Photo by ConvertKit on Unsplash
I couldn’t take it anymore and left my private space to grab Xanadu’s alarm and turned it off. They may be my favorite American, but sometimes I could ring their neck. I have to bang the curtain surrounding her woodworking space to find the overlapping cloth entrance. The white kitchen timer was set on a stool near the passthrough.
“What, oh, was that ringing?” they asked, looking up from the ten-to-one ratio rat-inspired column they were carving for the Manyard building, red paint clinging above their left eyebrow. They had finished the last of the two-foot columns for the inside atrium Tuesday and painted them with the red lacquer substitute last night. Dabbing the splinters and sawdust away with a brownish washcloth, they revealed the hand-held foot-sized zodiac-inspired art had been roughed out since I left for work. Six of the eight outside columns were at the detail stage; only the rat and pig needed the initial rough-outs. They had chosen to do those last since they were the two center outside columns and would have the most traffic.
“For an hour.”
Xanadu laughed, “Surely not.”
“It’s seven-twenty.”
“Dinner!” They set down the toy column carefully, then jumped up and ran toward the kitchen.
I grabbed their shoulder as they ran past. “I’ll order pizza. No need for another meal with sawdust in it.”
“What? Are you sure?” Their eyes drifted back to the wood carving.
I squeezed their shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure. And, no, you are not going back to that until you take an hour break – your orders.”
They closed their eyes and nodded. “I forgot to eat lunch.”
“Then you are done for the day.”
“But—”
I held up a finger. “Your orders.”
“My work gets crappy without breaks.” They pouted, crossing their arms over their leather apron. “Fine, I’ll shower while you order. No pineapple.” They stomped off to our mutual bathroom.
***
Xanadu took the last pineapple slice, leaving the bacon and cheese pizza of the two-for-one deal untouched. Rolling their dark eyes as they bite in, “I forget how great warm pineapple tastes.”
I picked up the untouched pizza and put it in the fridge for tomorrow’s breakfast. One meal down and ready for when I take over kitchen duties tomorrow. Grabbing a washcloth, I wiped down the counter and the island for crumbs and sawdust settling out from the air. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you want to go to the November Lantern Festival again this year?”
“It happens the first week of November and it is September already. There is no way we could get a travel visa ready.”
“About that.” I moved over to our pile of mail and dig down a couple of days, dropping the political flyers and store advertisements into our recycling bucket at the end of the kitchenette island before I find the government envelope. “My family really would like to see me so they expedited things for us.” I wave the fat envelope.
“But the plane tickets will be crazy expensive this close.”
“Paid for.”
Their eyes narrowed, black eyeliner turning their eyes into slits. “What’s going on?”
“My parents would like me to be outside of America during the election,” I said tapping the envelope against my other hand.
“Why?”
Stopping the nervous tic, I gave them a look, tilting my head. We both grew up political brats.
“He isn’t going to win. There is no way he is going to win again.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Sure he managed to stay out of prison so far, but there are still several court cases to go.”
I waited.
They sighed, “But even if he loses…”
“He’s promised chaos, refusing to accept the outcome if it goes against him.”
“That’s not just it, it can’t just be it.” They hopped off the stool and walked over to me and took the envelope out of my hands. “What else has your family heard?”
“Nothing they can share with me, but I am going home to keep them happy.” I shrugged. I may be a fighter of justice, but I wasn’t untouchable. “He promised to round up all the Chinese and illegal immigrants and put them in camps.”
“You are Korean, not Chinese. And on a permanent visa thanks to your family.”
“Like his followers can tell the difference between me and the Chinese.”
Xanadu ran rough fingers around the edges of the envelopes, switching to Korean to say, “The travel visa will only be good for a couple of weeks. What will we do then?”
“It’s a three-year work visa with exit and entry privileges. Father and older brother slid us in under the Manyard trade contract, since you are working for them.”
Frowning, they worked a finger into the envelope and opened it. “And how did they justify you?”
“Native son.”
They switched to American. “Right. Duh.” They unfolded the paperwork, being careful not to drop the visas while examining them. “It will take me away for the second round of project baseline work. But…” They handed the paperwork to me. “If he wins, then the only second round I will be dealing with is getting hauled off to those camps for some reeducation. I’m in.”
“Korea isn’t much better for accepting queerness.”
“Are they threatening camps? Do they have full-blown plans like Project 2025?”
“Not unless North Korea comes across the border.”
“Then we are all screwed. Everywhere.” They tossed the envelope and paperwork onto the island and stepped into my space to hold themselves against me. “How did it get so wrong?”
I hug them to my body. “I don’t know, my dragon, I don’t know.”
(946 words, first published 9/1/2024)
Capturing the Tiger and Dragon Series
- X is for Xenophile (4/28/2024)
- X is for Xylotomous (5/19/2024)
- X is for Xanthic (6/9/2024)
- Exhibit (7/14/24)
- Exit Strategy (9/1/2024)
