a n A m e r i c a n G i r l

1. A sort of homecoming


“So what have you been up to?”

“Pretty busy, actually.” Claire says as she sips from a handle-less Chinese ceramic teacup, and places it back on the plastic tablecloth that covers the table. “After graduating, I needed a change of scenery, you know, since I grew up in the shadow of Adeline and all.”

Harriet nods. Her and Claire both attended Adeline College as undergraduates. Claire’s father is a professor of engineering at the college, and against her better judgement, Claire decided to attend to get a degree in psychology. There comes a time in every young adult’s life when they must move away from home, and Claire passed that up when she chose to go to Adeline.

Claire continues: “So I got as far away from California as I could. And I went, as you know, to Washington to get my masters. After that, I got the job I have now.” Claire looks around the crowded Chinese restaurant that her and Harriet are sitting in. Located in the heart of Chinatown, it’s filled with boisterous Chinese men and women of all ages. Aside from herself and Harriet, there are only three other Caucasians in the room. Once upon a time, this bothered her. But she’d overcome her self-centeredness since then. Claire raises her voice a bit to speak over the clamor. “I’m traveling a lot, seeing different kids mostly in DC, some in Maryland. Intake assessments for enrollment in the institute.”

“How old are the kids?” asks Harriet.

“They range from three to eight. Adorable little things.” Claire smiles.

“That’s great. I wish I could work with kids,” says Harriet. “But you know me, always out for the big bucks.” The two giggle. “Tell me about this conference you’re in town for.”

“It’s a national conference on gifted children. People from all around the world are coming to talk about different education programs, crap like that. Boring stuff mostly. But it was here in San Francisco, so I figured why not? See some old friends, you know, see the parents.”

They sit without speaking for a moment as their soup arrives. “So how’d you hear about this place?” inquires Harriet.

“Garrett used to bring me here a lot,” explains Claire. “He thought I was missing out on the whole ‘Chinese restaurant experience’ by growing up with all those places in the ‘burbs. He wanted me to see the real-life Chinatown. I used to give him shit for being so proud of his heritage, yet he had me, his blue-eyed Irish girlfriend. I kept telling him that he should have a lovely Asian girl instead. And I always thought that he was more “American” than me. Anyways, the food here is incredible, and I eventually got over the neurosis of being the only white girl in the room. Good ol’ Lucky Chu’s. I’ve missed this place.”

“I don’t mean to open up old wounds,” says Harriet, “but you never filled me in on what happened between you and Garrett.”

Claire knew that eventually it would come to this. She could never visit with an old friend from Adeline without having to recount her breakup with Garrett. “It’s pretty simple. I went to DC, and he stayed in California,” she says. “He grew up in San Francisco. His heart was here in the Bay Area. He had roots here. He wasn’t ready or willing to pack up and leave. God knows I wanted him to come more than anything.” Harriet nods in understanding. “And God knows he wanted me to stay. After being together for three years, our lives started heading in two different directions.”

“Ya know what,” interjects Harriet, “You guys were great together.”

“We sure were,” muses Claire. A familiar tinge of regret zips through her body.

“I can’t believe you let that one go. He was a keeper. Cute too, I might add.”

“Thanks for reminding me what a fuck-up I am, Harriet.” Their smiles erupt in laughter.

“Have you heard from him lately?” asks Harriet.

“Nope. We talked on the phone for half a year or so after I moved out to the East. But we just drifted off. I met someone out there, and I think that was really the last straw for him, as far as I was concerned. After that, he simply wanted nothing to do with me. I’ve still got his parents’ number, though. I might give them a call tomorrow to find out where he is.”

Claire thinks about something that Garrett said to her. Every trail of crumbs leads straight back to you, dear, he told her one day as they drove, dusk descending over a quiet stretch of Middlefield Road. She believed it. After all these years, she still believes it. She knows that she’ll be able to find him, to see him again. Subconsciously, it was the main reason why she came back to San Francisco.

Claire adds: “You haven’t talked to Seth lately, have you?”

Harriet seems taken off-guard by the apparent change of subject. “Sure. He’s working a few blocks away from me, downtown. We meet for lunch every week or so. Why?”

“I left a message at his place a couple of months ago when I found out I was going to be in town for this conference. He called back, and left me a weird message.”

“What’d he say?” Harriet’s bewilderment, as well as her curiosity, blossoms.

“He told me to get ahold of the Chronicle. He mentioned something about a picture of Garrett being in it or an article or something like that. But he didn’t give me a date, and I was so busy that I just didn’t have time to find the paper or get ahold of Seth.”

“Hmmmm. Garrett Garrett Garrett. Garrett Chen. Sethhhhh,” ponders Harriet. She squints her eyes slightly and looks at the ceiling. Claire can tell that Harriet is scouring her memory for any sort of mention of Garrett from Seth. “Nope. Nothing. Seth never said anything to me.”

“Well, whatever,” says Claire. “I guess Garrett’s doing something good with his life if he’s getting ink in the Chronicle. I always knew he’d be busy making a difference in the world.”

The conversation is interrupted as the waiter brings the first course of the meal. He dishes out food to both of the women, and Claire continues the conversation by asking Harriet what she’s been doing. They talk about Harriet’s stable life in San Francisco, working for the same Internet company for the past three years since graduation. As more and more food comes, she goes on about the different places she’s traveled to, all the guys she’s been involved with. The two reminisce about the wild adventures they engaged in during their college years. Life seems so tame when you got older. The excitement is drained away, and all that’s left is tomorrow’s sunrise.

