Chapter 32: Chapter 32

Russo stops at the intersection. Two cars ahead of him is a white Jaguar E-Pace that belongs to the Chiangs.

He has been following the group of Erin’s old friends since his chat with Katherine a little over a month ago. It has proven to be a worthy dedication of his time.

He remembers that Mia told him that she and the others severed all ties from each other and grew apart. That is no longer the case; the group is quickly becoming inseparable, spending a lot of time together and often.

As much as they can, at least. Aries is ever-occupied by shady affairs. Russo has caught him on several occasions with convicted felons, but every time he tries to tail them, he gets made with an expertise that speaks of experience.

Aries is indeed entangled in suspicious activities and Russo has yet to discover what.

At the present moment, he is pursuing the Chiangs, oblivious to the fact that he, too, is being followed.

Russo parks at a safe distance and watches from afar as the Chiangs exit their family car.

He can’t make out what they are saying. Even if he was close, he is sure that they are conversing in their native tongue, anyway. But by the wild gesticulations and booming voices, it is clear, mayhem is unfolding.

“I just don’t understand why you told your father, but not me.”

Opal frees a sardonic laugh. “Have you met yourself?”

“Opal, don’t speak to her like that,” Sanako chides.

“You should know better,” Daiyu rebukes.

Opal gawks at both of them.

Mr. Chiang leaves to open the front door, leaving them to their endless squabbling, taking no side and yet against them all.

“Of course, you always take her side and she will ~always~ have yours.” Burning tears simmer behind her eyes. “But Bàba has mine, that’s why I told him. Because he’s the only one that cares about me in this family!”

“Opal!”

Opal storms away and rushes into the house with her mother’s screams behind her. She walks briskly, but still, they persist and she hurries into her room. She tries to close the door, but Daiyu rams her way inside.

“If you ever walk away from me like that again, you can leave this house and then you will have no family. You will not disrespect me like that,~ ever~. What has gotten into you?”

Anger evaporates her tears, trembling from restraining herself, using every morsel of willpower.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Opal, this is the most important year of your high school career,” Daiyu rants on. “Everything you do is under a microscope and it speaks to your inability to handle pressure.

“Sanako won first place for the academic decathlon and mathlon and still maintained her honor roll.

“I’m upset because I know you can do better”—her eyes dart to Opal’s laptop—"but you have too many distractions. Unfocused. Lazy. And what is this?”

She marches straight up her laptop, which Opal forgot to lock before since they left in a rush.

“Mom, no—”

She tugs at her mother’s arm, but Daiyu pushes her off and goes for the laptop, waking the screen with a nudge of the mouse.

It opens up to an editing software and Daiyu scrolls flippantly through the graphic designs, both old and new.

“So it’s not just your friends keeping you busy,” she says, her voice wrought with scorn. “You’re fooling around and wasting your time doodling these cartoon. What is this nonsense?”

“It’s not nonsense,” Opal mumbles.

“I didn’t get you this laptop to play on it.” Daiyu snatches her laptop from the desk. “You’re going to reinstate yourself. And this year, ~you will win~. I have had enough of you.”

“~Why am I never good enough~?” Opal wails, her eyes releasing a flash flood. “I’m going to go to a university I don’t want to go to—~for you~. I’m going to study medicine—~for you~.

“My whole life has been structured to please you, but no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.”

“That’s even more pathetic, Opal.”

The response slaps a horrified look on her face.

“I did it. Your sister did it. Why can’t you?”

“I’m not her! And I’m not you!”

“It’s not about being us!” she says, and the condemnation in her voice crushes the last of Opal’s spirit.

“It’s about being better. That’s how it works. Your ~nainai ~came from abject poverty, and she did what she could to send me to school.

“I promised I would make something of myself and that my future children will not know what it’s like to struggle like we did. And I married a man who had the same ambition.”

Daiyu lengthens her spine and holds the laptop vertically to her chest.

“Life is a relay match. You give the mantle to the next generation so they will run faster, go further than the last one.”

She flutters the laptop carelessly.

“Is this why you’ve been slacking? Because you want to be an artist? I pay more attention to you than you think. It is futile passions like this that will leave you with debt and broken dreams, disgracing how far we have come.

