Café Con Lychee

by Emery Lee

That’s just the way I am, I’m afraid—bad at school, bad at making friends, and really bad at playing nice with teammates who are quite possibly,

Coach likes me since I’m the fastest kid on the team and one of three people who can actually aim, but sometimes I think he only sticks around because it makes him feel like less of a loser to see we’re even more useless than he is.

Other ethnic shops have popped up from time to time, but considering the town is so white that most of them don’t even know what mung bean is, they always flop in a year or two. Our shop and the Morenos’ are the only two that have been able to stick it out, like maybe they’re just different enough that people are willing to stop by both, but that also means we’re in a constant game of tug-of-war to keep them from pulling too many customers away from us and taking us out altogether.

Except the boba thing, but I guess it’s that old Chinese nature to steal a drink from Taiwan and claim it as our own.

This is a new info for me.

loft. I used to share my bedroom with my brother, Thomas, but he started college last summer and moved in with some guys I don’t know or care to meet. It’s

I’ve spent most nights and weekends working in the shop since I was old enough to count to seven, but I never get paid for my time there, and I definitely don’t get a damn allowance.

“My classmates aren’t interested.” They’re really more of the basic, hipster-coffee-shop type anyway.

I mean, he's not wrong. Coffee culture is really the thing even in my country.

Not only because he’s the co-captain of the soccer team that I need to stay on to placate my parents, but also because he’s gay. Well, more importantly, he’s the only openly gay kid in our graduating class, and I guess a part of me always felt like we should be friends because of that, even if I’m still so deep in the closet,

I’ve wanted to be a dancer since age six, but at age seven, my parents made it perfectly clear that dancing is for girls. Especially ballet.

“At the end of the day, sometimes being an adult means making a decision you don’t like to get the things you need.”

I like this quote, and I like how it's just cruelly honest about life.

I actually kind of like helping out in the kitchen, but let’s just say customer service and I don’t quite mesh. The problem is that I’m not allowed home alone even though I’m sixteen.

Although, I guess she’d accept that sooner than she’d accept that I’m gay.

“We aren’t getting the same traffic we used to,” Mom says, “and with my tuition, and you’ll be going to college soon too—”

Ironically, Theo's fam actually thinks that Gabi's family cafe is doing well.

and it’s more practical I go back to real estate anyway.”

oh, she's a real estate marketer?

My mom sighs and says, “We’re not turning it in until Monday. We were going to discuss it with you this weekend.”

Ever since I came out, though, he’s made it clear that Thomas is his favorite, and frankly, I don’t give a shit. The last thing I care about is approval from a guy who spends most of his free time watching videos of girls who are barely legal on YouTube.

“No need,” Uncle Greg says. “I already know you don’t do a good job, Masao. I’ve been paying your rent for how many years now?”

Judging from this convo, their family is half-Japanese? Correct me if I am wrong.

Chinese.

So... Chinese? Or are they Chinese-Japanese-American.

“Why?” I say. “The customers don’t care. We haven’t updated the menu in years, and half the time people ask for shit, we tell them we don’t have it. We’re a bunch of underpaid field hands so Uncle Greg can get rich without ever doing a day of work himself.”

nightmare. It’s like if you took all the white people faves from my parents’ shop and fused them with the Morenos’ crappy food, like one of those weird Pokémon mashups.

and why do they have to parade around some bastardization of my culture, like there aren’t enough people doing that already?

Agree!! Even the whole "uplifted" cafes of my country's traditional cuisines are JUST WEIRD because they often only care about the aesthetics than actual quality.

but it’s not like I can convince Mom and Dad to start making kimchi empanadas.

Honestly, the fuck is this.

But what if we can shake things up just a little? It doesn’t even have to be anything spectacular. I just need enough of a distraction to lure people away from the fusion café and back to our shop.

It kind of reminds me of when I first came out to her, the way she’d had to coax me into it, but could barely handle the conversation once I started getting all emotional and pivoted the whole conversation to gay celebrities or something. That’s just the way she’s always been. If you have a problem you need solving, Meli’s your girl. If you need someone to hold on to while you cry? Well, that’s what stuffed animals are for.

read. I don’t actually know what bao even is. Or takoyaki, for that matter. And there are the twists on the familiar. Tres leches taiyaki? Taro bread pudding?

