Three Dragons



The Three Dragons Bookstore, located in San Francisco's famous Wharf District, had just celebrated its fifth birthday when the proprietor got what she referred to ever after as The Phone Call.

 

Ling Mai Bouvier-Albertson had been in the middle of stocking the new Stephen King when she heard the phone's burbling tone, coming from somewhere near the front desk.  Pushing an empty carton out of her path, she rushed to her desk and began pulling away boxes of books she had not yet itemized, until, undisturbed beneath the mess, Ling found her cell phone.

 

"Hello?"

 

"How are you doing, sweetie?"

 

She cleared off a plain, hardback chair and sat down.  "I'm okay, mom - getting ready to open.  It's almost six."

 

"That mean you're too busy to talk to your mom?"

 

"Noo!" Ling used her free hand to make her desk more presentable.  The store sold both new books and old in organized, alphabetized-by-author-lots, so recent donations had a tendency to mix with new stock.  "So...how's Jeff?"

 

Selma's small groan made Ling feel a tinge of guilt - she knew her mom hated it when she called Jeff by his first name instead of 'Dad' - they had married when she was ten, and 'Jeff' just felt more comfortable.  The only person bothered by their mutual choice was Selma, who felt it wasn't intimate enough.  "He's doing well.  The shop's fine, too - he sold his millionth book - to your cousin."

 

Ling couldn't help herself from chuckling.  "Bart and Laura's apartment has to look like The Android Dungeon's stockroom."

 

"It's bigger," Selma snorted.  "I've been there with Marjorie planning the wedding.  By the way, you are coming.  Bart will be disappointed if you don't show."

 

She barely knew Bart, who was ten years her senior, but the family rarely got together anymore - she wanted to see Maggie, her old running buddy.  Plus, it was a free trip to The Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con.  "I RSPVD to Lisa last week."

 

"I thought everyone was supposed to RSPV to me."

 

"Mine said 'Lisa', and it was her phone number."

 

"This wedding's been one long, endless headache," complained Selma.  Ling could hear a pencil scratching on the other end.  "Are you keeping up on family gossip?  I know you talk to Maggie."

 

Ling and Maggie had been best friends for what seemed like forever - probably from the day her mother had dropped her into Maggie's playpen.  The six-month difference in their ages was miniature and didn't impede the growth of their friendship.  

 

Their personalities suited each other very well - Maggie tended to be loud and outspoken, while Ling tended to be conservative and quiet.  Ling was an intellectual - Maggie was physical.  When they grew into their teens, it was Maggie who had rebelled by taking late-night sojourns into Capitol City to go clubbing while Ling stayed home and spent hours on the phone with her boyfriend, Sanjeev Nahasphimapetilon.  They had dated all of Apu's sons at one point or another in their teens - when Ling had settled on Sanjeev, Maggie had tried dating Gheet, then Anoop. 

 

Bitterly, Ling recalled the end of her relationship with Sanjeev - his parents had arranged a marriage for him in India.  Selma had angrily claimed that Apu had hated the idea of marrying someone he didn't know initially, that it wasn't fair of him to subject his sons and daughters to a practice he so disliked.  But Apu had insisted that his luck with Manjula could not have been a stroke of luck - that arranged marriages would work for them, too.  They had said goodbye at their high school commencement, and Ling had taken a scholarship to So Cal State to get as far from Springfield as she could manage.

 

She had been lonely for a very long time - even before Sanjeev was forced to break up with her.  She felt isolated from the day Maggie abandoned Springfield High School for her tour as a stuntwoman.  Their correspondence became infrequent as college and work, respectively, became their main focuses.

 

Ling graduated with masters in business management and began slaving away in minimum wage hell, trying to build up enough credit to buy her own business.  When Maggie dropped back into her life, they were both twenty five - Maggie was a deptuty in Springfield, and Ling had finally found a vacant store from which to sell books.

 

The store itself, in Ling's opinion, was a perfectly dressed sort of place, almost fitting in with the very old buildings in the district despite being a recently-built structure.  It looked like a country store on the outside, but on the in were rows of books, making a semicircle around a table and a bunch of comfy couches.  She served coffee, tea and chocolate - the last of which was highly popular - and cleared headway most months.  She didn't have too much to complain about.

 

Except for the loneliness.

 

That was something Ling didn't want to admit to.  She often felt alone in San Francisco.  Her college acquaintances had filed out of her life, leaving her alone with herself often.  She lived for emails and calls from Maggie, who understood her without question.

 

"...And we can leave by May second.  Can you get someone to watch the store?"

 

Ling snapped to attention.  "Huh?"

 

"Sweetie, did you hear what I said?  I bought tickets for your birthday.  You said you wanted to go to China before you turned thirty-five, and..."

 

"You bought tickets before asking me?"  blurted Ling.

 

"It's supposed to be a surprise," said Selma. 

 

"It is that," she retorted.   Ling had indeed dreamed of going to China, if only to see from when she had sprung.  But now was not a good time.  "I was planning on spending my birthday alone," she said.

 

"You're always alone," Selma noted.

 

"But..."

 

"I miss you a lot, honey.  Just let me treat you to something special."

 

Her mother couldnt' understand the deep apprehension Ling felt at returning to China.  She had often wondered about her biological parents - why they had left her behind - but she felt quite loved, so these were mostly occasional thoughts.

 

She would have to face Selma when she arrived for Bart's wedding, so obfuscating would give her no benefit.  "All right," she said.  "I'll go with you.  But I'll pay for the hotel!"

 

"You're stubborn."

 

"I'm a Bouvier.  I've got to go - it's six right now."

 

"Jeff said to say he loves you, and I love you, too!"

 

"I love you, mom," and she was her Mom, no matter what any geneticist might say.  "Bye."

 

"Bye."

 

So Ling Bouvier was going to China.  She remembered her Uncle Homer's jolly shout whenever his clan took off for another trip to a new continent and tried not to laugh out loud.  She missed Homer, too. In three days, she would be in Springfield and have new memories to drag back to her lonely cave by the sea. 

 

She pulled open the foot-to-head glass door to let in a humid breeze and turned around her "Closed" sign.  With the call of a horn on the Bay, a new day began.




The End