ll be proving something that, deep down, I feel about myself.”
Just as quickly as the words float out of me, they’re carried away on a breeze across the hillside. How long have I felt this? I’ve been so in the thick of everything that I haven’t had time to fully process my emotions. Sometimes it’s easier to stuff down uncomfortable feelings than to deal with them head-on.
Bennett nods thoughtfully. “You feel like you’re overcompensating so you don’t fail and feel less of…something…than you already do.”
“Maybe? Probably.”
His face relaxes into a soft smile. “Vague, but I can relate.”
I look over at him. “You can?”
“If ZodiaCupid fails, or doesn’t live up to its potential, it’ll be a huge blow. More than any other business I’ve started before. This one’s too personal to me.”
I tilt my head in understanding, remembering what he told me about his mother.
“With this app, I learn something new every day about the Chinese zodiac,” he continues. “About people. About myself. And I love that. Even to this day, though, I feel like that little kid learning about himself at the library. I’ve never had to explain to people that I’m Chinese more than I do now. I love being mixed and celebrating all of my cultures, though, even if I often feel like I don’t fit into any of the communities.”
“I know the feeling,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Realization dawns that maybe how I feel is that if Lunar Love fails, my insecurities about not being Asian enough to run this business are true. Most of the Chinese zodiac resource books at Lunar Love are in Mandarin, a language I can hardly hold a conversation in. In the early days of the business, client sessions used to take place exclusively in Chinese until Pó Po’s English improved. But what’s Asian enough?
“If I fail, it’ll confirm things I think about myself, as you said,” Bennett divulges. “Like an imposter.”
“The syndrome is real,” I say.
“Sorry, I made this about me,” Bennett says. “Please, continue.”
I bite my lip. “No, go on.”
Bennett scrunches his face. “It’ll be as though I’m not Chinese enough or I don’t belong doing this because I didn’t grow up one hundred percent immersed in the Chinese culture. As though the bits and pieces of the culture that my mom did choose to celebrate and teach me won’t be sufficient. It’s silly.”
The emotion hits differently when it’s said out loud. “I don’t think it’s silly. If it’s something that you experience, that makes it real,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
The sun lowers in the sky, the temperature dropping with it. I readjust my grip on the wineglass and hug my arms against my chest, pulling my oversized, colorful, geometric sweater tighter around my body. Bennett notices and moves even closer.