The 13th Zodiac (Part 1)
“We’ll do two orders of Mapo Tofu, an order of walnut shrimp, and the house special chow mein.”
“Okay.”
“And could we also get… Sweetie, did you want the pork chop or the duck?”
Janet turned to face her husband, pulling herself away from a conversation with the eight-year-old that wasn’t theirs who was sharing about his first trip to the national park with the geysers and rainbow pools that smelled bad but were still cool to look at, just not for too long.
“That’s a lot of food,” she said. “Do we really need another entrée?”
“There’s nothing wrong with leftovers,” Greg replied with a grin, a bit embarrassed that they were having this conversation now in front of the server. Janet attempted to check her eye roll, but her eyes did a full rotation anyway.
“I’m not sure they’ve tried duck before,” she said finally. “So maybe pork?”
“Good call,” Greg agreed. “We’ll do the Peking Pork Chop.”
He folded up the menu and handed it over, proud that the family unit had managed to make a decision that seemed sound. There had been many a time in the past where they had forced a server to wait for well over five minutes. Said server would then have to witness the delicate negotiations between two adults and the small people that held them hostage. Every option denied was like a wire that was cut, a potential trigger. Would the doomsday clock accelerate towards meltdown or would the little people take the deal as offered?
“And for you?” The waiter tilted his notepad towards the other adults.
Esther and Bryan weren’t faring as well. In their defense, they were outnumbered. Janet had distracted their eight-year-old for a bit, but their four-year-old was using Bryan as a jungle gym while their six-year-old was getting increasingly violent with her crayon stubs, threatening to not only go over the lines, but off the coloring book and onto the table.
“Kirsty, not so hard, okay?” said Esther, her eyes darting from crayon stubs to menu to waiter. “We’ll do… the Mushu pork, and… You wanted the braised asparagus?”
Bryan nodded just as a small hand grabbed onto his earlobe and yanked.
“Hey, Dad?”
Greg looked down. It was Samuel, the other eight-year-old male at the table, the one that held dominion over him and Janet.
“Can I get a root beer?”
“I don’t think they have root beer, bud…”
“Can you ask?”
“Nope,” said Janet coming in for the assist. “No soda. You already had one for lunch.”
Greg froze as his eyes went wide. Had his partner been too savage in her denial? He cautiously observed the heavy sigh and unsettled gaze of their young disaster-in-training.
“Fine,” said Samuel, elongating the word to almost a full two seconds. He crossed his arms straight-jacket style and exhaled loudly as if his mother had just sentenced him to a life without flavor.
After some negotiations and a few fingers to the face, Bryan and Esther managed to complete their order and return their oversized menus to the waiter who nodded and walked off into the bustling dining hall. Greg noticed, perhaps for the first time, that he appeared to be the only white person in the room, an observation that might have been unsettling years ago, but now felt… “normal” for lack of a better word, or at least not out of the ordinary. His kids were, of course, half white thanks to his contribution to their gene pool. They also seemed to be mostly unaware of the ways that adults used words like “race” and “ethnicity” to categorize one another, which was fine by Greg, though he knew that he and Janet would have to broach the subject eventually. It would undoubtedly be one of several awkward talks that their family would have to sit through at some point. For today, they just had to sit through dinner.
“All done!” declared Kirsty, the six-year-old with the crayon stubs.
“Very nice,” said Esther. “I like what you did with her hair.”
“Hey Dad,” said Samuel, who looked slightly less defeated now.
“Yeah, bud?”
“What’s this?” He pointed at his paper placemat. It had a thick red border decorated with golden rectangular spirals. Within that frame were animals sketched in red.
“Oh, that’s the Chinese Zodiac. Everyone has an animal depending on when they were born.”
He looked at the short list of years printed beneath each creature.
“This year is the year of the Rooster and, let’s see… here we go. You are an ox.”
“An ox?” said Samuel with a dubious tone. He leaned over the table and squinted, studying the sketched horns and hooves as if he were taking the animal out of the stables to see if it was a good fit.
“This says you’re dependable, strong, determined, and honest. Does that sounds like you?”
“I guess so…”
“You guess so? You better not be lying. You’re an ox. You’re supposed to be honest.”
“Daddy, where’s mine?” asked Hailey. She was the other six-year-old, the one with the ponytail tied up in blue that would probably be going home with Greg and Janet. Probably.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart, let’s see,” replied Greg as he leaned over her placemat. Hailey treaded water under the table while her father searched the dates.
“Here it is,” he said at last. “See, right here. You’re a rabbit.”
Greg thought Hailey would be delighted or at least semi-enthused, but instead she looked at the red rabbit as if it had just sprung out of a back-alley dumpster.
“This says you’re gentle, kind, skillful, and patient.”
Hailey slouched and scrunched up her face.
“I think you make a very good rabbit,” said Greg. “You’re good at jumping. You eat carrots… sometimes. You always find lots of eggs at Easter…”
“But I’m not a rabbit,” said Hailey.
