My father’s discontent, Jin’s pleading, and Eden’s deafening silence all mix with the incidental clanging and chattering of the cafe around us until they’re rising and crashing over me like rough waves, over and over and over.
My mothers fingers strangle the glass of her ice tea, her other hand twisting the already mangled straw into a tighter curl. Her back is straight as a board and she’s almost shaking with the level of restraint she’s achieving, but I know inside she’s a damn tornado. And my father's typical stoicism has been replaced by an intensity I haven’t seen in years. His eyes are like daggers, his tongue just as deadly as he speaks for both of them—my mother not having said a word since the four of us joined them.
“Three months,” my father’s voice rumbles. “Three months Jin was with you and you said nothing.”
Eden doesn’t flinch. He just remains staring downward with a measured gap between him and Jintae in the chair beside him.
“I begged him not to tell you,” Jin speaks up.
My father’s nostrils flare. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“But the way you talk to Eden affects me.”
“I’m sorry.” Eden’s first words. “I never meant to make you worry. But I still believe Jin needed the—”
“I don’t care what you believe. How can you be the age you are and be so damn stupid? You made us question if he was dead or alive. The right thing to do would have been to let us know.”
“Jin’s an adult.”
“He should have been at home with us.”
Eden swivels in his seat, looking directly at my father for the first time. “Except he wouldn’t have been at home. If he hadn’t run away, he would have still been in college getting himself into debt for a career he never wanted.”
Carey’s foot taps mine beneath the table but it only serves to make the space between us feel impossibly vast. He’s close enough to touch. His hand is right there, playing with a napkin on the wooden table top.
“After everything we did for you. All the times you ate at our table. All the nights you slept under our roof. We treat you like a son. Cared for you like our own.”
“I’m sorry you feel betrayed, but I love your son. It wasn’t planned.”
“He didn’t want me there.” Jin quickly shifts forward, his fisted hands pounding the table. “How many times do I need to tell you it wasmyidea?”
“You’re nineteen. You don’t know what you want.”
Jin scoffs. “And that’s exactly why I left in the first place. You and Omma never listened to me.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that—”
“I don’t care what you believe, Appa. But I want you tohearthat being with Eden ismychoice.”
My father’s face falls solemn. He stares my mother in the eye and the rest of us may as well not be there.
I feel a warm pressure against my knee as Carey presses his leg against mine. Our eyes meet, his lips pull into the tiniest smile, and to me it sounds like he's shouting;I’m here with you. You’ll know when the time is right.
When I look away, my mother is watching me. Her eyes move from my face to Carey’s and back again.
The knot in my stomach lurches.
With a curt exhale, my mother puts down her drink but remains silent, her fingers now perfectly still around the glass.
“We can’t accept this,” my father says, and Jin’s chair scuffs as he jerks forward until his weight is on his forearms.
“Spare me. Just admit you’re ashamed to have a gay son.”
“This isn’t about being gay. It’s about trust. About family. About what’s best for you.”
And there it is, the real reason behind all the talk of trust and betrayal.
I really don’t think my father cares that Jintae is gay, what bothers him is that he’s with Eden specifically. Eden who’s covered in tattoos. Eden who didn’t go to college. Eden the womanizer. Eden the reputation.
