xvi.

13:57

September

Chinatown

Zelda

"Are you sure you know your way around? When should I pick you up?" Karen asked.

"Oh, it's fine. I'll go back on my own," I told her. "Don't worry about it. Thanks for the ride."

"Alright," she shouted when I got off her car. "Be careful."

"Will do."

I watched as she drove off before I got moving. I wasn't sure if she knew, but it wasn't my first time being here. Actually, I wasn't sure if anyone knew.

Minor details, though.

I walked along the cramped streets, pushing and getting pushed on the way. But somehow it didn't bother me. The wide and empty streets in America were cool and all, but at times they felt a bit... eerie. This, though. This was what I was used to. This was what I grew up with.

I took a sharp turn and walked into a small diner serving noodles. It was as packed as usual, despite it being quite late already.

"Ling's here! You want your usual?" the waiter asked me from across the diner after announcing my presense to every staff present.

I grinned widely. "Sure. Thanks!"

Ah, how much I missed speaking in Catonese.

You would not believe how shocked but happy I felt when I stumbled upon this place. It was a family-owned diner, though not exactly family-run. When I heard them shouting orders in Catonese, I could've sworn my heart almost leaped out of my chest in excitement. I fitted right into the American lifestyle, and maybe I was more cut for it than I was for where I came from, but a part of my heart would still always belong to my own culture. It wasn't perfect, but I was proud of it nevertheless. They were so many things about it that I wanted the world to know.

And this. This was part of it.

"Your timing is just right. Your friend just got back from a take-out delivery," a chef told me through the the small window from the kitchen. "Wa! Your friend is here!"

"I can't leave the kitchen now!"

"I'll be staying for a while!" I shouted back. "Take your time!"

"Is he not coming out?" the waiter, Hong, asked me, shaking his head before I could say anything. "That boy. I wish he could be brighter sometimes. But you're not much better. You could've come when there are less people, you know?"

"I wasn't planning on coming here today," I admitted sheepishly. "I didn't know I'd be coming myself."

He tsked. "I have to go back to work now. Just wait for a while. We'll try to be quicker with your food order."

Like I was promised, my order arrived sooner than most others. I ate it quickly, not wanting hog the seat, even though I knew most of the crowd would be gone soon. By the time I was to finishing my meal, the diner was already half empty. My friend, Ian, dragged a chair from under my table and sat down heavily, his forehead and face glistening with sweat. "Hey."

"Hey," I said after I'd swallowed. "How's your dad doing?"

He snorted. "Aren't you gonna ask about me first?"

"I'll always ask about your dad first. Get over it."

He laughed. "He's good. He's not complaining about his knee nearly as much these days. He still refuses to leave the kitchen though."

"Keep an eye out for him, you hear me?"

"I already have a mum. I don't need another one."

"Consider me a concerned customer. How are you doing then? How's life in the kitchen?"

"Hot. Very hot. Super hot," he said immediately, still fanning himself. "I can't believe I let you convinced me to join the kitchen crew."

"You can always give it up," I reminded him, even though I was slightly disappointed.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "You were right. It'd be a shame if the family business just ends here. It's not like I have any career prospect anyway. Besides, I like working here."

I grinned. "So you do like the job."

He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "It can be pretty tough, but I'm a newbie, so that's bound to happen. I shouldn't be expecting anything less to start with. And they're really nice people. It feels nice to work with them, although I still don't understand a lot of the things they say. I still have a lot to learn."

Ian was an American born Chinese, or an ABC, as well we called them in Hong Kong. He understood Catonese fairy well, though he coudn't speak it. He graduated from high school last year, but didn't go to college or university, since his family couldn't afford it. I knew his dad was disappointed in himself for not being able to give his son much money, even more so when Ian kept trying and failing to find a proper and stable job. He wanted better than a small diner with rent almost too expensive to afford for his son. Ian didn't want to disappoint him, either.

But some things, I think, are worth it, and life shouldn't just be about a degree and a socially approved job.

Finishing up my lunch, I pushed my bowl aside. "You'll manage. Like you said, you're still just a newbie. It's bound to happen."

He smiled a little at my encouragement. "I hope so. I think we're getting more customers now. Dad's pretty happy about it."

My eyes lit up, though not exactly for the reason he might have guessed. "Really? I'm glad to hear that. I might bring some friends here before you get famous."

Sometimes I liked to butt into other people's business. I knew I had this issue, but I couldn't always help it. I always wanted better for other people. I guess it was partly due to the fact that I always wanted better for myself, but it hardly ever happened.

So I took it upon myself to promote this diner.

I wrote regularly on a blog. I had been doing so for a while now, and it attracted quiet a number of people's interest. I promoted the diner there, doing what I could to help the family business survive. I didn't tell them about it, and I felt quite bad for it at times, but I couldn't not do it. It was out of my own, selfish reasons as well. I treasured this place. It was one of the very few places with people that could connect me to my own culture. I didn't want to lose it.

"Dad said you brought us luck," he said at ease, though his eyes were sharp and scrutinizing. Almost knowing. My heart beat erraticaly in my chest, and for a moment, I thought he would ask me a question I wouldn't want to answer.

But he just shook his head, and removed his gaze, looking round the small, old diner and chuckling to himself. "Can't say I disagree."

a/n:

The dialogues written in italics are spoken in Catonese. Tbh I'm not sure how to write this chapter. I've always found the task of translating Chinese to English (or vice versa) somewhat challenging. Cantonese can be a pretty complex dialect, and a bit tricky to explain. I hope it wasn't too difficult to read.