Carolina.”
“Really?” She doesn’t sound the least bit Southern. “Is it hard being away from your mom?”
“Not really. I mean, I miss her a lot, but we talk on the phone once a week, and I visit during holidays. In a way, distance doesn’t matter. When you’re close, distance can’t tear you apart. Likewise, if you’re not close, then living close by won’t bring you together. At any rate, consider Scripps. I think it will be a good match for you. Either way, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation.”
Suddenly, Ms. Taylor’s car starts to lose control. It swerves back and forth, unable to stay within the lane.
“What’s going on?” Ms. Taylor says as she grips the steering wheel.
I hear rumbling and crumbling sounds outside the car. Moments later, it is over. Ms. Taylor turns on the radio. A newscaster announces that there has been an earthquake.
Ms. Taylor swears under her breath. I’m too shaken to be shocked by her language. “Is your mom home?” she asks me.
“Yes,” I reply. As I stare at the houses along Balboa Street, I remind myself that all the homes in our area are still standing, even if their brick facades have fallen into piles on the ground. There are no fires or explosions. As long as our building is stillintact, my mother should be fine. But I can’t be completely sure. Suddenly, I’m gripped with the fear that our apartment has collapsed and my mother is crushed under the rubble. I picture her smashed body in a pool of blood, her arms, legs, and head angled in unnatural positions.
Finally, we arrive at my apartment. To my relief, it looks more or less the same, still three stories, windows intact. As Ms. Taylor pulls into the driveway, I notice a white piece of paper stuck to the metal gate. I get out of Ms. Taylor’s car and notice that my name is on the note. I open it. It is in Theresa’s careful script. It reads:
Auntie Gracie is at our house. We’re okay. Come over without Ms. Taylor
.
“What is it?” Ms. Taylor calls through her rolled-down window.
“My mom’s at Theresa’s house,” I say.
“Great. Let’s drive over.”
“No. You’ve spent too much time on me already.”
“I’ve spent an extra couple of hours. What’s another few minutes?”
“Um, I need to walk. It’s only a couple blocks.”
“If something falls on you along the way, I’m going to feel responsible.”
“You’re not responsible,” I insist. “I need the air. To clear my head. It’s just a couple of blocks. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
I nod and start walking away.
Ms. Taylor drives alongside me. I wish she would just drive away. I am nervous that Mom or Nellie will notice her from Nellie’s front window. Ms. Taylor doesn’t pull away until I reach Theresa’s home. Before I can ring the doorbell, Auntie Nellie opens the door.
“Wah! Fei Ting! We’ve been so worried!”
Moments later, Theresa and Mom are hobbling down the stairs. Theresa is propping Mom up as she descends the steep, pink-carpeted steps. Mom is hunched over, clutching her abdomen. Once she reaches the foot of the stairs, she grabs my arms and weeps.
Then Nellie starts pushing us inside. “Don’t stay outside! It’s dangerous!” Even when Nellie is calm, she sounds like she is shouting. Now that she’s excited, my ears are ringing. Theresa and Nellie take Mom by the arms and help her up the curving stairs. I follow closely. Once we’re upstairs, Theresa and Nellie help Mom settle down at the dining table. I remain standing, unable to endure the luxury of sitting. To my surprise, the floors are clean. The only way I can tell that an earthquake has passed is by the open kitchen cabinets, which are half full. The rest of the dishes and bowls must have fallen and broken and been cleared away.
Nellie says, “Let’s make tea.”
“You can’t use the gas stove, Mom,” Theresa says.
“Oh.” Then Nellie begins flipping the light switches on and off. “Hey! The lights
“Really?” She doesn’t sound the least bit Southern. “Is it hard being away from your mom?”
“Not really. I mean, I miss her a lot, but we talk on the phone once a week, and I visit during holidays. In a way, distance doesn’t matter. When you’re close, distance can’t tear you apart. Likewise, if you’re not close, then living close by won’t bring you together. At any rate, consider Scripps. I think it will be a good match for you. Either way, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation.”
Suddenly, Ms. Taylor’s car starts to lose control. It swerves back and forth, unable to stay within the lane.
“What’s going on?” Ms. Taylor says as she grips the steering wheel.
I hear rumbling and crumbling sounds outside the car. Moments later, it is over. Ms. Taylor turns on the radio. A newscaster announces that there has been an earthquake.
Ms. Taylor swears under her breath. I’m too shaken to be shocked by her language. “Is your mom home?” she asks me.
“Yes,” I reply. As I stare at the houses along Balboa Street, I remind myself that all the homes in our area are still standing, even if their brick facades have fallen into piles on the ground. There are no fires or explosions. As long as our building is stillintact, my mother should be fine. But I can’t be completely sure. Suddenly, I’m gripped with the fear that our apartment has collapsed and my mother is crushed under the rubble. I picture her smashed body in a pool of blood, her arms, legs, and head angled in unnatural positions.
Finally, we arrive at my apartment. To my relief, it looks more or less the same, still three stories, windows intact. As Ms. Taylor pulls into the driveway, I notice a white piece of paper stuck to the metal gate. I get out of Ms. Taylor’s car and notice that my name is on the note. I open it. It is in Theresa’s careful script. It reads:
Auntie Gracie is at our house. We’re okay. Come over without Ms. Taylor
.
“What is it?” Ms. Taylor calls through her rolled-down window.
“My mom’s at Theresa’s house,” I say.
“Great. Let’s drive over.”
“No. You’ve spent too much time on me already.”
“I’ve spent an extra couple of hours. What’s another few minutes?”
“Um, I need to walk. It’s only a couple blocks.”
“If something falls on you along the way, I’m going to feel responsible.”
“You’re not responsible,” I insist. “I need the air. To clear my head. It’s just a couple of blocks. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
I nod and start walking away.
Ms. Taylor drives alongside me. I wish she would just drive away. I am nervous that Mom or Nellie will notice her from Nellie’s front window. Ms. Taylor doesn’t pull away until I reach Theresa’s home. Before I can ring the doorbell, Auntie Nellie opens the door.
“Wah! Fei Ting! We’ve been so worried!”
Moments later, Theresa and Mom are hobbling down the stairs. Theresa is propping Mom up as she descends the steep, pink-carpeted steps. Mom is hunched over, clutching her abdomen. Once she reaches the foot of the stairs, she grabs my arms and weeps.
Then Nellie starts pushing us inside. “Don’t stay outside! It’s dangerous!” Even when Nellie is calm, she sounds like she is shouting. Now that she’s excited, my ears are ringing. Theresa and Nellie take Mom by the arms and help her up the curving stairs. I follow closely. Once we’re upstairs, Theresa and Nellie help Mom settle down at the dining table. I remain standing, unable to endure the luxury of sitting. To my surprise, the floors are clean. The only way I can tell that an earthquake has passed is by the open kitchen cabinets, which are half full. The rest of the dishes and bowls must have fallen and broken and been cleared away.
Nellie says, “Let’s make tea.”
“You can’t use the gas stove, Mom,” Theresa says.
“Oh.” Then Nellie begins flipping the light switches on and off. “Hey! The lights
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