Fresh Off the Boat Read Online Free

up’!”
    “No, we didn’t, he fucked himself up.”
    “No one is fucking anyone! Who taught you to fuck people up? Did you put all this Gack in his hair?”
    “YES, they did it, Mom!”
    Emery and I were loving it. We knew we were going to get our asses kicked, but watching the snitch cry was the best. And as long as Evan had a headful of Gack, we knew Mom would be preoccupied.
    We weren’t happy for long.
    Mom poked around at the Gack for a few minutes, went to the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of Heinz white vinegar. She took Evan to a bathtub and poured the vinegar over his head. Instantly the Gack started to bubble and dissolve.
    “Oh, shit.”
    “Run.”
    Without even waiting for my mom, Emery and I took off up the stairs to his room. We always hid in his room. Even though I was the oldest, we liked hanging in Emery’s room best. His room had more light, action figures, and goofy patterned furniture. We drew our master plans to escape on his desk, made forts on the floor, and went out on the roof through his window.
    In those days, we were all about getting away. My parents got married young, after knowing each other for only three months and Mom had mewhen she was twenty. You know the deal. Mom likes to say we grew up together. When she had problems with Dad, we’d ride around in the car and she’d tell me all about it, even though I wanted nothing to do with it. I was seven; how was I supposed to play Dr. Phil?
    “We’re running away, Eddie!”
    “To where, Mom?”
    “Away from your dad! He’s crazy.”
    “You always say that and we always go back home.”
    “This time is different. I’m not going back anymore.”
    “Emery and Evan are still there.”
    “Shut up!”
    She knew she was going back.
    My dad was a tough dude. Didn’t waste a word. He was firm, smart, and pretty damn funny, too. The worst part for my mom was that when she wilded and tried to make fun of my dad, he had all the jokes. She was from the more suburban and sheltered part of Taipei so he called her
shambala
(country bumpkin) or a
fan tong
(rice bucket). He was a hilarious dick.
    When they fought, we’d all lock ourselves in Emery’s room. Evan would get scared, so we’d make forts and read comics. My mom only ever bought us three comics (
Uncanny X-Men #1, Punisher
, and
X-Factor
) so we just took turns reading them over and over. From those three comics we created our own characters, gave them special abilities, and then played out scenes from the worlds we created ourselves. The Punisher was my favorite, a bad dude with good intentions. Any means necessary to do the right thing. I liked that blurring of good and evil. At an early age I realized, like Black Star said, “Things ain’t always what they may seem.”
    When I was only five, my mom got in a fight with my dad at dinner.
    “You told me you’d take me to the mall!” she yelled at him. “You promised! You always break your promise!”
    “I’m too fucking tired, OK! It’s six o’clock. I don’t want to go on the Beltway and fight traffic.”
    “Loser! You’re a loser! Never keep a promise!”
    Then he flipped the table. Food went flying everywhere. Plates broke. That’s when Mom went Connie Corleone.
    “Yeah, break all the plates! We have tons of money, just break the plates!” Dad screamed.
    As Mom started kicking plates and Dad walked away, I picked up a pair of chopsticks. Held the shits tight.
    “Mom …”
    “What!?”
    I showed her the chopsticks.
    “I’ll go fight traffic with you, Mom.”
    To this day, that’s her favorite story. I was always ready.
    SHORTLY AFTER THAT birthday dinner at Yi Ping Xiao Guan, my grandfather passed away. We knew it was a matter of time, but you’re still never ready. My parents loaded us up in the car and we all had to wear suits. No one said a word. The limousines met at Grandma’s house on a cold fall day. Gray skies, no breeze, just kind of frozen. It wasn’t the cancer that killed Grandpa. He