I nervously adjusted my glasses, and then tucked my hair behind my ears. After a pause, where I took a moment to savour the excitement, I stepped forth and pushed open the door to the comic book store; the familiar scent of ink and paper giving me that rush that always made me all giddy. With college and my part-time job, the comic book store had kind of become my only reprieve from the drudgery of my goal-focused life. Expectations have always been heavy in my culture, particularly when they're coming from parents. My mother had always been the typical example of an Asian tiger mom and nothing had ever been good enough for her. Every day of my life had been a constant grind, and when she was not checking up on me about my studies, she was ensuring that I put in the hours at the coffee shop. I'd been at that stupid coffee shop since the day I turned eighteen, and I've found it to be nothing but a distraction all the way through my studies. It doesn't really fit with the whole Asian mother thing, does it? Expecting me to juggle a job around my studies with the risk that my grades may drop. However, my mother had always considered herself a genius, and she insisted that I experience what it's like to work in such a low-paying, hard-grinding job so that I'll never end up there. So that I'd realise that my brain is a much better tool than my body.
My heart quickened as I spotted April browsing through the shelves, her eyes alight with excitement as she flipped through the pages of a comic. She looked up and grinned as she saw me, her excitement infectious. "Hey, Jing! Check this out, they just released the new issue of The Bumbler," she announced, and her voice was filled with enthusiasm as she held up the comic. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation of my similarly giddy response.
We'd lived next to April's family for just over a year, and though I'd found her annoying at the beginning, especially since she was a couple of years younger than myself, I rapidly realised that we did indeed have a lot in common; comics and graphic novels being our major shared interest. She wasn't beautiful or popular either, so as a friend, I wasn't at all threatened or intimidated. Mother didn't approve of my friendship with April for a multitude of exhaustive reasons, most of which I'd put down to the fact that she just enjoyed being a bother in typical Asian-mother style. In the past she'd commented that April set a bad example and would lead me astray. When I'd pushed her to explain, she'd simply waved the subject away, even though it hadn't made any sense. April was basically like a mouse, and didn't put a foot wrong anywhere, because she simply didn't have the confidence to. She'd done okay in school, as far as I knew, and she'd never got herself into any trouble, again, as far as I knew. Every time we hung out, it was to go to the comic book store or just spend the night watching anime or whatever. Sometimes, much to my shame, we'd childishly play dress up and pretend to be our favourite characters. Honestly, it was all kind of cringe stuff that was mostly made up of guilty pleasures, and I did a lot of it to humour April, as if like an aunt. It was the kind of stuff I wouldn't want anyone outside of April knowing about. But, in her company, I was able to totally be myself, and since we were both women, the age difference had never seemed to matter. So, it was extremely annoying that my mother was always trying to cause a wedge between us, as, in some regards, April was my only refuge from my mother's interfering and controlling ways. Whenever I made April smile, it would remind me, that actually, I wasn't a let-down or failure as Mother insisted, but rather, I had value as a friend. Still, despite my friendship being the one area of my life where I could find solace, Mother still intruded. She still dictated my schedule and enforced her will whenever she could. She reminded me again and again, that without her fantastic parenting, I would be as useless and misguided as April was.
Yet, having spoken to April's own mom on a number of occasions, Mother had no choice other than to tolerate our friendship on the basis of avoiding confrontation. That was simply the way of maintaining face within our culture. Whenever April visited, Mother would be all smiles and welcoming, but as soon as she departed, my mother would be all curses and complaining, insisting that April came over too often.
Part of me enjoyed April's presence for the very fact that it annoyed Mother so much, and I saw our friendship as kind of a rebellion; one aspect of my life that my mother wasn't able to control. Often, I'd head over to April's too, clutching the most recent comic from the store, paid for by my own money, just to prove to her what a fantastic friend I was.
I looked across the store, and forced a smile, my stomach fluttering with nerves. I never did like being out in public, feeling like I was up for judgement by whoever passed me by. I'd always felt safer at home, my nose buried in my books, but April had insisted we came out regularly to see the new releases, often so she could pick out whichever one she wanted me to buy. That was kind of an understanding that had developed between us. Since she didn't work, I was always the one that made the purchases. I didn't mind, and I supposed, in the haven of nerdom, surrounded by our shared passions, a couple of dollars here and there was worth it if it meant we got to enjoy our hobby. Popular and cliquey girls, the kind that had tormented me all the way through high school would never think to step foot in such a place, so, within those walls, April and I could be ourselves.
"Is that the one you want?" I asked, while stepping up next to her and looking at the cover. "Did we finish with the previous issue?"
April rolled her eyes behind the comically-thick lenses of her glasses, and she scratched at the wiry hair behind her ear. "Yes, duh," she said in a most adorable way. "We already went through that one a load of times. I can't wait to read this one."
I nodded, and eased it from her iron grip. "I suppose it doesn't cost too much," I said while glancing over the price. It'll have to be the last one this month though. I don't want Mother asking questions."
April huffed, and then crossed her arms. "Will she ever stop her snooping?"
"Not likely," I said, and then I joined her with my own huff.
