He's Not My Boyfriend Read online

  “Not living in Scarborough. This is my home. Have lived here since nineteen sixty-two. Not leaving.”

  “I put you on a list for a Chinese seniors’ home three years ago,” Uncle Howard said. “Maybe you will be accepted soon. It’s a very nice place. You visited, remember? Much better food than in a regular seniors’ home.”

  Ngin Ngin grunted. “Finally learned to speak English, and now you want to put me in a Chinese home? I have friends here. From all over the world.”

  “We can still take you to visit them,” Mom said.

  “No. You will put me in a home and forget about me.”

  “That won’t happen,” Uncle Howard said. “I promise.”

  “Hmm.” Mom tilted her head to the side. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea, having Iris live here.”

  “That’s what I said!” Ngin Ngin nodded vigorously. “You don’t want me to live alone, and I have solution to problem. Iris can live with me and save money. What do you call this? Win-win situation, I think.”

  Well, living with Ngin Ngin would be better than living with her mother.

  God, Iris couldn’t believe she was considering this, but she was.

  The location. The food. All the money she’d save.

  “Please, Iris,” Ngin Ngin said. “I have friends, but they’re all old. They keep dying. Often feel lonely, but don’t want to move. I like my house.”

  If Iris said no, she’d feel guilty.

  She liked her grandmother, though she wasn’t so sure about seeing her every day and living by her rules.

  As if reading her mind, Ngin Ngin said, “Only one rule. No drugs.”

  “Alcohol?” Iris asked hopefully. She really needed some right now.

  “Alcohol is okay, as long as you don’t get drunk. But not marijuana. And you can stay out late. I won’t ask questions. You’re grown up.”

  Ngin Ngin wouldn’t ask questions?

  Yeah, right.

  But she probably wouldn’t ask as many intrusive questions as Iris’s mother.

  “If you live with me,” Ngin Ngin said, “maybe I will get to meet some of your men with tattoos and piercings?”

  “Absolutely not,” Iris said, “and for the record, Mom, they don’t all look like that.”

  Mom blanched. “How many...”

  Iris sent her mother a dark look.

  Ngin Ngin’s face brightened. “I can teach you to sew! Will be much fun.”

  “I have no interest in sewing,” Iris said.

  “Would offer to teach you to cook, but I’m afraid you’re hopeless at cooking. That’s why I offer sewing instead. It’s mathematical. You will be good at it.”

  Iris shook her head. “No sewing classes. It’s not a necessary skill anymore.”

  “Okay, okay. But you will be able to change lightbulbs and reach high cupboards.”

  “You realize I’m only four inches taller than you, don’t you?”

  “You can stand on a chair or step stool to reach! I’m not allowed to. Your father forbids it. He says I will fall and get hurt.”

  Dad grunted.

  “You will tell me all about your days at work!” Ngin Ngin continued. “I know very little about your job, but I will learn.”

  “It’s really not that interesting,” Iris said.

  “And all about your friends and who they’re dating and marrying. What they name their babies, who’s cheating on who, and—”

  “My life is not a soap opera.”

  “Still, more interesting than my life. And we can watch soap operas together!”

  “Um... That’s not really my thing, and aren’t they mostly on when I’m at work?”

  “Fine. No soap operas. Maybe you teach me about this thing called Netflick? I hear there are some shows only available on Netflick, but I cannot watch because I don’t have it. But we can do it together!” Ngin Ngin beamed. “This will be so much fun. Please?”

  Iris would feel very, very guilty if she said no.

  “Okay,” she said. “When my lease is up in three weeks, I’ll move in.”

  Ngin Ngin struggled to her feet and gave Iris a hug. “You are the best grandchild.”

  “What about me?” Rebecca patted her stomach. “I’m giving you a great-grandchild.”

  “If you have twins, then we talk,” Ngin Ngin said.

  “I’ve already given you a great-grandchild,” Seth said.

  “You live in Vancouver. Too far away. Iris is going to do all the cleaning and tuck me in bed and rub my feet—”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” Iris protested.

