StoryLine Issue No. 2 Fall 2020

PASSIONFRUIT

BY DUANE RAT Z L AF F

PART - T I ME

“ MR .

R ”

DUANE

RAT Z L AF F

HAS

TAUGHT

AS

I N

THE

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2 008 .

DEPARTMENT

AT

COAS T L I NE

S I NCE

DUANE

AND

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S TUDENT S CAN GE T BACK I NTO THE I R C L AS SROOMS AT THE L E - J AO CENT ER . DUANE ARE ANX I OUS L Y AWA I T I NG THAT DAY WHEN THEY EARNED AT LOS ANGE L E S ( 1 9 6 8 ) AND H I S M . A . I N ENGL I SH ( T EACH I NG ENGL I SH AS A S ECOND L ANGUAGE ) AT OK L AHOMA S TAT E UN I VERS I T Y ( 1 9 8 8 ) . H I S B . A . I N ENGL I SH AT CA L I FORN I A S TAT E COL L EGE

SCHOOL S ,

BE TWEEN

THE S E

TWO

HE

D I D

EVERY TH I NG

FROM

S ERV I C I NG CAMPGROUNDS FOR THE FORE S T S ERV I CE TO S TUDY I NG

GL AS SB LOWI NG AT THE UN I VERS I T Y OF TOL EDO TO WORK I NG WI TH

OK L AHOMA . DUANE L I VE S I N

CAT T L E

ON

THE

P L A I NS

OF

WE S T ERN

HUNT I NGTON BEACH WI TH H I S WI F E AND TWO OF H I S FOUR ADUL T CH I LDREN .

Week 1, Spring Semester, 2020 “How was your first day, Tri?” Just after 4 pm on a Monday in late January, we were sitting in the living room of my family’s crackerbox. Desperate for a study break, I sat on our glider that had stopped gliding. Tri was slumped on the couch, a rescued dumpster sofa hiding underneath a tattered red and black Mexican blanket that Grandma had bought second hand when we got here in ‘08. Tri’s Nike hoodie reached almost to his knees. He was cold. Stiff 501s stretched to Tri’s Jordans, propped up—a double no-no in our house—on what once was an elegant Ethan Allen mahogany coffee table. Grandma had left the room with the TV tuned to one of Channel 57’s Vietnamese stations, all of them sounding the same to my ears because my Vietnamese had slipped badly. She chided me for that—until Tri arrived. My winter quarter at UCI had begun Jan. 2. Coastline students always came back six weeks after the end of the fall semester. Nice. I missed that long break. “Trying to think of the right thing to say. Maybe good.” “Wait. You said you didn’t want to be here and would do your best to get kicked out and sent home. As soon as possible. Now your first day of classes was ‘good’?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Maybe I change mind, Trang.” Like a leopard changes spots. “So who do you have for Reading/ Writing/ Grammar?” “Mr. F.” “Ha! He’s really tough, but I loved him. How about Listening and Conversation, your afternoon class?” “It a woman. Can’t remember name.” “Yeah, everybody’s name isn’t as easy to remember as Mr. F . How about the other students? Any hot girls?”

I knew cousin Tri well enough by now to understand his priorities, even though he’d been in the country for only a few weeks—just long enough to complain about everything, from the “weak” Nem Nuớng Cuốn at Brodard to the “weak” Tet celebration on Bolsa. “Low-key.” “What’s her name, or their names?” “Just one. Hien.” “Morning or afternoon?” “Both.” “Bomb!” Week 5, Spring Semester, 2020 “Wondering what's on your mind, it must be hard to be that fine Hold on, I got to start this mutha—” “Tri! Do you know what you’re saying?” Tri was repeating the Drake lyrics grinding out of his EarPods, loud enough for me to know what he was listening to. “‘Course I know, Trang. You think I stupid?” I was sitting in the glider. Tri was lying on the couch, in socks now, after Grandma had ripped into him when he both wore his Nikes in the house and parked them on the coffee table. Tri was multitasking, bumping along with the tracks in his ears and texting with his iPhone 11 Pro. I was surprised to see him out of his bedroom. “What happened, Tri? Internet out?” “What?” I shouted: “What happened, Tri? Internet out?” Tri ejected the Pods. “You funny, Trang. I give you all break and you look my beautiful face.” Unfortunately, Tri was right. He could thank my aunt. She was gorgeous, 63 wearing 43. “Must be a coincidence that Grandma’s just about finished her bun bo.” “Actually, I thinking going out to eat.” “Sorry. I’ve got homework.” I knew Tri didn’t want me along, but I liked to mess with him. “Did you ever get a

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