Last Tang Standing

by Lauren Ho

it’s the sober ones we had to be wary of, the ones drinking tea as black as their stony hearts, their beady eyes looking for fresh prey.

They were interfering, they were nasty, but they were still family. For all that they had done for me, I had a duty to show up and humor them, at the very least. You don’t run away from family.

Problem is, you can’t just shake off centuries of cultural mindfuckery that tell you that you are nothing but a sandworm without the benevolence and sacrificial love of your parents, who fed your worthless child self and molded you into the acceptable, if not exceptional, adult that you are, and that the only way you can ever hope to repay them is if you take the hopes and dreams your parents had for you and gently but surely stuff them down your brain hole, make them yours, and realize them, or betray your parents and burn in the special place in Chinese Hell for unfilial children while eager but inefficient Chinese demons disembowel you ad infinitum.

“It’s strange, isn’t it, how this form of racism is still accepted under the guise of ensuring that the new addition to your family has a ‘similar cultural background and value system’?

“Oh,” she said, giggling. “I know Tristan. He’s a friend of a friend from London.” “Oh?” “Yeah.” Her voice was conspiratorial. “The next time he pisses you off, just say: ‘Chicken of the Sea.’ He’ll know what it means.” “Tell me!” I said, practically foaming at the mouth. “Is he allergic to fish? Is that how I bring him down?” “No, dummy, how amateur, and quite worrisome that you went straight to the option of murdering your nemesis, you psychopath. Besides, ever heard of EpiPens? Chicken of the C, the letter C, C for . . . oh well. I’ve said too much,” she said cheerfully, meaning she’d said exactly how much she wanted me to know. I was dying of curiosity. “C for what?” “Bye.” The line went dead.

After I had taken a Valium and waited for myself to calm down, I called Eric, who was in Hong Kong for a couple of board meetings, and he immediately offered to fly over. “Thank you for offering,” I said, touched. The grand opening of his new Lana hotel in Phu Quoc, Vietnam, his first eco-hotel in the region, was on Monday; I knew how important it was for him to open that hotel in person, since his family had fled China through Vietnam. “But don’t change your plans; it’s really not necessary.” “Of course it is. I’m coming over. You need support.”

Knight on a horse to the rescue

“You don’t have to be the brightest star in the sky, but you’re the one I look to when I need direction.”

Awwwwww north star metaphor

Do you even know what goes on in a mother’s heart when she sees her children running toward a cliff with only rocks to greet them below?”