“Are you sure? Because I think I see some long ears coming out of your hair.” Greg pulled a pair of fingers up behind her head to make the classic TV antennae.
“I’m not a rabbit!” yelled Hailey defiantly. Janet turned from her conversation with Esther and stared at Hailey and then at her husband who pulled his hand back into a shocked shrug. Janet’s eyes went wide with questions and something like disappointment.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” said Greg, tiptoeing around the shattered glass that seemingly materialized around his daughter. “You don’t have to be a rabbit; I just thought you might want to be. Kirsty’s a rabbit.”
Across the table, Kirsty tilted her head as she raised a yellow crayon stub and studied the pale mermaid on the page before her. She was far too invested in her mission to bring color to the world to be bothered by talk of rabbits.
Back on the placemat, the red rabbit was locked mid-stride in a dramatic bound, ears swept back and feet flying, as if it too wanted no part in this arrangement and was desperate to get the French Toast out of Dodge.
“But I’m a cat,” said Hailey.
“A cat?” asked Greg who was desperately trying to improvise an escape route from his daughter’s darkening disappointment. “Okay, well, there’s a tiger. Do you think maybe you’re a tiger?”
Hailey glanced at the regal predator and shook her head.
“No, I’m not a tiger. I’m a cat, like a normal cat,” she said.
“Okay… well, sweetie I don’t see a cat like that on here, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be one. You know what? I think you can be whatever kind of cat you want to be. Lucy’s a cat. Maybe you could be like Lucy.”
Lucy was a stuffed orange tabby and one of the few friends back at the house that had earned a place in the elite social clique known as the “favorite toys,” an honor earned through hours of strangle hugs, sidewalk drags, and drinks from empty miniature cups. Yet even the powerful name of Lucy couldn’t disperse the dark clouds welling up within Hailey.
“Gramma said I was a cat,” she insisted. Her voice was faint and wilted, more sigh than speech.
Greg sat in befuddled silence. He knew better than to contradict the words of his Mother-in-law. She, more than anyone else on the planet, held the keys to hurried date nights and productive work weeks. She was the trusted babysitter that worked for free. Whatever she said was gospel truth… probably… or at least it resided in the same zip code as truth. She must have said something about cats that Hailey was now projecting onto the current conversation.
Hailey looked at the red zoo placemat with heavy disappointment, as if the twisted snake were snickering and the rooster had a speech bubble that said, “You ain’t a cat, kid. Also, Sandy Claus ain’t real.”
Sweet and sour soup arrived a few moments later. Hailey’s bowl landed on a red dog and seemed to distract her for a bit, but her slurps were slow and pitiful, a far cry from the eager guzzling of her bullish brother. She slowly came out of her funk as plates landed and napkins unfolded, covering more of the red animals in front of her. Rotating steaming plates of tofu and noodles on the giant lazy Susan became a sort of game. By the time the check arrived with a plate of fortune cookies, she had found her giggle again and was busy beautifying a fairy with a piece of purple from Kirsty’s crayon box.
After the waiter left to pack a few half-full plates into “To Go” cartons, Greg took the last cookie off the plate. It cracked easily and evenly. He pulled the small paper rectangle out of its innards and straightened it.
Loyalty is a virtue unless it’s married to blind determination.
Greg blinked and gave the slip a second look. It looked more like a lesson than a fortune and didn’t follow the typical format that allowed for one to simply add the words “in bed” to the end to make an adult joke. Shaking off his puzzlement and a bit of a Mapo Tofu food coma, he smiled at Janet as she thanked Esther for inviting them out and told Hailey to finish up her coloring page.
The adults all made eye contact with each other. For a brief moment, the restaurant was quiet save for the faint murmur of voices across the room, and it felt like they had the table to themselves. It was an echo of dinners from days gone by when their responsibilities were few and easy to manage, when walking back to the parking lot was the simplest of tasks and their cars would take them to homes where the only urgent responsibilities were making sure doors were locked and lights turned off and the recycling bin wasn’t too full.
“Hey, Dad?”
Greg looked down at Samuel.
“Yeah.”
“Can Owen spend the night?”
“No.”
Hailey’s eyes were closed, but the plush, unblinking eyes of Lucy the orange tabby were wide open, seemingly fixed on the ceiling fan that gently whirred above. Janet slowly closed the bedroom door to keep the quiet in. Sometimes sleep was as certain as the sunset, but often it was a wild, unpredictable thing that had to be coaxed and contained.
The familiar buzz of Greg’s electric toothbrush beckoned her towards the master bathroom. She arrived just in time to watch him spit suds into the sink.
“They’re asleep,” Janet said with more than a bit of exhaustion in her voice.
Greg nodded with weary gratitude as he pulled a floss dispenser out of a drawer.
“I can’t believe how big Owen is getting,” said Janet. “He’s only… what? Three months older than Samuel? I guess it’s closer to four. Even so.”
“Yeah, he’s a big kid, but I don’t think Samuel’s going to be too far behind him.”
