I had tried to assimilate and adapt to human life in America, with blue jeans, chicken nuggets, and a PhD in Museum Conservation. It was a different, more desperate time.” I made the deal so that we would be allowed to come to this country. Next to me, Chinese tourists were having a heated discussion about the best pizza places in the Lower East Side. “You lost a bet, right? You know, I’m pretty sure it’s not legal to put up your granddaughter’s hand in marriage as collateral.” I hit redial on my phone, and she picked up almost immediately. Outside I made my way down the great expanse of stone steps, fat gray pigeons glared at me, dodging my footsteps. Once she had played politics with the fate of empires, and now she invested that talent into stocks and virtual currency. I danced around a pile of dusty books resting on the floor and navigated around the cubicle maze that passed for the doctoral student office. The early twentieth century building was gorgeous with its hand-carved window frames and Italian marble floors, but sorely lacking when it came to areas with good phone service. I teetered on the stupid heels I had bought for today, in the museum where I worked. I glanced at the phone again and saw that the call was disconnected. No way my Alexander McQueen-clutch-carrying-Bitcoin-gambling grandmother would say something like that. Only one of the connection bars was filled, indicating barely audible service. “What do you mean I’m betrothed in an arranged marriage?”
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