“Oh, I am so sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. You didn’t know.”
“How did she...”.
“Umma.”
“It’s okay.” I squeeze Leo’s hand, which still hasn’t left mine. Such a steady, comforting gesture. Does he realize? Is it intentional? “She had breast cancer, which she beat, but then she got a blood clot in her lower leg. Everything happened really quickly. She drove me to school that morning on her way to work—she was a kindergarten teacher. I remember I had been arguing with her, begging her to let me drive myself like all the other seniors, but we were a three-person family with only two cars. That was the last time I saw her.”
“Were you close?” Mrs. Min asks.
“Umma.” Leo’s voice has more warning to it.
She glares at her son. “It’s good to discuss these matters. Death is not dirty. It is a blessing. It is the end of suffering.”
I nod, allowing Mrs. Min’s words to resonate fully. “She had been suffering. The cancer really took its toll on her, but we remained close. Our special thing was watchingMadcap Markettogether. It was a good distraction from life.”
There’s a noticeable shift in Leo’s visage like he’s unlocked the answer to a question he’s been holding back. I get confirmation of that when he phrases the question like a statement for the benefit of his mom. “That’s why we’re auditioning for the show together on Monday.”
Mrs. Min chokes on her fruit. “Auditioning for a TV game show?”
“When we thought she wasn’t going to make it during the cancer scare, I told her I’d win the show one day for her since we wouldn’t be able to do it together. Leo has thoughtfully offered to be my partner.”In more ways than one, though I don’t say that part out loud.
Understanding washes over Mrs. Min’s face, the wrinkle lines smoothing out into a gentle kindness. “In that case, I wish you both luck.” I pause to consider whether she means in our new relationship—which I can tell she’s finally deemed real—or at the audition.
“Now,” she adds, eyes lighting up, “do you want to see Leo’s baby pictures?”
Leo’s groans don’t sway my answer. We sit in the living room for an hour or more, flipping through pages of Leo as a child. Leo in the bathtub with a sudsy mohawk of black hair. Leo in his very first karate class looking miserable, brow furrowed, hair in a bowl cut. Mrs. Min flips fast past the pages with Leo and a tall, stocky white man with blond hair whom I can only assume is Leo’s dad.
In all of them, he has a cigarette dangling from the corner of his unsmiling mouth. There are always inches of distance between the pair. There are none of them as a full family. Mrs. Min is barely in any of these pictures at all, actually.
“I don’t see a lot of you in here,” I say, but then regret it, considering it might be a sore spot.
Mrs. Min shrugs her shoulders, adjusts the blanket on her lap.
“She doesn’t like getting her picture taken,” Leo says from a recliner beside the couch. He hasn’t been looking—probably because he’s seen these photos a million times but also probably because some of these photos bring back painful memories. I know the way a snapshot can send you down a rickety road in your mind, only to be lost in the tangle of branches and thorns.
“Your father also never bothered to pick up a camera,” Mrs. Min retorts.
By the second album, Leo’s father has disappeared from the pictures entirely. I can’t quite tell how old Leo is in these, but if I had to guess, I’d say he’s in middle school. And from the steep drop-off in his appearances, I’d say whatever happened, it happened swiftly. Leo’s dad was there one day and gone the next.
It also marked Leo’s transition from yellow belt to hip-hop sneakers. I wonder if Leo’s dad leaving let Leo be more himself.
I want to ask, but I don’t have Mrs. Min’s directness or Leo’s courage. I know it will only come out wrong, and I don’t want to ruin the evening. It’s been so nice so far.
Coming to LA, I thought I’d be out at clubs and touring movie studios, but this quiet evening with these two is relaxing. I’ve spent the better part of this trip trying to fashion it into everything I envisioned, when I’m starting to realize that even the best laid plans can pivot without notice.
I thought Mom would see me graduate college. I thought Buckley was my forever guy. I thought Alexia would prove her true friendship and compete with me onMadcap Market. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me that clinging to my own ideas for the future has only closed me off to the myriad of surprises the world has to offer.
This trip. This man. This meal. This night.
It all might be the perfect combination to help me change my outlook.
“Would you like to see one of Leo’s old recital videos?” Mrs. Min asks, closing the second book.
I cut Leo off before he can protest. “Oh, do I ever!”
Fourteen