“You’re probably right. They keep growing, don’t they? I guess that’s a thing. Do they have to keep growing? Can’t they just, like, stop?”
She washed her hands and looked up at her reflection long enough to pull a contact from her right eye.
“My mom called today,” said Greg.
“Oh yeah? How is she?”
“She’s fine. She wants to know if we’re coming out in August for the eclipse.”
“Oh right, I almost forgot,” she said as she dropped one lens into solution then brought her fingers towards the second.
“I have plenty of PTO,” said Greg. “If you think you can swing it.”
“I think so. I’ll just have to see what the schedule is for Hailey’s dance program. She’ll be devastated if she misses the final performance.”
“Well yeah,” said Greg. “I’d be devastated too.”
Greg finished up with the fishing line in his back molars then leaned over to unravel it from his fingers and throw it in the trash. It was not an especially attractive moment, but at least he was keeping up with his dental hygiene.
“Hey, what was Hailey so upset about at dinner?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “We were talking about the Chinese Zodiac animals on the placemats. It said she was a rabbit, and she said she wanted to be a cat, and then I tried to make a joke, and then she got upset and said Grandma had told her that she was a cat. She must have been confused or something. I’m not sure why she got so upset. I thought she liked rabbits.”
Janet tightened the cap on her contact case. The white “L” and green “R” somehow managed to be legibly parallel. She reached for her glasses and smiled as realization set in.
“In the Vietnamese Zodiac there is no rabbit,” she said. “They use a cat instead.”
Greg froze with a fresh length of floss pulled taut from the dispenser.
“Wait, what?” he said.
“The rabbit is a cat in the Vietnamese Zodiac. My mom probably told her about it.”
“Huh,” said Greg, snipping the line at his fingers. “I had no idea. I just assumed she had heard something completely unrelated and was confused.”
“Don’t let Hailey fool you. She’s a good listener. She remembers things. She’s just… also good at pretending not to hear things.”
“This is true…” He moved the floss towards his uppers, but then pulled back and reconsidered. “Why is there a cat instead of a rabbit?”
“I have no idea. It might have been a translation thing.”
“Huh,” said Greg. He finally went to work on his upper incisors. Janet turned on her own electric toothbrush and slowly swept the spinning bristles across her gumline. She could tell by the stoic look in his eyes that Greg was still thinking about rabbits and cats. He finished up with the floss, the last length stained with a bit of red as he freed his fingers and threw it away.
Janet rinsed and spit after the whirring stopped. Moments later she flicked off the bathroom light and found her husband lying in bed with hands laced behind his head and eyes fixed upward. He seemed to be searching for something behind the slow rotations of the ceiling fan. She sighed heavily. She had seen this look before.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, finally.
“I’m not sure,” he said. She knew him well enough to tell that he probably did know what was wrong but was still sorting out how to best articulate it. Janet wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.
“Well you know what they say about ceiling fans,” she said. “If you stare at them long enough, they’ll hypnotize you… and then you’ll have no choice but to spill all of your deep, dark secrets to your wife so that she knows what she’s really gotten herself into.”
He smiled and glanced at her for a moment.
“You already know all my deep, dark secrets.”
“I do? Wow. That’s disappointing. I was really hoping you had some juicy scandals stashed away in that brain of yours.”
“No you don’t.”
“Okay, no. That was a lie.”
“I learned pretty early on that I couldn’t keep a secret from you. If anyone’s going to be scandalous, it’s going to have to be you.”
“I guess so. Well in that case, maybe I’ll run off and have a steamy affair, and you’ll never notice because you’ll be too busy staring at the ceiling fan.”
“All righty then. Well, just make sure you put out some food for the kids before you leave.”
“Of course.”
“Good. Glad that’s settled.”
“Yup. Good talk.”
After a beat, Greg pulled his attention away from the ceiling and turned to give her his signature asymmetrical smile, a smile that was simultaneously mischievous and genuine. It cut through the banter and sarcasm. It let her know that he liked her.
“Still trying to figure out how Hailey can be a rabbit and a cat?” she asked. “I think this is going to bother you more than it bothers her.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
He turned his gaze back to the ceiling.
“I think I always knew our kids would have some… difficult moments,” he said after a moment. “Figuring out what it means to be half Asian and half White, dealing with people’s questions or rudeness or whatever. I never thought that being part Vietnamese specifically would be a source of… confusion or frustration. It shouldn’t be. I just want her to be proud of who she is.”
“She is,” said Janet. “She will be. The playing field will feel tilted at times, but she’ll manage. A lot of people assume I’m Chinese… or maybe Japanese or Korean when they first meet me, unless I happen to mention something about my family… or be in Westminster. Hailey and Samuel will have their own assumptions and prejudices to deal with, but they’ll get through, and we’ll walk alongside them as best we can.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and exhaled.
