American Dream

This was San Francisco, after all.

Heck, I'd even met a gay Chinese guy, and that'd been a surprise. I didn't know there were actual gay Chinese guys. I'd never met one back home.

Not mentioning Serina Leung of course, and he better not go back home, or he'd be going to Xinjiang, and I didn't think he'd like that at all, because he'd be going for surgery, but he wouldn't come back. Not many people like Serina came back from Xinjiang, although parts of them did. Inside other people. Even I knew that, but that's just horrible to think about and it's not like it's part of my story, is it?

On the other hand, he wasn't gay.

Mrs. Leung would've probably preferred that, because if he was, he'd probably be planning on not getting, you know, chopped, and she could've at least had grandkids. You know, host mom, donor eggs, and he could jerk off or something. Maybe I should suggest to my mom that she suggest that to Mrs. Leung. She'd probably take anything she could get right now, even if it meant some host mom from the rice fields, and, I mean, he was eighteen. He had sperm.

Or, at least, I didn't know for sure that he did, but I didn't see why he wouldn't right now. He still had his bits, for now, at least, and you could collect semen. I knew that, but that was sort of distracting me from Paul, and when I looked back at Paul, I thought about, you know, semen, and I'd watched those movies my mom had bought me. All of them. Some of them quite a few times now, and while I did have my favorites, pretty much every single one of them except those lesbian ones involved semen.

Lots of semen.

But right now, I just wanted to melt all over again, and I shouldn't have been thinking about semen, but I was. Not just that, I was thinking of Paul, and semen, and those things those Asian girls did in those movies with their, you know, mouths, and boobs, and everything else they'd done, and I thought of Paul doing some of those things to me, and I licked my lips.

Jesus, the inside of that café really sounded like a choir.

Hadn't any of them ever seen a girl lick her lips?

Seriously! They all needed to get a life.

"Would you like to grab dinner with me, April?" Paul asked. "I can walk you home, after." Because by then he already knew I lived in the new condo tower around the corner and down the street a bit, which was only a few minutes walk away.

"Uh, I'm not really dressed for it," I said, sort of gesturing at my school uniform.

"That doesn't matter," he said, smiling. "Nobody here cares."

"Okay, if you're sure," I said, and I texted my mom to let her know, and sent her an image of Paul as well, because, you know, safety. "Do you have an ID?" I added.

I sent mom a snap of that, too, and of course I checked all the details once I had that image on my Galaxy. From Idaho, twenty two. Four years older than me. Just perfectly right, and I was smiling as I walked out with him, because he was holding my hand. That, and every head in the café swiveled to follow my butt as we walked out, but I was getting used to that now, so I noticed it, but in a sort of "that's nice" kind of way, because it did make me feel good about myself.

The old Jia-ying had never felt like this about herself.

Really, that Korean plastic surgeon had been right, and I kind of remembered him a bit more fondly now, although right through that month in Seoul, I'd sort of been rather rude about him, through that haze of anesthetics and sedatives and painkillers. Don't let anyone tell you plastic surgery isn't painful. It is.

Especially when they do a total body makeover, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. And the tips of my ears. He'd modified my ears. They didn't stick out like they used to, and they looked really cute and delicate. That was one upgrade I hadn't objected to in the slightest, even though they'd hurt for a week.

Right now, I was sort of appreciating that total body makeover, because I didn't think Paul would have really looked at the old Jia-ying at all. Not like he was looking at me now, and I smiled back at him as he nearly ran down some old guy minding his own business. I'd only ever been to Chinese restaurants in San Francisco, with mom and dad, and people dad knew, so the restaurant Paul took me to was, like, a real adventure.

Italian. And it wasn't Italian like Italian done by Chinese. This was real Italian, that was what Paul told me anyhow, and I loved it. Dinner was great, the restaurant didn't mind at all that I was wearing my school uniform, and I could see why, because there were some pretty weirdly dressed people there, and my uniform was pretty normal by comparison, and I didn't have pink or lime green or bright orange hair, and I certainly did not have any spikes or studs in weird places, let alone a nose ring that could've gone around my wrist.