“You will not throw all we have worked for—all you have tried to work for—for stupid, childish fantasies. Dreaming will get you nowhere.”

***

Opal sits behind the piano, playing a melancholy tune, resonating with how she feels on the inside. Well past midnight, she continues to play in her music room, letting it out, but all of it remains inside.

Something virulent and venomous inside of her, like a poison, cultivating itself, growing like a tumor.

The door creaks open. Opal becomes still.

“Hey.”

Opal’s hands slip to her lap.

“Can we talk?”

“Come to gloat?”

“No?”

“Then I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

She spurts up from the backless seat, ready to leave, but Sanako obstructs her path.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Opal doesn’t even deny it. “Are you serious? No, of course you’re ignorant. Mom’s perfect prodigy can do and see no wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know what’s it like to have nothing you do matter?”

She comes up to Sanako’s face with her fingers prodding her own chest. “Nothing I do matters, not when you exist to do it better.

“I do ~this~, but no, Sanako has done ~that~, fulfilling every stereotype people have about Chinese daughters.”

Sanako’s gaze sinks to the ground, her face blanched, skin flaking like peeling bark on an old tree.

“I never wanted her to do that.”

“Favor you over me? Love you more than me? This whole family adores you.”

“Opal, I don’t want to fight,” she pleads.

Opal jerks back, pacing away heatedly. “No, because it’s always about~ you~, what ~you~ want. I’m telling you how I feel, and why ~I loathe you~, and what? You don’t like it?

“Imagine living with it since birth, knowing that you’ll never be good enough.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re too late,” she says with a shrug, tears rearing up anew. “Mama said as much without a hint of remorse.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like you care. For years, you never defended me. Not when mama berated me, not when the family degraded me.

“You liked it, you thrived on it like the leech you are, feeding on the attention. You never cared about me, so don’t try growing a conscience now.”

Opal walks out on her and heads back to her room. She gets inside the bed and rests on her side, knowing full well that sleep will starve her of its bliss.

She blinks once, twice—washed-out pink light infiltrates her room, spilling through her curtains.

Opal slogs out of bed and gets ready despite not getting a wink of sleep. She showers and gets dressed in her “old money aesthetic” clothing.

After, she packs up her school bag and only then she remembers that for first period she has a big calculus test today.

Which she could do in her sleep, but seeing as she got none and still has a mountain of assignments to do, she needs a boost.

Opal drops herself on the seat and checks behind her as she reaches for the packet taped underneath her desk. She takes it out and walks back to the bathroom to ingest the remaining pills inside.

***

“Done,” Opal chirps during the test.

Several hunched-over pupils cast her infuriated looks. Opal makes an apologetic face, gigging softly, and puts a playful finger on her lips to silence herself.

She sways gently in her seat while waiting for the bell, her spirits buoyed by an exhilarating euphoria.

When the time comes, Opal leaps from her seat to be the first one to hand in her paper to her math teacher, who receives it with a quizzical stare.

She skips merrily to the door.

“Opal,” a boy she knows calls out. “Your bag?”

She pauses with an animated look on her face. “Silly me.”

She returns to retrieve her backpack and gives the boy a big bear hug in thanks. Opal sings a melody as she prances down the hall, forgetting where to go to next.

She spots Dana. Opal runs up to her, throwing herself on her to give her a twirling hug. The breath knocked right out of her.

“Oh, whoa, hey, Opal.”

“~Hey~,” she greets back with bizarre enthusiasm.

“Are you…okay?”

She nods like a happy Labrador. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you never hug me. And so excitedly even, do you have good news or something?”

“Yes!” She looks away thoughtfully. “The good news is good news.”

“…What?”

“Mia!”

Opal runs up to Mia, going against the current and colliding into her cheerfully. Mia captures her and steadies herself so they both don’t end up on the floor. Mia laughs it off and straightens back up.

“What has gotten into you? Aries asked you to be his girlfriend or something?” she said teasingly, meaning to provoke her.

“I wish,” Opal giggles.