  “I tease,” Ngin Ngin said. “But I hope you will bring sexy men over to meet me.”

  “I hope so, too.” Simon grinned. “Put the pictures on Instagram.”

  “Insta—what?” Ngin Ngin frowned. “What is this?”

  “It’s an app for sharing photos,” Iris explained.

  “Still don’t understand. What is an app? You can teach me once you move in.”

  “I can’t wait,” Iris said, unable to muster the appropriate enthusiasm.

  Her oldest cousin got to have sex in a fancy hotel right now, while Iris had just agreed to move in with her grandmother. This hardly seemed fair. Plus, she’d spent far too much time listening to her relatives attempt to set her up with proctologists and lawyers.

  Though Natalie had put up with quite a bit of that, too, over the years.

  Iris excused herself to go to the washroom, then sent a text to her friend Crystal.

  Are we still on for tonight? I really need a drink.

  Crystal replied immediately. The wedding was that bad?

  The wedding was fine. My family, on the other hand... Eight o’clock at Elle?

  Sounds good.

  Excellent. Soon Iris would be able to pour alcohol down her throat and hopefully pick up a man whom she would never, ever introduce to her grandmother.

  Chapter 2

  It had been a while since Alex Kwong had been out on a Saturday night. At least a month, maybe more. He hadn’t planned to go out tonight, either, but then his friend Jamie had called—yes, called, not just texted—and insisted Alex go to a bar with him and his girlfriend.

  Frankly, it would probably be good for Alex to get out of the apartment. Have a few drinks, see some people, talk about nothing in particular.

  He’d just changed into a polo shirt when there was an unexpected knock on his apartment door. It was his father, carrying a large cardboard box full of food.

  Alex shut his eyes for a moment. “Dad, I’m going out tonight.”

  “That’s okay. I won’t be here long.”

  Dad set the box on the kitchen table and started pulling things out. First was some char siu—barbecued pork. There was always char siu. Then bok choy, green beans, mushrooms, three pomelos...

  “They were on sale,” Dad explained.

  That hadn’t needed to be said. If there were three pomelos, of course they’d been on sale, but due to their large size, they were rather awkward for a single person to eat.

  And Alex lived alone. As did his father.

  Once upon a time, Dad wouldn’t have dared to stop by without calling first, and he never would have brought an enormous box of food, but things were different now.

  Alex wished they weren’t, but they were.

  He dug out some small cartons of Vitasoy and a bottle of sesame oil from the box. “You brought me sesame oil last time.”

  “Did I?” Dad said absently as he removed the last thing from the box: a package of frozen wontons.

  “It takes me a while to use up a bottle of sesame oil.”

  Dad merely grunted.

  “What’s new?” Alex asked.

  Dad shrugged.

  Conversations with Dad were often irritating. Alex would try to ask questions, try to keep the conversation going—not something that came naturally to him—and his father would fail to do his part.

  Yet he kept coming around with these unnecessary boxes of food.
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br />   Once they were finished putting the food away, Alex crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his father. The older man was looking a bit thin, and Alex felt like he should be the one bringing food to his father, not the other way around.

  “How’s work?” he asked, because he needed to say something.

  “Same.” Dad shrugged again. “Do you have a date tonight?”

  Alex shook his head. “Just going out with friends.”

  “Right.” More silence. “Well, it was good to see you. I’d better be going.”

  Before Alex could reply, his father was gone.

  Well, time to head out to The Thirsty Lumberjack.

  * * *

  Iris and Crystal had started their night at Elle Cocktail Bar, but Iris had the impression it didn’t get busy until eleven o’clock or later, and she didn’t want to wait around that long. Plus, there was a loud bachelorette party at the front. She could tell it was a bachelorette party because one girl was wearing a flimsy white veil on her head and a black shirt that said “bride” in enormous electric pink letters. The other women in the group were wearing white shirts with pink letters that said “Krissy’s Bachelorette Party.”

