Trade Me (Cyclone #1)

It hits me hard one day as we’re doing homework together before my shift. I’m not sure when we started hanging out together—it’s partially because I want to spend time with her, and she spends an inordinate amount of time doing work, and partially because as we come down to the last few weeks before the launch, there are a thousand tiny details that we have to discuss.

We’re sitting in my kitchen. She’s frowning at her computer, reading through a discussion on the Cyclone intranet. And then her phone rings.

She glances down and her face tightens. It’s scary how well I know her. She shuts her eyes and pushes back in her seat.

“Your mom?” I ask.

She nods.

Her parents call regularly, and ever since that first time, she’s let me listen silently on the calls. Her mom doesn’t always need money, but when she does, Tina always sends it. And I always pay.

I can only imagine what it must have felt like for her to feel every spare dollar—and then some she couldn’t spare—slip through her hands. I would resent it, but for me, it’s temporary. For me, this is just another form of an ultra-marathon. It feels difficult. It seems interminable. But I’m doing it to myself, and that makes it bearable in a way it wouldn’t be for her. Deep down, I know it’s going to be over.

For her? There is no end. The marathon never stops. She can’t get off. She can’t rest. It just keeps going on.

This time, her mother is calling about another friend, an appeal that will be heard in a few weeks.

“Any way you can come down?” she asks Tina. “Maybe find someone you can carpool with. Then you can come to the hearing with me.”

The other thing I’ve learned is that Tina’s mother, in her own way, is as relentless and indefatigable as my father.

Tina winds her hair around her finger. “Mom. That’s a Friday. I can’t miss class.”

But she’s already pulled up her schedule and she’s frowning at the date.

“You just have two classes on Friday. You have a test?”

“No.” Tina bites her lip. “But…”

I reach over her shoulder and type on her laptop. You should go.

“You can’t get notes from someone else?” her mother asks insistently.

“Yes, but—”

“Because this is Jimmy Ma. You used to babysit him, remember?” Tina’s mom makes a distinct clucking noise through the phone. “I told his parents to file for citizenship as soon as he turned eighteen, but did they listen? ‘Too expensive,’ they said. ‘He can do it later.’ You should come. We can show the judges he is part of a community.”

Tina types in response to me: How?

She hasn’t told her mother about the trade—unsurprisingly, given her mom’s propensity to spend other people’s money—and so it’s not like she could buy a plane ticket without occasioning questions. And driving my car down, I suspect, would lead to even larger questions. Questions like: Where’d you get a car that costs six figures?

Tina runs her hand through her hair and looks at the ceiling. “I don’t think the judges will care.”

This is met with silence. Then, her mother shifts tactics. “It could have been you. If the community hadn’t come together when your father lost his job and paid the filing fee for your citizenship, it could have been you. That is why you should come. Because it’s not just about Jimmy. It’s about all of us.”

This I did not know. Tina shuts her eyes and sets her fingers on her forehead. “Mom.”

“Was that a guilt trip? Sorry. Didn’t mean it.” Her mother sounds singularly unapologetic.

I’ll figure it out, I type. I can get you down there. Without too many awkward questions. That’s my job, right?

“It couldn’t have been me,” Tina says sarcastically. “Because—this may surprise you, Mom—I would never be found with fifteen pounds of meth in my backseat.”

“True,” her mother says. “If you ever transported methamphetamines, you would hide it under the car. Harder to find, less likely the pigs will see it if they pull you over in a traffic stop.”

Tina lets out a little snort. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“And don’t use dryer sheets, either. They confuse drug dogs, but it’s still a bad idea. All the judges say the smell gives the cops probable cause to search. Better to not raise suspicion.”

“Great.” Tina rolls her eyes. “No dryer sheets for me.”

“Just making sure. In case you decide to quit school and turn to a life of crime.”

Her mother actually sounds excited by the prospect, and based on what I’ve heard of her thus far, I suspect that she really is.

Tina rolls her eyes. “Great. When I become a drug mule, I promise that you’ll be the first person I consult.” But she’s smiling ruefully.

“So you’ll come,” her mother says excitedly. “We’ll plan your future as criminal mastermind.”

“I’ll see.”

“You’ll come.”

Tina sighs. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“Bring your boyfriend.”

“Mom. He’s not my—”

“Ah, ah. Not what Zhen says. How many times have you gone to him after work now? And so late at night, too. I don’t know what to think about you seeing your boyfriend so late.”