Mia’s smile falls off her face. She takes a moment to examine the oddly joyful Opal.

“Opal, are you okay?”

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” she whispers, as if telling a secret.

“Opal, look at me.” Mia snaps her fingers at her, trying to get her to focus. “Look at me.”

However, Opal’s eyes go cross-eyed playfully, unable to comply with a simple command.

“Opal…are you high?”

“Hi,” she greets, waving at her passionately.

Mia pushes her arm down. “No, are you high? Did you take something before you came here?”

“I took a test,” she says, fiddling with her golden rings.

“You wrote a test high?” She shakes her head vigorously, then holds onto her, thinking on what to do with her.

Opal frowns suddenly.

“What’s wrong?”

She puts her hand on her stomach. “I don’t feel happy anymore.”

Alarmed, Mia grabs her hand and drags her with her, carving past people to get to the bathroom.

Opal goes ahead of her to dash to the closest stall to liberate herself from what’s been ailing her.

Mia comes up behind her and holds the bottom half of her hair, keeping it from her face. The top half is held by the navy-blue ribbon.

Once she is done, Mia leads her to the sink and help cleans her up, wiping off the residue of vomit crusting the edges of her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Opal whimpers, bursting into tears.

“No, no, don’t cry,” Mia consoles, cleaning off the last of it. “It’s okay. Everything is okay now.”

Mia directs her back to the stall and puts down the lid so she can sit on it. Mia undoes her hair and ties it up into a high bun with the ribbon. She sinks down to her haunches to look up at the teary-eyed Opal.

“I need you to stay here for me, okay? It’s like a game of hide and seek, just hide here.”

“No fair, you know where I am,” Opal snivels.

“Just stay here.”

She stands up and slips out her phone.

Mia

pick up. It’s an emergency.

Mia

code red, star boy, you better look at your phone.

Mia

Akin!

Mia

Answer.

Akin

I’m in class.

Mia

It’s Opal. She’s high. Make an excuse up and get yourself here at the girl’s bathroom on the east side.

Akin

On it.

Mia waits outside the bathroom like a bouncer until his tall frame appears. He jogs up to her with a bewildered look on his face, outstretching his arms in perplexion.

“I honestly hope the text you sent was a typo.”

She shakes her head regretfully. “I can’t believe it myself.”

“Little Miss Perfect Princess is smoking weed or what?”

“If it was, I would smell it. I think she took pills, I don’t know what.”

Akin places his hands on his waist in an all-serious stance. “What are we going to do? Should we tell the front office?”

Mia’s eyes widen, and she whacks his shoulder. “No, you snitch. Then they’ll tell Opal’s mom and she is as good as dead.”

“Damn, you’re right. She’d kill the child with her bare hands.”

Mia pastes a hand on her forehead, her brain overheating.

“My mom.” She drops her hand. “My mom’s pretty chill. I can report Opal’s ‘sickness’ to the front office. But instead of calling her mom for her, I’ll call my mom instead.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“Bet. I’ll go to the front. You go inside and watch her, ~please~.”

Akin’s eyes bounce between her and the bathroom wildly.

Mia gives him an annoyed look. “Just lock yourselves in the stall until I get back.”

“That’s going to give the worst impression.”

“Akin!”

“I’m going.”

***

Irene waits in the car at the bottom of the steps, one hand on the wheel. She watches as Mia walks down beside Akin, who has Opal on his back, riding him to the backseat.

After he gets her inside, Akin slides in and she sprawls herself on his lap comfortably. Mia glances at him, jealousy festering in her eyes, and his hands fly up.

She hops in the passenger seat, turning her attention away with a rueful smile on her face. Irene shakes her head and drives out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“We can’t just kidnap the Chiang’s daughter.”

“It’s not a kidnapping. It’s a rescue,” Mia amends, to make it a noble deed. “We just let her sober up, and then she can come home. According to the school, she is going home.”

“And what do I say when the Chiangs come asking about her?”

“Say you fetched us to have dinner at your place. The Chiangs may or may not like you, but they trust you.

“Opal has slept over at our house so many times, they will have no reason to be worried. Especially if the invitation comes from you.”

