“Hello?”
“Is this Gracie Reed?” The man’s voice is brisk.
“Yes.”
“This is Ken from the Xin Guang nursing home. I’m pleased to tell you we have a space open for Agatha Wu Reed. I know you’ve been on the list for a while.”
I have to stop myself from whipping the phone at the wall. Of course they do. A beep comes on the line and I glance at the screen.
Incoming call from ZZTV. I didn’t block them.
We pay well.
“We would need an immediate deposit to save the spot,” Ken says.
We pay well.
“How much?”
He tells me and my heart drops. I can pay it but there’s no way I can make the ongoing payments, and I can’t move Mom there only to take her back out again. “Is there a way I can pay in installments?” I ask.
“I’m sorry,” he says and he really does sound apologetic. “We offer premium care for our residents.”
I know they do, which is why I want Mom in there. “Can you give me some time?”
“We have a standard six-hour grace period before we go to the next person on the list.”
We pay well.
This time, I act the way I know I should.
The phone screen pulses one last time and ZZTV fades from it. Mom would kill me if I went into debt for this, and six hours isn’t long enough to get a loan. I should have thought of that earlier and guilt pulses through my blood but I let it fade. I’m only human and I’m doing my best.
“I’m afraid I don’t have the fees right now,” I say finally. “I’m going to have to pass.”
“I understand,” he says. “Would you like to be added back onto the wait list?”
“Please.”
We hang up and I lie back on the couch with the phone clutched against my chest. Rectitude. I roll the word around in my mind. I thought doing the right thing would make me feel good but instead I’m empty. I did the right thing—I said no to ZZTV—but who did I help? Not me. Not Mom. Maybe Fangli by not selling her secrets. Shouldn’t I have a deep satisfaction in doing the right thing?
I don’t, but as I lie there, quietly breathing, something happens. It’s not happiness, but it’s not guilt. There’s no shame. The decision I made was based on what I could do—me, not depending on anyone else or lying, not trying to ease someone else’s way at the expense of my own. It’s a small start, but it is a start.
Mom said I had integrity, and even if I don’t, I want to live up to her ideal. I couldn’t get her into that home this time, but I will and I’ll do it on my terms.
I pull my laptop close and start working.
Thirty-Seven
Mom smiles over at me. It’s cool for early August so I’ve tucked a blanket she knit twenty years ago around her knees. The zigzag orange-and-green pattern hasn’t faded since it was first folded over the couch in our old living room to Dad’s thunderous congratulatory applause.
Although I moved back to my apartment, I’ve made an effort to work from her room since I left the Xanadu and my life of luxury, and I think it’s worked out well for both of us. My productivity has been through the roof—Eppy now has an official website—and I asked Anjali and a couple of old work colleagues to test it. It’s a real thing in the real world now. Not wanting to put all my eggs in the entrepreneurial basket, which I guess is itself not very entrepreneurial, I keep applying for jobs and have an interview next week at a small nonprofit agency doing interesting work with newly immigrated Canadians. Baby steps.
Keeping busy stops me from thinking about Sam. I saw on a gossip site that a Canadian actor took on his Operation Oblivion role but that he’s due back in Toronto for the September film festival, so I assume he’s left the city. Knowing he’s gone left me confused because although I don’t want to talk to him, I gathered obscure comfort knowing he was on my soil. I assume they made a deal with ZZTV because nothing has appeared and my fear has decreased exponentially. Anjali has made me promise not to google myself and sends me daily iterations of “no,” “nyet,” and “nopeity nope nope” to assure me her alerts haven’t caught anything.
“Gracie, sweetie, will you get me a glass of water?” Mom holds out her cup and I take it to the sink. Mom has been talkative the last few days and moves fluidly between the now and the past. Today has been a mix. She remembers me, but she places me in her youth. Right now, I am Gracie but I am also with her back home in Beijing.