“How should I know? You’re the one who wants to invite a stranger to come live with us.”
“No, it’s not Marina I’m worried about. It’s your mother. You said in the hospital that Jin never hit you when you were little, so I’ll take your word for it, but you never said anything about Mae.”
“What about her?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m asking.”
Kyung switches cheeks. “Ethan will be fine.”
“But that’s not an answer. I need you to say it one way or the other. She either hit you or she didn’t.”
He’s in no condition to explain that his childhood wasn’t simple like this, with the fault lines so straight or clearly drawn. Mae was a teenager when she married Jin and barely in her twenties when they moved to the States. She had no friends, no job, no control over anything in her life except for Kyung. If Gillian took the time to think about it, she’d know the answer to her question already. His father hit Mae. Mae hit him. That was the order of succession in their family. He just can’t bring himself to say so out loud.
“You’re not talking anymore. Does that mean what I think it means?”
“My mother’s not going to do anything to Ethan.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
“I just am.”
Gillian raises her empty palms to him as if to say, That’s all?
He doesn’t know how to convince her without steering the conversation to a bad place, but he owes her this much. She has the right to feel that Ethan is safe in their own home. “It stopped a long time ago, okay? I’m talking decades now.”
“Yes, but why did it stop?”
“I was a kid, Gillian. I didn’t bother to ask. What matters is that my mother had a miserable life back then. I understand why she took her frustrations out on me, but it didn’t happen often, and you know how small she is—it’s not like she could ever really hurt me.”
Gillian doesn’t look like she believes him. He hardly believes himself. Half of him still feels sorry for Mae. The other half only feels rage—not because she hit him, but because she stayed. Every time Jin beat her into a corner because of a lukewarm dinner or an innocent comment, Kyung wondered why she wasn’t brave enough to run away, to take him with her and simply get out. She settled for a life of meaningless terror, dragging him alongside her when she should have wanted more for them both.
“My mother isn’t that person anymore. You’ve seen her with Ethan, my father too. They’re careful with him, happy with him in a way they weren’t with me. I know you know this.”
“But the sleepover invites, and all the offers to babysit—you always said no. It was like you were worried about them being alone with him.”
“It wasn’t like that. It was more about sending them a message … about punishing them.” Kyung pauses, aware that he’s a very small man, using his child to communicate all of the things he never could.
Gillian leans down on the countertop, stretching her arms out in front of her. She seems more relaxed now. Sad, but relaxed. From her posture, the way her elbow gently touches his, he knows the argument is almost over.
“You’ve been a good son,” she says. “You figured out how to keep them in your life, even though you really didn’t have to. It’s not like you owed them anything.”
“They’re my parents, Gillian. What was I supposed to do?”
“What lots of people do—move to another city, get an unlisted number, avoid them. You had every right to cut them out of your life. Even a therapist would say so.”
“That’s an American idea. Koreans are different.”
“But you grew up here. You’re American too.”
“It’s not the same.” He switches cheeks again, turning his face away from her. “Why are we talking about this anyway? A minute ago, you were giving me grief about being responsible and taking care of people. Did you change your mind already?”
“No, no. It’s not that. I just want to make sure that if things get out of hand here, if it’s not safe or healthy for us to be around them, you’re going to take care of us, right? You’re going to put me and Ethan first?”
What she’s asking for is completely reasonable. His wife and child should come before everyone else. But this is an American idea too. On the other side of the world, the world he never fully left, it’s parents first, children second, wife last. This is how Mae and Jin raised him, although he resents their claim as much as he struggles with Gillian’s. Still, he’s not about to explain something so incomprehensible to her, not when they’re this close to the end.
“Of course you and Ethan come first.”
Gillian brushes her thumb over his. He closes his eyes, trying not to think about the doubt implied in her questions. He could easily fall asleep folded over the countertop if she’d just let him.
“Kyung,” she says quietly. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“But now it’s your turn not to yell.”