Rason & Eliza - Cee Bowerman Page 0,15
could stay friends, but I wasn’t going to date her anymore. I suggested we see other people, and she lost her mind. I backed off and said I wouldn’t see anyone else for a while until she adjusted and we’d just stay friends and hang out occasionally.”
“That was definitely the wrong strategy.”
“She said she wanted to die at the thought of never seeing me again. That freaked me out, so I caved. I try to be respectful, you know? I didn’t want to see her anymore, but when she started talking about death...”
“That would’ve made me say just about anything to defuse the situation. I get it. What was the gift?”
“It was an antique watch. A really pretty, delicate watch that I’m sure would look beautiful on my mom’s wrist, but in our culture that’s not a good gift.”
“Vietnamese?”
“Yeah, my mom is Vietnamese, and my dad is Texan.”
“Texan is an ethnicity.”
Rason grinned. “Isn’t it?”
“Go on. Why is that a bad gift in your culture?”
“Antiques can be bewitched by the spirits of the people who first owned them and bring bad luck. Watches remind a person about their age and mortality. You’re basically sending them the message that you’re cool with them dying soon.”
“Oh, damn. I mean, that would have been a very nice present for someone of a different background, but I can see why you wouldn’t want someone to give an antique watch to your mom. Especially when she’s celebrating her birthday.”
“I explained all that to her before she bought it too. She bought it anyway and said that those were old wives’ tales and my mom would love the watch.”
“That’s not good.”
“I don’t believe in some of the stuff my mom does, but I respect it. It’s my job to honor my parents, and I do that. So after we left your bookstore on Sunday, I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore. No dating, no friendship, no more contact. She didn’t listen.”
“What did she do?” I leaned back so the waitress could put our food on the table, and both of us buttered our pancakes for a minute in silence. When we were finished, Rason took a sip of his iced tea and told me the rest of the story.
“I went this morning and got a protective order from the judge. She called my work more than 50 times in three days, she showed up at my house every day and sat there on the porch or in her car when I wouldn’t let her in to talk, she admitted to the police officers that she borrowed my phone so she could see who I’d been talking to, followed me to the gym, the grocery store and my job, and then told them she’d die without me.”
“Oh no.”
“I got the PPO and she’s in the hospital under observation for 72 hours because the doctor and the police considered that a suicide threat.”
“Whoa.”
“Yep, that sums it up. Whoa,” Rason agreed. “So are you going to finish your pancakes before you run screaming for the hills, or can we at least have a pleasant dinner first?”
“I should probably not ignore the red flag you’re waving in my direction as far as Robin goes, but maybe she’ll calm down while she’s in the hospital and forget she ever knew you.” I tried to sound hopeful, but even I didn’t believe my words. “Let’s talk about your plant.”
“Just like that?”
I nodded. “Her behavior shouldn’t reflect on you. However, if I find out later you led her on or whatever, I reserve the right to bail. Tell me about this fruit - I’ve never heard of it. Why is it important?”
“My mom celebrates Tet, the Vietnamese new year. She cooks all this food, and we have a big family get-together. My brother and sister come to town with their kids and we spend three days eating lots of good food, exchanging gifts, and remembering our ancestors. It’s when we put the troubles of the past year behind us and hope for a better year to come. It’s my mom’s favorite holiday, and we always celebrate it with her. The only times I’ve missed were when I was away in the military.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun.” I smiled. “Like Christmas and New Years all rolled together.”
“Sort of, yeah.”
“I need to read up on this.” I let my gaze wander out the window. “I have so many questions now. Hold on. You still didn’t tell me about the fruit.”
“I’ve heard