“No.” Sam shakes his head.
Two pints means I have the courage to say what’s been bothering me. “You said I was.”
“What?” He puts his glass down and leans forward. “Never. Never would I even think such a thing.”
“The other day you said I was only half. You said, ‘If you weren’t only half, I’d think you were a real Chinese.’” I remember each word.
Sam is silent. “That’s not the same thing.”
“It is, a bit.” I pause and take my courage in hand again. “The same idea is there. Being different.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being different.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it if you want to be,” I correct him.
He gives me a confused look. “Don’t you want to? Why be ordinary when you have the choice to be so much more?”
“Because I don’t want it to only be because of how I look! Or because my mom’s from a different country.”
To my shame, my throat swells and tears prick against my lids. I bite down hard on my tongue, not wanting him to see how upset I am. But this is Sam, who’s trained to react to body language much more subtle than mine, and he takes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me.” I stand up to escape to the washroom, not wanting him to see me cry. Instead, Sam’s hand comes down on my arm. It’s a gentle touch, not controlling.
“Don’t leave. We’ll go outside,” he says. “We’ll talk.”
***
We end up sitting on a bench at the train museum right in front of the arcade and staring at some little kids as they play hide-and-seek. Although me and my big mouth started this conversation, I have no desire to see it through. Why did I even bring it up?
“I upset you,” he says quietly.
“Sorry. It’s no big deal.”
“You do that a lot,” he says. “Say you’re sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m Canadian. We’re raised on apologies and maple syrup.”
He ignores my weak joke.
“Gracie, I truly apologize for what I said. I won’t make excuses as to what I meant, but let me say that I never want you to think you’re less than who you are. I don’t think of you as anyone but you, a whole and complete person.”
“Okay.” I look up. Sam’s frowning at the shiny engine car in front of us as if weighing his next words.
“You are not limited by your appearance. When I meant that you could be more, that it’s good to be different.” He frowns. “How you look was the last thing on my mind.”
A brief, disloyal, and guilt-inducing thought comes: Would I have the same perspective if I’d been raised by a Lu Lili, a woman who relished standing out rather than fearing it? Perhaps. It’s too late now. I am who I am.
“I understand,” I tell Sam. I do. I also know this conversation is now over because I don’t want to talk about it anymore. “We should get going. I need time to get ready for tonight.”
It looks like he wants to say more but Sam stands up and helps me to my feet. His grip is firm on my hand, and when he pulls me up, I lose my footing and stumble forward. Again, he sweeps me up, his hands warm on my back, and looks down in my face. My breath hitches and he releases me.
“That was like the time Fangli slipped and you caught her,” I say to break the tension. “It was all over the clips Mei made me watch.”
He nods. “Milan, I think. Two years ago. That got a good reaction.”
“What?”
Sam rears back, astonished. “You thought that was real?”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “You planned that?”
“The movie was about a doomed love affair.” He thought back. “Was it my idea or Fangli’s? Mine, I think.”
“I had no idea. Do we need to do something like that for tonight?”
“That’s more of a special occasion move. Tonight we go to see and be seen.” He smiles. “It’ll be a breeze.”
I try not to think of how ominous that sounds as we return to the hotel. Not until we’re back do I realize I’m hungry, so I call room service for a sandwich before I hop into the shower. The expensive shower gel cheers me in a way that only luxury products can, enveloping me in their fragrance, Chanel of course, thanks to Fangli. I come out with very soft skin and wrap my hair up in a towel to prepare for the spackling of my face that acts as a prelude to the makeup. I’ve applied the basics when I hear a knock. Must be room service.