Where We Found Our Passion (Lost & Found, #3)

by Natasha Bishop

Auntie looks at both of us with soft eyes. “I could talk to him,” she offers. “No, it’s okay. We both know that won’t do anything.” The last time she tried telling him to ease up on me a little bit he politely told her to fuck off which led to her impolitely telling him to watch his mouth because she’s not the one. She might end up in jail for assault if she tries talking some sense into him again.

Lmao

“But, nothing. You’re acting like we’re missing our senior prom or something.” He sees the panic in my eyes and cuts me off once again. “And even if we do end up missing that too, who cares? When I look back on high school I’m not gonna be thinking about some dumb dances or your dad. I’m gonna be thinking about that time we skipped school to sneak into a showing of Batman Begins. Or the time you got sick from eating so many dumplings. Or the time you laughed so hard soda came out of your nose after I slipped on a wet spot on the cafeteria floor. I’m gonna think about how lucky I was to have met you and how lucky I am to keep knowing you. I’m gonna think about how much I love you.”

😭🫶

How do you always know exactly what to say?” He shrugs. “I don’t. I just say what feels right. I watch how my dad treats my mom and how happy she is and it just…comes to me.”

Hyperventilating

Shame coats my insides as I once again don’t stand against my father in defense of the only man who has ever put me first.

YOU DUMB DUMB

Po Po would always tell me stories about Guangzhou growing up and about her Buddhist beliefs, even though my mom and dad are both Christian. She and Mom even taught me how to make a few recipes, which I loved, but I’ve always felt more comfortable with my Black half than my Chinese half. I’m not ashamed of it by any means, but I guess I just don’t know how to embrace it fully. Maybe it’s because I look more Black or maybe it’s because the kids at school were always quicker to accept me as Black—or assume I was Hispanic—than as Chinese or even as mixed race. So, learning another language was not on the top of my priority list. I often wonder if that’s why Po Po didn’t want Mom marrying Dad in the first place, but I can’t bring myself to ask. She never pressured me to learn, but I could tell it hurt her.

Frankly, I’m still fuming and not just at you, but if you think this changes how much I fucking love you, you’re mistaken. I’m here. I’m choosing you like I always have, but you need to do the same. I can’t go through this shit again, so if you choose this—if you choose me—then that means we stand together. No matter what bullshit your dad throws at us.”

SCREAMING

She needs this and I…just need her.

BAWLING 😭😭😭

I wrap my arms around her waist. “We can turn this game around and make it the fun, flirty game you wanted it to be, trust me on that. But can we just let this moment be what it is? I don’t wanna tell you what you need, but I can tell that you don’t have anyone in your life that holds space for you to just sit in your emotions. And I know that’s by design because sitting in your emotions is the one thing you don’t want to do. But I got you. I swear to God if you’d just let me, I would kiss all your scars. I’d kiss them until you could appreciate their beauty the way I do.” This time when her tears fall, I take care to wipe them for her. “Okay. I can do this.”

Girl 😭 thank you Natasha Bishop for making this kind of man