“Mia…” Irene makes frequent glances at the rear-view mirror. “We shouldn’t keep this from her parents. They have a right to know if she has a serious drug problem. If anything goes wrong, I’m taking her to a hospital.”

“Whoa, drugs. Hold up,” she says, applying brakes to the topic. “Opal is a lot of things, but she’s not an addict or something. I know her.”

“You ~knew~ her, baby. A lot can happen in seven years. You don’t know what she’s struggling with behind closed doors.”

This delays Mia’s response but it doesn’t dilute her conviction.

“I know her,” she reiterates with unquestionable certainty. “Opal is too methodical to do something as volatile as drugs.

“Whatever reason she’s doing it, bet that it’s on her parents. Did you see the way her mom talked down on Opal the night of the recital?”

Irene doesn’t reply, her gaze trained on the rear-view mirror. Mia thinks it’s just her checking on Opal to make sure she doesn’t puke all over the car.

But when Mia follows her line of sight, it’s beyond all of them to one of the cars behind them.

“What are you looking at?”

“Someone’s following us.”

Mia whips around.

“Don’t do that. Act normal.”

Mia turns back around slowly, rigid in her seat.

“It’s probably just a thirsty reporter.”

Mia reassures herself with that belief, but not a fact. Something in Irene’s eyes tells her something different.

Irene manages to shake the tail and they arrive at their stand-alone house. Opal passed out along the way and Akin carries her out. Irene unlocks the front door so they can enter first.

Mia guides him upstairs to her room and he lays Opal down on Mia’s bed. He unfolds the rolled-up blanket on top and drapes it over her. Mia draws the paper bin closer so she can use it as a barf bucket if necessary.

They leave the door open and descend back downstairs.

“Mrs.—Ms. Trinket, is it fine if I stay?” Akin scratches the back of his head. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Irene inhales a deep breath and nods. “Make sure it’s good with your parents. I wasn’t expecting visitors, and the fridge looks like it’s in drought. I’m going to go pick up some food. Do you have any requests?”

Just as he’s about to refuse, a memory derails him.

“I still remember that Greek cuisine Mr. Drakos made. As long as it’s not that, we’re good,” he says, making a risky joke.

Surprisingly, Irene grins and releases a heartfelt laugh. “You still remember that? It was so long ago.”

“Oh, but my stomach remembers.”

Irene laughs again. “Duly noted.”

She heads back into the car and by the time she’s on the main road, on the way to the grocery store, Irene catches the same vehicle tailing her. Irene proceeds as usual.

When she arrives in town, she parallel parks into the curbside and exits her vehicle. Irene strolls to the sidewalk and takes out her phone to call Mia.

While she listens to her go through her list of ideas for dinner, Irene is attentive to the person following her, and poorly at that.

She rounds a corner.

Her follower accelerates his pace and makes a sharp turn—a hand seizes him and his back smacks against the brick wall.

Irene jabs her forearm under his chin, pinning him flat to the surface with his head inclined and his hands raised to his shoulders, exposing his palms.

She snatches off his sunglasses with her other hand. “Why are you following my family, Detective?”

Russo swipes off his hood. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“I do a lot of Pilates. Answer the question.”

“I answer to the Lord and the law, only.”

“And yet it’s only me here.” She applies pressure on his throat, constricting his airways. “I will not ask again.”

He squirms futilely, gags, but refuses to give up anything. Irene releases him and rifts the space between them.

Russo drops halfway to place his hands on his knees, breathing raggedly. He fixes himself back up, the inflamed red in his face, fading back into its natural color.

“You have balls—trying to choke out a member of law enforcement.”

“Let’s call it self-defense,” she says apathetically. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or do you want to see how I can incapacitate a member of law enforcement?”

He controls his breathing. “I cannot disclose any information pertaining to an ongoing case.”

“So we’re under investigation?” She snorts at the ridiculousness. “You’re going to waste your time stalking my daughter instead of trying to find Keila?”

“Can’t find Keila without finding Erin first.”

“So you believe.” She looks around with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Come near my daughter again and our conversation next time will be much less friendly.”

She drops his sunglasses on the ground and stomps on them.