Claire loses herself in the din of Lucky Chu’s. Her gaze floats about the room. Seated at tables in the restaurant are generations of families -- grandparents down to the grandkids. Old men who have seen the world twice over, and the age shows on their weathered faces. Big-eyed children crawling under the tables, laughing and screaming. She gazes at the three Caucasians sitting in the corner near the kitchen, three well-dressed men with serious looks on their faces. She thinks it odd. Odd that these men are in Lucky Chu’s. Times change, but not that much. When Garrett brought her here, she was always the only white person in the restaurant. Without fail. She couldn’t explain why, but the tourist presence always eluded Lucky Chu’s.

She looks to the door. Business is slowing as the night progresses, and the crowd that was gathered at the door waiting for tables has thinned. What happens next, Claire never thought could happen.

..........

When it’s done, the thick smell of gunpowder permeates the air of Lucky Chu’s. Silence hangs heavy in the restaurant, except for the low groan of a man lying on the ground, a bullet wound in his left leg. Nobody moves until the danger is absolutely past, until it’s certain that the gunmen are not coming back.

..........

Harriet and Claire stay at the restaurant until ten past one in the morning. They tell two uniformed officers and a humorless detective the same story. Three Asian men walked into the restaurant, confronted the three Caucasian men sitting by the kitchen, and then the shooting began. It all happened in a flash; neither of the women saw the faces of the men who came in and wrought havoc on the pleasant restaurant.

“What words did the two parties exchange?” the detective asks.

“I couldn’t really hear above all the noise in the restaurant,” Claire tells him.

A shaken Harriet tells him, “I wasn’t facing in that direction. I didn’t know anything was going on until the gunshots went off and Claire reached over the table and pushed me to the ground.”

“There’s nothing else you can tell me about it?” He isn’t giving up easily on two potential witnesses.

“No -- it all happened so quickly.” Claire was never a good liar, and the detective senses this.

“You didn’t get a good look at the gunmen?”

“No, I’m sorry. I was talking with my friend.”

He begrudgingly gives in with a sigh. “Okay. If you remember anything, just give me a call.” He hands each of the women a business card and walks off to interview other witnesses.

Claire and Harriet look at each other. “Fuck this,” Harriet says. “Let’s get out of here.”

The two walk into the cold night, past the police cars and news vans. “We need to go see Seth,” says Claire with a sudden urgency.

“What the hell are you talking about, Claire? It’s one in the morning,” protests Harriet. “C’mon, I’m driving you back to your hotel.”

But Claire is already on her cell phone. “Pick up, Seth. Pick up.”

Their footsteps click on the pavement.

She gets through. “Seth. It’s Claire.”

They turn the corner on Stockton.

“It’s been a long night. Me and Harriet are coming over. I need to talk to you.”

They come to Harriet’s car. She pushes a button on her keychain and deactivates the alarm. The doors automatically unlock.

“Seth, it’s important. No, it can’t wait until morning. Stay up. Don’t fall asleep.”

Claire and Harriet get in, and ride to San Mateo in silence.

..........

Tenaka and the Brit walk down the dimly lit alleyway noiselessly. They, along with a roomful of diners, were witness to an appalling act seldom carried out in public view.

Tenaka looks at his silent companion. So what did you make of that? he inquires.

The Brit replies, A bit melodramatic for my taste, but quite impressive indeed.

Had Claire been a more vigilant observer, she would have noticed that there was yet another white man in Lucky Chu’s that night. The Brit, however, had gone undetected not only by Claire, but by the crowd in general. So well had he projected himself as being quite unremarkable that none of the patrons even knew he was ever in Lucky Chu’s that night. The only soul to take notice of the Brit was the waitress that served him and Tenaka. Noting their absence following the shooting, she was required by the police to give a description. She went on to describe the Asian’s dinnermate, through a translator, as looking “just like every other white man I’ve seen in my life.” No small feat for a man who, by Western standards, was actually quite handsome.

But the men had effortlessly gone unnoticed by a roomful of people, and had just as easily slipped out of the restaurant before the police had arrived. Two men: both six feet two inches tall, both wearing black suits, both with dark hair and dark eyes. Invisibility doesn’t take training -- merely repeated practice. Such is the hallmark of any good assassin. And both are looked upon with the highest regard in their field.

..........

Seth opens the door of his apartment. “Claire? What’s going on?” He’s obviously concerned. He lets his friends into the apartment.

“It’s been the craziest night of our lives,” says Harriet. She gives Seth a firm hug, and Claire does so also.

“Harriet, are you okay?” asks Seth. She’s still visibly shaken from the what she’s been through.

“We were up in the city, having dinner, and someone came into the restaurant and started shooting the place up.” Harriet tries to hold back her tears.

“Holy living crap,” a stunned Seth says. “Are you guys okay?”

“No, we’re not,” snaps Claire. She composes herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just -- It’s been way too much for the both of us tonight.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” asks Seth.

Claire overlaps with his last word. “Seth, I need to know something.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Remember when you called me up a few months back and said something about Garrett?”

Seth hesitates. “Um, yeah -- it was nothing.” He’s holding something back. Claire can tell.

“What was it?” she asks. “What did the paper say about him?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Seth, you need to tell me. Don’t fuck around.”

He hesitates further. “It was nothing. I swear.” He avoids looking her in the eye.

Claire responds: “Then why the hell did he come into the restaurant tonight and shoot somebody in the leg?”

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