Carey’s eyes drift towards me and the corner of his mouth turns up just enough to know I’m in trouble.
He copies my mother and leans towards her. “He’s just so busy, Eomeonim…”
I’m so fucked.
“…He rarely gets a chance to catch his breath…”
Carey’s socked foot rubs against my ankle.
“…He’s like a machine that never stops…”
It travels to the other side to wrap around my achilles.
“…I have to be at the shop full-time, now.”
I shift in my seat.
I want to pull away but I'm so starved for him. For a person who has to touch people for a living, the past few days my hands have never been so busy.
Carey's toes swirl over my shin then draw a line up the inside of my calf.
Popping a piece of barbeque steak in his mouth he takes the opportunity to stare at me. It’s only for a second, but it’s a stare nonetheless. It’s deep, and suggestive, and only for me. It reminds me of how good his mouth feels, of the showers we've shared, and how we fucked on the couch by the front window before leaving my house this morning.
I glare down at the spare ribs on my plate.
I reposition the chopsticks in my hand, and the conversation goes on as my mouth grows drier.
“I’m glad Tek-ah has someone watching out for him.”
Carey nods. “He keeps an eye on me too."
“So he’s helping you settle in?”
“He is now.” There’s a pause as Carey presses the sole of his foot against my inner thigh. “If I’m being honest, he was a pretty awful boss to begin with. He kept ignoring things that were right in front of him.”
I drop my chopsticks and fumble with my water glass while trying to get it to my mouth as quickly as possible.
I gulp it down but it doesn’t help.
Then I feel another pile of maternal disappointment dump all over me. “But things have improved, I hope."
“Definitely. He listens to me now.” Carey calmly takes a drink of his own water. “He’s learning that he doesn’t need to be in control all the time. He’s… He’s finally letting me take care of him properly.”
“At the shop?”
"Right." He nods a slow, intentional nod, and looks right into my mother’s eyes as he repeats, “At the shop.”
“Is he eating enough?”
His mouth twitches again, and I know it’s taking all his willpower not to look at me as he says, “I make sure he’s well fed.”
I fist the water glass again.
I gulp the rest down and pour myself some more.
I’m so much more than fucked.
I don’t know why I thought I could handle this sober.
