“Well you stood me up,” said Eddie. “What happened to going out yesterday night?”

“Probably spent all night with Fiona,” Jack snorted.

“I’m meeting Fiona on the weekend,” I said. “Yesterday was more talking to my mom.”

“What’s she going to do with the house?”

“One of her friends will help sell it and wire the money over to Taiwan,” I replied. “Think my mom doesn’t want anything to do with Maryland anymore.”

“And when are you leaving?”

“Next week.”

Jack sighed and spread his arms on the table. “Anything you want man, we’ll make it happen. We have to send you off with a bang. A loud one.”

Eddie frowned.

“Karaoke in the city?” I posed.

Jack slammed the bottom of his fists on the table, causing a few groups at the diner to turn their heads toward us. “Let’s fucking do it!”

“I don’t —,” Eddie started.

Jack backhanded him on the shoulder. “Come on dude, shut up.”

“We’ll go,” Eddie conceded.

I nodded. “Great.” I pointed to the plate of fries and nuggets. “Let’s finish this up and get out.”

When we arrived at the karaoke bar in DC the woman from before waved at me excitedly and ushered me behind the counter. Jack and Eddie looked at each other, but I saw Jack extend his hand out in front of Eddie as if to block him, even though Eddie wasn’t moving. The back room had stacks of karaoke machines, song catalogs, and microphones neatly wrapped in the corner. The lighting was similar to the booths, a sort of hazy violet that instantly made me relax. The woman made her way over to a large, sealed card board box. As I followed her I fixed my gaze on her stockings — what color they were I could not tell in the light — where they disappeared right before the hem of her dress.

“Sorry, I tried to make it smaller but I—.”

I leaned in and kissed her on the lips as she turned toward me. She looked at me with a blank expression, and after some delay recoiled, winding her hand for a slap. I didn’t move as she swung her arm, suddenly bringing her fingers to a halt at the base of my chin before she gripped my cheeks between her index and thumb finger. Her nails dug into my skin. She then leaned toward my ear, whispering in such a way that she could be heard above the music.

“Siau lian eh,” she spoke in Taiwanese Hokkien. “You listen to me. Look all you want, but no touching. You understand?”

My Hokkien was shaky, but that much I understood. “Dong le,” I confirmed, in Mandarin.

She let go and leaned back, smiling. “Good. I was going to offer to pay for extra luggage but you’ll be a gentleman and help a lady out, won’t you?” she asked in English.

I continued staring at her. As was usually the case with these things, her assertiveness only amplified her attractiveness.

“Sir?” she asked.

I broke out of my daze. “Yes.”

“Good! I’ll take you and your little friends to your booth, then.”

I looked from her heels up to the skirt of her dress, and then to her face. She didn’t appear to notice, even though I knew that she did.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She raised her finger and wagged it from side to side. “Should’ve asked that first.”

“Babe, you’re going to make me think about what your name is while I’m cleaning guns and crawling through mud? Come on, don’t torture me.”

She cracked a smile at that. “Very charming, but I have work to do, and if you aren’t here to sing I will need to ask you to leave. So are you ready or not?”

I nodded. She beckoned me with the same finger and then walked past me to the entrance, flipping the strings of beads up with the back of her hand. I followed her out. Eddie was already frowning deeply, while Jack was smiling.

When we got to our booth and the woman closed the door behind her, Jack slapped me on my back. “A lady’s man!”

“Nothing happened,” I lied. “She just wants me to bring a package to her brother in Taiwan.”

Eddie began to flip through the karaoke catalog. I ordered three beers for each of us. But when the drinks came Jack drank his half heartedly, while Eddie didn’t drink at all. Before I knew it I had pounded down all three of mine, and was singing along to whichever songs Eddie had chosen. Jack took up a tambourine and slammed it against his opposite palm off beat as we sang, probably out of tune. The disco ball lights scrolled around the room, their brightness somehow making me more tired each moment they passed over my eyes. Eddie eventually drank one beer and I saw him loosen up, sinking into the couch. He took out a pack of smokes and tapped out a single cigarette. He then lit it with his lighter and brought the filter end to his mouth, sucking the smoke in before puffing out.

“Your parents didn’t stay long in Taiwan right?” I asked.

“I was born here. They went over after the war, but left before Vietnam. Went to California first.”

“Come to think of it you never told me too much about what LA was like.”

Eddie shrugged. “Not too much to say really. It’s a lot more Chinese than this place though. I’ve been thinking about going back. Weather’s better and you can live near lots of Chinese people in the San Gabriel Valley.”

“Like Arcadia?” I asked.

“Yeah I have an aunt that lives there. I will need to convince Jack to come too but that shouldn’t be too hard.”

I leaned back into the sofa as well. “Wish I could go on that road trip with you guys.”

“It would’ve been fun.”

Jack was too engrossed in his songs to pay attention to us.

“No New York?” I asked.

Eddie shook his head. “Too testy in Chinatown these days. The uncles seem on edge. Last time I went they were talking about the shootings and the stabbings.”

“LA is better? Aren’t there some things going on in the kitchens there too?”

“At work there’s stuff you see and stuff you don’t see,” Eddie replied. “But at least after work I think it’s easier to get away from it if you want. More spread out, so you don’t run into the wrong people.”

I breathed out heavily. “Guess I have to make both an east and west coast visit when I come back.”

Eddie handed me a cigarette. I held it to my mouth and leaned in as he lit the other end. Breathing in released any remaining tension I had. I closed my eyes before puffing out a small cloud of smoke.

“If you connect through LAX you can stay with me as long as you want. There’s direct flights to Taiwan I heard,” Eddie offered.

