After quickly dealing with things at the warehouse and taking away the bodies and weapons, Lin An didn't hurry to leave. Instead, he waited on the roadside for half an hour.
He was waiting for the police, but even after half an hour, he still hadn't heard any sirens.
It looked like nobody had reported the shootout at the Abandoned Furniture Factory.
He didn't know whether the place was too remote for anyone to have heard the gunfire, or whether someone had heard it but hadn't dared to call the police, afraid of retaliation.
Lin An figured both were probably true.
Since the police hadn't come, it wasn't a big deal. He'd leave it at that. Lin An still had things to do.
After lunch, Darnell rode his bicycle with Lin An on the back, taking him to O'Brien's home. When they arrived, Lin An told Darnell to wait outside while he went in to get to work.
There were two simple reasons he didn't bring Darnell along. First, someone had to keep an eye on the bicycle so nobody stole it.
Second, Darnell was a Black guy, and one who looked far too old for his age at that. He wasn't the sort of person who should go to a police officer's home... It could easily lead to a misunderstanding.
So, for both Darnell and O'Brien's sake, Darnell was better off staying put on the street to watch the bicycle. Besides, he really wasn't keen on visiting the home of a white police officer.
Lin An gave Darnell two hundred dollars to go shopping, then went to knock on O'Brien's door.
There wasn't much to say about knocking and going inside. O'Brien's problem had already been figured out yesterday; today, Lin An was there to gather evidence and fill out an amended tax return on his computer.
Everything went smoothly, without a hitch. As long as O'Brien attached the supporting documents and mailed them to the IRS, the final result would definitely change from "$2,300 in taxes owed" to "the IRS owes you a $325 refund."
O'Brien was incredibly grateful. He personally saw Lin An to the door, but just as Lin An was about to leave, O'Brien hesitated, then spoke up.
"Dr. Lin An, I was wondering when you might be free?"
"Hmm? What is it?"
"My friend, the police officer you've met, Patrick—he's having some tax problems too. I was wondering when you might have some time..."
"Tomorrow."
Lin An said.
"Thanks for inviting me to the shooting range on Saturday. I also need to go to the police station tomorrow... Like I said before, I lost my documents. The school told me I need to replace my passport and visa as soon as possible, or they won't send me my letter of admission."
Lin An scratched his head, pretending to look troubled.
"That's a bit of a hassle."
"No problem, Dr. Lin An."
At that, O'Brien thumped his chest and promised:
"I have some pull at the 103rd Precinct. We can get everything done in a day and get you a report number card."
"Oh, thank you very much."
"Don't mention it, sir."
By the time the door closed and Lin An headed outside, dusk had fallen. Darnell was straddling his Roadster Bicycle at the roadside, waiting for him so they could go home together.
[This old cop has zero social skills. The streamer did him such a huge favor, and he didn't even offer to keep him for dinner.]
[Come on. If he had any social skills, he wouldn't still be a patrolman.]
[LOL, just put up with it, streamer. You chose to help this old cop.]
[Being bad at socializing has its perks, of course. He can deal with the downsides too. The streamer has his own agenda, after all.]
The kitchen had an old-fashioned fluorescent tube. It flickered twice before lighting up, giving off a faint buzzing sound.
Mary Washington stood at the stove with her back to the living room, stirring the onions in the pan with a wooden spatula. She'd just gotten off work and still had her nurse's shoes on.
She was forty-three that year, though she looked fifty. Her hair was neatly braided and tied behind her head, with a few wisps stuck to her temples by sweat.
Busy as she was, she heard the door open but didn't turn around.
"Darnell, your shoes."
Darnell had just stepped inside with one foot. At her words, he immediately drew it back, bent down, and took off his sneakers, setting them neatly by the door.
Once inside, he glanced back at Lin An.
Lin An had already taken off his shoes and was holding them in his hands, standing on the doormat.
Mary turned around.
The first thing she looked at wasn't Lin An's face, but his feet... He was barefoot on the doormat, shoes in hand, and hadn't stepped on the floor she'd just mopped.
Only then did her gaze move upward.
The living-room light shone from behind Lin An. She saw a slender Asian boy, a little over five foot seven, standing between the dim hallway and the bright living room, like a sharply defined shadow that had suddenly appeared in an overexposed photograph.
His features were delicate, his lines clean, and he had a pleasant-looking smile on his face.
That smile made Mary pause. There was something in it she rarely saw in this neighborhood... courtesy.
"Hello, Ms. Washington."
Lin An said, his voice quiet and clear.
"Thank you very much for letting me stay in your home. Darnell is a very good person. You've raised him well."
The wooden spatula in Mary's hand hovered in midair as the onions sizzled in the background.
She'd met plenty of Darnell's friends... kids who walked in with their shoes on the rug, tossed their backpacks onto the sofa, opened the fridge and grabbed a soda for themselves. Their mouths were as sweet as honey, but their eyes were never well-behaved.
This boy was different.
He stood at the door, waiting for her to say, "Come in."
"Come in."
Mary said.
"There's juice in the fridge."
"Thank you."
Lin An stepped inside and put his shoes on the bottom shelf of the shoe rack, beside Darnell's old basketball shoes.
By then, Darnell had already slipped into the kitchen and lifted the lid to peek into the pot.
"Mom, pasta again?"
"If you don't want it, you can go eat somewhere else."
