Free Tiger Girl by May-lee Chai Page B

if I tried. His royal highness seems pretty plastered.”
    Uncle sighed. “He’s been doing so well. He’s been making a lot of progress.”
    I decided not to argue. “I won’t wake him up. Are you coming back now?”
    â€œNo, I can’t. I’m sorry. There was a call. A family needs a translator. I’m going to the hospital to help. Don’t worry. You can just stay at home today.”
    â€œUncle, you’ve worked all night. You should rest.”
    â€œI’m fine.” He hung up.
    And I thought, he’s going to drop dead if he keeps working like this. Then a worse thought came to me. Maybe Uncle was
trying
to work himself to death. Maybe this was how his survivor’s guilt was manifesting. Like a death wish. And what would Ma say if I just stood by and let that happen?
    I paced in the kitchenette as the cheerful yellow light from the rising sun began to pour inside, lapping at the countertops and the white Frigidaire, splashing against the walls like a wave of honey. I peered out the window into the parking lot, and watched sparrows wheel across the sky, which grew brighter and more blue with each passing minute. A hummingbird hovered by the bougainvillea. It was hard to remember that it was December, that Christmas was only two weeks away. I’d left Nebraska fallow and frozen and taken a bus to arrive in a whole other season. Traffic zoomed by on the street below, and I watched as a bus barreled past; an ad for
Die Hard 2
wrapped around the bus featuring a Christmas wreath superimposed over Bruce Willis’s shoulders.
    Something about the combination of December and blooming flowers and warm sunshine made me feel unnaturally optimistic. I flipped open the phone book on the kitchen table and examined the map of bus routes in the front so that I could head to the donut shop on my own. Better to get working on my PR plan than to wait in the apartment listening to Sitan snore.
    Anita was surprised to see me when I came running in the front door. “I took the bus,” I announced proudly.
    â€œIt’s been kind of a slow morning. But I’m happy to have your company.” She looked up from the paper, where she’d been working on the crossword. “Would you like coffee or are you a Coca-Cola in the morning type of girl?”
    â€œCoffee, thanks.” I pulled my notebook out of my backpack. “You know, I was thinking of ways to drum up more business. The pastry is fantastic. People just don’t know this place is here. It doesn’t look special.”
    â€œYour uncle’s kind of low-key about the business end,” Anita said. “He got a small-business grant to train people. I helped him write up the proposal myself. I think he thinks of himself more as an educator than a businessman.”
    â€œWell, I think of myself more as a capitalist,” I said. Then I showed her my list of marketing ideas. “I thought I could make some of these flyers over at the copy shop. What do you think? I want to help Uncle. I want him to be happy. I don’t want to be a burden. I want to show him I can earn my keep.”
    â€œYou’re not a burden, Nea,” Anita said. “James is very proud of you. You have no idea. He’s told me so much about you.”
    â€œThat’s a surprise.”
    â€œHe doesn’t always say what he’s thinking or feeling. That’s not his way.”
    â€œI haven’t done anything yet,” I said, growing impatient. I threw three creamers into the coffee and gulped it down. “Since it’s slow, I’m going over to the Copy Circle right now and I’ll get started. Just give me a call over there if it gets busy and you need help.”
    â€œTake your time, Nea,” Anita said. She looked down at the counter and pursed her lips as though she wanted to say something more, but then thought better of it. “You should do what you think is right, of