I Know You Know I Know

In the Bay Area, there are over 400 Asian restaurants. I just looked it up on sfgate.com. I’ve often walked by little neighborhood Mom-and-Pop joints and wondered if they were any good. It’s a well-known fact that if there are a decent amount of Asian folks chowing down inside, it’s probably a safe bet. Last Saturday night, my family decided to meet at Three Brothers from China, a Chinese restaurant in Pleasant Hill, near Sunvalley Mall. We were celebrating my sister A.B.’s 41^st birthday. They do a mean Honey Walnut Prawn dish that I highly doubt is eaten in China, as it is flavored heavily with mayonnaise, but since I’ve never been to China, I can’t really know for sure. In any case, there’s always a fair amount of Asian people in there—a safe bet.

We’d been there before and since we had an “in” (my brother-in-law knew the owner), we always were treated extra-special-nice, often scoring a free sweet red bean dessert after dinner. The northern California contingent of mi familia showed up in full force. My oldest sister (A.J.), Moms, Pops, Brother-in-law (B.O.L.), the birthday girl (A.B.) and her daughters, Big S, and L’il S. I sat beside my S.O., with my back against the wall, imagining myself to be a steely-eyed gambler in the Old West, always watching the door.

I thought to myself, Who am I kidding? I can’t bluff worth a lick. Earlier, I toyed with the idea of downplaying the news of my impending freedom (call it unemployment, if you’d rather) to my family, who I knew judged my actions to be less than wise. Could I possibly contain my emotional grab bag of terror and excitement and keep them from rallying together and issuing a group finger-wag? Could I possibly bluff them into thinking I’m cool, calm and collected about this whole quitting-my-job-business?

They already knew, it wasn’t a secret, just my first family “public appearance” since the event. I told A.J. immediately after I had given notice at work and assumed (correctly) that the news would trickle down. Later, I remember speaking to A.B. about it only to immediately regret it. “I should have kept it a secret.” I told her. “You can’t keep anything a secret in this family. You may think you can but we would have found out.” She replied so matter-of-factly that it pissed me off. But in truth, I conceded she was right. Secrets have a way of spilling out in my family. The tricky part, though, is that when we find out a secret, we won’t let on we know. It turns into a game of Who’s-Gonna-Fess-Up-First? Currently, I am wringing the shit of out my hands, sitting on a big secret about one of my sisters. And no, I wouldn’t tell you, even if you promised you wouldn’t tell a soul.

Toward the end of the evening, I scanned the dinner table, looking into the eyes of every single family member there. I knew in my heart, that even if I could act as though I wasn’t terrified I’d fall flat on my face, they would never let on they knew. In some weird way, if they were to acknowledge the fear and doubt they see me trying to hide, they’d be legitimizing its power over me. That’s something they’d never knowingly do. I know they know I’m scared shitless. But they know me well enough to trust that I’ll always land on my feet and that’s good enough for them. My family’s a pretty safe bet that way.