Clink clank.
Arvin put the last plate on the drying rack. Warm water ran over his hands as he rinsed the last bowl. Christina had made beef stew for dinner, and it had been delicious. He dried his hands on the towel and turned around to see the Fangs taking their seats at the table.
"Thank you for your help as always," Christina said. She patted the seat next to her. "Come and sit. We can practice more English before bed."
Arvin nodded and took his place. It had become a routine over the last two months. After dinner, they would sit around the table and go over some English or discuss American culture. But tonight was different. He had something on his mind that had been bothering him for the past week.
Fang Chou opened a small notebook. "Let's review yesterday's lesson. Can you tell me about your work day using past tense?"
"I worked in warehouse today," Arvin said slowly, his accent still thick but his words clear. "I moved many boxes. Hendrick and Henrietta were… were very kind to me."
Jeremy grinned. "Your English is getting way better, man. Remember when you could barely say 'hello'?"
Cynthia adjusted her glasses. "His pronunciation has greatly improved, and his grammar structure is more natural now."
"Thanks, everyone," Arvin said. "You are all very good teachers."
The family smiled. Arvin had been speaking less and less Chinese over the past month, forcing himself to think in English as much as possible. The Fangs were supportive of his efforts, and understood his goal, though they still helped him out with complex words when he got stuck.
Fang Chou opened the notebook to a fresh page. "What new words did you learn today?"
Arvin thought for a moment. "I learned 'inventory' and 'schedule' and…" He paused, trying to remember the correct pronunciation. "Ef-fi-cien-cy."
"Efficiency," Cynthia said.
"Ef-fi-shen-cy," Arvin repeated.
"Good."
They continued for another ten minutes, going over new vocabulary and grammar rules. Arvin found these sessions helpful. They provided structure to his thoughts in English, rather than just translating from Chinese or Indonesian.
"Can I…can I ask something?" Arvin said suddenly.
The family looked at him. Fang Chou closed the notebook. "Of course. What is it?"
Arvin shifted in his chair. He'd been thinking about this for days, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up without sounding ungrateful. "It's about the lunches at the warehouse. The food that the workers eat."
"What about it?" Christina said.
"For eight days I have been there, I have watched what they eat. Every day it is…" He struggled to find the words. "Fast food. Burgers, hot dogs, fried chicken. Mr. Fang gives them money to buy, but they always choose the same food."
Jeremy leaned forward. "Yes, the usual stuff. What's wrong with that?"
Arvin chose his words carefully. "Fast food is alright. But every day, it's not good for the body. Especially for older people like Hendrick and Henrietta. And even young workers if they eat the same food outside of work."
The family exchanged glances. That wasn't what they had expected him to ask about.
"I have also noticed something else," Arvin continued. "In the past month, before I started work, I cooked for almost every times. Do you remember?"
"Of course," Christina said. "Your cooking has been great."
"Yes, but more than great. It helped your..." Arvin searched for the word. "Your body shape."
Fang Chou raised an eyebrow. "Body shape?"
"Before I cooked for you, you ate pizza, burger, pasta many times. Your faces became... more round. But after I cooked balanced food with vegetables and good protein, the round went away. You became better weight." Arvin gestured to his own body. "My body can burn fast food easily because I am young and train much. But your bodies keep the extra."
The family sat in stunned silence. Christina subconsciously touched her cheek, feeling the softer curve that had indeed changed over the past month. Fang Chou looked down at his belly, noticing that his slight paunch had flattened. The twins examined their own faces and realized Arvin was right.
"Oh my God," Jeremy said. "I didn't even notice."
Cynthia nodded slowly. "The nutritional balance makes sense. Processed foods are high in sodium and saturated fats."
Christina pinched her cheek lightly, comparing it to how it felt weeks ago. "You're absolutely right. Now that you say it, I can feel the difference."
"So this is why you started cooking for us more often," Fang Chou said, understanding dawning in his voice.
"Yes. I saw you changing from the bad food, so I cooked better food to help. But I could not say directly because..." Arvin paused, searching for the right words. "Because it might make you feel bad."
The family looked at each other with a mix of surprise and gratitude. They had thought Arvin cooked for them out of the kindness of his heart, but it was more than that, wasn't it?