She extended her free hand and rubbed his shoulder. There was probably more to say, but she was exhausted, and the hour was late. She flicked off her nightstand light and settled into her pillow, hoping he would do the same. Was she being rude? She could sense Greg’s restlessness, but she knew she was running on fumes. There were only so many hours of precious quiet before alarms and kids and work pulled her back into the fray. Greg would understand. She turned away from him and closed her eyes. For a moment everything faded away except the gentle hum of a ceiling fan churning the air above.
The room was still dark when Greg came to consciousness. Remnants of half-remembered dreams wafted up toward the ceiling, but the whirring fan blades diced them up before they got there. Greg flopped over and saw that Janet was still asleep, her breaths long and regular.
For a brief moment, Greg braced himself for the cries of a hungry newborn coming through the baby monitor only to remember that those long nights had come and gone years ago. The monitor was packed away somewhere in the garage. Everyone in the house was a deep sleeper now. Everyone except Greg.
He reached for his phone on the nightstand but stopped himself. Seeing the time never helped. He turned onto his other side and listened to Janet’s steady breaths, hoping he would gradually follow her into the silken depths, but hearing her sleep only seemed to make him more aware of how awake he was. His marriage to Janet had revealed how terrible he was at sleeping. Janet could sleep through a thunderstorm. Greg was not so lucky, and now, in spite of how tired he was, he could feel something pressing down on him like tiny paws through the sheets.
With a heavy sigh and blink of his eyes, he hauled himself out of bed and lurched his way down the hallway past the pair of closed bedroom doors where his children were probably dreaming of successful careers as attorneys or civil engineers or sleep experts. He found his laptop waiting for him on the kitchen counter and opened it up. The glow of the screen was like a fireplace in an otherwise darkened room.
He clicked past his normal news sites, which were all focused on Robert Mueller and the aftermath of the James Comey firing, and navigated towards articles on much older subjects. As Greg scrolled through text and sketches, an idea began to materialize, a bridge between worlds, a way to make sense of things.
Searching morphed into writing. Momentum carried Greg forward for what must have been at least an hour and a half. He was so focused on his screen that he almost didn’t notice Janet when she walked into the kitchen with glasses slightly askew and a tangle of hair over her robe. She turned and gave him her signature scrimpy smile, a smile that was simultaneously sarcastic and breathtakingly beautiful. It cut through the pleasantries and weariness. It let him know that she was going to make coffee.
Greg checked the clock in the corner of the screen and decided he could give himself another ten minutes or so before he would have to pull himself away and get ready for his “real” job. Janet shot him a side-eyed glance as the espresso maker began to hum its morning refrain, but she was either too tired or too indifferent to say anything.
Greg typed furiously for seven minutes, eventually steering his text into a satisfying port where it could drop anchor and wait while he went shoreside to be a dad and a journalist for a few hours. It was only after he closed his laptop and stood that fatigue finally swept over him. His head slumped forward, feeling the pull of gravity, but his nose caught a familiar scent. A mug had materialized on the other side of the counter with heat still rising from the foam. Greg went over and picked it up gingerly, as if worried the handle would shatter.
Greg inhaled the caffeinated warmth for a moment, uncertain if he should be impressed by the ninja-level stealth with which his wife had made it or embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed it until now. He must have been so lost in his words that his wife had decided to stay silent out of respect for the process.
Greg took a deep breath and realized that probably wasn’t the case. Janet had probably given him a moment or two to realize that she was making him a cup of coffee, moments that he had totally missed. She was going to be angry… or at the very least annoyed. His writer’s mind quickly pivoted. He needed a good apology.
His thoughts were interrupted. From somewhere deep within the bowels of the hallway, a hinge creaked. Suggestions of tiny footsteps disturbed the morning air.
The children had awoken.
Janet came home from work and found the kids on the floor in their corner of the living room, tiny multi-colored bricks strewn everywhere. Hailey was guiding a small person with a triangle skirt up a red, blue, and yellow staircase to nowhere. Samuel was on the hunt for black pieces to complete his six-wheeled jeep-like monstrosity. As an architect, Janet admired their creativity and spatial exploration. As a mom, Janet saw a chaotic mess made up of hundreds of tiny landmines waiting to attack her toes. At least the builders were playing together in peace, for now.
“Hi Mommy,” said Hailey.
“Hi Hailey. What are you building there?”
“Stairs.”
“Very nice. Very colorful. Where do the stairs go to?”
“To her friend’s house.”
“Oh, so she’s going to visit her friend?”
“Yeah. She’s a scientist, and her friend rescues animals.”
She held up another block person with longish brown hair and beige clothing painted on her person. She looked ready for a safari or perhaps a game of hide and seek in a khaki factory.
“A scientist and an animal rescuer. Very cool.”
Samuel looked up from his all-black all-terrain six-wheel rover for a brief moment before searching the big plastic bin for another antennae. He was clearly far too busy for dialogue. Janet stepped away and found her husband slumped on the couch. His eyes were staring at the glowing laptop on the coffee table, but they seemed unfocused and distant, fixed on something that wasn’t there.
