A Taste for Love

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a mother in possession of great wisdom, must be in want-nay, in need-of a daughter who will listen.”

The neon letters mock me from the plaque’s smooth black surface. Surely, Mom hasn’t twisted the words of one of my favorite authors. My jaw swings open, but the curse never quite leaves my lips. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and wish for the words hanging over my desk to disappear. I pry one eyelid open.

Nope. It hasn’t changed.

Jane Austen, give me strength.

The corner of Mom’s mouth twitches as I swivel to look at her.

“So, what do you think? Sharon was running a sale, and I thought this would be the perfect addition to your room.”

Of course it came off Etsy. I wish I’d never introduced her to that hell site. It’s like Pinterest for people with insomnia and money.

“It’s clever, right? I came up with the quote myself,” she continues, eyes glinting. “By the way, I don’t know why you love that story so much. If i were Mrs. Bennet, those girls would have been married in half the time.”

I cringe. If fictional characters aren’t safe from her meddling, what chance do I have? I can’t even remember a time when Mom wasn’t bossing me around. I’m pretty sure Jeanne and I were barely out of diapers when she taught us the two most important things to have in life:

1. A useful college degree, so we can take care of her when she’s old.
2. a good husband, so he can take care of us.

Not one to leave things to chance, the minute we hit puberty, Mom also gave us her cardinal rules for dating:

1. No dating while you’re in school.
2. Only Asian boys allowed. The more traditional, the better.

2.5. The best type of Asian to date is Taiwanese, then  Chinese. There are no others.

3. He must be tall. At least three inches more than you.

4. He has to be smart and choose a stable career like doctor or engineer

5. He must be Asian (this point is so important, it’s stressed   twice).

Jeannie, my older sister, is the poster child for obedient Asian daughters. She follows all but the first rule to the letter, something Mom easily forgave. To make matters worse, everyone loves her.

“She’s so graceful and well spoken!”

“Jeannie is the nicest person! She’s always smiling.”

“I love her style. I’m always stalking her Insta to see what she’s wearing!”

Jeannie’s so pretty a modeling scout chased after her for weeks to sign her. In fact, we have one of her first pictures sitting on the mantel. Whenever we have guests, Dad always jokes it’s the one that came in the frame.

As for me?

I’m the rebel-or if you ask Mom, the troublemaker.

“Watch where you’re going Liza! I can’t believe you just walked into a parked car.”

“Why did you have to say that in front of Mrs. Zhou? I’m so embarrassed!”

“Stop slouching. It looks lazy.”

And let’s not forget one of Mom’s favorites:

“You act too smart. Boys don’t like girls who are smarter than them.”

She has a million of these-advice for how to make a boy like me. Not any boy, mind you. Only the ones who fit her list of rules. It didn’t take long for me to realize what she really wanted was for me not to be…me.

Like that was going to happen.

So I broke her rules. Not to annoy her, though it was a added bonus. I just didn’t see the point. Why make myself something I wasn’t just to convince a boy to date me? Especially when there were guys out there who already wanted to.

I hid it from her, of course. I didn’t have a death wish.

The first time Mom caught me, I was at the movie theater with my first real boyfriend, Jeremy. We met shortly after he moved from Ohio with his family. He had sea-green eyes and a mop of chestnut curls, and I was convinced we’d be together forever. My cousin Mary spotted us two rows ahead of her. By the time I got home, Mom was livid. A two-hour lecture on boys and the only thing they all want followed. I also got a bonus lecture on why all non-Asian boys should be avoided.

Three hours of my life I’ll never get back. I still have nightmares about it.