(3 months ago) 11:26 a.m.
Still here in bed.
Still wishing you were here with me.
[imagesattached]
(today) 06:47 p.m.
Oppa, it’s been too long.
When can I see you?
Sighing, I set my phone back on my desk, face down, not bothering to reply. I don’t think it would make a difference anyway.
I wonder if I should block her number. It feels a bit unnecessary when she’s more of an occasional annoyance than anything. She’ll get the hint eventually.
???
“Hello, eomma,” I say, smiling as my mother’s face pops up on my phone. She’s shown remarkable restraint in having waited two whole days since our last conversation to call and check in again.
She puckers her lips at me like she’s blowing a kiss, her ever-present red lipstick one of her signature features. My mother is a classic beauty, radiant and refined. My father has never missed a chance to tell her how stunning she is, and she still lights up every time. I hope one day I am as enthusiastic about my spouse as they are with each other. “There’s my gorgeous boy,” she coos. “How are you? What have you been doing today? Is Jase there? Are you still getting along?”
I have to laugh at the rapid-fire questions, so typical of her. She wants all the information, immediately. “I’m well. I got up, did some laundry, picked up the parts of the last toy Noel destroyed, Jase and the furry nightmare are currently with his boyfriend and yes, we are doing just fine.”
“This is good practice for you to share space. It’s importantto know how to live with someone. I worry about when you get married,” she says, brows creasing in concern.
“I know you do. You remind me all the time.” I’m joking, but it’s also the truth.
The sigh that escapes her sounds like a mother who is tired of waiting. “I want you to be happy, son. I cannot believe a man that is as handsome and successful as you has so much trouble finding a wife.”
“Who said I was havingtrouble?” I chuckle. “I’m just not looking. I work a lot, I travel pretty often, and this is not the right time for a relationship. It is certainly not for lack of options.”
Her eyes go wide. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“What? Nothing. There’s not anything to tell!” Hands up in front of me, her gaze is just as intense as if she was standing right here with me.
“Show some respect for your mother, Kija,” she scolds. “Don’t hold out on me.”
“I would never,” I assure her. “I do not have a problem finding women who are interested. If anything, I am having difficulty getting them to let go.”
“Let go? Who needs to let go?” She leans in toward the screen, squinting in suspicion.
I figure I might as well tell her just to get her to calm down for a while. “I went out with a woman a while back that I didn’t think was a good match, but she seems to have thought otherwise. Despite my telling her repeatedly I don’t want to pursue anything, she continues to be hopeful.”
Now her arms are crossed, and I realize I’ve said too much. “Well, who is she? Should you maybe reconsider?”
Groaning, I drop my head into my hands. “No, I don’t think I should reconsider. She was far too intense for my taste.” I look back at her and add, “You wouldn’t have liked her, anyway.”
She gasps, clearly offended that I would presume to believe I am capable of knowing whether or not she would haveapproved of this potential mate. “What have I done to deserve these kinds of nonsensical assumptions from you?”
I’d roll my eyes, but I know better. “Would you want Kwon Chaeji as a daughter-in-law?” The brief silence that follows is satisfying. “That’s what I thought.”
“Chaeji is… very beautiful,” mom comments carefully.
“She is indeed.” I nod. I know there’s more coming, though.
My mother taps at her cheek, a habit when she’s nervous or trying to think of a way to be polite when she really doesn’t want to. “I’m not sure her reputation would benefit a man of your status.”
