Chapter 6

The room above the Golden Dragon in Queens was a carbon copy of his room above Mr. Li’s Golden Dragon—small, functional, with the same fragrant cooking smells wafting up through the floorboards. When Mr. Wei had shown him the space, Matthew immediately felt a sense of comfort in the similarity. The same squeaky twin bed pushed against the wall. Same miniature kitchenette with barely enough counter space for a cutting board. Even the bathroom had the same temperamental shower that required a specific touch to balance between scalding and freezing.

“Not fancy,” Mr. Wei said, “but clean. Good for student.”

“Gan xie ni de bang zhu”, Matthew said formally in halting Mandarin.

Mr. Wei laughed with delight. “Huānyíng nǐ, niánqīng zhǔrén,” he replied and slapped him on the shoulder and walked off, still chuckling.

Matthew set his two duffel bags down. They contained everything he owned in the world. The room gave him a strange sensation of being far from home and home exactly where he belonged.

The apartment might have been familiar, but the city itself was daunting. On his second day, Matthew took the subway into Manhattan, determined to figure out the travel time to ICE before classes started. He’d studied the subway map extensively the night before, tracing the routes with his finger, memorizing transfers and stops. But the reality of rush hour in New York City was another matter entirely.

The J train was packed shoulder to shoulder with commuters swaying in unison like some strange urban tide. Matthew gripped the overhead bar, his other hand instinctively checking that his wallet was still in his front pocket. Growing up in Chicago had taught him street smarts, but New York seemed to operate at a different frequency, faster and more intense.

A woman in a business suit noticed his tense expression and offered a sympathetic smile. “First week?”

“First day, actually,” Matthew admitted.

She nodded. “You’ll get used to it. Three months from now, you’ll be shoving your way in with the best of us. Most all of us were new here, once upon a time.”

When he emerged at Delancy Street, Manhattan hit him with a full sensory assault—honking taxis, towering buildings that made him crane his neck, the press of pedestrians moving with purposeful energy. Matthew checked the small map he’d printed, oriented himself, and began walking toward ICE’s location on Liberty Street. He could have taken the bus, but he wanted to get a feel for the city.

The school was housed in a modern facility that gleamed with professional polish. Through the large windows, he could see industrial kitchens with stainless steel workstations, students in white uniforms moving with practiced precision. His heart beat faster with a mixture of excitement and intimidation. In six weeks, he would be one of them.

Watch in hand, Matthew timed the subway ride, the one-mile walk from the subway to Liberty St, noted bus stops, and planned contingencies for delays. He’d learned long ago that preparation was his best defense against uncertainty. By the time he returned to Queens, he had a detailed commuting plan and a beginning sense of the geography of his new city.

Timing the commute was an easy first step. He needed income before classes started—his savings would stretch to cover rent and necessities, but not much else, even with the scholarships and community contributions. The next morning, armed with copies of his resume (created with Ms. Winters’ help before graduation), Matthew set out to find work.

The Golden Dragon was fully staffed with relatives, though Wei had promised to call if they needed extra help for busy weekends. Matthew spent the day working his way through nearby restaurants, introducing himself to managers, filling out applications. Most were polite but noncommittal—”We’ll call if something opens up”—or wanted more experience than he had.

By late afternoon, tired and discouraged, he found himself at a Denny’s several blocks from his apartment. The familiar yellow sign was a friendly reminder of middle America amid Queens’ diversity.

“Short-order cook, huh?” The manager, a harried-looking woman named Loretta with graying hair scraped into a tight bun, scanned his resume without much interest. “Any experience on the line?”

“I’ve worked prep in a Mexican restaurant and a Chinese restaurant back in Chicago,” Matthew explained. “And I’ve cooked for large groups at a homeless shelter. I’m starting at ICE in September.”

His last statement caught her attention. She looked up, really seeing him for the first time. “Culinary Institute? Huh. We had another ICE student work here last year. Did well, until he got that externship at Per Se.” She tapped his resume, considering. “When can you start?”

“Now,” Matthew said, without hesitation. “Today, if you need me.”

Loretta laughed, genuine amusement softening her tired face. “Eager. I like that. How about tomorrow, 6 AM? Training shift. You get minimum wage plus meals during your shift. There is no tip sharing here.” She handed him a form. “Fill this out, bring your ID and Social Security Card tomorrow. We’ll start you as a trainee, see how you do.”

That night, Matthew practiced his Mandarin with Wei and the restaurant staff as they closed up the Golden Dragon. His vocabulary was limited but growing, and they were patient with his efforts, correcting his tones with good-natured teasing.

“Why you want learn Mandarin?” asked the youngest cook, a boy not much older than Matthew himself.

“Because in a professional kitchen, you need to understand everyone,” Matthew replied, repeating the phrase Wei had taught him earlier. His pronunciation must have been decent because the staff laughed appreciatively.

“Smart boy,” Mr. Wei’s wife said in English, pressing a container of leftover dumplings into his hands. “Brain need food to learn language.”

Back in his room, Matthew set his alarm for 4:30 AM and laid out clothes for his first day at Denny’s. The diner might not have the prestige of ICE or the culinary sophistication of Golden Dragon, but it was a professional kitchen, another step in his education. Every restaurant had something to teach him.