Sometimes there’s a disconnect, and sometimes I sweep it under the rug. I have two dads—Dad is Black, Daddy is Korean—and I’m…I don’t know what I am. It’s strange when all I know about my birth parents is that they have African and Latin American roots.
My dads’ have their family, cultures, and traditions. All of which we have always practiced as a family—integrating themtogether and raising me with both backgrounds. And although my experiences were lovely and wholesome, and even though they never once made me feel as though I was not…one of them…the older I get the more out of place I begin to feel.
My name is Natalia Mae Davis-Jeong. I love my name, but I do wonder what my name would have been if?—
It doesn’t matter.
“We broke up, Daddy,” I mutter. “I broke up with him. Last year.”
And that’s almost how long it’s been since I last saw my dads since their decision to celebrate their retirement all over the world. First it was most of Europe—France, Italy, Croatia, Switzerland, then parts of Africa. England, Scotland, Ireland, Australia…the list goes on. They lingered around in Paris, Seoul, and Rio de Janeiro for a bit too until they got bored and returned to the states to explore.
So, how nice of them to stop in Willow Springs before they head for Canada.
My dads aren’t neglectful. I was raised in a wonderful, loving home where we lived comfortably. Daddy was a corporate lawyer, Dad was a general surgeon with his own practice—both now retired.
Life with my dads was amazing. I grew up speaking English and was taught Korean by Daddy and my grandparents. Dad’s family always came around spontaneously and it was my grandmother who taught me how to bake, braid my hair, and lay my edges.
My dad’s aren’t perfect—no parent ever is, I know that. Dad was at the hospital a lot and Daddy was swamped with work. I kept reminding myself that it was for us as a family—forme.In the end we were always a happy family and theirhard work paid off because now they are able to retire and experience the world.
But I miss them—having them close to talk, see, and go home to and feel safe with. Now they’re gone, traveling the world and wherever else they can reach. And I’m not sure if I regret not joining them when they asked me to, but I was so afraid that if I had gone, I wouldn’t have had these roots to come back to. I wouldn’t have this bakery meticulously decorated with all of my favorite things and colors, and I might not have had my friends the way I do now.
“Oh, Natalia.” Dad frowns, but the corners of his lips twitch with a smile he’s struggling to keep at bay. “I don’t want to bethatfather, but I hated him. He was horrible to you.”
The ambivalence is a brainteaser most nights, one I think about when it’s two a.m. and I’m wide awake overthinking everything, playing out different versions of my life if I had made different decisions.
I nod. “I know.”
I don’t like thinking about the ex and there’s too much to unpack about my last relationship to do it here in my bakery, in front of my dads, when I should be doing it in therapy. But at least they can finally see the thing I am most proud of. The Black Cat, in my opinion, is veryme. Black, white, purple, and green—a combination of my favorite colors and inspired by some of my favorite movies, but mostly inspired byBeetlejuice.And, of course, it’s called The Black Cat because Binx, my beautiful cat with bright green eyes, is a black cat. We’re soulmates.
I fight asking if they’re proud of me for owning a bakery—if it’s enough for them.
It’s enough for me. It has to be.
Daddy smiles slightly. “Well, he’s gone and you’re doing better.”
“I am.” I force a smile of my own. “I’m…I’m dating, I work, and I’m happy,” I lie, to avoid the questions about the damage Adrian left in his wake a year and a half ago. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You know we will worry anyway, sweetie,” Dad says. “Is he good to you?”
“Yes.”He doesn’t exist.“He’s…amazing.”
“Good, I’m glad you aren’t married to your work like you used to be,” Daddy says. “It isn’t healthy, darling. You were working yourself to the bone.”
“I’m good,” I lie again, as though I’m not here every waking moment to keep my brain busy. “I take weekends off, I have a good staff. And I’m still going to therapy.”
Barely.Even though I know I should be going more often than I do.
My dads smile in unison. “I’m so glad,” Dad says. “Will we be able to meet this man who may ormay notdeserve you?”
I snort. “I don’t know, Dad, he’s a busy man.”Busy not existing.
“Oh, come on,” Daddy whines. “Tell me his name at least, give me something.”
I chuckle. “Daddy?—”
“Natalia!”Oh no oh no oh no.I look over my shoulder and see the most beautiful blond man with ocean eyes and a pearly white smile on his lips.Damn him.
I’ve been trying not to think about him since Isabelle’s birthday party last week—how close he got to me and how worried his eyes were when he looked at me. Candidly, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to make the dark lonelinessgo away, but that isn’t his job. But that doesn’t mean a temporary fix won’t work, right?