“That would be nice.” I downed half another bottle of beer. “I’ll take you up on that.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What are you two talking about?” Jack butt in. The song he was singing was still scrolling across the screen.

I read the lyrics and frowned. “What’s up with you and sad songs? Doesn’t fit somehow.”

“Jack thinks a lot more than you give him credit for,” said Eddie. He put out his old cigarette and took out another one, lighting it. He then tapped the ashes from the end into the tray. “He’s a romantic.”

“Damn straight!”

“Eddie’s talking about bringing you to LA,” I said.

Jack grinned. “I’m in.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well that was quick.”

“What else am I going to do?” Jack asked. “No better time for an adventure.”

The word adventure brought about an unexpected sadness in me. I thought about all the times we had messed around at school or Chinese school. I thought about biking to each others’ houses, and getting lost in the woods, only to find that Eddie happened to have a compass in his backpack — because of course he did — which he used to lead us back out. I thought about how we would circle some part of a map and drive out to it, eating at whatever podunk restaurant happened to be there. There wouldn’t be any of that anymore. “How about one last one together? Don’t even know if we’ll have time to meet again for a while.”

Jack slapped my back. “Of course!”

I was expecting some apprehension from Eddie, but he looked like he was in as well.

“Metroliner?” asked Jack.

“Don’t think it runs this late,” Eddie replied. “We’ll have to take the slow train.”

I put my head in my hands. “Four damn hours.”

“A midnight run to Chinatown isn’t really new anyway. I have a better idea,” Eddie offered.

We took the train back to Maryland and got into Eddie’s car since he was the most sober of us. He started driving. I didn’t even ask where we were going, and Jack didn’t seem to care either. I instantly fell asleep. I briefly noticed us stopping on the side of the road for Eddie to take a quick power nap before continuing on our way. As the sun rose I glanced at the passing trees along the side of the highway, which reminded me of the road trips we used to take when I was a kid. I hadn’t thought about those days for such a long time that those memories seemed almost unreal. It made me wonder if my family’s time together was as bad as I remembered. I thought about my brother sitting in the front seat talking to my father while I slept in the back. Maybe it was the fact that he was still here that kept everything together. Was it that I chose to focus on the bad memories? Was that something everyone else did? The hangover cut off any further thoughts I had on the matter. I fell back asleep as the light of the sun hit my face.

I woke up as Eddie turned into a a parking spot, putting it in first gear and pulling the emergency brake. I glanced out the window at where the sand met the end of the road.

“A beach? Chesapeake?” asked Jack.

“Reheboth,” Eddie replied.

“Where the fuck is that?”

“Delaware.”

“Beach is a pretty gay place for a sendoff,” Jack muttered, opening the door. “Time to hold hands and skip through the sand.”

When Jack closed the door I turned to Eddie. “I’m sure he’s happy about it.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie.

We both got out of the car and followed Jack over to the small boardwalk, descending the steps onto the beach. There were more people there for an early morning weekday than I anticipated, mostly retirees. I gazed at the dark blue waves, undulating menacingly until they crashed into the sand.

“You remember those trips to Chesapeake, when we were kids?” asked Jack.

“Who doesn’t?” I replied.

Jack, for once, seemed to be deep in thought, pausing for a long while before shaking his head. “The Pacific will be better. I can just feel it.”

Eddie only nodded in agreement.

“While we’re here though we can try thinking about the good memories. If everyone’s leaving, it’s not like we’ll see this place again soon,” I said. “Why don’t you start, Jack?”

“Fucking in the sand kinda sucks. I ruined that date,” Jack quipped.

Eddie burst out laughing, which brought all three of us to laugh along with him.

“I’ll offer a good memory,” Eddie started. “Years ago my dad had a friend who owned a restaurant in Saint Louis. We found some time to take a trip out to Lake of the Ozarks and fished. I was afraid it would be boring but found the trip to be more interesting than I thought it would be.”

“What does that have to do with this place?” asked Jack.

Eddie shrugged. “I thought about water, which brought that up. I’m probably not going to the Ozarks again in my lifetime.”

“What was interesting about the trip?” I asked.

“The uncle had a lot of good things to say. I can’t remember all the details, but he talked about education, friendship, politics.”

“Sounds boring to me,” said Jack.

Eddie shrugged again.

“So what did he say about friendship?” I asked.

“Women and children are like clothes, and brothers are like one’s skin.”

As Eddie said that a particularly large wave crashed onto the beach. It was windy that day; the breeze and sand particles in my eyes shook me out of my stupor. I frowned. “My dad said something like that too. I wonder where it’s from.”

“I have no idea,” Eddie replied.

Jack nodded. “That’s some gangster shit.”

“Here,” I said. “I’ll offer a good memory now.” I took out a pack of smokes and pulled three individual cigarettes out. I then gave one each to Eddie and Jack, keeping one for myself.

“I’m not putting my lips near yours,” Jack protested.

“No lips,” I reassured him. I took out my lighter and flicked the wheel, lighting each of their cigarettes. “Let’s swear an oath of brotherhood before I go.”

Jack pulled the cigarette to his lips and then stopped himself, holding the smoldering end upward with his fingers. “How?”

“Repeat after me,” I said in Chinese. “Though we were not born on the same year, month and day, we only wish to die on the same year, month and day.”

The two of them spoke the words after I did.

We then stuck the cigarettes into the sand in a row. I watched as the smoke rose from each one, going only a short distance before dissipating into the air.

I gazed at the horizon. The sun had already cleared the ocean and was a good ways up in the sky. I wanted to interpret it as my new beginning. Somehow, the thought comforted me. I started off toward the South end of the beach. “Come on. Let’s walk a bit and I’ll drive us back.”