After clinking their bottles of ice-cold Tsingtao beer, they dove into the dishes without any ceremony, savoring the food in silence for the first few minutes.
After his first round of sweet fatty pork, Carlton looked earnestly at Rachel and said, “I wanted to take you to dinner tonight because I owe you an apology.”
“I understand. But you already apologized.”
“No, I didn’t. Not properly, anyway. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop, and I still feel horrible about what happened in Paris. Thank you for stepping in and doing what you did. It was rather stupid of me to think I could ever race Richie in the condition I was in.”
“I’m glad you see that.”
“I’m also sorry for everything I said to you. I was just so shocked—ashamed, really—that you found out about London, but it was bloody unfair of me to lash out at you like that. I wish I could take it all back.”
Rachel was silent for a moment. “I’m actually very grateful for what you told me. It’s given me some insight into a situation that’s been puzzling me since we arrived.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Look, I think I understand the position I’ve put your father in. I truly am sorry if I’ve caused your family any trouble. Especially your mother. I see now that it must be very hard on her—this whole situation is just something none of us could ever have prepared for. I really hope she doesn’t hate me for coming to China.”
“She doesn’t hate you—she doesn’t know you. Mum’s just had a tough year with my accident and all. Finding out about you—dis
covering this side of my father’s past—has just compounded that stress. She’s someone who’s used to a very orderly way of life, and she’s spent so many years planning things out perfectly. Like the company. And Dad’s career. She really has been the force behind his political rise, and now she’s trying to propel my future as well. My accident was a huge setback in her eyes, and she’s so afraid that any more scratches to that façade will destroy everything she’s planned for me.”
“But what has she planned for you? Does she want you to get into politics too?”
“Ultimately, yes.”
“But is that even something you want?”
Carlton sighed. “I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s okay. You have time to figure it out.”
“Do I? Because sometimes I feel like everyone my age is ahead of the game and I’m just totally fucked. I thought I knew what I wanted, but then the accident changed everything. What were you doing when you were twenty-three?”
Rachel thought about it as she drank some of the pork and bamboo soup. She closed her eyes, momentarily transported by the subtle flavors.
“Good, isn’t it? They’re famous for this soup,” Carlton said.
“It’s amazing. I think I could drink the whole pot!” Rachel exclaimed.
“Go right ahead.”
Collecting herself, Rachel continued, “When I was twenty-three, I was in Chicago going to grad school at Northwestern. And I spent half the year in Ghana.”
“You were in Africa?”
“Yep. Doing field research for my dissertation about microlending.”
“Brilliant! I’ve always dreamed of going to this place in Namibia called the Skeleton Coast.”
“You should talk to Nick—he’s been there.”
“Really?”
“Yeah—he went with his best friend Colin when he was living in England. They used to travel to all these extremely hard-to-get-to places. Nick used to have quite the life before he met me and settled down.”
“You guys seem to have quite the life now,” Carlton said wistfully.
“You can have any type of life you want, Carlton.”