“Hey,” said Janet.
Greg blinked and looked up.
“Hey,” he said.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just tired.”
“I bet. You were up early this morning.”
Greg stirred and stretched, as if waking from a nap and taking a moment to get his bearings. Janet set her purse down on the dining room table and glanced at the small pile of mail.
“Working on something?” she asked.
“Oh… yeah,” he said, as if he had completely forgotten about the laptop in front of him. “I was just working on a story.”
“A story for work?”
“Uh, no. It’s a, uh short story. Actually, I think it’s a children’s story.”
Janet let a laugh escape before she could stop herself.
“A children’s story?” she asked. “I thought writing was your escape from all things kid-related.”
“Yeah, I know. Normally it is, but I got this idea in my head and couldn’t seem to shake it, so…”
He gestured towards his laptop screen.
“Interesting. So, what’s this story about?”
“Well uh… Actually, when you get settled would you mind reading what I have so far? I’m not sure how to end it, so maybe you can help me figure that out.”
“Sure,” she said as she opened an envelope and threw it and its contents into the recycling bin by the counter. “But after dinner.”
Greg nodded and uprooted himself from the couch, slowly restoring his usefulness as he made his way towards the kitchen. Janet had worked a nine-hour day and was hoping dinner would have been started by now, but as usual, she had to do things herself. By the time the chicken emerged from the oven and the asparagus was tossed, her husband was almost a functioning member of society again. Janet called the kids over to the table and set out a basket full of bread rolls.
They ate dinner with no major incidents. Hailey had three dinner rolls along with a small chunk of chicken and a tiny salad smothered in Ranch, which wasn’t quite the ratio that Janet had hoped for, but at least she was eating. Samuel spent most of the meal talking about the Nintendo Switch that his friend Ethan had and how awesome it was and how awesome it would be to have one at the house here. He still managed to put away a healthy dose of foodage.
To his credit, Greg was engaged throughout. He helped clear the table and washed almost all of the dishes by hand. In spite of the red exhaustion in his eyes, he walked over to where the kids were playing and peppered Hailey with his usual barrage of teasing and jokes, which were pretty terrible even by dad joke standards. She held steady for a while, flashing him warning glances as she looked up from her block people, but in time he finally found the chink in her armor and was rewarded with a giggly smile.
“All right,” said Janet, “Time to clean up.”
Samuel lowered his volume slightly but continued to make vehicular noises as he tested his newly built all-terrain vehicle across the floor panels. Hailey took a cue from her brother and feigned deafness as she kept on building her multi-colored store front.
“Come on,” said Greg. “Put everything away and get ready for bed.”
“Fine,” said Samuel with a long huff of air. He let go of his creation and began shoveling bricks into the large plastic tub. Hailey snapped a final red brick into an unfinished wall and began to do the same. After a few setbacks and distractions, the plastic pieces were all packed up, the teeth were all brushed, and the kids were all in their “yammy jammies.” The adults sent them off to dream whatever dreams would come with goodnight kisses to the foreheads and a final sprinkling of slightly-cringey dad jokes.
Janet took out her contacts and walked back to the kitchen counter where Greg and his laptop were waiting. She felt the weight of her weariness now, which meant her husband was probably running on fumes given how much sleep he had missed the night prior. Yet, she could tell that he was clinging to an almost childish nervous energy the likes of which she hadn’t seen in months. She straightened her glasses and leaned onto his shoulders.
“All right, Mister Grierson,” she said. “Let’s see what you did for extra credit…”
Greg turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.
“Are you doing sexy teacher right now?” he asked.
“What? No…”
“Because that sure sounded like sexy teacher.”
“That was me feeling tired and trying to be funny.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining. God knows we could use some more sexy teacher up in here. It’s just been a while, you know, it was unexpected…”
“I was just making a joke,” she said, pulling away. “I’m not allowed to make a bad joke?”
“No, you’re not,” said Greg. “We agreed a long time ago that I get to be the bad joke teller.”
“Oh really? And what do I get to be? The cook and the disciplinarian?”
“Well, I was going to say you get to be the sexy teacher, but apparently…”
“Greg, do you want me to read this thing or not?”
Greg paused long enough to truly look at her, his eyes red and heavy. In pausing and seeing her weariness, he seemed to remember his own sleep deprivation and recognize that now was not the time for his lame attempts at flirtation or whatever he was doing.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
Janet doubted his day had been as long as hers, but she let that pass. He moved the laptop over to an empty space in front of the stool to his left. The moment she sat down, he stood up, as if sitting next to her while she read his work was too awkward.
“’The Not-So-Great Race,” she read out loud.
“Yeah, I don’t love the title,” he said as he poured himself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher.
“You shouldn’t drink water so late,” she said.
“What? Oh, right,” he said. “My bladder… waking me up in the middle of the night… what a traitor.”
