Evelyn Woo was tired. Her feet ached, and her back was stiff. The only thing on her mind was a hot bath and a glass of warm plum wine before dropping gratefully into bed.
At first glance she thought the man lying on the subway platform was one of the drunks she had seen dozens of times after her late-night shift. She was a good worker, and her boss liked her, but Evelyn was always among the last to leave the Happy Luck Restaurant, and she hated the late-night subway rides to the small Chelsea apartment where she lived with her boyfriend, a medical student at NYU. She would start medical school next year, but meanwhile she was holding down two jobs to save money. Her father's cousin owned the Happy Luck, and she got to take home lots of free food every night, so that made the job worthwhile.
She passed by the man, the bag full of takeout cartons swinging at her side. He moaned and tried to sit up, and she glanced down at his face. It was a handsome face-for a Round Eyes (the derogatory term her uncle used for Caucasians)-and there was something about his eyes that made her look twice. She stopped walking and stared at him. Clearly, he was not a drunk-he was well dressed and well groomed. His mouth was bleeding, though, and she could see dark bruises on his cheeks.
"Are you okay?" she said, keeping a safe distance.
The man raised his head and gestured to her. She stepped closer.
"Please," he said. "Can you help me?"
Later, she would recall that she thought it was odd he refused to go to a hospital; instead he asked her to help him to a cab. She didn't hear the address he gave the cabbie, but she remembered those eyes-the wounded look in them stayed with her for a long time afterward. It also occurred to her later that before 9/11 she might not have helped him, but now-well, things were different now, she told her mother and all her cousins. Now we all have to look out for each other.