Umma shifts in her seat. “First, don’t panic.”
“Well, now I might.”
Her lips flatten into a line. “I was let go from the grocery store last week,” Umma says. “I only have the hotel position now, and they’ve been giving me less and less hours these days.”
“What? Why would they let you go?”
“They were upset that I was taking time away from work for—” She cuts herself off.
“For what?”
“We don’t have to talk about it now. It’s not important.”
“Umma.”
Her pursed lips tremble. Eventually Umma gives in. “For all the meetings with the divorce attorneys and the court hearings.A… a date has been set to review custody over you, and I’ve been told it’s unlikely I’ll get full custody, not with my finances where they are.”
It feels like my entire core has been hollowed out. My lips mouth something, but there’s not enough air in my lungs to make the sound.
Umma pulls me back in for another hug, rubbing her hand over my shoulder blades relentlessly, almost as if soothing herself instead of me. “It’s okay. As long as I find another well-paying job before the hearing, it should be fine. Itwillbe fine,????”2
No. It’s not fine. It’snot.
They’re going to take me from Umma. They’re going to stick me with a man who’s never wanted me. They’re going to leave Umma all on her own.
“When’s the court hearing?” I pull back and ask.
“September twenty-fifth.”
That’s well after the season finale. If I win that cash prize, Umma will have everything she needs to prove to the judge that we’re financially stable on our own. But if I don’t…
She kisses my forehead and makes me look into her eyes, saying everything without uttering a single word. Umma always has hope. It shines in her pupils. It usually reflects back in mine, but right now, there’s a black hole in me sucking all the light away. And the air. My breaths come shallow and quick.
As the bus starts rolling down the road, I can’t stop thinking about the possibility that in a few months, life for us may never be the same. There might not be anus.If I don’t win the cash prize, thecourts will order that I stay with Appa. Umma will have to eat dinner alone most nights without anyone there to scoop an extra paddle of rice into her bowl because she doesn’t eat enough if I don’t make her. She’ll watch her Korean variety shows all by herself because even though I don’t enjoy them, I always sit on the couch with her when she watches. Who will keep the seat next to her warm? And who will sing songs in the car to help ease her road anxiety?
My arms tingle in a way they never have before. It’s like the blood in my veins is acid, popping and bubbling. What if Ilose? The thought makes me sick. It’s a possibility I’ve always managed to fight off as doubt wriggling in the back of my head. But I can’t pretend it’s not there. I let myself, for one moment, consider losing. Picture myself boarding the bus and going home today. Or next week. Or at the finals.
No. No, I can’t let that happen. My leg shakes. The muddy river running next to the asphalt road outside the window is blurry through the panicked tears welling in my eyes.
I always wanted to win. But now Ican’tlose. Or else I could lose Umma. Which means losing everything.
I won’t lose. I won’t lose. I won’t. Iwon’t.
Ican’t.
Footnotes
1. I missed you.
2. Understand?
32
MAN, FAMILY REUNIONS SUCK
DEAN
The long, bumpy drive to set is never exactly fun, but it’s made so much worse when I’m being interrogated the whole time.
