The China Doll (28 page)

She raised her eyebrows, then took a bite of
her burger. He watched her chew. "Well," she said at last, "I think
you have me confused with someone else. No one has me, and I don’t
think I’ve ever had anyone else. I’ve been with people, and there’s
a difference."

"You don’t like to lose yourself?"

She shook her head. "No, I don’t see the
need. I don’t think you’re that way either."

"Maybe, but it’s different. I need to hold
onto myself. There’s so much someone else wouldn’t like. I think
it’s a different story with you." He smiled. "Maybe you’re just not
as desperate as everyone else."

"Maybe, but I have been."

"Tell me about it."

"Are you sure it won’t be something you
already have notes on? I wouldn’t want to bore you."

"I know your parents names. I know who you’re
siblings are and where all of you were born. I know where you
lived, and when you moved. I know the names of the schools you went
to. But I don’t know how you felt. I don’t know how it changed you,
or if it did at all. I can make guesses, based on what you’re like
right now, but I’ve found more often than I want to admit that you
can’t predict something based on history, or even backtrack based
on what’s in front of you."

"We’re not just the sum of our parts or
experiences?"

"No. We’re that, but what we started out
with—that usually means more." He smiled a bit. "No matter what we
might say otherwise."

"Perhaps," she said a little sadly. She ate
more of her burger, and he did the same. She wiped her mouth, then
picked up a french fry. "Why don’t you tell me what you want to
know?"

He took another bite. "Okay. You lost your
dad when you were pretty young. What was that like?"

She shrugged. "It was sad, of course. I was
seven, so I don’t remember him that well. But I loved him. He was a
good dad. He told me and my brother stories, and he liked to make
us laugh. He wanted us to work hard, and to him success wasn’t
having money, it was how well you could help other people. I think
he was right.

"He loved my mom too, and I know how hard it
was for her when he died. She was sad for a long, long time. It
didn’t kill her—we had lots of friends and family—but something was
missing for her. So I was happy when she met my step-father. She
was happy, and I knew my father would have wanted that for her.

"My step-dad was a widower too, and he had a
son, and that was a big bonus. We were all a big happy family."

"So what changed?"

"Why do you think something changed?"

"Because your parents live just two states
away, and you’ve gone to see them three times in the last three
years."

"I’ve seen my brothers quite a bit."

"That’s true. You’ve taken short trips to
Michigan and Chicago quite a few times to see them. But not your
parents. Why?"

She put her burger down and looked off to the
side as if she were thinking something. After a few moments, she
looked at him again. "They had my sister about fifteen years ago.
And we were all really happy. But it sort of seemed like...they
forgot a little bit about the rest of us. And that’s normal,
because a new baby takes everything for a little while. But I think
it was also something else. I think they wanted to be in this
little cocoon by themselves. We had each other, so we let
them."

She played with her fries a little bit before
she continued. "And maybe we shouldn’t have. Because they don’t
seem happy anymore. Not like they used to. They don’t...I don’t
think they’re enough for each other, even with my little sister.
They married a family, but then they forgot that. And by the time
they remembered, it was too late."

"Why is it too late?"

"Because they can’t just be our parents now
that they need to be parents. Just for the sake of their marriage.
And in a way, I guess, we forgot how to be their kids."

"So what’s the lesson learned from that?"

She shrugged. "I don’t know that I learned
anything, except that maybe you have to be with someone for the
right reason. Not just to fix something."

"Then isn’t it lucky?"

"What?"

"That there is absolutely nothing wrong with
you."

She smiled and looked away. "Shame," she
whispered, leaning forward, "that the same can’t be said about
you." He smiled back.

Deborah Nam-Krane has been writing in one way
or another since she was eight years old (and telling stories well
before that). As an adult she brought many of her characters
together to begin the New Pioneers series. The first book of the
series
The Smartest Girl in the Room
and
The Family You
Choose
were published in 2013.

In 2012 she wrote the History section of her
sister Suzanne Nam’s Moon Thailand (Moon Handbooks).

Please join her
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