So we were there for, like, hours, at this little table in the window, and people walked by and sort of looked in, and it must have been a really popular restaurant, because people kept coming in, and coming in, and we'd been lucky getting a table I guess, because after we arrived, it filled up so fast.

"That was wonderful, Paul," I said, smiling happily, spooning up the last of the Cointreau Truffle Cream, and licking the spoon slowly, then licking the cream of my lips, and the guy next to us kind of put his face down on the table and groaned when I smiled at him while I was doing that.

He must have eaten too much, or something, because the food was delicious.

"Yeah, it's been...an experience I wouldn't want to have missed," Paul said hoarsely, waving to our waiter, but it was the chef who came out from the kitchen.

"Did you enjoy everything, Sir, Ma'am?" he said, and he kept glancing at me. I smiled back, happily, and his eyes sort of widened.

"Yes, it was wonderful thank you," I said, very politely, and it had been.

"Could we have the..." Paul started to say, but the chef interrupted him.

"Sir, could I have a word with you please...?" For some reason the chef sounded a little hoarse too. Maybe there was some kind of virus going around. I better take my Vitamin C and Zinc, but I wasn't going to mention it to my mom. She'd make those ghastly Chinese herbal tea things. I'd rather take Vitamin C and Zinc.

"Of course," Paul said, looking a little confused. "Is there a problem?"

"No no no," the chef said, hastily, and Paul followed him to the little bar at the back.

They stood there talking, while I sat there watching them, scraping the cream off Paul's dessert plate, because it was so nice, kind of ignoring everyone looking at me while I licked that spoon, slowly, because I was really enjoying that cream. So yummy, and I licked it really slowly, just savoring each mouthful as I swallowed it, and licking the spoon clean before I scooped up the next yummy mouthful, just kind of ignoring everyone looking at me, like I always had to do now.

Paul was grinning when he got back to our table, and I was ready to go. I still had homework to do. We left, and okay, he was holding my hand again, which I really liked.

"Would you like to...."

"I have to be home soon...."

"Okay," he smiled. "You're not far from here, are you?"

"Just around the corner," I said. Then, "what did he want to ask you about?"

"Who?"

"That chef guy."

"Oh him, well...." He looked down at me and grinned. "You're really good looking, April."

I blushed. "Thank you." It was nice of him to say so. I mean, I knew I was, but it was nice of him to say so, anyway. Actually, I rather liked it that he'd said that to me.

"That chef, he said you were really good for business...."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, he, uh, he said if I'd like to bring you back, we can eat for, uh, free."

"Really? Why?" Honestly, I was totally confused.

"Well, that place was almost empty when we went in...."

"Yes, it was...." We'd got that really nice table, right by the window where we could see outside.

"Well, so they gave us that table by the window to make the place look like it was busier, and people walking past sort of, uh, saw you, and...."

He was blushing.

"Yeah, they saw me and...?" Okay, I was still confused.

"You, uh, you're really very very attractive, April...."

"Uh, thanks...." Okay, now I was blushing too, and I was still confused. What did that have to do with that chef guy offering us free meals?

"Well, seems like you just sitting in the window eating got him a lot of extra business. He said it's the busiest evening he's ever had. He wants us to go back...uh...well...he wants you to go back anytime you like."

"Oh?" I said, startled."Because we sat by the window? I don't get it." I didn't not then, but a few seconds later, I did, and I blushed. "Really? Are you serious?"

I couldn't help giggling.

Paul grinned down at me. "How about dinner with me tomorrow night?"

I thought about that, and giggled again. "Sure. Do you want to come here?"

"Why not?" he said. "Free dinner."

"Okay, sure," I said, thinking, yummy. Except it wasn't the food I was thinking of, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. "Why don't you come home with me and meet my mom?" I eyed him a bit nervously. "If you're going to take me out tomorrow for dinner, you're going to have to."

I hoped that didn't scare him off.

It didn't.

"He's so handsome, April," my mom gushed, a little later that evening, in Cantonese of course, pouring him a cup of tea. "Just dreamy, and with that lovely blonde hair too. I'd love to have dated a gweilo like him when I was your age."