Mary's voice wasn't loud, but Darnell immediately ducked his head.
"I want it, I want it."
Darnell quickly put the lid back, turned around, and took a carton of orange juice from the fridge. He poured three glasses... The first went to his mother, the second he set on the table by Lin An, and the third he drank half of in one gulp.
Mary watched the order in which he'd set down the glasses of orange juice, shook her head, then turned back to put the pasta in the pot. She took a can of tuna from the cupboard, opened it, and mixed it into the tomato sauce.
There wasn't enough meat for an extra person.
Her movements were brisk. She'd clearly been cooking for over a decade; every motion was precise and economical. She didn't even blink while chopping onions.
Lin An stood by the kitchen doorway. He didn't sit down or come in and get in the way, just stayed in a spot where he wouldn't be a nuisance.
"Would you like a hand?"
He asked.
Mary glanced at him.
"Can you cook?"
"A little."
Lin An said.
"Back in China, I sometimes cooked for myself."
"Then set the table."
"Sure."
After staying there for two or three days, Lin An knew where the cupboard was. He opened it and took out three plates, three bowls, and three sets of knives and forks.
The plates were different colors, two of the bowls had chips, and the stainless-steel cutlery included a few bent pieces.
He arranged them on the table, lining them up neatly, with the knives and forks to the left of the plates and the bowls to the right.
Mary turned around with the pot in her hands, saw the table setting, and paused again.
The cutlery was on the left. She'd never taught Darnell that, because he ate with a spoon or just used his hands.
"Did your family run a restaurant?"
She asked.
"No."
Lin An pulled out a chair for her to set the pot down.
"But someone's teaching me."
[LOL]
[That's right, we're the ones teaching him.]
At dinner, Darnell did all the talking.
He spoke like he was performing stand-up comedy... He scooped up a mouthful of pasta and stuffed it into his mouth, then started talking about the day before he'd finished chewing. His cheeks were stuffed, and his voice was muffled, but he spoke just as fast.
"Mom, we went to see the homeless people today... Bro's a really good guy. He's planning to hire the homeless people to work and give them food and clothes... Then, once they earn some money, he'll split it with them...
"And we went to a cop's house just now. Bro's a genius. He knows how to deal with taxes. Mom, show Bro our bills later. He knows what to do. He can help us pay less to the IRS..."
Mary didn't say anything.
She just turned one of the chicken legs over in the pot so the sauce would coat it more evenly.
Darnell's words passed through her ears like TV commercials: loud, but not a single word made it into her head.
She knew her own son better than anyone.
She'd taken Darnell back from his father when he was ten, and he'd already talked like this back then.
Seven out of every ten things he said were boasts, two were nonsense, and the last might be true—but you had to guess from the context.
His stepfather had once said this while he was still alive:
"That kid'll either grow up to be a salesman or a con man. We'll see what God has in mind."
As things stood, God still hadn't made up his mind.
Mary dished out the chicken legs onto three plates, two large and one small.
She hesitated for a second, then set the two large ones beside Darnell's and Lin An's bowls, and the small one beside her own.
As she turned around with the pot, she saw Lin An sitting at the table with his back very straight and his hands on his knees, waiting for her to sit down.
That posture made her heart ache for a moment.
She'd worked at a nursing home for many years and had seen countless old people sitting on the edge of their beds just like that, backs straight, hands on their knees, waiting for a caregiver to bring them food.
It wasn't because they were well-mannered.
It was because they were living in someone else's home.
Mary sat down and picked up her fork. Only when Lin An saw her move did he pick up his own.
Darnell was still talking.
[The streamer is such a good actor. Look at that Black lady's expression.]
[Why doesn't the streamer go to Hollywood? His acting is incredible.]
[I'm kind of grossed out. What do I do?]
Unaware of the bullet screen, Mary put a piece of onion in her mouth and chewed slowly.
She looked at Darnell, her eighteen-year-old son with a thirty-eight-year-old face. He talked with his hands, and half a strand of pasta flew off his fork and dangled over the edge of the table. He didn't even notice.
Then she looked at Lin An.
Lin An was listening to Darnell, the same smile on his lips, his gaze attentive and clear.
It was nice. Her silly boy had really made a polite, good friend.
Mary lowered her head and twirled the pasta in her bowl into a neat ball. Her fingers were a little thick around the joints from years of work at the nursing home, and she didn't hold her fork quite right, but her movements were deft: one turn, two turns, three turns. Just the right size for one bite.
"Mom."
Darnell suddenly lowered his voice, adopting a conspiratorial tone.
"Do you think Bro's pretty impressive?"
Mary chewed her pasta and glanced at him.
"He's more impressive than you."
"Of course. Everyone in the world is more impressive than me. I mean..."
"Eat."
Mary brought the pasta on her fork to her mouth.
"It's getting cold."
Darnell pouted and lowered his head to take a mouthful of pasta, then mumbled,
"I just meant, now that Bro's here, shouldn't we... what's that word... upgrade things at home?"
"Upgrade what?"
"Upgrade... our quality of life? You know, he can do taxes, he can talk to cops, and he can even..."
[Even though Darnell looks old and likes to brag, his family really does have a warm atmosphere.]
[His mom is a good person, and his younger sister is a hardworking student who studies seriously and works to support herself.]
[I'm kind of jealous of Darnell, even though he's Black.]
Before you continue