  Seemed like a waste to get shirts made just for this occasion. Iris certainly hadn’t done that when she’d thrown Rebecca’s bachelorette party last year.

  Though she’d hired some male strippers.

  Crystal Cameron had been at Rebecca’s bachelorette party, too. The three of them had hung out all the time when they were at U of T, and they’d lived together in their upper years. Crystal, like Rebecca, had studied electrical engineering, and she’d been the only black woman in electrical engineering in their year. She’d done a master’s degree and now worked for a large engineering firm, whereas Rebecca had left engineering entirely and was preparing to be a stay-at-home mom. Rebecca hadn’t gone out with them quite as often since she’d met Elliot, especially now that she was pregnant. Iris had invited her tonight, but she’d declined, saying something about making a fish mobile for her baby-to-be.

  Iris would definitely prefer to be drinking at a bar than making a fish mobile, but Rebecca couldn’t drink right now, and she’d always enjoyed arts and crafts. She’d also said something about “nesting,” whatever that was.

  “This place isn’t doing it for me,” Iris said, taking a sip of her fruity cocktail.

  Just then, another woman in a white shirt with pink letters ran into the bar and threw her arms around the bride-to-be, and they both squealed and jumped up and down.

  How on earth were these people old enough to get married?

  Yeah, definitely not the vibe Iris had been hoping for tonight.

  “I agree,” Crystal said. “Not enough men.”

  “Definitely not enough men.”

  There were a small number of men in the bar, but they all seemed to be on dates. Probably not dates arranged by their mothers or grandmothers. Lucky them.

  After being bugged about her single status all afternoon by her family, Iris wanted to take advantage of it by going home with a guy and having meaningless sex. Once she lived with her grandmother, one-night stands would probably be off the table. Ngin Ngin claimed she wouldn’t ask questions and Iris could stay out as late as she liked, but Iris had no intention of staying out all night once she moved in with Ngin Ngin.

  Why had she agreed to this?

  Filial piety. Guilt. Money.

  Something like that.

  Iris could just imagine the scene if Ngin Ngin woke up at eight in the morning and discovered Iris wasn’t in her room. She’d call Iris’s father or the police. And obviously Iris wasn’t bringing any men to stay over at Ngin Ngin’s.

  So she was going to have her fun while she could.

  “I’ve got the perfect idea,” Crystal said. “The Thirsty Lumberjack on King Street. There will be no shortage of men at a craft beer bar.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll be the right sort of men.”

  “Come on. The bearded lumberjack look has really been doing it for me lately.”

  “You do realize that being called The Thirsty Lumberjack doesn’t guarantee there will be any bearded lumberjack dudes there, don’t you?”

  “Stop spoiling my fun. There’s got to be at least one. We’ll go there for a few hours, then maybe head out dancing if nothing suits our needs.”

  “I bet it’ll be full of skinny men in toques rather than strapping mountain men.”

  “You won’t know if you don’t try,” Crystal said.

  This was true. It was worth a try. Definitely better than hearing Krissy and her over-enthusiastic friends squeal every five minutes.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were standing at the bar in The Thirsty Lumberjack. Iris felt a little overdressed. She was still wearing the blue dress she’d worn to the wedding. She’d thought about changing, but this dress did amazing things to her boobs, and in the end, she’d just settled for touching up her make-up. Crystal was wearing high black boots, a short skirt, and a cream shirt with sequins, and she also seemed a bit overdressed.

  Iris felt rather conspicuous. They weren’t dressed right, and practically everyone else here was white. And a beer fan.

  Iris was not much of a beer fan, and yet here they were.

  She ordered some sort of raspberry beer, which turned out to be surprisingly good, and Crystal went with a gose, whatever that was.

  “Try it,” Crystal said, handing over her glass. “It’s not bad.”

  Iris had a sip and wrinkled her nose. “It tastes terrible. Like drinking someone’s sweat.”

  “I’d happily lick his sweat.” Crystal nodded at a scowling man in the corner. He was wearing jeans and a red flannel shirt, and he had a bushy beard that was somewhat reminiscent of the dwarves in Lord of the Rings. “He’s the perfect lumbersexual.”

