Is there anything else you’d like to say to our readers? Or to the army of vile trolls who want to see you fail? Thank you so much for this platform. The breadth of harassing comments makes it hard to address it all. But I do want to talk about the sexualizing and objectifying comments made about me online.
At the start of the online controversy, the fact that I was Asian, female, and worked in gaming triggered thousands of vile assholes to comment on my ass, tits, and vagina. So let me give everyone a quick rundown on my physical traits. I fart, puke from excessive drinking, and have constipation when I’m dehydrated, just like everyone else, male or female. I also have irritable bowel syndrome. I have adult acne and hairy forearms. My nose-blowing sounds like a honking goose, and it annoys people, especially my mom. I’ve had a muffin top since birth. One of my front adult teeth got knocked out from a volleyball mishap so I have a fake tooth, and when it’s removed I look like an Asian hillbilly.
I worry every day about my parents getting older, because I’m an only child and would be their sole caregiver. I cry when I watch the movie Annie. Overall, I’m just a regular ol’ person, not a slut, not a prude, but possibly a little grosser and gassier than the average human being. So, to my angry vocal gaming constituents, consider all this when you feel compelled to comment about my ass, tits, and vagina, or anyone else’s for that matter. Who is the person you are trying to “bring down,” and what is your motivation to do so? Think about what is driving you to harangue women like me online, and where the anger is coming from. Is it because you think your actions are anonymous and untraceable? Are you doing it for attention? For the “lulz”? Or is it really something deeper, maybe something else from your history that is compelling you to spew hateful words toward a stranger?
If we met face-to-face, could you say all the same things you’re posting online while looking me straight in the eye? Think about your nieces, daughters, sisters, and baby cousins. Would they be proud of what you’re saying online? What would they think of your words?
I’m not sure I have much more to say than this. I think I’ll end it here, if that’s okay. Thank you again, Seattle Met.
To view the game trailer, and to find out more about Melody’s Ultimate Apocalypse, click here.
Candace got the link to the article before it went live and called me to tell me how much she loved it, and then she burst into tears (totally the hormones). “Why are all these haters after you?” She blew her nose. “They can go to hell! I hate them!”
Then she screamed, “Oh god!,” and then more shrieking pierced through the phone.
Candace’s water broke, five weeks early.
ANNABELLE YING FUNG was born at 5:50 A.M. and rushed straight to the NICU. With underdeveloped lungs and a weak heartbeat, she needed around-the-clock breathing assistance.
My eyes brimmed with tears as I sat in the hospital waiting area, rereading the same paragraph over and over from a battered Food & Wine magazine from September 2013. This was all my fault. Her water broke when we were chatting on the phone about game PR stuff. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I squeezed my eyes closed, wishing this nightmare would just stop.
Wil came into the waiting room and poked my arm. “Do you know where the vending machines are? I’ve been up twenty-eight hours straight. Breakfast isn’t served for a while, and I’m starving.” With his lean stature and gaunt face, he probably needed more than just one breakfast.
I stood up and hugged him. “I’m so sorry, Wil. I feel horrible. This happened because of me.”
“Mel, she’d already been on bed rest for over a week, on Dr. Zach’s orders. If it didn’t happen while you two were on the phone, it could have happened when she went to the bathroom, or when she coughed or something. Don’t put this all on yourself.”
His words made sense logically, but they didn’t make me feel better. This happened while Candace and I were on the phone together. Had I been a major factor in the early delivery, if not the actual root cause?
We found the vending area down the hallway. He contemplated his processed-food options and bought a giant frosted honey bun. “I love these things. Candace won’t let me eat them.” He frowned. “Maybe I should have something else instead.” He bought some Wheat Thins and left the honey bun behind the dispenser flap. Damn. Maybe I’d come back for that a little later.
“How are Candace and Annabelle?” I asked.
He smiled weakly. “Candace’s sleeping now. They gave her a sedative because once the shock from her early labor wore off, she got a little hysterical. She needs rest so her body can recover from the delivery. Annabelle is a fighter, she takes after her mom. She’s only four pounds but her vitals are strong for her size.” His eyes watered but he didn’t cry. “If she can make it through the next twenty-four hours, I’ll feel way better about everything.”
