like. If there’s something you don’t want in your bowl, just don’t eat anything off that plate.”
“Okay.” I leaned forward, my bowl in one hand and chopsticks in the other. “I want some of everything.”
“First there’s soup. You can ask for a different bowl, but we usually put it over the rice.” I held my bowl out with both hands and he ladled the broth into it, making sure to give me a few chunks of fish and what I realized were strips of bamboo.
“Now the main food. You can get a bit of everything all at once, or we can do it like my family and just take bites off the platters. You grab a bite, put it on the rice, and then put it in your mouth. Always touch your rice first,” Rason explained. “Again, I have no idea why.”
I put my bowl down and reached for a bite of the main dish with my chopsticks.
“No.” Rason shook his head. “You hold your bowl off the table. It’s lazy to leave it there. Hold it close to your face and then take your bite over it so you don’t make a mess.”
“There are so many rules,” I said quietly. “It’s a good thing we teach kids table manners from birth because this is a lot to remember.”
“There are a lot of rules in American culture, too. Slurping your soup in America is rude, but it’s customary at a Vietnamese table. Leaning close to your plate to eat is bad here, but not there. Imagine what my mom thought of my dad’s manners when she met him.” Rason laughed. “I never thought of that. I’m probably not a good teacher. You’re my first student.”
“What about your old girlfriends? Did you not teach them?”
“No. I never planned on taking any of them to have a meal with my parents. I just told any of my friends I invited over to watch what I did and mimic me or my father. That worked fine, but you wanted this whole learning experience.”
“I’m watching you and listening at the same time,” I told him, holding my bowl like he was and then reaching for a bite of food.
“You really like to learn new things, don’t you?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t life be boring if you didn’t try anything new?”
“It would. What new thing are you going to teach me?”
“How to grow fruit.”
Rason’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty room. I loved how his eyes twinkled when he was happy.
I watched him take a bite of his food and mimicked his actions. When I glanced back up at him, he was smiling at me, and the look was so tender that it took my breath away.
“So, what did you get up to today? Any wild times in the bookstore?”
“No, nothing wild. We had a big rush around lunch and then it got quiet again. I talked to my mom for a little bit and that’s always good.”
“What did you talk about?”
“You. Us. This.” I motioned around the room with my chopsticks.
“Don’t do that. And don’t point,” Rason directed me softly. “Don’t cross them either.”
“Man,” I said, dismayed. “I’m not only going to look like an idiot, but I’m going to starve to death too.”
“I told you that you can just eat with a fork or spoon.”
“No! I’ll never learn if I don’t practice.”
“What did your mom say about us?”
“She’s worried that we’re moving too fast and that I’m jumping in with both feet.”
“I can see where she might be concerned, but it just feels right.”
I smiled at him. “That’s what I told her.”
“Your mom has been so nice the times I’ve talked to her.”
“I’m lucky to have her. She’s always been supportive. I was sick a lot when I was really small, and while she probably wasn’t prepared for that, she stuck by me.”
“You said you were addicted to heroin?”
I nodded. “I was born at the hospital, and then my birth mother took me home before I was released. She basically left me there with my brother. He was 10.”
“No way.”
“He tried to take care of me, but I cried all the time. I don’t know who took care of me when he wasn’t around. I guess she did. He went to the librarian at his elementary school and asked for a book on how to take care of a tiny baby who cried all the time. The authorities were called and they came and took both of us. I was put up for adoption and