Don’t think, do.
I grab the notepad and move over to the kitchen table.
Fangli is first and easiest because talking to her was always comfortable. I decide that even with the news about the marriage, I can’t keep what I’ve learned about Mom a secret. She can decide what to do with the information, whether she wants to believe me or not. The text I send to her now unblocked number is simple and to the point—an apology for leaving her and that I know the truth about ZZTV from Mei. I tell her I might have some information about her mother, if she’d like to know. That I miss her.
I’m not usually this open with feelings but I want to restart on the right foot if she’ll let me. I decide to not mention her engagement because every time I write it out, the sentence sounds painfully passive-aggressive. I’ll do that in person if she wants to meet.
I read this block of text over about twelve times and then send it.
The second one is harder, and I decide to send a hello to commit myself before I get into the nitty-gritty.
Hi, Sam.
It bounces back.
I stare at the message in disbelief. Not in service? Here I am, about to take an emotional leap into the unknown, and the number doesn’t work. Even if I had been tentative before, now I’m desperate to get Sam this message, if only to get it done with.
I don’t have his email. Do I? I open up my email to look and find an interview request from the South China Morning Post.
As I’m reading it, the notification bar drops down to announce a message from the BBC. CNN Asia pops up a moment later.
They’re not about my impersonating Fangli. They’re about Eppy.
Now almost frantic, I grab my laptop and check my website and check it again. Yesterday, my downloads were exactly twenty-six. Now it’s been downloaded over twenty thousand times.
What the hell happened?
It’s too much for me to take in and time slows to a crawl. I need to get back to these people but what do I say? Is this all a big accident? It must be. A great joke on Gracie.
You don’t believe in yourself.
I open my laptop and read the emails carefully. They all say the same thing, that Sam Yao swears by this method and it’s now a trend in China. They want to talk to me about my philosophy and what I want to achieve. They want me to walk through why Eppy is different.
Sam plugged Eppy. Why?
Because it works and it’s good. I might not believe in myself yet, but I believe in Eppy.
I’m not ready but I can do this.
The first thing I do is try to find what Sam’s said. It takes some digging but I eventually find a tweet translated from Weibo, the Chinese microblog.
No way I could keep organized without Eppy. Swear by it to keep productive.
It links to my website. That’s it, but I guess when you’re Sam Yao with millions of followers, that’s enough. The retweets on Twitter alone are over forty thousand, and I have to do some breathing practices to keep calm. This is what I wanted, after all. I believe in this.
I jazz-hand my fingers to get them to stop shaking and email the South China Morning Post to set up an interview. Then the BBC and CNN Asia. When the Guardian and Bloomberg requests roll in, I accept those, too.
The interview requests arrive all afternoon, and after I do the first two, I notice the questions are similar. I get more comfortable each time I talk about how Eppy is designed to help you organize your whole life, since we’re all busy and multifaceted. I give examples of some of my tasks and why I add items immediately because I have the memory of a goldfish. When they ask how Sam Yao heard about a planner that’s only in beta, I laugh and say they’ll have to ask him but I’m glad it works for him and do my best to not let my voice shake.
The hardest are the TV interviews but the producers are kind and walk me through what to expect, since I suppose me freezing in fear doesn’t do them any good either. In between, I check my downloads.
The number keeps ticking up.
It’s almost midnight by the time I’m done, and I’m so wired I pace my apartment in circles. Anjali sends me an emoji-laden text with a link to the CNN interview. I knew you could do it, she says.
I did but it’s all thanks to Sam, who I can’t get in touch with. Can I email his agency? Agent? There has to be a way to contact him if Fangli doesn’t call.
I go to bed exhausted and my dreams are filled with Sam using my planner. Second sexiest night I’ve ever had.
Thirty-Nine
It takes me a couple of days to come down from my interview high. The downloads on Eppy keep going up, and even better, people like it. They really like it. I take careful note of the suggestions that come through on the Twitter feed I hastily set up and already have a rough version 2.0 ready. I send the link to Anjali to test.