“Message him,” I advise Jae, much to his dismay. He winces.
“Are you sure? He’s a firefighter.” Jae’s hand hesitates over the screen.
“Exactly, because he’s a firefighter.” I’m perturbed by his sudden unwillingness to help me with this.
“Give it to me. I’ll message him. Yeesh.” I roll my eyes in a circle wider than the Earth. Jae grimaces and sets the phone on the table. I send Mason a flirty “Heyyyyy” and wait for his response. “The more y’s the better, right?”
“Yeah,” Jae answers flatly. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t be so focused on this app.”
“What? Why? I thought you wanted me to get laid.” I look him in the eye.
“I think you should be more careful, honestly.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“There’s too many creeps on there. I don’t want you meeting up with those kinds of guys.”
“He’s a firefighter, not a mafia boss,” I’m annoyed. I thought he wanted to help me get this ball rolling. But at the same time, I’m filled with butterflies. At least he cares enough about me to not want me murdered.
“I care because you’re my friend and I don’t want you roofied and stuffed into a duffel bag.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do?” I ask Jae, growing frustrated.
“I’ll set you up with a buddy of mine.”
Is he serious?
“Murphy?”
“Fuck no. Someone different. Rishi.”
“Rishi?” I ask, skeptical of this plan. “Fine, set me up with Rishi, I guess—” Jae and I both jump. There’s a sharp rap on the window, and I grow wide eyed to find an elderly woman with a straw hat staring at me. “Who—who is that? Do you know her?”
“Fuck,” Jae mutters under his breath, getting up from the bench. “That’s my mother.” He heads towards the door, and opens it for her, stepping out onto the street.
“Why did you lock the door on me?!” I hear Jae’s mother shout, tapping her cane on the ground
“I didn’t know you were coming, Ma,” Jae helps her inside. “Speaking of, what are you doing here?”
“I thought I would come by to see my son who never visits home anymore,” She takes off her hat, and Jae takes her light jacket.
“I saw you this morning, Ma. Let me get you something to eat and drink,” Jae moves around her while I watch from our table. He disappears into the kitchen, leaving his mother and I alone.
“Who are you?” Jae’s mother asks me. I see where he gets his bluntness from.
“I’m Riley,” I stand up, and make my way over to her, offering my hand. “I’m the artist painting the mural.” I point to the mural behind me.
“Oh,” She says. “You do this as your job?”
“Yes—” I’m not sure what to say, and I’m thankful Jae makes his reappearance with a plate of fruit when he does.
“Don’t bother Riley, Ma,”
“I was just saying…she has a better job than you!” She crosses her arms, not looking at all at her fruit plate. “You can call me Young-mi.”
Something about Young-mi is vaguely threatening and makes me feel like I ought to start doing my chores and visiting my parents more often.
“What are you doing here, Ma? You’re not supposed to be out walking this far.”
