Crazy Rich Asians

Nick gazed out the window at the view across the bay. In the morning haze, the Singapore skyline almost resembled Manhattan’s. “I loved the life we had together in New York,” he said wistfully. “I loved getting up early on Sunday mornings and going to Murray’s to pick up bagel sandwiches with her. I loved spending hours wandering around the West Village, going to Washington Square Park to check out the dogs playing in the dog run. But I fucked it all up. I’m the reason her life has become a total mess.”

“You’re not the reason, Nicky.”

“Colin—I ruined her life. Because of me, she no longer has a relationship with her mother, and they were like best friends. Because of me, she found out that her father is a convict, that everything she believed about herself has been a lie. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t brought her here. As much as I want to believe there’s a part of her that still loves me, we’re trapped in an impossible situation.” Nick sighed.

A sudden rapping noise, consistent as Morse code, echoed through the kitchen. “What’s that?” Colin asked, looking around. “I sure hope it’s not Kitty and Bernard again.”

“No, that’s the blue jay,” Nick said, getting up from the barstool and heading toward the living room.

“What blue jay?”

“Don’t you know? There’s this blue jay that visits every morning without fail, and for about ten minutes it will keep flying into the glass wall and pecking at it.”

“I guess I’m never up this early.” Colin entered the living room and stared out the window, enthralled by the cobalt-blue bird darting through the air, its tiny black beak hitting against the glass pane for a moment before swooping away, only to return seconds later, like a tiny pendulum swinging against the glass.

“I keep wondering if he’s just sharpening his beak, or whether he’s really trying to come in,” Nick said.

“Have you thought of opening the glass wall and seeing if he will fly in?” Colin suggested.

“Er … no,” Nick said, looking at his friend as if it was the most brilliant thing he had ever heard. Colin picked up the house remote control and pressed a button. The glass panels began to open effortlessly.

The blue jay zipped into the living room at top speed, heading straight for the massive painting of brightly colored dots against the far wall, where it began pecking mercilessly at one of the bright yellow dots. “Oh my God, the Damien Hirst! It’s been attracted to those bright dots all along!” Nick cried in amazement.

“Are you sure it’s not the world’s tiniest art critic?” Colin quipped. “Look at the way it’s attacking the painting!”

Nick rushed up to the painting, waving his arms to shoo the bird off.

Colin sprawled onto his George Nakashima bench. “Well, Nicky, I hate to point out the obvious, but here’s this tiny bird that’s been trying to get through a huge bulletproof glass wall. A totally impossible situation. You tell me it’s been here every day pecking away persistently for ten minutes. Well, today the glass wall came down.”

“So you’re saying I should free the bird? I should just let Rachel go?”

Colin gave Nick an exasperated look. “No, you idiot! If you love Rachel as much as you say you do, then you need to be that blue jay for her.”

“Okay, so what would the blue jay do?” Nick asked.

“He would never give up trying. He would take an impossible situation and make everything possible.”

* This floral-shaped, steamed rice-flour cake filled with sweet shredded coconut is a traditional Singapore delicacy.

† Cantonese for “fried wrapped eggs,” similar in style to sunny-side up or over-easy.

17

Repulse Bay

HONG KONG

The Corsair speedboat collected Astrid from the jetty on the crescent-shaped beach and sped out into the deep emerald waters of Repulse Bay. Rounding the cove, Astrid caught her first glimpse of a majestic three-masted Chinese junk moored in Chung Hom Wan, with Charlie standing on its prow waving at her.

“How magnificent!” Astrid said as the speedboat pulled alongside the junk.

“I thought you could do with a little pick-me-up,” Charlie said bashfully, as he helped her climb on deck. He had watched anxiously from the sidelines for the past couple of weeks as Astrid progressed through several stages of grief—going from shock to rage to despair while holed up at his duplex. When it seemed like she had come to a place of acceptance, he invited her for an afternoon sail, thinking that the fresh air would do her some good.

Astrid found her footing and smoothed out her navy capri pants. “Should I take off my shoes?”

“No, no. If you were wearing your usual stilettos, that would be one thing, but you’re fine in those flats,” Charlie assured her.