He put the glass back on the counter but didn’t let go of it. His fingers tapped a muted crystalline staccato along the side. Glancing up, he caught her looking at him and pushed the cup away. He stood straighter and shoved his hands into his armpits as he leaned against the counter. He seemed to be using every ounce of his willpower to keep himself from fidgeting, as if his bladder were already full and he could barely contain his pee-pee dance.
“You’re worse than the kids right now,” she said.
“What?” he said in protest.
“Nothing, just please try to get a hold of yourself.”
“Are you going to read it or not?”
“I’m trying, but you’re just… you’re kind of a lot right now. Just calm down. It’s a story, not a pregnancy test.”
He half-laughed as he walked to the other side of the kitchen. She forced her focus towards the screen.
A long time ago there was a majestic empire ruled by a wise and powerful ruler known as the Jade Emperor. One day, the Jade Emperor decided that he wanted to meet the animals that lived inside his kingdom.
Janet paused. Something seemed off. She looked again and found the culprit: the empire was now a kingdom. Weren’t they two different things? One has an emperor and the other has a king… or a queen. Why weren’t there ever any Queendoms?
The Jade Emperor sent word out to every hill and hollow across the land. Every animal was invited to meet him at the grounds of his palace. He also declared that the first twelve animals to reach him would receive special honors and be remembered for the rest of time.
So began the Great Race.
Janet had heard this story before, though her recollection was cloudy and vague.
Now two of the smartest animals in all the land were the Rat and the Cat.
Oh wow, the rabbit hadn’t made an appearance yet, but Janet’s assigned animal, the rat, was already in the mix, as was Hailey’s beloved kitty cat. She was curious how Greg would work the cat in, especially now that the story had tinges of a mother-daughter tale, albeit in a very bizarre way where the rat was the mother of the cat.
Both of them were determined to reach the Emperor in time to receive his honors, but they knew that other animals were faster and stronger than they were. They agreed to work together to find the quickest path to the Emperor’s palace.
They made their way through the dense forest. When other animals lost their way, the Cat would climb to the top of a tree to get a better view. When the brush got thick and tangled, the Rat would find a way through the thorns and briars. The Cat would follow right behind while the other, larger animals had no choice but to find a path around the undergrowth.
It wasn’t long before the Rat and the Cat were in front of all the other animals, moving quickly through the trees and brush.
“We’re doing well,” said the Rat. “We’ll reach the Jade Emperor in no time!”
“Yes, but we must hurry,” said the Cat. “The others aren’t far behind!”
So the Rat and the Cat continued forward until they came to the edge of the forest. The trees opened up and soon there were no more thorns or vines in their way, but
they quickly realized they now had a new challenge to overcome. A mighty river stood between them and the palace. The Cat and the Rat froze in silence, watching the waves sweep past them.
“What should we do?” asked the Rat. “There’s no way we can get across!”
“I’m not sure,” said the Cat. “There must be a place we can cross.”
Just at that moment, they heard a great crashing sound. The Ox came out of the forest, making a path through the branches with his horns.
And just like that, her son had bulldozed his way into the story, which seemed appropriate. Samuel had always been pretty determined to get what he wanted — come trees or high water. The ox was actually a water buffalo in the Vietnamese Zodiac, but Janet decided to keep that detail to herself. Perhaps Greg was aware and would deal with that detail later.
The Ox looked at the mighty river, but decided he was strong enough to cross and began to make his way forward. The Rat and the Cat looked at each other and smiled.
“Oh hello there, Friend Ox,” said the Rat.
The Ox stopped and turned and looked down.
“Hello to you,” he said with a snort.
“That was very clever the way you made your way through the forest with your horns,” said the Rat. “Not every animal would think of that.”
The Ox looked back at the path it had cleared through the woods then turned back to the Rat.
“Yes,” said the Cat. “Your very clever and also very strong. In fact, I bet your so strong that you can cross this mighty river.”
Come on, Greg. You’re too clever to be using “your” here. She hoped for his sake and hers that his grammar wasn’t this bad when he wrote his articles for work.
The Ox turned to the river and watched the raging waters move. He was not impressed.
“Not every animal is strong enough to cross this mighty river,” said the Rat. “I think the Jade Emperor will be very impressed with you if you cross it.”
The Ox considered this and nodded in agreement.
“Yes, I think the Jade Emperor will be very impressed,” said the Cat. “There’s only one thing that would impress the Jade Emperor even more than crossing that river.”
“What’s that?” asked the Ox, who was getting slightly impatient.
“Crossing the river with us on your back,” said the Cat.
The Rat smiled in agreement. The Ox looked at the rushing river then down to the Cat and the Rat. They did seem rather small. What difference would it make if they rode on his back? He supposed ferrying two animals to the other side might impress the Emperor. Mostly he just wanted to cross and be done.
