It takes quite a bit of maneuvering, but at last, all seven pieces of refurbished furniture are loaded into his car. Yes, there is a wooden chair resting on the passenger seat at a precarious angle, with one leg aimed at Riki’s temple, and yes, if he were to get into an accident now he would most definitely end up with the wooden leg speared through an eye socket, but what is life without a few calculated risks? Still, Riki makes sure to drive very, very slowly to Chinatown, gulping when he gets to the ultra-hilly parts of the city.
Vera’s neighborhood makes him think of Sana, which, three days after the awful dinner, still makes him misty-eyed. He texted her four times in the last couple of days before realizing that he needs to respect her space, and so had sent her one final message:
I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk. If you’re ever ready. If you’re not, I understand. I’m sorry. X.
He tries not to think of the last time he and Sana were here, laughing and chatting so easily as they cleaned up Vera’s teahouse.
“Vera, Vera,” Riki mutters to himself as he gets out and gazes at the teahouse. He still finds it hard to believe that Vera was the one who smashed up her own shop. The thought makes him shake his head, but he’s also smiling. Despite everything, he still cares about Vera, even though she is obviously a bit batty. He goes up to the front door, carrying two of the chairs, and knocks. The door swings open, the little bell chiming dully. Huh. Maybe she’s decided to reopen it already? But without any furniture?
But when Riki steps inside, it’s clear that the teahouse is not, in fact, open for business. Although it’s still bright outside, the inside of the teahouse is dark; none of the old lights or the new ones that Oliver installed are on. It feels empty. But then why is the front door open?
“Hello?” Riki calls out, placing the chairs down carefully. He looks around the shop and tries again. “Vera?”
“Are you looking for Vera Wong?” someone says behind him, making him jump. He turns around to see a short, plump lady around Vera’s age.
“Um, yeah? Do you know where she is?”
“No, I have been wondering the same thing. I’m Winifred, from the French patisserie next door.” Winifred says this with pride, as if Riki should be blown away by this fact.
He acquiesces, widening his eyes and saying, “Oh wow, hi, Winifred, it’s nice to meet you. I love your pastries.”
She beams, her pink cheeks shining, but the smile doesn’t last long. “I have been worried about Vera. Weeks and weeks she is gone, and strangers coming in and out of the shop, making all sorts of noises—”
“Oh yeah, that would be me and my friends working on repairing the shop.” As soon as Riki says “friends,” sadness stabs through his gut. “And she was staying at someone else’s house while we were doing that, but I think she should be back home by now.” Julia filled Riki in on what happened that night after he and Sana left, and it sounded pretty bad. Now he’s roiling with guilt at the realization that he should’ve checked on Vera sooner.
“I think I hear her coming back in the middle of the night three days ago. But when I come by with some fresh petit pain au taro, nobody is in. Front door left open, so dangerous.”
The bad feeling in Riki’s stomach is getting worse. “Three days ago? And you haven’t heard her leave or anything?”
“No. Well, not that I spend all my time watching, I am very bus— Hey, where you going?”
But Riki ignores her, hurrying to the back of the shop and rushing upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. “Vera!” he shouts as he goes. The living quarters are cold and dark. The fear grows stronger and stronger until it almost drives him away, screaming, back into the sunlight. But still he keeps going. Up another set of stairs, to where the bedrooms are. He looks inside the first one, but it’s empty, and looks like it’s been empty for years. In the second bedroom, there is a lump on the bed, so small that at first Riki can’t believe that there might be a whole person underneath the duvet.
He creeps toward it slowly, clearing his throat. “Vera?” Oh god, she’s dead, isn’t she? He wants so badly to run out of here, but somehow, his feet keep going forward. He pats the figure gently and hears a soft moan. “Oh, thank god. Vera, it’s Riki.” He peels the duvet back and his heart catches in his throat. He has never seen Vera so tiny, so old, so defeated. “Oh, Vera.” Sadness overwhelms him, guilt piercing his lungs. He yanks out his phone and dials 911. After giving the operator the address to Vera’s place, he hangs up and takes Vera’s hand. Her eyes open but don’t focus, and Riki feels his entire being ripping apart at how broken she is.
“It’s going to be okay,” he tells her. “We’ll take care of you. I promise.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
SANA
Sana’s shoes clack against the linoleum floors of the hospital as she hurries down the corridor. Ward 4, the receptionist said, and it feels like the hospital is so impossibly big, but finally she locates it and bursts into the room. There are four beds in there, but only one is occupied. At the sight of the person occupying the hospital bed, Sana’s breath hitches into a sob.
“Oh, Vera,” she whispers in a choked voice.
Riki gets to his feet. “Hey, thanks for coming.”
She can only nod at him, her eyes still on the pale form on the bed. Vera has always been so full of life and fire and sparks, it’s just so wrong seeing her like this, old and fragile and defeated, as though she’s ready to leave altogether. Sana approaches slowly, her eyes swimming with tears. “Is she—”
“She’s going to be okay,” Riki says. “They said she’s dehydrated, hence the IV drip, and she might have bronchitis, but they said she should make a full recovery.”
Relief floods Sana’s chest. She takes Vera’s hand—the one without a needle sticking out of it—and cradles it ever so softly. “Vera, it’s Sana.” She leans close to Vera and whispers, “I’m so sorry. But I’m here now. And you were right about everything.” She longs so much for Vera to quirk a smile at that, but there is no movement, no flicker of facial expression.
“They say she’s sleeping.”
“Right, of course.” Sana stands back, wiping at her eyes.
The door opens and Emma runs inside, followed by Julia, who’s looking markedly more harried than she has been the past few weeks.
“Grandma!” Emma shouts, stopping short when she catches sight of Vera. She looks nervously at Julia, who looks at Riki and Sana.
“She’ll be okay,” Riki and Sana say at the same time. They startle, looking at each other, then Sana nods at Riki. He gives her a small smile, then tells Julia what he told Sana moments ago. The door opens again, and Oliver rushes in, stopping short when he sees Julia. Then he looks over at Vera and his face falls.