Face burning, I pull away from his touch. I don’t want to hear another lecture, especially at a party that he invited me to.
“You look Chinese, but you act different and think different from everyone in Beijing. Being Chinese is … always thinking about your past, present, and future. You’re connected to your people. Americans tend to only think about what they want. It’s very individual.”
He sees my stricken face and quickly says, “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just contrary to what Chinese people believe. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry for being so hard on you.”
“I think about people!” I protest. “That’s literally all I think about when I’m not thinking about what to eat.”
“I’m not saying you don’t,” he says. “You just view learning in the opposite way as someone who was born in Beijing. They feel that they have a duty to study to help their family. You view learning as a punishment, when it should be a privilege to be part of your culture. It’s a gift to speak your ancestors’ language.”
My face quivers.
I don’t know how to explain that I have never thought of studying as altruistic charity work to one’s family and self. Frank might be right. I never thought that school and test-taking would be part of a gigantic quest to understand my own sense of purpose and reason for existing. From now on, I vow to work on becoming a less shitty and less lazy person.
“You’re right, though,” I admit grudgingly. “I really need to try harder. Tomorrow is a new day, right?”
Frank bows.
I attempt to half bow, half curtsy back. I end up spilling beer on myself.
Being told to my face that I need an internal makeover, I’m determined to show Uncle Dai and prove to my parents that I’m super worthy of my culture and a penthouse apartment at the Shangri-La. Frank reminding me that I have still-living people who care about me, but I can’t communicate with them because of my own selfishness and lack of effort, is a serious wake-up call. I’m more than just a series of real-life catastrophes, broken dresses, and traveler’s diarrhea.
Whooping loudly at my surprising realization, I help myself to another beer.
Frank then drags Ruby and me over to meet his university friends. They’re all enthusiastic and already drunk. He introduces them by their English names, Emerald, Kitty, Alex, and Jason. Only Kitty speaks English fluently, and she winks at me. She’s wearing a multicolored wig, fake neon-orange lashes, and some fabulous black lipstick. She introduces herself as a theater major and aspiring visual arts critic at Tsinghua.
“Feng Corporation, hey?” she says, smirking knowingly at both me and Ruby. We cheers beers and I laugh. She pours out some clear liquid into plastic cups for us. “Baijiu,” she says. “Careful, it’s strong.”
Eager to get more alcohol than the watered-down beer, I swig it down, accidentally burp, and ask for a second round.
Everyone laughs and whoops and claps me on the back.
I ask for my third. This Chinese liquor is nothing at all! It’s like drinking water mixed in with a few drops of rubbing alcohol.
But Ruby flushes and looks extremely uncomfortable. When Alex or Jason, I forgot who, puts his arm around her, she jumps and looks shocked. Like it’s the first time that a cute older boy is flirting in person with her. She stares at her feet and takes a tiny sip of her baiju and then she spits it back out. She doesn’t even look up. Oh my god. I grin. Does Ruby not know how to talk to boys?!! Has she never been to a party before?
The baijiu is making me warm, excited, and giddy.
On WeChat, I quickly text my cousin.
Iris: You ok?
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: Of course. Can we go?
Iris: But we just got here!
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: What are we supposed to do?
Iris: Are you joking?
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: Do i just stand here?
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: What do people usually do at these things?
Iris: Just drink and talk and laugh
Iris: It’s just for fun
Iris: It’s really easy
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: That’s it? I don’t know what to do
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: What if someone talks to me? What do i say? People are different than talking to dogs
Iris: Say anything that comes into your head … What did you do today?
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: I wrote an essay on Freud
Iris: What is that?
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: ??!!!
Iris: What else did you do?
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: Practiced grooming
Iris: . . . .
SuperPrincessQueenRuby8421: So talk about Freud?
Iris: Omg follow my lead.
Iris: You’ll do great!
Determined to have fun, I decide that we all need to relax ASAP and I ask Kitty if there is “anything besides alcohol.” She keeps winking at a greasy dude wearing a hoodie with a large fanny pack. He finally comes up to us and asks if we want “anything extra” in a growly German accent.
“You want to study? Relax?” he suggests.
“How much is weed?” I instantly say, brightening at the prospect of getting high in Beijing.
“One hundred twenty-five yuan for a hit.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask. “That’s so expensive.”
The guy in the hoodie shrugs and holds up a tiny baggie of pre-rolled joints.
“How much is that in American?” I ask.
Ruby glances at me, looking a bit scandalized at my inability to do math. “That’s approximately eighteen dollars US.”
“That’s way too expensive!” I say to the dude. “For a tiny, pre-rolled joint?”
“Hey, this stuff is hard to get here,” he says. “I’ll make you a deal. How about your pretty friend, the tall, shy one, come sit with me?”
I roll my eyeballs and frown at him.
Snickering, Greasy Fanny-Pack points and grins at poor Ruby, who towers over everyone at the party. She’s seriously blushing lipstick red and looking totally horrified. Greasy Fanny-Pack might be someone that I might actually hang/smoke/laugh with in New Jersey, but he makes my cousin uncomfortable, which makes me strangely worried for some reason. After all, I brought Ruby to “study group.”
“No deal,” I say, moving in front of Ruby like one of Uncle Dai’s security guards. “What else do you have for me?”
“You don’t have to,” Ruby whispers. “I have money.”
“Your dad gave me money too,” I say.
And yet, somehow, I know it’s not my money to spend. Miraculously, my voice of limited self-control has somehow disappeared in my time of need. It’s like I have no guardian devil of recklessness to guide me. Uncle Dai gave me that money after seeing my grandma in hopes of keeping me quiet, but I will give it back to him or save it for a real-life emergency like an earthquake or other natural disaster.
“How about you stand up, sing a song, and I’ll give you three of them?” Greasy Fanny-Pack is sneering at me, as if daring me to catwalk away. He dangles the baggie of weed in front of me.
“Deal!” I say, knowing that he expects me to decline and pay the marked-up price. He looks surprised.
Normally, I’d be so embarrassed, but I don’t know anyone in the room. Ruby looks mortified, but I already know what she thinks of me. Seeing Frank and his friends watch me with mild shock and a lot of unfiltered amusement, I smile nervously. Somehow, I don’t care anymore. I’ve already done and said a trillion embarrassing cringe-worthy things in Beijing. What’s one more item to add to my ever-growing list?