"Thank you," Christina said. "We didn't realize you were looking out for us."
"So what are you suggesting about the workers at the warehouse?" Fang Chou asked.
"I want to cook lunch for them. Something with vegetables and good protein. I won't force them to eat it, but I'll give them the choice." Arvin leaned forward. "They can eat my food, or they can continue to buy fast food. But I think they will like my food better if they try it."
Jeremy's eyes lit up. "Dude, that's awesome! Your cooking is way better than any takeout."
"But Arvin," Christina said. "You work so hard at the warehouse as it is. We don't want to burden you."
"It is not burden. Cooking is…" Arvin tried to think of the right word. "Cooking make me happy. And eating good food is important. In mountains, my great-grandfather always say 'strong body, strong spirit.'"
Cynthia thought about it. "How many workers would you be cooking for?"
"About one hundred people," Arvin replied. "Maybe more."
The family stared at him. That was a lot of food for one person to prepare.
"Wait, one hundred? You want to cook for all of the worker in the store?" Fang Chou said. "Arvin, that's a lot of work. Are you sure you can handle that much cooking?"
"Yes, I am sure. I help cook for many people in my grandparent diner." He had helped his grandmother with large family gatherings. "I can cook stir fry, nasi goreng, cap cay, and others dish. Simple but tasty."
Jeremy slapped the table. "This is a great idea! The workers are going to love your food."
"Wait," Cynthia said. "What about the cost? Ingredients for one hundred people every day would be expensive."
Arvin nodded. "I have thought of this. When I learned about American money and food prices, I asked you many questions about grocery cost. I compared how much Mr. Fang spends on worker fast food now." He'd spent a considerable amount of time understanding the economics during his lessons about American culture. "Fast food for one person costs about three to four dollars. While the ingredients for one person cost about one to two dollars per kilogram if I buy smart and cook in large quantities."
Fang Chou was impressed. "You've really thought this through."
"I want to help the workers, but also help Mr. Fang save money for the business."
Christina smiled. "You're so considerate. But Arvin, cooking for that many people would take hours every day."
"I can do it. I can cook before lunch starts." Arvin's expression became serious. "Please let me try. I want to give back to the family that has helped me so much."
The room fell quiet as the family absorbed his request. Two months and eight days ago, they had taken in what they believed was a traumatized young man. Now he was offering to cook for their entire workforce out of gratitude and genuine care for others.
"What do you think?" Fang Chou asked his family.
"I think it's great," Christina said. "If Arvin is willing to do this, we should support him."
"The workers could certainly use a better diet," Cynthia agreed.
Jeremy nodded. "And Arvin's cooking is amazing. They're going to love it."
Fang Chou thought for a moment. "Alright, but we need to do this right. First, I'll ask the workers if they'd be interested in trying your cooking. If they agree, we'll give it a trial run. Anyone who still wants to buy their own food can take the lunch allowance as usual."
"That's fair," Christina said.
Arvin nodded as well.
"And you'll be paid extra for this," Fang Chou continued. "It's a lot of work to cook for a hundred people."
"Thank you, but that's not necessary. What's important is that people eat well."
Christina reached over and patted Arvin's hand. "You're too modest. This is real work and you deserve to be paid for it."
Arvin knew better than to argue when the family made decisions about his welfare. "Okay. Thank you."
"So it's settled," Fang Chou said. "I'll talk to the workers tomorrow and see what they think."
The family moved to the living room for their usual evening relaxation. Tonight's English lesson had turned into something much more meaningful. As they settled into the comfortable chairs, Jeremy picked up the remote for the television.
They spent another hour going over cooking and food-related terms. Arvin practiced explaining different cooking methods and describing flavors. He still had a thick accent, but he was growing more confident in using English.
"Time for bed," Christina said when the clock struck ten.
The family said their goodnights and headed upstairs. Arvin remained in the living room for a few minutes, reflecting on the evening's conversation. (Tomorrow could change everything,) he thought. (If the workers liked my cooking, perhaps I could help some more.)
He had been feeling guilty about being a burden on the Fang family for over two months. This felt like a real opportunity to give something back beyond his work in the warehouse.