“I’m going to see Paris,” I say defiantly, striding towards the room. I positively itch for a confrontation, but this officer, yet a different one, lets me in as soon as I give her my name. I sit down. “It’s a mess, Paris. I’m no closer to finding out who did this to you, and worse yet, I quit my job today. Sort of.” I pour out everything, not wanting to bottle up my feelings. As I’m talking a glimmer of something comes to my mind, but it’s gone. I don’t try to push it because I know it’ll come to me sooner if I let it simmer. I want more than anything for Paris to open his eyes, for him to smile at me, for him to come home. “Oh, god,” I sob, my head dropping forward. How much longer can I stand to see Paris like this? I long to shake him by his shoulders until he awakes.
“Ma’am, it’s time.” The officer carefully places her hand on my arm, her eyes showing sympathy.
“Mom, let’s get out of here for a bit,” I say to my mother in Taiwanese. “Just you and me.”
“What about Lyle?” My mother asks, casting a worried glance at Lyle who isn’t paying any attention to us. “We can’t leave him here by himself.”
“That’s rude, you know,” Mr. Jenson says suddenly, interrupting our conversation. “Talking in a foreign language in front of people who don’t speak it. Besides, this is America. Speak English.”
“There’s no mandate that says we have to speak English,” I say heatedly, a flush creeping up my neck. We had been rude, but I am too edgy to apologize.
“Rayne and I are going to run back to her apartment for a bit,” my mother says evenly. “Lyle, would you like to come with us?”
“I’ll stay here,” Lyle says, glaring at the Jensons. Mrs. Jenson avoids his eyes, but Mr. Jenson glares right back.
“You sure, honey?” Mom asks Lyle, squeezing his arm solicitously. He nods, not taking his eyes off Mr. Jenson. My mother and I reluctantly leave them.