Without a word, or even another sound, my father picks up his plate and walks to the kitchen.
I look at Carey, and his head shoots back around to me. His eyes dart to my mother, and he quickly softens back down before asking, “Do you think he has a problem with that? Because… I have a problem with him having a problem.”
“Psh.” My mother's arms flap towards the kitchen, dismissing my father completely. “He’s a grumpy Ajeossi. He doesn’t like anything.”
I sigh again and release Carey's foot, but the second contact is lost, I start to feel the tension rising up from my toes.
He swivels in his seat towards my mother, drapes his arm over the back of it, and crosses his legs. “But do you think it’s a problem?”
“He never listens. He probably didn’t even hear.”
He corrects her. “I was asking ifyouhave a problem with me being with a guy?”
“Me? I…” She straightens her Hanbok again. “I thought you liked girls.”
“I do.” His face is blank, and I feel like I’m going to explode. “I like everyone. I don’t discriminate.”
I watch my mother’s face morph before settling.
She turns to me. “Did you know about this?”
I pick up some kimchi with my fingers. “He can sleep with who he wants.”
“So… Why?” She’s choosing her words so carefully. “Why a man this time?”
“As opposed to what other time?” Carey copies me by putting some kimchi in his mouth. “Being bisexual means everyone’s equal to me.” He licks his fingers. “I don’t look for a girl because I was with a guy the time before.”
Still not using my chopsticks, I take a small ball of rice and chew on it. “Is that something you can get your head around, Omma?”
“I’m not an idiot. I’m not closed minded. I’m—”
“Close minded—”
“Tek-ah,” she snaps.
“If you weren’t you’d be back to prying instead of losing your words.”
Her voice raises an octave. “I don’t care.”
“Who are you trying to convince?”
“It’s really okay,” Carey interjects, all bright and cheerful and full of grace. But I know this is what he wanted. He’s a shit, and he’s perfect, and I want him on me right fucking now, but mymother has proven—yet again—how unacceptable it would be to remain part of this family and have a public relationship with Carey. It’s why I don’t tell her anything. It’s why I don’t call her, and grit through the conversations I do have.
I stand more abruptly than my father and march to the kitchen.
I cross his path as he loads utensils from the sink into the dishwasher.
Opening the fridge, I grab the first two bottles of soju I see and let the door slam shut before moving to the cupboard above the sink. I snatch out two glasses and stare down at my father. His face is blank, and my anger swells. At him, Omma and Jintae, at the whole fucking world. Everyone except for Carey.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Still bent over with his hand on a plate, Appa asks, “With what?”
“With what Carey said. With him dating a man?”
My father stares blankly over my shoulder for several seconds then straightens out, backtracks to the fridge, gets out his own soju and glass, and pours himself a drink. I watch him down the liquid in three large gulps, and when the glass pangs against the granite bench top he says, “I couldn’t listen to it anymore.”
I watch him refill the glass in a sort of suspended animation, terrified of what he’ll say next.