I reached out and hugged him. Their parents were en route to Seattle but wouldn’t be here until later in the evening. Until then, I was the closest thing to family they both had.
“Do you need anything from me? Some clothes from home? Maybe water your plants? Go on a McDonald’s run for breakfast?”
He shook his head. “Actually, Nolan offered and is helping us out with emergency apartment stuff. But if you were here when Candace woke up, that would be wonderful.”
On the way to their room, the nurses on duty looked up and smiled. No one seemed panicked about Candace’s early baby delivery. A Zenlike calmness hung in the air, which seemed like a very good thing.
I tiptoed to Candace’s bedside while she slept. Even though she’d been through a night of hell, she looked beautiful. Both her arms had IV tubes sticking out of them, and she wore a heartbeat monitor on her right index finger.
Beep. Beep. Beep. A steady, confident heartbeat.
“When’s she supposed to wake up?” I asked Wil.
He glanced at his watch. “My guess is within the next thirty minutes.” He waved the newly opened bag of Wheat Thins in front of me. “Breakfast?”
“No thanks. I’ll save my calories for the bacon and eggs when the real breakfasts are delivered.” He shrugged and shook the bag into his mouth. I could hear the crackers scrape against the insides of the packaging and tumble out. Next came the crumb avalanche. Then he shook it one last time for good measure before he peered in to confirm he’d eaten everything.
Candace’s eyes fluttered a little, and her breathing came faster. When she opened her eyes, Wil called the head nurse, who checked Candace’s pulse and scanned her forehead temperature with a digital baton.
“You’re awake, dear. That’s wonderful! Can you tell me your name?”
“I’m Candace.” She blinked a lot and looked around the room.
“That’s right! Do you recognize the people standing by your bed?”
Candace glanced at Wil and me. “That’s my husband, Wil, and that’s Melody.” She reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Do you know where you are?”
“At a Methodist church? Or maybe school. Wait. A hospital. Because . . . oh. Oh! How’s my baby? Can I see my baby?!”
The heart monitor bleeped with more urgency.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
“Good, Candace. We just need you to stay calm so I can get a read on your vitals. Annabelle is fine. When you’re cleared by our doctor, we’ll get you to the NICU so you can see her. I need to take your blood pressure now.” Nurse Nancy, who had a kind grandma face, was a pro. Candace’s beeping slowed, and she submitted to all the poking and prodding from the medical team. The quicker she got cleared, the sooner she’d see Annabelle.
The doctor sent Candace and Wil to the NICU. Because I wasn’t family, I couldn’t visit baby Annabelle with them. The nurse invited me to stay in Candace’s hospital room while they stayed with the baby, but she encouraged me to go home and get some sleep. Wil promised to call me with any new news.
ON MY WAY to the hospital garage I saw Jane standing at the information desk, badgering the poor elderly volunteer for information on Candace’s whereabouts. Her hands tightly gripped a giant shopping bag and a toddler-size duffel. She ran up to me and skidded to a stop. “Whoa. You should get some sleep. They wouldn’t let me in, can you believe it?! How is she? How is the baby? I texted everyone but no one replied.”
A sad sigh escaped me. “We don’t have any cell service in here. Candace seemed a little dazed but that’s because they gave her sedatives. She and Wil are in the NICU now, and I didn’t get to see the baby or see any pictures. It sounds like everything was rushed, and complicated, but the good news is Annabelle is thriving, according to the head nurse.”
Jane squealed. “Annabelle? Awwww, what a cute name! Is the baby going to be okay?”
“She was born just under thirty-four weeks and had been tracking to a lower birth weight during the entire pregnancy, so there is uncertainty.” I stifled a yawn, somewhat unsuccessfully. “The doctors were keeping an eye on Annabelle’s weight gain, heart development, and lung maturation. Those seem to be the critical things.”
She frowned and looked down at the bags she brought. “I didn’t know how to help, so I went to Nordstrom and bought a shitload of preemie outfits.” She opened the shopping bag to let me see. Yep, a shitload of preemie outfits. There were maybe twenty or thirty of them, and they were sooooo tiny. They looked like baby doll clothes.