Lifted by the Great Nothing: A Novel Read Free

extreme self-consciousness. He felt spotlit, exposed, and maybe insufficient. She kept a bronze leather purse taut on her shoulder, and had tight, brilliant black eyes. Such captivating eyes made him insecure about his own. His were far too big for his face. Though adults often complimented him on how pretty they were, he’d hated them ever since a boy in his class accused him of looking like a Chihuahua. When he remembered to, he’d let his heavy lids close three-quarters of the way to make them appear smaller, peering at people through the narrow slits he left open. Teachers would often ask if he was sick or sleepy.
    Tim and Rasheed laughed loudly about something, and when Max looked back to see where the little woman had gone, she was right in front of him.
    “Hello,” she said, flickering her mascaraed eyes.
    “Hi.” He swayed back and forth, sea-legged, relaxing his lids, impatiently waiting for something else to come out of his mouth.
    “You look tired. You need sugar.” She reached into her purse and offered him a giant wrapped cube of Chinese candy. Hethanked her by bowing his head, overplaying some gentleman’s role he’d just now invented. He blushed as he tried to work the wrapper off the candy. Picking it open took all his concentration. She giggled and said, “Here,” bringing out another from her purse and quickly unwrapping it with her tiny polished nails. The giant cube was apricot colored. While Max put that one in his mouth and nodded to express how good it tasted, she began unpeeling the one he’d been holding. She smiled at his chewing like a mother watching her infant eat.
    Mr. Yang called out, “Okay, excuse me, normally it may bloom in exactly one minute.” Tim could be heard from across the room, whispering loudly, “This is so freaking awesome,” to Rasheed, putting an arm around him for a rapid side-hug.
    Mr. Yang turned toward the tripoded camera and gave a speedy discourse in Mandarin, probably a brief history of the flower and of what was to come. Max saw the flower through cracks made by the suits and dresses rocking side to side like buoys. It sat in a ceramic pot on the high stool between Mr. Yang and the camcorder. It was the size of a small hand, with its hairy green fingertips touching, bursting at the seams.
    The little woman gave Max a third cube. He accepted it, sucking and chewing and swallowing back saliva while the two of them laughed together with their eyes, but these taffies weren’t getting broken down at all. Managing the enormous wad exhausted his tongue.
    Robby descended the stairs naked and waved—“Hi!”—to all the guests. Other than the little woman, most stayed faithfully glued to the flower, not allowing Robby to take priority on this big day. Max had seen Robby naked so many times, he preferred to pore over the little woman’s profile, trying to ball up the taffy in his mouth and push it into his cheek so he could get a word out. He’d thought of something to say now. Where ya from? That’s a good starter question. But she was unwrapping anothertaffy. Mechanically now, still staring at Robby, she handed it to Max. It didn’t occur to him to decline, and he added it to the giant mass.
    Mrs. Yang draped a quilt around Robby and walked him down so he could join everyone for the main event. She rubbed his back in big circles, saying something calming into his ear. His eyes shrunk, small as a mole’s, his mouth hinged open, agreeing serenely with whatever poetry she used on him. Rasheed asked Max with hand signs if he could see okay, and Tim wiggled his eyebrows at him. Max said yes with his head, praying they wouldn’t come over.
    The room quieted. The little woman held back a different kind of smile. Max realized she was trying to conceal what she really wanted to do: laugh at his struggle with all this taffy stuffed in his mouth. A woman in the wall of people cried, “Wasai!” and they knew it had begun. The little woman became more girl-like,