Janet put her finger to the track pad and highlighted the word “ferrying,” adding a note that it might be a bit too advanced for young readers. This part of the story also sounded vaguely familiar. Janet was fairly certain she had seen a crude illustration somewhere of the big bovine crossing the river with the rat on its back. Perhaps it was a visual metaphor for what retirement would look like when her son was grown and wealthy enough to carry her financially because he was a successful attorney or something. Okay, probably not an attorney. Samuel did like to argue, but he needed to work on something more tangible and visible. Maybe he’d be an engineer. She could almost see him as a civil engineer. Perhaps he’d follow in his mother’s footprints (or rat prints) and become an architect. She giggled at the thought.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Greg stop his relentless pacing and turn towards her. She tried to ignore him.
“As you wish,” said the Ox with a shrug.
“Many thanks, my mighty friend,” said the Rat as she scurried up the Ox’s back.
“You’ve made a wise choice,” said the Cat as she jumped up beside the Rat. “You’re strength and generosity will never be forgotten.”
Now “you’re” in the wrong place? Come on, Greg. Pick your poison.
So the Ox made its way into the river with the Rat and the Cat on its back. The current was strong, but the Ox was even stronger. It plowed ahead slowly but surely. The Rat looked forward and saw the great gate to the Emperor’s palace on the other side of the shore. The Cat looked backwards and saw the Tiger emerge from the woods. It leapt into the river with no hesitation.
“The Tiger is coming,” said the Cat.
The Rat looked back nervously, but soon saw that the river was pushing the tiger downstream. Even if it could swim faster than the Ox, it would be far from the palace gate once it reached the other side. The Rat was happy. As soon as they reached the other side, she would hop off of the Ox and go to the Emperor. She would be the first to reach him. The Ox wasn’t as fast or nimble as she was. No one was quick enough or clever enough to catch her.
No one except for the Cat.
“The Rabbit is coming as well,” said the Cat.
On the other side of the shore, the Rabbit jumped onto a stone protruding from the river. It found another stone and leapt to it. The Cat watched with fascination. Would the Rabbit make it across?
The Rat watched the Cat with anxiety. They had helped each other up to this point, but only one of them could finish first. The Rat couldn’t run as fast than the Cat. Surely, the Cat would finish first. The Rat would finish second. She would still be honored, but wouldn’t there be a special honor for the one that finished first?
“The Rabbit is stuck on a log,” said the Cat. “I don’t think she’s going to finish.”
While the Cat was distracted, the Rat pushed the Cat off of the Ox. The Cat yelped with surprise as it splashed into the water. The strong current began to carry the Cat away as it looked up at the Rat with wide eyes. After a while, it sank beneath the…
“Okay,” said Janet.
Greg’s head popped around a corner. She had planned on being gentle and civil in her critique, but this was too much.
“I don’t want our daughter reading a story where her mom pushes her into the river.”
Greg blinked.
“What?”
“The Rat drowns the Cat! And it’s a total backstab move.”
“But that’s what happens in the story,” said Greg. “I didn’t make that part up. It’s supposed to explain why cats like to chase mice. ”
“You think Hailey’s going to want to try swimming lessons again if she thinks her mom’s trying to kill her?”
“I think you’re reading too much into this. Does Hailey even know what your sign is?”
“I don’t know, but if she doesn’t, she should. I’m a rat, Greg. I happen to think I make a very good rat.”
“You didn’t even finish the story. The Cat doesn’t drown.”
“I don’t care! I mean I do care, because drowning is terrible, but the point is it almost drowns… because the Rat shoves it into the water like a conniving little bitch!”
Greg’s eyes went wide. The oxygen seemed to leave the room. It was the first time either of them had used an “adult mean word” in the house in almost six months. Thankfully none of the kids were around.
“Sorry,” said Janet.
Greg looked down at the faux wooden floor, eyes weary, jaw slack. Janet glanced at the unread text on the screen, then back at her shell-shocked husband.
“Look,” she said. “I know you’ve been working really hard on this and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, seriously, but I just… I don’t want Hailey’s animal to get double-crossed… at least not by my animal.”
“Oh, so if the Monkey pushes the Cat into the water it’s okay?”
“What? No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Greg gave her a side-eye full of judgement. Janet shook her head, shocked at his audacity. She got up from her stool and walked away.
“You wanted my thoughts, you have them,” she said over her shoulder.
“Oh, well that’s great. Very helpful.”
Janet bit her tongue and walked away, shocked at how defensive her husband had become. He’d probably pace the house for another ten minutes before he started tinkering with his keyboard again, losing himself in a cycle of sleep deprivation and caffeine fueled anxiety that would make for an especially awkward Friday morning, but that was his issue, not hers. He could make his own decisions.
She was already parenting two kids. She didn’t have time for a third.
The Cat sank into the water. It tried to scratch its way to the surface, but there was nothing to grab onto. The current moved her further and further away from the Ox. A rock slammed into her back. The Cat tried to twist around and climb up, but the stone was too slick. It slipped by as the raging waters pushed her down river. She tried to swim. She tried to move. She tried to pull her head out of the water.
Suddenly, the Cat hit something with her paw. It was a piece of wood, floating on the surface. The Cat stretched herself towards it, reaching with her claws. She found a small branch and held on. Her body felt cold and heavy, but she didn’t let go of the branch.
