Page 78 of End Game

By the time I’m done, the front door is slamming. Johanna and the minions must have left without me. I’m not surprised they didn’t wait. That would require them to show a modicum of emotion they’re unable to understand. Camaraderie as a concept shouldn’t be foreign to them, except that they’re incapable of expressing it.

It’s fucking exhausting. I don’t like losing. Nobody does. But I especially don’t like losing every. single. game. It’s demoralizing and almost makes me regret transferring in. Almost. Because Barrett is here, and there’s the proximity to my parents, and my new friends... yeah, it’s not all bad. It could be a lot worse. But it could also be a lot better.

Chapter 23

Barrett

After Diana’s game—her team loses, 1-2, so not as miserably as what’s become usual—it’s time for us to go to dinner. Amir and Wes joined us for the game but bow out of any extended family time, which I totally understand. If Stewart and Cecilia weren’t Stewart and Cecilia, I wouldn’t want to hang out with my friend’s parents, either.

Leading them down to the locker room, I show Diana’s parents where we’re going to meet her. She’s one of the last people to leave the locker room, and when she emerges, she’s bundled up in a coat and scarf like it’s full winter and not early fall.

“Hey, baby,” I say as she joins us. She gives each of her parents a hug before she turns to me. I wrap her up in my arms and debate never letting her go.

“Hey, Care-Bare.”

With a teasing growl, I tug gently on her braid. “What did I say about calling me that?”

She smiles prettily up at me and for a brief moment I nearly lose my mind and kiss her. I want to so fucking bad. I’m this close to throwing caution to the wind. Her snappy retort pushes me away, though.

”Um, do it all the time?”

“Never,” I tell her. “Never call me that.”

She purses her lips at me and, I swear to Christ, my heart nearly beats through my chest to get to her. “Hm, I don’t remember that.”

There’s a click behind us, and I turn to see Cecilia stowing her cell phone in her purse.

“Did you just take our picture?” Diana demands.

“It was a good photo op,” she says, a little defensively.

“I want to see it,” I tell her.

“I’ll send it to you. To both of you,” Cecilia promises.

“Thanks,” I say with a levity I don’t exactly feel. Stewart is grinning, too.

I’m glad her parents seem to like the idea of the two of us together as much as I do. It’s nice that we have their support. Between the flirting last night, their politely inquisitive questions during the game, and now this... yeah, I think they’d be okay with us becoming an “us.”

The most important thing is making sure we’re okay. I don’t want to lose Diana, and I especially don’t want to lose her parents. They’re my family now, too. I almost want them to be my parents, too. They’ve been there for me so many times. I don’t know where I’d be without them.

“Dinner?” Stewart suggests. “What are we in the mood for?”

“How authentic is the Chinese place in town?” Cecilia asks.

“The people who run it are of Chinese descent and none of the cooks speak English.”

“Sounds perfect,” Cecilia says.

Being of Chinese descent, I have very little tolerance for American style Chinese cooking. I want the legit stuff, the kind of things the maids used to make for me and Dougie growing up, the kinds of things my parents wouldn’t dare to serve their guests.

Cecilia is the same way. Her aunt and uncle ran a Chinese restaurant where she grew up in Wisconsin, and she spent quite a bit of time in the shop with her grandmother and cousins. She’s taught me and Diana some of the classic techniques they used, handing down a piece of our history and our heritage.

Diana wasn’t really interested in the cooking side of things, she just wanted to eat. Because Cecilia isn’t actually my mother, I was able to appreciate her spending time with us that much more. It’s something that my mother or my grandmother have never shown an interest in, and especially never cared about doing with me.

Roughly I know the story of how my family came here from China. In broad terms I know of the struggles they’ve faced, though I’ve learned more from history books than family stories. But I don’t really know my family’s story. I know my maternal grandfather made a fortune, lost it, and made a second fortune in lumber. I know my paternal grandfather was one of the first Chinese-American students to graduate with his CPA and his MBA from Harvard in a time when managing even one was unheard of. I know he basically wrote the book on forensic accounting in the pre-computers world, and was one of the early adopters of computers in banking.

But I don’t know anything about the Chinese experience. I know my personal experience, being Chinese American and an athlete in a high-intensity prep school where neither of those were expected or typical. Growing up, my classmates were the children of Senators and elite finance and high-powered tech conglomerate CEOs. I went to birthday parties with kids whose parents bought them a literal stable full of ponies for their sixth birthday—and a Jaguar for their sixteenth.