Nourishment

“So your dad isn’t really your dad?”

“I have no evidence either way. Therefore, it is unwise to make a conclusion.” I frown at the tip of my pencil. “How do you spell your name?”

“X-U-A-N.” He glances at my paper. “Are you… making a list?”

“I don’t know why you make it sound so insensible, but yes.” I write Xuan next to a bullet point and make another point.

Do I have another point? I hadn’t even finished my toffee before the man who is not my father approached me.

Well, that means the toffee is still in my lunchbox, and I can have two toffees for lunch tomorrow. I write that down.

“…Can I ask why you’re making a list?” He hesitates before everything he says. Will Xuan ever speak to me in a normal tone of voice? Not that I am a good judge of what is and is not normal.

I bite my lip. I want to avoid the question, but that isn’t rational because the question is impersonal, and I have already told him—everything. “It’s a list of everything about this day that isn’t worth throwing away. I met you, and I have an extra toffee for tomorrow. That is my list.”

“I suppose I should be glad I’m counted as a good thing. More than I can say concerning most of the times I’ve met people.” He rubs his jaw. “…I have cookies in my backpack. Do you want one?”

I shake my head. “I don’t eat sweets. Except the toffee I have with lunch.”

“Damn. That’s just… a really shitty list. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but—” He makes a face. “Fine. I’m not sorry. But it’s still a shitty list.”

I cannot disagree, so I say nothing.

We sit in silence. He toys with his iPod; I stare at the third bullet point, trying to think of its item. Then he brightens. “Hey, what are you doing for dinner?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. I am not usually aware of how people perceive me; my mind does not work that way. But I have been told on an occasion or two—or more than that—that I have an excellent, frightening glare.

He blanches and covers his mouth with one hand. “Oh—shit—that—” He turns away. “That was not what I meant to say. Or, at least, I didn’t want to say it like that. Shit.” He runs a hand over the thin layer of fuzz on his head. “Let me try again? It’s platonic, I promise.”

I relax the glare, if only because he listened to me. “…Only if you promise.”

He smiles, briefly. I had not noticed he was handsome. “Okay. Here’s what I meant to say. I’m a good cook. My house is, like, two blocks from here, and I work in two hours, so it’s not like I can make you stay around.” He pauses. “And my little brother’s coming over, and my roommate said she was making cupcakes today. It’s gonna be good.”

“I don’t eat sweets,” I repeat, but in my mind I am licking frosting off my fingers. Cupcakes are a weakness.

He shrugs. “So eat pho instead. It’s good. I promise. Look, if you go down the main street by the back parking lot, my house is right on the second corner. Big string of apartments. You can’t miss it. I’m in number three. I’ve got to go back and check on my broth—I told my roommate to keep an eye on it, but she can be kind of a space case. If you want to come… it’ll be done in, like, an hour.” He gets to his feet, one hand wrapped loosely around the strap of his backpack.

I do not return his wave. I look down at the third bullet point, because I do not like leaving tasks unfinished.

Tried pho for the first time.

***

I almost do not go. Away from the roof, remembering other things to do with my time is easier. I have dozens of petty tasks and several large ones, any of which can keep me from going home.

But I said I would, and it is already on my list, and I don’t have anything to eat, so I go to Xuan's house.

It is a two-level apartment house; I am glad it is on the first floor because if I had to climb stairs, I would turn back. The strangest things are capable of defeating my resolve at the moment. A picture of my mother. The imagined taste of cupcakes. Four or five steps.

I always have trouble knocking, so I do so without giving myself time to think. A pair of women answer the door, leaning against each other like they were fighting for the right open it. The first is tall and slender, with pink hair. The second is shorter and softer, the kind of woman that wakes me up in the night. Both stare at me like I am a bacteria on their specimen slide.

"You... are not Kyo," says the pink-haired one after a moment.

"My name is Annie," I say, dropping my eyes. "I'm here to see Xuan."

The other girl presses one hand to her mouth and starts giggling. I glare at the floor. Attractive or not, I dislike women who giggle. "Hey, Xuan! Did you invite a girl over?"

"Why do I live with six-year-olds? Jesus Christ!"

I almost walk away. Xuan told me that his roommate and his brother would be there. I can handle gatherings of small groups, but apparently I have underestimated the effect of my shock today.