After a while, the current began to slow. The branch was in the middle of the river now but was nowhere near the shore. The Cat realized that if she just floated like this, she’d never reach the other side. She would just continue down the river to wherever it would go. Maybe she’d end up in an ocean.
The Cat shivered and held on. She wasn’t sure how long she could last. She saw other pieces of wood in the river, being pushed along by the current. She looked back and saw that one of them also had another animal holding on to it. A pair of ears shook slightly as the Rabbit tried not to lose its grip on the tiny branch that was holding it afloat. The Rabbit looked wet and cold and afraid. Perhaps neither one of them would finish the race.
Just then a shadow moved across the water. The Cat looked up and saw the Dragon flying overhead. It snaked through the sky like a kite. It didn’t seem fair that it could fly while all the other animals had to move through the river.
The Dragon looked down and curled its body around, flying back the way it had come. It swooped low, as if it were going to land on the shore that they had started on, but at the last moment it turned back again and flew back towards them just above the surface of the water.
It sucked in a huge gulp of air and the surface of the entire river seemed to go still for just a moment. Then it blew a gust of wind that made waves in the water. The Rabbit’s branch caught a swell and skittered along the surface. The wave would take it all the way to the other side. The Rabbit had been resc —
Violent vibrations erupted on the table. Greg glanced down at his phone. It was his mom calling from Oregon. Greg exhaled, stretched his neck, and picked it up.
“Hello.”
“Well hello there. How are you?”
She sounded like she was in good spirits. Greg tried to match her positive intonation.
“I’m doing all right. How are you?”
“Doing okay. I just had lunch with Barb and Rich. We went to that little sandwich shop in McMinnville.”
“Oh right, the one by the Olive Oil tasting place.”
“Well, sort of. It’s just around the corner from there…”
“Right, but it’s still close to it.”
“Yeah, it’s in the same area I suppose.”
Greg rolled his eyes and got up from his stool.
“Anyways, Rich and Barb said they can pick you guys up from the airport.”
“Oh no. They don’t have to do that. We’ll get a Lyft or something…”
“Well, they said it wouldn’t be a problem…”
“No, mom, really. It’s fine. That’s very nice of them, but we’ll manage…”
He got up from the counter and went to the window. Janet was out front talking to one of the neighbors. At their feet, Hailey and Samuel were crouched over a French bulldog on a leash. Greg couldn’t remember the dog’s name. It was probably Cuddles or Pancake or Jehoshaphat.
Greg wrapped up his conversation with his mom, grateful that she was being active and social and getting out of the house. He ended the call and saw that he had over a dozen texts and a few voice mails from his coworkers. Working at a local NPR station had its perks when it came to being one step ahead of the news cycle, but sometimes he needed a break from the relentless urgency of it all. He glanced at the messages. They all seemed to say something about Charleston.
Greg walked over to the living room near the entry way. The TV remote had disappeared, but it only took a minute to find it buried in the couch cushions. He turned on the TV and found a news station. Images of darkening skies and marchers with torches filled the screen.
The front door exploded open and Samuel ran in. Hailey followed seconds behind.
“Hey, slow down!” Janet yelled from somewhere out front.
The kids cut through the kitchen to the sliding door and went outside. Hailey stopped long enough to pull the door close before chasing after her brother. Janet stepped in mid sigh, then turned to Greg.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
Her expression was mute, almost unreadable.
“What are…” she started to ask.
The voice of a reporter interrupted her. Greg turned back to the TV. Tiki torches revealed flashes of Confederate flags and “Don’t Tread on Me” snakes. Angry balls of fire floated above the chanting crowd.
“You will not replace us! You will not replace us!”
Greg heard what might have been a laugh. He turned to see the kids through the sliding door. Samuel rolled a large bouncy ball, bowling over a plastic bucket and a couple of beach toys. Hailey ran to pick up the ball as Samuel reset the targets.
The unnatural light of the television pulled Greg’s eyes forward, demanding his attention. Shaky footage showed a skirmish breaking out around a rotunda. A man was thrown to the ground while others threw punches and slurs. The invisible line between protester and counter-protester snapped in the chaos. A reporter narrated a description of events, saying something about the University of Virginia, but the images seemed to carry more volume.
As state police arrived on the scene, Greg felt something near his shoulder. It was Janet’s hand. He took it in his own and looked up at her. Her eyes were still on the screen, a single tear slowly tracing the curve of her cheek. Greg gave her hand a squeeze and tried to project strength, even as a noxious sensation swelled up within. Perhaps it was outrage or despair. Maybe it was a deepening sense of helplessness in a world that was desperate for help.
Giggles caught his attention. Greg followed Janet’s eyes as she turned to the backyard. Though their sounds were muted by the sliding glass door, Hailey and Samuel could be seen plainly. They were restless and smiling, seemingly lost in a world they had made up themselves.
(To be continued…)