Well, after mom said that, I didn't think there'd be a problem. Dad was back in China of course, so I didn't need to worry about him at all. I didn't think my dad would approve of me dating a gweilo. I wasn't sure he'd approve of me dating, full stop. Which was weird, because his latest girlfriend was about a year or two older than me, and I knew her younger sister. Okay, I'm not stupid. I knew why she was my dad's girlfriend. But I didn't need to worry about my dad, not until he came back to visit us, anyhow, and with those girlfriends back in China to keep him busy, I didn't think that'd be for a while now, even if he had enjoyed mom's makeover.

"So if he asks me out on a date, I can date him?" I asked my mom, rather anxiously, in Cantonese of course, because he was sitting right next to me, smiling a bit nervously at my mom. I did wonder if he'd ever drunk green tea before. It wasn't like I knew that much about him, not yet, but he did seem like a coffee sort of a guy.

Not Starbucks though. Not that sort of metrosexual coffee. I mean, Paul had a beard, and a mustache, and a man-bun and everything, but he was really ripped. He just didn't seem like the sort of guy that hangs out for a Starbucks coffee. Something a bit more...robust, that was the word. He looked like the sort of guy that drank robust coffee, and we'd met about five hours ago, and he was a gweilo, and my mom was looking at him, and I could see she was thinking. I mean, we were in America, but mom was Chinese through and through, and he was a gweilo.

"Of course you can, April," my mom said at last, smiling. "This is America. You can date anyone you like. Except a hak gwei, of course. No dating a hak gwei. But I don't need to say that, do I? Your dad and I would like to see you marry a nice Chinese-American boy eventually of course, but dating gweilos is completely okay, and it's part of the American Dream, and as long as it's just dating, and it doesn't get too serious it's perfectly alright. But absolutely no hak gwei's of course, dear."

"Hak gwei? Mom! Of course not, what do you think I am?" I said, indignantly.

"Just making sure you know, April," my mom said, smiling at Paul as he sipped his tea. "Anyhow, he's not a hak gwei, so we don't need to worry about that, do we?"

"No, Mom," I said. We certainly did not! A hak gwei! Me! As if!

"And if there's any little accidents, we can always take a little break in Seoul," my mom added.

"Aiyaaaaaah, Mom!" I said, blushing.

"Just mentioning it, dear," my Mom said, smiling. "The American Dream's very exciting and we can all get carried away. No need to mention it again unless we need to visit Seoul."

"Uh, okay, Mom," I said, thinking of those movies and Paul and semen and things like that, and I kind of had an idea that my mom's American Dream might actually include some of those things I'd been fantasizing about every night for a while now.

Twenty really awkward minutes later, I took him back down to the foyer.

"Did I pass your mom's inspection?" he asked, smiling.

"Huh?" I said, and okay, pink cheeks. How did he know that's what it was all about?

"Tomorrow night, April?" he asked, taking both my hands in his as the elevator plummeted downwards almost as fast as my heart, because, would he kiss me? Was there anywhere he could kiss me? Maybe, down in the foyer?

"Of course," I said, heart beating way faster, smiling up at him, and then he sort of moved closer, and I waited, but he didn't, and his face moved closer, and I looked up at him, and he kissed me so gently, his lips brushing mine. I'd never been kissed before, and really, it was every bit as magical as I thought that first kiss should be.

Until the elevator doors opened, and the old guy waiting smiled at us as we walked out, and when I smiled back, he kind of blinked and staggered a little, but he didn't walk into anything so I didn't worry for him.

"Are you in a hurry?" I asked. Paul was holding my hand, which sent little shivers of excitement all through me. I'd never realized just having my hand held could be so exciting.

"No way," he said, following me, and there was this alcove off to one side which was kind of private, and there wasn't anyone else there.

"Wow, that was really your mom, April?" he said, about fifteen minutes later, and he was breathing hard, and that big bulge inside his jeans that'd been pressed against me? I wanted to touch it. I mean, I'd watched all those movies my mom had bought. Of course I knew what it was.

"Yeah," I said, and I wanted to touch myself too. I wanted him to touch me. Anywhere he wanted, and this wasn't a dream. This was real actual reality.

I had to giggle. "Why? Who did you think she was?"