"Go. Move. Get out of my way. If you are going to cackle like hens, do it somewhere else." Xuan shoves them aside. "Jesus. Why can you only act like a normal person when I'm not here?"

The curvy girl winks at him. "Because you're funny when you're mad, roomie. It cheers me up."

"I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend. And that means my job is to make you miserable." She pats Xuan on the head and turns to the taller girl. "Come on, D. Let's give them some privacy." Over her shoulder, she winks at me. I do not appreciate it.

Xuan pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sukhon's not like that. But apparently they made rum cupcakes—which means they made cupcakes and drank rum.”

My mouth twists to the side. I cannot abide the taste of alcohol, and the only thing I hate more than spending time with people is spending time with drunk people.

Xuan's eyes moved over my face. "...Hey, come on. They're watching Project Runway, so they're not gonna be in the kitchen. Why don't you come in and hang out? I mean, my dumbass little brother is here—"

"I heard that!" comes a shout from the kitchen.

Xuan ignores it. "But he's not bad, really." He rubs his head again, like he isn't used to the feel of his short hair. "Will you come in?"

I step over the threshold because I am hungry.

***

Xuan’s apartment looks a mess. The ceiling is cracked. The hardwood floor is scuffed. The living room, glimpsed as I walk past, holds an ancient TV and a mismatched set of furniture, the kind most often glimpsed abandoned by the dumpster. The kitchen is tiny and narrow, just wide enough to accommodate a cramped table. A plate of cupcakes is the centerpiece, each carefully frosted and dotted with pink nonpareils. "...You said these have rum in them?" I ask.

The boy, Xuan’s brother, chimes in. "Nah, only the chocolate ones. D and Sukhon took all of those. The ones on the table are just vanilla." They look very little alike. Where Xuan is short and stocky, the boy is lithe and angular, with limbs he hasn’t grown into and messy hair.

I take a cupcake before I stare at him long enough to unnerve.

Xuan inspects a large stockpot on the stove and skims fat off the top of his soup with a fryer net. He glances at me. "So... you want some pho?" Again with the hesitation. I am too overwhelmed by the newness of this situation to much care, though, so I nod. "How much?"

I pinch my thumb and forefinger together.

"Only a little. Got it." Xuan takes a bowl from the cabinet over the stove. A few rice noodles, two slices of the steak. Then the broth. "Wait, like, two minutes before you eat it. Unless you like raw meat."

He brings the bowl over to me. I set the cupcake off to the side, in the spot it would belong at a fancy dinner party. The broth smells thick and rich, like something I cannot quite identify.

Xuan walks back to the silverware drawer and pauses. "Chopsticks or spoon?"

"I can use chopsticks." My voice comes out quieter than I intend.

A pair appears within my line of sight. I accept them without touching Xuan and stir my soup with the chopsticks. The silence settles over my shoulders like a heavy cloak.

Xuan cleans his throat. "...Oh, uh, this is my brother, Trai. Trai, this is Annie."

I lift my eyes and nod at Trai. He nods back, blushing. The boys eat standing up and start some awkward conversation; I hardly hear them. In the back of my mind, I hear my father's voice—the only one that matters—telling me that I am a guest here and that I need to be more polite. I am bad at that.

Instead, I eat my pho. It is rich and meaty; the first bit of beef awakens a yawning chasm in my stomach. I inhale the noodles and steak, but I have to sip the broth because it’s still hot.

Finished with that, I unwrap the cupcake. I feel ambivalent. Cupcakes are my birthday food. Eating one now feels unnatural. But everything now is unnatural. Shouldn't I embrace it?

"Oh, shit, I've got to get back to work!" Xuan says, breaking across my thoughts. I meet his eyes; he freezes. "Um. You can stick around if you want. Or not. Whatever. I've got to go."

I nod and get to my feet, still holding the cupcake in one hand. I slide the wrapper back around it. "I should leave, too. My—" My voice catches; I touch my throat. I did not expect that. My emotions rarely spill into my expression or my voice. "My father will be wondering where I am."

Xuan shrugs. "Fair enough." Cautiously, he smiles at me. "So... see you at that meeting tomorrow?"

"It's mandatory, isn't it?"