The Queens of New York by E. L. Shen

Author:E. L. Shen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

I can’t help it. The tears I am trying to force down my throat pinprick my bottom eyelashes. My whole body constricts. Naomi looks up from the bouncy ball, her forehead creased. A shadow where the sunlight can’t reach canvases her face.

“Jia,” she says quietly, “why don’t you go and get some fresh air? Take a moment?”

Nai Nai is resting in her wheelchair, still catching her breath. CeCe is fully conked out, her miniature sparkly sneakers wedged between the armrest and seat cushion. I’m not supposed to let them out of my sight. I can’t let anything happen to them again.

“Don’t worry.” Naomi smiles. “I’ll be here. Just take five minutes. You need the break.”

Her voice is so soothing, so persuasive. Before I know it, my feet are lugging me down the hall and into the elevator. In the lobby, the automatic doors spring left and right, opening to humid July air and an imposing metal overhang. There are no benches here, so I just stand, inhaling car exhaust from the makeshift parking lot and the lingering antiseptic sting of the hospital.

A woman in a doctor’s coat and fitted trousers lingers nearby, her phone squeezed between her shoulder and her ear as she snacks on a granola bar. She is telling the person on the other line that she only has five minutes, so the details of the charity gala need to be finalized immediately. Words like silent auction and begonias fill the overhang. They remind me of things that Everett’s parents talk about when I sleep over and hear them chatting in the kitchen. I glance at the ID tag clipped to her coat. First line: Dr. Amelia. Second line: Abboud. My tears taste salty on my tongue. When I examine her more closely, I realize the bridge of her nose resembles Akil’s. Even the freckles on her cheeks match the pattern speckled under Akil’s eyes.

This is his mother, the new chief of surgery, the one Akil’s family moved here for. She is the woman I thought I’d never meet. I am so close to her, and so close to him, holding Akil’s texts in my palms. If Everett and Ariel were here, they would tell me to wipe my tears and introduce myself to Dr. Abboud. She looks kind. Maybe she would invite me to dinner, and I’d eat pastries with her family, and dig my toes into fluffy Persian carpets, and talk about art and surgical research. If she asked where I lived, maybe I would tell her the truth.

“Perfect,” Akil’s mother says to the person on the other line. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eight. Yes, okay. Okay, bye.” She hangs up, crumpling the granola bar wrapper and tossing it into the recycle bin.

I wait for her to go back inside, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t notice me either. If I talked to her, how would I begin? Hi, you don’t know me, but I like your son—in fact, I kissed your son. Did he

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