Sean: Hi Pookie. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow at dinner. Can you believe Carol agreed to let me come over?
He sent it quickly and then grimaced and reconsidered the message when it was too late. Sang was most likely in an attic and miserable because she was back at home. Here he was talking about Carol. He wanted to talk about her.
The passenger door opened quickly. Sean jumped in his seat, dropping his phone into his lap.
His mother peered in at him. She wore a light down coat, her smooth black hair cut short around her chin. Her Japanese features still retained their youth, despite her being in her late forties.
It was her eyes that shot right to every wrinkle in his clothing, and to every speck of dust in the car. There was the slight wrinkle of a frown, the only serious wrinkle she had. The crease deepened as she took in every little flaw.
Sean coughed to clear his throat and sat up, putting his phone in the cup holder. “Hello. How was your flight?”
She recoiled her head. “Have you caught a cold?”
“No,” he said. She had an inherent fear of colds. Something in the culture. He got out of the car, hurrying around to collect her rolling suitcase and put it in the backseat.
She got in, sitting neatly in the passenger seat. She placed her purse in her lap and put her seat belt on before Sean made it back around to the driver’s seat.
Sean got in and put the car into drive, and they rolled out of the airport.
She leaned over, checking all the dials and lights on his car. “Your oil needs to be changed.”
“It has a month,” Sean said.
“You should do it before you forget. Also, you need more gas.”
He swallowed back a rebuttal. It wasn’t any good arguing with her. The tank was showing half-full, but she never let a vehicle go below three-quarters if she could help it. What if gas prices rise quickly? What if there were an emergency?
The streets were nearly empty. The drive from the airport was pretty easy for him.
He took a deep breath, glancing at his mother. She sat neatly with her hands in her lap and gazed out the window.
Rocky beginning, but maybe she’d gotten it out of her system? “So how are things?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said quietly. Too quietly.
His tone was too loud.
He smothered a grumble and softened his voice as much as he could. “Uh...how’s Dad?”
Before she could answer, his phone vibrated, rattling against the plastic of the cup holder, and a few coins at the bottom added to the insufferable sound.
He reached for it to turn off the buzzing and check on what it was. Sang had sent a message back. He itched to read it, but he couldn’t text and drive.
“Do you need to answer that?” his mother asked.
“It isn’t the hospital,” he said, ignoring it for now. He probably shouldn’t have messaged Sang yet.
She nodded. Some strands of her dark hair fell forward and she expertly combed them back. “How is work at the hospital?”
“I’m working long hours,” he said. “Sometimes I may be sleeping at the office. So much to do. They’ve got us working overtime. You may not see me a lot.”
She smiled pleasantly at this. “Shikata ga nai.”
It can’t be helped.
It probably sounded to her like he was complaining. “Don’t get me wrong. The work is interesting.”
“Having lunch with your superiors should improve your chances of finishing your internship early.”
“Of course,” he said slowly, without much heart. It was all she ever asked about. How quickly he could get to being a doctor. Securing his job. Working his way up the ladder.
Not that he had much choice as to what he wanted to do. She asked nicely, but she showed no sympathy. Only cared that he worked harder.
He glanced at his phone as he drove, feeling time slipping by, wondering what Sang had written back. He sped up as much as he could, focusing on the road.
He didn’t care what she’d said. Well, he did, but it was more that he’d hesitated for so long before just sending her a text message, and now here she was responding. Why hadn’t he just done this before?
Because in the beginning, she couldn’t. And in some areas, it was dangerous. It wasn’t his first instinct to text her. Or call.
If she couldn’t be free of living at that house, maybe she’d be allowed to keep her cell phone and they could text and call like normal people.
When they finally stopped at a red light, he picked up the phone, checking the messages.
Sang: Do you think it’s a good idea? I’m so nervous! Some possible good news: sounds like she’d consider sending me to a private school.
That was good news. He typed a message but only half-finished before the light changed.
He put the phone back down in his lap, letting out an impatient breath between his lips.
His mother motioned to the phone. “Do you need me to complete a message for you?”
“No,” he said quickly, and then moved his phone from his lap to the cup holder. “Sorry...”
“Is it Owen?” she asked. “I could text him for you.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
She smiled wider, a little too much. “It’s no problem.”
She was on to him. There had been times when she’d used his phone to text work or Owen and it was never a problem. Even if it were Academy, they never mentioned anything important directly.
Sean sat back into the seat. “It’s no one. Just a girl...” Not to dismiss Sang as “just” anything, but he didn’t want it to be a big deal. He couldn’t lie to his mom, but he also didn’t want to hear his mother’s infernal questions that were bound to come.
Her head bobbed in a knowing nod. She’d probably suspected from the start with the way he was behaving, blushing and hiding the phone. “An intern?”
“She’s still in school.” Anyone his own age was of course still in school. He’d graduated well ahead of anyone he’d ever known.
She pressed her lips together firmly for a moment, as if giving it considerable thought. “My father always said to focus on the goal. It is easy to get distracted from the journey.”
Her father was always pushing her in her line of work. Sean got pushed the same way. Over and over. “I’m already a doctor,” he said, taking the ramp off the I-26 and into some light traffic. “In a few months, I’ll even be able to start my own practice. A small office if I wanted.”
Her eyes widened. “Is Dr. Roberts not a good mentor?”
He grimaced again. “Shouldn’t I start my own career? Be the head of my own place?”
“You’d save money working at the hospital. Your internship might be over, but in Japan, you’d still be an apprentice for many years.”
He hated to remind her that in Japan, he would never have graduated so early from school.
Technically, he’d skipped high school, something he probably couldn’t get away with over there. A couple months of testing and he’d aced the ACTs. The college had put him on a fast track. He could have gone to any number of medical schools in the country, but he’d stayed here, for Owen and the Academy.