Buddha Baby (25 page)

Dustin laughed. "You're up late, Miss Goody Two Shoes. What are you doing?"

She would've died if he made fun of her artistic aspirations, so she said, "Um, I'm getting ready for bed."

"Really? Then let's get back to my original question. What do you wear when you go to sleep?"

"Darling, that's not for you to know."

"Hmm. 'Darling.' I like that. Is that what you call… him?" Lindsey walked into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed. "That's none of your business," she said. In spite of herself, she was enjoying this conversation.

"You don't sound very sleepy," Dustin said. "And I think you might be thirsty. Want to meet?"

Lindsey thought for a moment. She was already in her jam-mies and her fuzzy slippers.

"Hmm," Dustin added, "I can tell that you want to. Come on, just one drink. We'll meet in a public place so you can be sure I won't put the moves on you. I'll even come to your neighborhood. I'll be in that place on the corner from you in, like, fifteen minutes. Okay?"

He hung up before she could answer, so now she felt like she had to go. Deep down inside she was glad to have the deci-sion made for her so she didn't quite have to admit to herself that she did, in fact, want to meet him. She kicked off her slippers excitedly, and quickly changed her clothes.

As she walked to the corner bar, she kept her eyes peeled in case she might get mugged. She realized that it had been a while since she had to be so wary. Other than walking to work, if she ever went anywhere it was usually with Michael. Plus, they mostly stayed at home. When had she gotten so used to having a guy around that now she felt vulnerable without him? When she was single she used to walk around alone all the time and didn't feel like such a scaredy-cat. When did she become such a chicken?

Standing outside the bar, she hesitated before going in. She and Michael hardly ever went out to bars anymore, but instead bought liquor at Beverages and More or Trader Joe's and made their own drinks in the kitchen. The festive string of lights and the laughter from within the bar reminded her of being single. Even the smell of stale beer made her feel kind of thrilled to be out, faced with an evening of possibilities ahead. She went inside.

Dustin was sitting at the bar with a sleazy, road-dog kind of gal slobbering all over him. She was leaning on his shoulder in her skanky, purposely ripped tank top when Dustin saw Lindsey come in. He turned to the boozehound and said, "Sorry, honey. My wife just got here."

He picked up two drinks from the bar and led Lindsey to a table in the corner.

"Here," he said, handing her a blended margarita with salt on the glass edge. "I figured you liked girlie drinks. It's mango."

"Thanks," she said, and sat down. She looked around the place as she took off her coat, and without looking at Dustin, she knew his eyes were on her.

"We're the only Asians in here," he said, scanning the room confidently. "Where do all the twentysomething Chinese kids hang out, anyway?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You're asking
me
?"

Dustin took a sip of his drink. "Well you must have
some
Asian friends."

She gave him a deadpan stare. After a moment he said, "Yeah, me neither," and they both laughed.

"Actually," she said, "I have one friend, Mimi. But she's in Europe, hanging out with her boyfriend, Duan. He's touring with his Van Halen cover band."

"Oh-kaay," Dustin replied, raising his eyebrows at the concept of such a thing. After another moment he said, "So. If we were two Chinese people looking to hang out with other Chinese people… where would we go?"

Lindsey thought for a second, then replied, "There's some Korean nightclubs. Also, I think there's, like, a whole circuit of Asian parties, and once you get invited to one of them, you get invited to all of them. My brother, Kevin, goes to them sometimes."

"How come you don't go?"

"Well… no one ever asked me. And Kevin certainly doesn't want his baby sister hanging around. God forbid I see him smoking, which he thinks is a big secret, but he always reeks of smoke, so much that even my parents know."

"What, are they, like, house parties?"

"No, they're like organized, moving clubs, I think. Sometimes they're in bars. I think there's even a cover charge."

Dustin finished his drink and was now twirling the glass in his hand. She caught herself staring at his smooth skin, and looked away. Sneaking another peek at his perfectly symmetrical features, she wondered if he waxed his eyebrows.

"Well," he said, "other than those parties, where do they meet?"

"What do you mean 'they'? We're two Chinese people and we're here. How does anyone meet?"

"Urn, hello? We met in sixth grade. I'm talking about regular Chinese people. Ones who don't like Kraftwerk or go around hitting other kids with their lunchboxes… people who have regular jobs, not just freeloaders who hang out at esoteric motorcycle shows or spend their days refilling holy water decanters in their former third-grade classrooms."

Lindsey was aware that she was smiling at Dustin. She couldn't help it. Something about him made her feel simultaneously at ease, but also a little giddy. She hated that she found him so handsome that she could barely keep her eyes off him. Her own behavior was embarrassing. Wasn't she a decent person who should be above ogling? For a second she imagined what it must be like to be a respectable man who suddenly found himself drooling over a picture of Lindsay Lohan. As she scolded herself in her head, she was shaken from her own thoughts when Dustin said something.

"What?" she said, not hearing him.

