"You look different", she says. "Like him, but not like him. Last time I saw a picture your hair was down here." She draws a line by her collarbone with her index finger.
"I, uh—yeah." I look at Tek, but he's already hiding behind the fridge door.
"I like the hair. You look like a man, not a little boy. Your hyeong-je should cut his hair, too."
I nod, because what else am I meant to do?
My hands feel both cold and sweaty at the same time, so I jam them into my pockets.
Tek's mother turns away from me to hold out her hand to Tek. After fishing around in his pocket he puts his keys in her palm. Holding them tightly, she uses her other hand to grab him by the jaw in the exact same way she did to me. From where he's leaning into the fridge, she wrenches his face towards her and speaks to him in Korean. Tek mutters back and she shakes him a little before letting go.
Taking a small step stool by the fridge, she scuffs it with her foot over to the pantry, then uses it to reach up to a box on the top shelf. Holding it against her chest, she puts the keys inside it and shuts it again with a click that sounds very permanent.
Eyebrows up, I move to Tek. "Do you always hand over your keys when you get here?"
"I told you I don't drive when I've been drinking." Standing, he cracks a can of Sapporo with one hand in a practiced, fluid motion.
"I thought you said—" I start, but his mother cuts me off with a look that could halt a lion in its tracks.
"I lock them away."
Staring straight at Tek, and with no shame or care in the world that his mother hears, I tell him, "You didn't need to drink last night. All I wanted was to not spend another night alone in that apartment. You just had to sit next to me for half an hour. You didn't even need to talk."
Taking the long route back to the stove, Tek's mother slaps him on the back of the neck on the way past. "Take him to the bar, Tek-ah. He has no friends."
A big, cocky grin spreads on my face, then fades instantly. This woman has some kind of strange power. She makes you feel good but also like a pitiable loser at the exact same time.
"Why are you here and not with your parents anyway? Did you run away, too?"
With a chuckle, Tek opens the fridge again and hands me my own Sapporo. "You'll need to drink to get through the night."
"I have soju, too," his mother tells me like she didn't just start interrogating me. "I had more but Jintae took it—" The way she stops feels like a slip of the tongue, and I rush to fill the emptiness.
"No thanks. This is great." I crack the can. "It's all I need."
Her chin rises, her back straightens, and she gives me a quick, curt, nod. "My other son, Wootek's brother, he's… he's spending Thanksgiving with friends this year."
"Come on," Tek groans from where he's leaning against the side of the fridge. "Cut the crap, Omma. Carey already knows what's going on."
"Tek-ah," she scolds.
"His brother's gone, too. If anyone is gonna get it, it's him. And lying about shit doesn't help anyone."
"It's not a lie. He might be with friends."
"He might also be in a ditch somewhere with a bottle of lemongrass soju."
His mother's nostrils flare, but she holds it in, and I know it's all for my sake.
"It's kind of crazy, huh?" I say scratching my head. "Them both leaving at the same time. It's almost like they ran away together."
If a record was playing it would have scratched the second I finished speaking.
Two sets of dark eyes glare at me.
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
"Shut your fucking mouth."
