Paper Names


 
 
 
 “With a keen eye for detail, a strong sense of pacing, and a deep understanding of human nature, Susie Luo crafts a moving portrait of two families whose fates intertwine. A sensitive and timely novel.”
 —Christina Baker Kline, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Orphan Train
 “Empathetic, propulsive, and timely. A magnificent debut.”
 —J. Ryan Stradal, New York Times bestselling author of Kitchens of the Great Midwest
 “This book will forever change the way readers think about the American Dream. I could not put it down, and I thought about it for weeks after finishing it. Immigrants will see themselves reflected all too well in these searing pages of hope and heartache.”
 —Qian Julie Wang, New York Times bestselling author of Beautiful Country 
 “So alive and real, you don’t merely read this wondrous novel as much as you get to live it.”
 —Caroline Leavitt, New York Times bestselling author of With or Without You
 “Paper Names has the rare one-two punch of plot twists and sharp, absorbing prose.”
 —Katie Runde, author of The Shore
 “A literary page-turner that is as unsettling as it is full of grace. Susie Luo’s debut is unblinking, nimble, and written with the kind of clarity one expects from a seasoned author.”
 —Brian Castleberry, award-winning author of Nine Shiny Objects
 “Paper Names is one of the most compelling evocations of the American dream I’ve ever read.”
 —Jack Livings, award-winning author of The Blizzard Party
 
 
 Susie Luo is a writer based in New York. She graduated from the University of Pennsylvania and Cornell Law School. She wrote at night while working as an investment banker at Goldman Sachs. Paper Names is her first book.
 
 
 Paper Names
 A Novel
 Susie Luo
 
 
 
 For my sister, Linda, my greatest champion, my light in the dark. You are pure gold.
 And for my parents. Your journeys are more inspiring than you’ll ever know.
 
 
 CONTENTS
 Chapter One
 Chapter Two
 Chapter Three
 Chapter Four
 Chapter Five
 Chapter Six
 Chapter Seven
 Chapter Eight
 Chapter Nine
 Chapter Ten
 Chapter Eleven
 Chapter Twelve
 Chapter Thirteen
 Chapter Fourteen
 Chapter Fifteen
 Chapter Sixteen
 Chapter Seventeen
 Chapter Eighteen
 Chapter Nineteen
 Chapter Twenty
 Chapter Twenty-One
 Chapter Twenty-Two
 Chapter Twenty-Three
 Chapter Twenty-Four
 Chapter Twenty-Five
 Chapter Twenty-Six
 Chapter Twenty-Seven
 Chapter Twenty-Eight
 Acknowledgments
 
 
 ONE
 Tony
 1997
 There were bruises on his daughter. Tony counted three. One from when she fell off her bike. Another from a game of tag on the playground. The last one was fresh. Barely noticeable, a dash of pink on her cheek. It could even be mistaken for blush.
 Tony scooped Frosted Flakes by the handful, straight from box to mouth. It tasted like sugary cardboard. His daughter was seated at the table with a rigid posture. Her straight back, a silent fuck you.
 “Your cereal is getting soggy,” he said.
 Tammy didn’t move, eyes glued to the floor, ignoring both her father and the bowl of golden specks in front of her. At fifty inches and sixty-two pounds, she hit the exact numbers for an average nine-year-old girl, but Tony knew that she was anything but. She had a ferocious curiosity beyond her years. And a stubborn will that impressed him as much as it ignited his temper.
 He said, in a singsong voice this time, “Do you want something else for breakfast?”
 Again, the little girl didn’t reply, and as she tugged on her dress, two sizes too big, Tony’s entire body tensed. For a moment, he thought the mark on her cheek had darkened, but it was only a flicker of shadow. He whispered his adopted American phrase of relief: thank God. Not that he believed in God. He could only count on himself.
 If she’d let him, Tony would wrap his arms around his daughter and hold her until she softened. He would braid her hair the way that she liked, tell her how sorry he was for raising his hand to her the night before. But he knew that she wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.
 His wife, Kim, swept into the kitchen in a bakery uniform. She took one look at Tammy and the untouched bowl of cereal, rummaged through the cabinets, and stuck two Pop-Tarts in the toaster oven. As the scent of cinnamon filled the air, Tammy’s lips turned up. Tony clenched his jaw so forcefully that he felt the muscles in his neck twitch.
 Kim could always sneak a smile out of Tammy.
 “Can I eat in my room?” said Tammy.
 Of course not. She knew the rules. Food stayed in the kitchen. Tony waited for Kim to say no, but instead, she brushed her hand against Tammy’s back, kissed her on the top of her head, and said, “Just this once.” Without another word, Tammy disappeared.
 “What’s the point of having rules if you keep letting her break them?” he said.
 “She’s still not talking to you?”
 Tony shook his head, defeated.
 “You have to control your temper,” said Kim, tsk-tsking.
 “My temper? If I had talked to my father that way—”
 “Tammy isn’t you,” said Kim. “She’s stronger.”
 Too strong, especially for a girl. He knew he’d lost control last night, but his daughter had provoked him. He had to parent her. Children needed discipline and boundaries. He was grateful that his father took the wild out of him. Tony handled Tammy with much more care. Unlike his father, he knew the difference between an open palm and a closed fist.
 “She mocked me. My English,” said Tony.
 Kim sneered. “Ni diu mian zi le?”
 Did you lose face? A phrase that he’d grown up with. Defended against. His father used to spit it at him at every opportunity. That one time he missed top honors in the third grade. Or when, from the stern of a small fishing boat, he struggled to drag up the net, a three-meter-long cylindrical mesh contraption that was too unwieldy for a