This is you being a good housewife, he said.

So you married him to feel good about yourself? When are you in power except in the kitchen with your pots and pans?

AND THIS IS YOU BY WEIJU CHEN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 18

“Mrs B told me you’d be coming today,” Richard said as he helped Hana and her husband Sun carry their luggage to the living room. “I’d forgotten what time it was. I was getting ready to go out.”

It was mid-morning but the apartment was dark and smelled of stir-fry. Hana noticed the takeout box in the trash. Sun was getting a set of keys from Richard, who was to be their housemate. Richard wore a plaid shirt tucked into black corduroys, his leather boots unlaced.

“Don’t worry. You can go now, thank you,” Sun said. “After we settle in I’ll call Mrs B to let her know we’ve arrived. Oh, and sorry, I forget. This is my wife, Hana.”

Richard grabbed the jacket on the kitchen counter. “Nice to meet you,” he said, and left the apartment.

It was their first day in Cambridge. Sun had completed his PhD in geophysics engineering at Texas A&M and was beginning his post-doc at MIT. At the café where he’d gone to have lunch after his interview in July, Sun saw the apartment’s ad on the announcement board and decided to visit that afternoon. Later that evening, he’d called to tell her that he’d found a place. He had paid the deposit and signed the lease. His sense of absolute confidence in being hired amazed Hana. Unlike her meticulous preparations of listing out each option’s pros and cons and drafting multiple back-up plans, Sun never learned to consider his options before making decisions. He settled for sufficiency.

Sun had tried to convince Hana to move to Cambridge with him—she was still his girlfriend then—but her mother would not consider it before he’d secured his employment and proposed. Hana had lived with her mother all her life, even during her years at college. Although her mother always appeared to give Sun a hard time, Hana knew that she approved of him—he was dependable. Hana and Sun had married just two weeks before coming to Cambridge, although they’d dated for seven years before he proposed. Sun received the acceptance email from MIT on a Tuesday morning in August and that afternoon he drove to the Jared’s in the First Colony Mall and bought a ring. After taking Hana out to an Italian dinner (he’d worn the shirt that she picked out for him for the interview) they walked around the neighborhood. Sun pointed to the sky all of a sudden and shouted, “Shooting star!” When she looked up and saw nothing but street lamps, he knelt down and presented the ring. It was a simple silver band with no sparkle or shine, but Hana appreciated modesty and said it was a classic. It would go with any outfit. For days afterwards, she teased him about his cheesy proposal and swore that he’d ripped it off a TV commercial.

Hana examined the apartment. The living room was compact but spacious, and a glass sliding door next to the sofa led to a small cement balcony; leaves had piled in one corner. On the right of the living room, Hana followed a short, unlit hallway to their bedroom. The darkness made her feel uneasy and she soon discovered that the switch on the wall did absolutely nothing. There was not even a light in the ceiling. She entered the bedroom where Sun was digging through his suitcase and repacking to get ready for work. Their bedroom contained a bed, desk, and a four-legged wardrobe that had a narrow rectangular block just long enough for Sun to hang his shirts.

“This is only temporary,” Sun said.

“Oh, I don’t mind it. It’ll be cozy. It reminds me of the place we had back in Taipei when I was a kid,” Hana said, kneeling down to help him unpack. “But do I get my own room?” She looked up with playful eyes.