Mother had been a stickler for watching over me my entire life in the most infuriating ways. Wherever I went, I always felt as if she was lingering in the shadows, ready to pounce upon whatever imaginary mistake I'd apparently made. It had most definitely been tiresome, and her interfering had certainly been annoying, but there wasn't a lot I could do about her, especially living in her house and all. She'd insisted upon that, not wanting me to waste money on college accommodation, and having me pay into our own house as rent instead made sense in her selfish head. So, she'd kept me on a tight leash as a result. It had always been ingrained within our culture to respect and obey our parents, and Mother had insisted throughout my life that she always knew best. Therefore, my path through life had always seemed beyond my control, as if it was a decision I'd not been permitted to make myself. Mother had decided where I went to school, and Mother selected the course I would be studying at college. When I had graduated with first class honours, Mother had insisted upon me gaining a master's degree. As Graduation approached, I knew, that once that was over with, Mother would direct me again. Whether it be a career or perhaps a doctorate, that was a decision not for me to make. I suppose that in some ways it was freeing, I mean, having those decisions made for me. There was always something calming about having that weight lifted from my shoulders. It was like I could just run on automation.
Anyway, since my bank statements were delivered by mail, and Mother saw it as her right to open whatever I received, it was impossible for me to ever hide anything. Most of my earnings from the coffee shop went straight into Mother's rent, my daily expenses, and with the rest being filtered to my savings. I did occasionally buy April a comic or graphic novel. Oh, Mother had noticed of course, and communicated her displeasure, but since my grades had always been immaculate, I had been permitted a solitary exception. Besides, since April had been jobless since she'd graduated high school, it had always fallen upon myself to be the provider when it came to new reading material. I didn't mind, as I'd intended to buy the comics anyway, but it kind of made me feel good to share it with April, like I was providing her with something she could never obtain herself. Besides, her excitement whenever we came to the store was always adorable, and I'd usually let her pick out the one she wanted.
As we wandered through the aisles, April's erratic energy filled the air, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever she laughed at something another customer said or eagerly discussed the latest superhero movie with the cashier. Ever since we'd started going there, she'd gradually built up quite the rapport with the regulars and the staff, whereas I'd kind of remained a bit of a wallflower. I'd never been one to get out and socialise, which I suppose is why I've always been so invested in comics and the like. April had really been the first friend I'd had that I could genuinely afford that title. Perhaps I developed somewhat of a possessive attitude towards her because of that, but, people should care about their friends, shouldn't they?
It hadn't all been easy for April though. She's always liked to talk with the nerdy boys at the store, but none of them had ever shown an interest in her. I'd wiped away plenty of tears as a result. The problem with April has always been that she possesses a stereotypically nerdy look. Her hair is ridiculously frizzy and voluminous, spraying out from all angles of her head. She kind of looks like a troll as a result. To make it even worse, as long as I've known her, she's always worn the most asinine, nerdy glasses. She can barely see without them, which means the lenses are thick as hell. Whenever she'd wear them, her eyes appeared miniscule, as if part of her face had been shrunken much smaller than the rest. As a result, boys did not find her attractive. Now, don't get me wrong, April was indeed cute, in her own way, especially her enthusiastic personality, but, boys can be shallow, and they simply didn't care about stuff like that. As a result, April was rejected a lot, and whenever another one occurred, she gradually retreated into her shell.
It's not like I've ever been a stunner either. I'm slightly taller than April, but that doesn't mean a lot since she barely hit five foot. My hair style has always been uniform, fitting to Asian school standards and trimmed just above the shoulders, despite the fact I've never been to the continent. In harmony with April, I've always worn glasses too. Mine have never been as nerdy as hers, but I've never attracted the attention of any boys either.
Sometimes I did feel a little embarrassed as I lingered in the aisles of the store, especially when April was trying, and failing, to interact with boys her own age. Being three years older, that had always been a sticking point, especially with our mothers. But, since we lived next door to each other, and we had similar interests, it made sense to me. After the first few months, April's mother actually began encouraging the friendship in hope I could set a good example; that my academic achievements would inspire April to pursue a similar education and apply for scholarships. I've never rubbed off on her in that way however, and April has never shown any interest in anything except having fun. Whenever I've mentioned her future, or a career, she'd always just wrinkle her nose, shrug and then swiftly redirect the conversation. One time, she had even told me that her dream was to do nothing, and she planned to one day marry someone rich. I had nodded sympathetically, though, doubted that endeavour being successful. I mean, she was nice, but, with the way she looked, she was hardly trophy wife material, was she? I hadn't said that to her, of course, and I'd simply enquired if she'd met any nice boys recently. The answer was no, of course. The same answer I gave when she'd asked me the same question. Boys had always been a distraction, according to Mother, and one day I would be paired with a suitable match whom had her approval.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed when April stopped in front of a display of vintage action figures, her eyes lighting up with delight as she examined each one with childlike wonder. She looked back at me, her smile widening as she held up a particularly rare figure. "Can we get this?" she asked, and she waved it around; her frizzy hair hilariously swaying from side to side.
"One comic book or graphic novel," I said firmly. Like I said, I've never minded buying something to share with her, but I wasn't about to splurge my savings on something I have no need for. Mother would pounce upon such a purchase, and I would have a lot of explaining to do.
"Please," April said while clutching the figure with both hands and pressing its head against her chin. "It's so cool."
"Maybe when you get a job," I said, while taking the figure from her and putting it back on the shelf. "You can buy it yourself."
"Pffft," she said childishly. "What time do you have to go to your shift anyway?"