"She looks like your older sister," he said, and then he kissed me again, and we didn't bother talking too much for a long long time after that, and he held me really tight, and I found I did enjoy being crushed in his arms, and I didn't even worry for a second about my boobs bursting, because when my boobs were crushed against his chest while he kissed me, it felt so good, and I wanted him to crush me against him even harder. We did come up for air long enough to figure out where and when we were going to meet, though, because I didn't want to actually date him in my school uniform, although he said he didn't mind at all.

Mom smiled when I walked back into our apartment half an hour later, a little flushed, and I told her he'd said she looked like she was my older sister.

"That's nice of him to say so," she said happily, and I did remember what she'd said about, you know, going back to Seoul and getting things fixed if anything happened, and then I thought about those DVDs in my room that she'd bought, and I did sort of wonder if dating a blond blue-eyed American guy was part of my mom's American Dream, too. She was spending a lot of time with that older blonde guy she worked out with in the gym downstairs.

Maybe she was having an American Dream of her own now?

"Aiyaaaah," my mom said. "Before I met your dad, I always dreamed about moving to America and dating a guy like that."

She looked at me, and she actually looked like she wanted to cry, and I actually did want to hug her, and that didn't happen too often with my mom, because she never listened to me, and I didn't want to hug her too often, because she really was a real Tiger Mom. But now I was listening to her, and I did sort of wonder why she had this fixation on America.

"It was growing up in China in the old days," she said, not looking at me, and she must've guessed what I was thinking. "Everything was so...you couldn't do anything. It was all the Party this, the Party that, and study and work, and when I was your age, all through school, you were expected to volunteer for everything, and there was never any fun. It was all so serious, and if you ever dared say anything negative about the Party, or about the way things were...woosh...you were gone."

She had tears trickling down her cheeks, and I really did feel sorry for her.

"My best friend, Mei, back when I was seven, her older sister talked about Tiananmen a lot, and she was really passionate about what was happening there, and afterwards, after the Party clamped down again, she was sent away for re-education, and she never came back, Mei never found out what happened to her, and at night, I used to lie in bed and think, well, in America everyone's free, and you can watch the movies you want to watch, and say whatever you want, about anything at all, and...."

Not really, I thought, because I'd been reading the American news, all that cancel culture stuff, and what was happening to people who didn't agree with those crazy people that seemed to control everything, and it was starting to look a lot like China to me, but I didn't say anything, because this was my mom's dream, and I didn't want to spoil it for her at all.

Mom looked at me. "It was always my dream, April, to come here, because I didn't want any children I had to grow up like I did, and after you were born, I wanted to leave and bring you here, so you could be you, just you...not what the Party wanted, not what your dad's family wanted, not what everyone else expected, but just be you, the way you wanted to be...."

She smiled a little wetly. "It took longer than I thought it would, but we made it, April, and I want you to know why I wanted to bring you here, and why I put up with your dad's girlfriends for years and years. Your granddad, he helped, because you're a girl, and Uncle Longhai has three boys, and your granddad didn't really want you growing up in China either. He thought you'd be better off here, so he talked to your dad, and here we are."

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't think of a thing to say, except...no, I couldn't think of a thing, but I thought I understood, so I reached out and held my mom's hand, and she held mine, and squeezed it for a second and I think she knew I understood, because she gave me a little smile, and I sort of smiled back and squeezed her hand harder.

Just for a second, and then she shook herself, brushed away the tears, smiled brightly, and after a couple of seconds she was back to being my mom.

"Now, homework, April. What do you have to have done for tomorrow?" Yeah, it only took her a couple of seconds to transition right back to being my Tiger Mom, and so much for being me the way I wanted to be, but I didn't mind so much, now that I understood.

After I went to bed, I watched "Japanese Virgin Cheerleader" again, and I thought about Paul, and I sort of hoped he liked virgin cheerleaders, and I rather thought I'd like him to do all those things to me that that American guy did to that Japanese Virgin Cheerleader, except maybe not that anal thing, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. It took me a long time to get to sleep after watching that movie, and I had to, you know, before I did sleep, and I thought about Paul the whole time, until I finished, and it was a really good finish, too. Afterwards, I thought about him some more, and I knew what I wanted to do with Paul, and we were going out on a date tomorrow night.

Mom had said we could go back to Seoul if I needed to, so it was okay.