IrisDaddy: Also, are you pregnant?!
IrisDaddy: I just got off the phone with the credit card company. You spent $7,000 on a dress, makeup, and plane tickets?!!!!!!
IrisDaddy: What is going on?
IrisDaddy: Airline says tickets are registered under your name. Who are you taking to Paris???
Mom: TEXT US BACK
IrisDaddy: CALL US
Iris: I’m okay!
29
Who Is Frank Liao?
There are no messages from Frank the next morning, and I can barely eat my breakfast. Ruby has ordered in room service. American-style, egg whites and turkey scramble, in honor of our new alliance. My stomach rumbles, but it’s a different kind of uncomfortable. A sad, bitter-tasting kind.
“What’s wrong?” Ruby demands, looking closely at me. “You usually eat more than everyone in my family combined.”
“Nothing,” I say.
I pick at a slice of overripe watermelon. I can’t even drink coffee today. It’s all too much, this uneasy feeling of not knowing and not understanding what’s going on. Why is Frank avoiding me? I wasn’t asking him to be my long-term boyfriend and I didn’t even want him to be my tutor. Didn’t we have fun at the hot springs?
“Are you sick?” Ruby asks, looking at the bathroom. “What did you eat last night?”
I mutter something and stare at my phone again.
“I thought you said that you wanted to be friends,” she says, looking puzzled. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Slowly, I take a breath.
“It’s Frank. He hasn’t messaged me back. The weird thing is, it says the WeChat account and phone number are no longer in service. I even sent him an email. Does that happen a lot in Beijing?” I say to Ruby.
She shakes her head, looking concerned.
She suggests that we look up his name in the university student directory online, but there is no student named Frank Liao.
“Do you know his Chinese name?” she asks. “It’s probably easier to find him that way.”
I shake my head NO.
The uneasy feeling inside my stomach escalates.
Ruby frowns. “I know a private investigator. It was Mr. Yee who found your dad in the States. He’s good but very expensive.”
We don’t have our prepaid Visas anymore, but at least we have money from our grandparents. Ruby agrees to give me her share. She quickly dials a number and spends a good half hour on the phone.
“He’s a poet and tutor from Tsinghua University,” I tell Ruby to translate to Mr. Yee. “That’s all I know about him.”
Mr. Yee says to give him twenty-four hours. He’s confident that he can find a student called Frank Liao.
His phone call comes right before dinner.
When our bodyguard is in the bathroom, and Grandpa takes a nap and Grandma leaves for Bible study, Ruby flicks open a Swarovski-studded lighter and holds it under the hotel suite’s smoke alarm. It goes off instantly. RIIIIIING! I cover my ears and grimace.
I’m seriously impressed by her quick-thinking skills. I had no idea that she carried around a bejeweled lighter as a fashion key chain just to accessorize her gold Hermès Birkin bag. Sneaking around seems to run in our family.
Ruby grins at me as we race out the door.
Through the back elevator stairs, we manage to meet Mr. Yee, who has an address for us. He’s a thin, no-nonsense man with spectacles and a professional photographer’s camera. He honestly looks like a tourist instead of a private investigator. It costs all the yuan we have for just a name and address. Ruby speaks to him urgently, and he offers us a ride in his car.
“How did he get it?” I ask Ruby.
“He pretended to be a cop and showed Frank’s photo to different students and instructors. Someone recognized him. But his name isn’t Frank Liao. It’s Zhou Zhifang.”
“What?” I say. “That makes no sense! Why would he lie? Are you sure Mr. Yee found the right guy?”
Ruby frowns. “Mr. Yee is the best in the business.”
“Is he a real cop?” I ask Ruby.
She nods. “Former Beijing secret police. My dad says he was ranked number one at torture.”
Mr. Yee grins at us, revealing three fanged gold teeth. In the car, he smokes a cigar and to calm my fluttering nerves, I accept when he offers me a few puffs. I inhale gratefully because my stomach feels like a pulsating blender. I can’t seem to relax or focus on any conversation.
We seem to be driving for hours in nervous silence until we get to a run-down part of the city, which Ruby says is the district of Daxing. Nodding solemnly, Mr. Yee wishes us luck and honks the horn before dropping us off. I’m horrified by the crooked assortment of decrepit buildings, and the mounds of garbage and plastic junk scattered everywhere.
A woman is standing on the threshold of a doorway. She holds up her fingers, begging for yuan. We don’t have any left, and to my astonishment, Ruby apologizes profusely.
We follow the directions to the address and enter a dingy apartment building.
As we step into a hallway, I step on something brown and furry. Shrieking, I jump and nearly fall on it.
“It’s just a rat,” Ruby says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “We had those all the time when we were growing up. My mom and I would roast them when there was nothing else to eat. They’re more filling than insects.”
I stare at her, pity and astonishment rising in me. How can she talk so casually about seeing and then eating a rat the same size as a ladies’ size-eight Converse sneaker? It makes no sense. Ruby is the fussiest, most privileged person that I’ve ever met. Her regular clothes vs. dog show closets could seriously fund a small village in a developing nation.
Ruby shrugs again. “We survived so we could have better. Those days are over now. I’m enjoying my life now.”
We find apartment number 122. I rap three times. I wonder if anyone is actually home. As we wait, I plan whether or not to make a dramatic entry. I don’t know if it would make Frank apologize for lying to me, or if it would make him retreat further from me.
But I don’t have enough time to decide.
“You lied to me!” I shout as the apartment door finally swings open. I step forward, ready to confront the liar that is the impostor Frank Liao. Part of me hopes there was a humongous mistake and that it’s someone else entirely. Part of me hopes that this is all a terrible cultural or translated misunderstanding. I just hope the dude who opens the door is a complete stranger. I just hope that the private investigator is wrong.
But an elderly woman, leaning on a stick, slowly opens the door. She looks shocked by my outburst. I’m instantly relieved. It’s the wrong address, thank god.
“Sorry for bothering you,” I say, but Ruby cuts in and demands to know where Zhou Zhifang is.
The older lady says something nervously in Chinese. I stare at her. Then I realize that she’s missing a leg. One of her pant legs drags to the floor, and there is nothing where her right leg should be. I try not to stare at her missing limb. What happened? I want to ask. Does it hurt? But I know it would be rude of me. Ruby doesn’t even look concerned. She just starts talking in her usual bossy way.
“Zhifang?!” the older lady finally calls out.
Immediately, Frank shows up. But it’s not Frank. I remember that he has a different name.