I can't lie, taro bread pudding sounds good tho. The rest is eh.

Vivi nods along. “Yeah. It’s okay, but I don’t get the hype.”

And I really want to believe her, but there’s a stone sitting in my stomach, grinding up my insides and weighing me down. I can’t remember the last time I felt so hopeless.

Then I could add whatever clever concoctions will appeal to our customers, like a secret, traveling menu. That way I could lure them in with all the

Then the money could go back to Uncle Greg, and once everyone falls in love with our drinks again, they’ll be racing back to our shop faster than all those Massholes doing a hundred on the freeway. Genius. Justin’s staring back at me with

“Guess they like the diversity?” Which is ironic, because I looked it up, and the owners are definitely white. Apparently

appropriated diversity is the only acceptable kind.

It’s entirely possible that I’m just being dramatic, but when I glance at Clara, she has this look like she feels bad for him, and it just pisses me off more. Like, yeah, I cry when I watch those sad puppy videos too, but Gabriel’s not actually a puppy abandoned by his owner. He’s an upper-middle-class Vermont kid whose parents’ business beats ours like ten months out of twelve. It’s not my fault that emotionally, he’s about as stable as a cheap Styrofoam cup. Yet, looking at him, I almost feel bad, like I always do on the field, like I’m somehow responsible for his inability to control his feet or his balance or the goddamn ball.

“You’re competing with the World Fusion Café, right?” he says, his voice coming out in a breathy rush. “Trying to make up for your parents’ losses by selling stuff at school, but it’s not sustainable. I mean, one, you could get expelled if administration

God, I wish I had half his confidence or at least some innovative idea. I only have until Homecoming to convince my parents the café is worth keeping, but all I’ve managed to do thus far is piss off Theo.

I’m just going to help Theo to make up for hurting his wrist in the first place, and maybe, somewhere along the line, it’ll help inspire a solution to help my parents’ shop. What’s the worst that could happen?

You hate when I’m mad at you.” “Not that,” Justin says. “The whole Gabriel Moreno thing. Like, yeah, I get it, the kid’s annoying and your parents are rivals or whatever, but he just wanted to help you. It’s not like he skinned your cat or something.”

“Probably because it’s limited edition.”

“You know, like a pair of sneakers or those weird vinyl figures. The value always skyrockets when people know they’ll only have one chance to get it.” He’s probably right about that. Actually, that might be one of the

This justin boy has the potential as a marketer!!

biggest weaknesses of our café—our menu never changes. Maybe people are just sick of our stuff, or maybe they realize it’ll always be there if they want to come back for it.

“Cute packaging. Let’s be real for a second, Theo. Neither one of us is known for cute. I’m more a sexy athlete type and you’re not that kind of gay.”

“He’s the SpongeBob in this situation, isn’t he? And I’m the Squidward?”

Theo, you ARE the grumpy one.

He just kind of looks resigned, like he should’ve expected some dehumanizing commentary like that to come out of my mouth.

Being gay isn’t some sort of infectious disease. It’s not something to be afraid of. Yet, just the thought of the word coming out of my mouth feels like a punch to the gut.

and again. How can I ever feel comfortable being me when I’m the thing my parents hate the most?

Even before he started college, he just grew up a lot faster than me, I guess, and suddenly we reached this point where just talking to him became scolding after scolding about all the things I was doing wrong with my life.

“Conditionally, though, right? Like as long as you keep doing what they ask, they love you.” And I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t know what my parents will say when I eventually come out. If I eventually come out. I don’t know if their love for me is predicated on my being straight, but sometimes I think it might be.

mean, my parents would kill to have a son who’s good at soccer.” He rolls his eyes. “My parents couldn’t care less about sports. They want a college-bound son riding a full scholarship and dating some brilliant science girl. Like my brother, Thomas, I guess.”

“There’s no bigger offense than making a scene.”

him right now.” And I can’t quite explain it, but I feel bile rising in the back of my throat. That’s why they’re so upbeat? Because my brother who bailed on them and rarely ever calls is checking in?

don’t know—a real person? Does that make me an asshole?