1. Don't start with the meat. That mistake cost you before. Begin with the spreads. Step lightly through the kitchen, past her rigid silhouette. One careless movement, and her sigh will descend, a solvent stripping you bare.

2. Locate the bread. Hawaiian bread is ideal—its pillowy mass engineered to absorb what you'll never say aloud. Slide out two slices, then two more as insurance. Each piece lands heavier than it should.

3. The knife waits. Spread the mayonnaise in thin strokes. Recall how she dislikes overindulgence. The bread absorbs it silently.

4. Peel away the plastic covering the turkey. The seal sighs open. It sounds like her. The slices cling together, reluctant to separate. Lay them down one by one. Each fold must be perfect.

你应该多吃点! 这样你会更强壮. 你會進校隊的！(You should eat more! You'll be stronger. You would be on varsity!)

5. Ignore her comment. Stack the turkey. Form a barricade against her voice. The meat glistens. So do your eyes.

你該放棄小提琴嗎？梅和俊練習的時間比你多很多。(Should you quit the violin? Mei and Jun practice so much more than you.)

6. Reach for the cheese, pale and pliant in its wrapper. 

big mistake. 

你这个笨蛋! 我对奶酪过敏! 你是想害死我吗! 

 (You idiot! I’m allergic to cheese! Are you trying to kill me?!)

7. You thought the sandwich was yours. The cheese sits between your fingers like evidence. You set it down, but the charge has already stuck to the soft parts of you she knows how to find.

8. Press the halves together. Trim the crusts. Slice diagonally. Place the triangles on porcelain and present them.

9. Silence. Then— 

冰箱裡還剩下一些青正玉，想吃多少就吃多少。

(There's some leftover Qing Zheng Yu in the fridge. Eat as much as you'd like.) 

10. You return the cheese to the refrigerator, stowing it behind the juice carton where your mom won’t see it.

Just in case.

Previously published in the Eunoia Review.