Dustin laughed at her. "I said, 'You're staring.'"

She felt her face flush. Quickly recovering, she said, "What were we talking about?"

He looked at her with a bemused expression. "I don't remember. All I can think about is how you might look… with your clothes… off."

She wasn't sure if she should act offended or fire back a snappy comment. Once again, Dustin had her tongue-tied.

Finally, she said, "We've had our one drink. I guess it's time to go."

As Dustin walked Lindsey back to her apartment, she felt all at once nervous, sneaky, and excited. It had been a while since she'd been around such blatant flirting as Dustin's, and she felt both flattered and guilty to be the recipient of it.

It was all harmless fun. It's not like she was going to ask him inside or do anything with him. She told herself this thing with Dustin was just a silly trifle between friends. It had no bearing on her status as a fiancee. She reminded herself that Michael had recently gone to the DMV to register her car for her so she didn't have to stand in line with anyone scuzzy. Now
that
was true love.

At her door, she held out her hand for Dustin to shake. Slipping his smooth fingers around hers, he shook her hand and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

She was pleasantly surprised. He was going to act like a gentleman, after all. But then, his hand still on hers, he stepped close and pressed his mouth against her ear. His hot breath against her neck, he whispered, "Think of me when you take your clothes off tonight." And with that, he turned away and did not look back.

The last day of school at St. Maude's was always reserved for a field trip to the natural history museum. Lindsey had skipped breakfast that morning because she was running behind, and later, in the school office, she was organizing permission slips when Sister Constance approached her desk.

"Lindsey, we're short one chaperone for today's excursion. Would you mind taking half the third-grade class? Oh, and we are certainly hoping that you will be bringing your grandmother to this year's summer jubilee."

She agreed to chaperone the field trip, then asked, "What jubilee?"

"No one has told you? We are organizing an alumni reunion to celebrate the two-hundredth anniversary of St. Maude's being torn to pieces by a pack of wild dogs. Also, we're taking this great opportunity to welcome back any lapsed Catholics to show them how progressive the church is now. We now advocate only lenient corporal punishment in the classroom. Also, the school is currently voting on whether to allow pepperoni pizza on Fridays during Lent. With enrollment down and the Sunday pews empty, we want to entice the wayward sheep back to the flock, and maybe their children will join us too. Which reminds me, we'll need your help with the food, and I do have names for you to call from our list of missing Chinese alumni. Can't hunt them down anywhere. Everyone who's ever been a student here is invited to the jubilee, so it would be a pity if they weren't included. Which is why you must bring your grandmother. She'll be a distinguished guest as one of the oldest survivors—I mean, graduates—from the missionary era."

Sister Constance reminded her to meet the third graders by the foyer in ten minutes, at oh-nine-hundred-hours, and then she squeaked away in her small-footed nun shoes.

Rubberbanding the last of the permission slips, Lindsey broke out into a sweat.
Everyone who's ever been a student here is invited to the jubilee
. That meant Yun Yun. That meant the Lost Chinese Children. That meant Dustin. She thought to herself, "It's been fifteen years since sixth grade. Now I'm helping to organize a reunion where I'll be expected to publicly kowtow to Sister Constance, make my grandmother proud, tend to the needs of Beethoven, the autistic guinea pig, and keep my hands off Dustin Lee. All righty."

It was not going to be pretty.

At 9:30 A.M., Lindsey was shepherding a gaggle of munchkins across Oak Street. The city was still enduring its heatwave, and Lindsey could feel her clothes already sticking to her as she shielded her eyes from the sunlight bouncing off the shiny leaves of the trees that lined the Panhandle. Hurrying the giddy students through the intersection, her stomach growled as she anticipated a day of chasing kids, breaking up shoving matches, and cleaning peanut butter from gooey fingers.

Ahead of her group were the second and first graders, and far in the distance she could see the kindergartners, led by Sister Boniface, clearly visible as she waved an Irish flag as a marker for the teachers who were bringing up the rear. At the entrance of the museum she spotted hundreds of students from various other schools lined up for what must have been a free admission day. As the St. Maude's contingent clustered by the handicap ramp, the black-cloaked nuns kept everyone together, performing their round-up job like a cranky band of nipping border collies.

After some instructions from Sister Constance, Lindsey gathered her half of the third graders from the ramp and led them inside the museum. The students were excited to be in "free dress" today, but Lindsey worried about how she would keep track of them all without their uniforms to remind her which kids belonged to St. Maude's. She made them all hold hands, then ushered them into the planetarium.

As the lights dimmed, Lindsey shushed some loudmouths and warned others about kicking the backs of the seats in front of them. Once they settled down, they all sank into a state of wonder as the night sky materialized above them and the volunteer at the lectern talked them through the southern constellations. Lindsey enjoyed the show as much as the kids did, and when the presentation ended and the lights gradually brought them back to daylight, they all filed out of the auditorium more mellow than when they entered.