  “‘Lumbersexual’ isn’t a thing,” Iris said. “You just made that up.”

  “I swear! I didn’t.” Crystal pulled out her phone to prove it.

  Okay, fine. It was a thing.

  But it wasn’t what Iris was in the mood for tonight.

  * * *

  Alex looked around The Thirsty Lumberjack. The name seemed apt, given the bar was full of hipsters with beards wearing flannel shirts, though most of them probably weren’t fit enough to do any serious wood chopping. A few were wearing toques, even though it was summer.

  Alex shook his head in disgust. He didn’t approve of men wearing scarves and toques just for appearances.

  He sighed and got a table at the back. Since Jamie wasn’t here yet, he perused the list of beers on the chalkboard, but nothing really caught his interest. He hated IPAs and sours, and why on earth was gose a thing now?

  What the hell was he doing here?

  He read through the list again and settled on an oatmeal stout. When the waitress came around, he placed his order.

  His dad’s visit had put him in a bad mood, and he felt guilty about that. It was a ten-minute surprise visit from his father with an unnecessary box of food. No big deal.

  But things didn’t feel quite right between them anymore.

  The waitress came back with his beer, and he sipped it as he waited for Jamie and Eve. Indie rock music was playing, but it was mostly drowned out by all the loud conversations around him—the acoustics in this place were crap. The table behind him was having a loud conversation about movies, and he wanted to yell at them. Instead, he clenched his jaw and said nothing. He looked around for a TV, hoping to watch a baseball game, but unfortunately, this seemed to be one of those pretentious beer bars that thought it was too good for a television.

  Wait—he’d been wrong about that. There was a television in the corner, but it was playing an old black-and-white movie. No subtitles, though. What was the point of that? He wouldn’t be able to follow the story. Perhaps he’d check some baseball scores on his phone instead.

  “Alex!”

  Good. He wouldn’t need to sit here alone anymore.


  Jamie gave him a hearty slap on the back before sitting down across from him. Eve sat next to Jamie.

  Jamie Tsang was a friend of Alex’s from high school. He almost always wore a cheerful smile, and he was almost always late. He worked in IT. Eve Appleton was his girlfriend of six months. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and, in Alex’s opinion, a slightly annoying laugh, but he tried not to hold that against her because she really was a nice person. She’d even managed to do what Alex had thought impossible, which was to get Jamie talking about kids and marriage and settling down. They’d moved in together a few weeks ago.

  “How’s it going?” Jamie asked.

  Alex shrugged. “Same old. My dad stopped by today with more food.”

  “How is he?” Eve asked.

  “I don’t know. Okay, I guess.”

  “And you?” She smiled at him and reached over to touch his hand.

  He supposed he liked that she asked him. Nobody else did, now that it had been eight months, but he never knew how to respond. He couldn’t put it into words.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. It was simpler that way.

  His mom was dead, and he was going along with life because there was nothing else to do. She’d had cancer, and the prognosis hadn’t been good...and four months later, she was gone. Now it was just Dad, Alex, and his younger brother, Stuart, who lived in Calgary.

  It was all wrong, but it was life.

  He went to work like he always did, he went to the gym every day, he ate dinner in front of the television. He saw his friends on occasion.

  He glanced at his watch. One year ago today, he’d learned that his mother was almost certainly going to die.

  Jamie and Eve looked at the blackboard with the list of beers.

  “What’s gose?” Eve asked.

  “It’s pronounced goes-uh,” Alex said, “and it tastes like shit. Like sour, salty water with a bad aftertaste.”

  “He’s not to be trusted,” Jamie said. “He doesn’t like IPAs.”

  “I wouldn’t mind so much if there weren’t so damn many of them. Look at the menu. One porter, and seven IPAs.”

  “What are you drinking?” Eve nodded at his beer.

  “Oatmeal stout.” Alex slid it across the table, and Eve tried it and made a face, which Jamie seemed to think was adorable.