I have grudging respect for that. “I thought it was Todd.”
She shakes her head. “He went away after Sam sent him a copy of the dossier he had the detective collect on his behavior. Sam also warned him that he would be watching to see if he treated other women poorly.”
Some good news at least. The final bit of tension that had sat under my skin about Todd loosens. I don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s a repulsive little worm but at least he won’t be taking his inadequacies out on other women.
I suddenly see that I’d stood up without noticing and sit down because I need all my energy to process what she’s saying. “I don’t understand why you did this. Why did you want me gone?”
Mei is silent. We never had a close relationship but don’t I deserve a reason why she hated me? I think back over our interactions. I did my best to be good to work with, eventually. I tried to be polite and friendly. Had I overstepped when I asked her for help?
Then I remember the way she shut the door when she gave me the umbrella for my date with Sam. When she saw us holding hands. Even before that, her face, watching Sam as he entered a room. I should have recognized it, because it was so close to how mine must have looked.
Dear God, it wasn’t me at all. She was in love with Sam? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her but I freeze. Despite what she’s done, the question is too intrusive for me to say out loud and it’s too egotistical to ask, Did you try to wreck my life because you thought I was a rival for Sam?
“What did Fangli say?” I say instead.
Her eyes fill with tears. “She said she understood but I’d have to leave.”
Makes sense. “Did she forgive you?”
Mei nods.
Of course she did, damn her generous heart. If Fangli can forgive that kind of betrayal from someone she trusted, so can I. Deep down, I’m tired. I don’t have the strength to be angry at Mei. It happened. I can’t reverse time and make her not pick up the phone. She’s going back to China and we’ll never see each other again. I want to be free of all the negative parts of this experience, and topping that list is ZZTV and all things ZZTV-adjacent.
“Thank you. For telling me.” I take a breath. “It’s fine.” It’s not, but saying I forgive you is so ponderous, like a crime boss excusing a subordinate confessing a massive cock-up.
Mei bows her head and stands, and I do as well. Now that she’s had the pleasure of unburdening her sins, I want her out of my house. I pity her but I don’t want her around me in case she adds more to my emotional dogpile.
She’s gone quickly and I collapse on the couch, walk forgotten.
It was Mei. I text Anjali.
Anjali: I’m in a meeting but is she in the games room with the dagger?
Me: nice. She told ZZTV. It was Fangli’s assistant. I think she did it because she was in love with Sam.
Anjali: That is seriously messed up. Toxic. Dudes aren’t worth that shit.
Me: Said she was sorry. Came to my house.
Anjali: Oh that takes guts. What’s your move.
Anjali: No answer?
Anjali: Radio silence cool cool. I’m up to present at this meeting and when I’m back I want to hear some Eppy-level planning
I don’t reply because I’ve pulled over my computer to look at Eppy. I highlight Call Fangli and tell her about Mom. This might have been one of my Don’t Think, Do tasks but I’ve been Think, Don’t Doing. Then I add another: Tell Sam I might have jumped to conclusions. My chest clenches at the idea that the Sam ship has sailed and my ticket lies in tatters on the pier.
Eppy is a great planner but I wish it had a module for how to approach this kind of emotional obstacle course.
I pull out my phone and my newsfeed comes on my screen before I can tap for the texting app. I want to give Fangli time to decide her response and a call puts her on the spot. “Exclusive wedding news,” the headline blares.
Fangli and Sam smile out at the camera.
I click on the story before I can help myself, and it’s what the headline promises. Actors Wei Fangli and Sam Yao will be married before the end of the year. Quotes from sources about how they’ve been in love since drama school punctuate long paragraphs about Sam’s film royalty lineage. Another photo features the two of them, except it’s me in a black dress smiling at Sam, not Fangli.
My body chills as I stare at the photo. Marriage? It makes sense, I tell myself. Lili’s interference obviously only hastened the inevitable. After all, neither of them had absolutely rejected the idea of getting married, and Sam had seemed fatalistic about his mother’s plans. Obviously they’ve known each other for a long time and Sam would do anything for Fangli and…what a mess this is. I curl up on the chair. What a fucking mess but I can’t run away from it. Despite this update about their relationship status, I need to contact them.
Don’t think, do.
I grab the notepad and move over to the kitchen table.
Fangli is first and easiest because talking to her was always comfortable. I decide that even with the news about the marriage, I can’t keep what I’ve learned about Mom a secret. She can decide what to do with the information, whether she wants to believe me or not. The text I send to her now unblocked number is simple and to the point—an apology for leaving her and that I know the truth about ZZTV from Mei. I tell her I might have some information about her mother, if she’d like to know. That I miss her.
I’m not usually this open with feelings but I want to restart on the right foot if she’ll let me. I decide to not mention her engagement because every time I write it out, the sentence sounds painfully passive-aggressive. I’ll do that in person if she wants to meet.
I read this block of text over about twelve times and then send it.
The second one is harder, and I decide to send a hello to commit myself before I get into the nitty-gritty.
Hi, Sam.
It bounces back.
I stare at the message in disbelief. Not in service? Here I am, about to take an emotional leap into the unknown, and the number doesn’t work. Even if I had been tentative before, now I’m desperate to get Sam this message, if only to get it done with.
I don’t have his email. Do I? I open up my email to look and find an interview request from the South China Morning Post.
As I’m reading it, the notification bar drops down to announce a message from the BBC. CNN Asia pops up a moment later.
They’re not about my impersonating Fangli. They’re about Eppy.
Now almost frantic, I grab my laptop and check my website and check it again. Yesterday, my downloads were exactly twenty-six. Now it’s been downloaded over twenty thousand times.
What the hell happened?
It’s too much for me to take in and time slows to a crawl. I need to get back to these people but what do I say? Is this all a big accident? It must be. A great joke on Gracie.
You don’t believe in yourself.
I open my laptop and read the emails carefully. They all say the same thing, that Sam Yao swears by this method and it’s now a trend in China. They want to talk to me about my philosophy and what I want to achieve. They want me to walk through why Eppy is different.
Sam plugged Eppy. Why?
Because it works and it’s good. I might not believe in myself yet, but I believe in Eppy.
I’m not ready but I can do this.
The first thing I do is try to find what Sam’s said. It takes some digging but I eventually find a tweet translated from Weibo, the Chinese microblog.
No way I could keep organized without Eppy. Swear by it to keep productive.
It links to my website. That’s it, but I guess when you’re Sam Yao with millions of followers, that’s enough. The retweets on Twitter alone are over forty thousand, and I have to do some breathing practices to keep calm. This is what I wanted, after all. I believe in this.