“He’s not Korean,” Dawn answered, rubbing at her temple with the hand her mother wasn’t holding in a death grip. “And we weren’t talking. Remember?”
“He’s Korean!” her mother insisted. “Look at his big boy build. Like one of those Korean YouTubers. How do you call them? Thirst traps!”
“He’s not Korean,” Dawn insisted. “Also, what are you watching on YouTube?”
“Hold on, Dawn’s Husband…” Gyeong glared at Victor, her formerly warm brown eyes now laced with suspicion.
Victor stilled, waiting for her to put two and two together and realize he was the same Chinese boy she hadn’t wanted her daughter to date fifteen years ago.
But then her mother asked him, “Have you had lunch yet? I made bulgogi last night and I’ve got plenty of leftovers.”
Gyeong bounced into the house without waiting for an answer. Leaving him and Dawn to follow.
“My mom and I are nothing alike. Like, we might as well come from two different planets.” Dawn had told him that once when they were teenagers. But at that moment, Gyeong reminded Victor very much of her daughter on their first anniversary.
After taking off their shoes inside the front door, they found her mother in the kitchen, pulling glass Pyrex dishes out of the refrigerator.
“Sit! Sit!” she told them, waving them toward the kitchen table. “All I have to do is heat this up in the microwave. It will be ready in just a few minutes. Do you want some wine with lunch? I’ve got Riesling. Riesling goes great with bulgogi.”
“That’s what I said!” Dawn crowed, shooting Victor a triumphant look. But then she frowned and asked-signed her mother, “Are you supposed to be drinking the day before your surgery?”
“It’s okay,” her mother insisted, pulling down three glasses.
“Not for me, mom, thanks. I don’t drink,” Dawn said with a hasty glance towards Victor.
“You don’t drink?” her mother answered with a laugh. “You are no daughter of mine!”
Her mother had probably meant that as a little quip as she bent down to open a standalone wine fridge at the far left of the outer wall’s counter. But with her back turned, she didn’t see the way Dawn visibly flinched, as if her mother had slapped her.
Jokes like that, Victor supposed, were what the internet often referred to as “too soon.”
He also noted that the little fridge was nearly as stuffed with bottles as Dawn’s had been before Victor had Wayne clear it out.
“You’ll have a glass with me, right, Dawn’s Husband?” Gyeong said when she stood back up with the bottle. The bottle was already uncorked. And Victor wondered if her slightly flushed face had less to do with the windy day than this not being her first glass.
Dawn’s eyes darted between him and her mother, obviously distressed. And that was how he discovered the hard way, that he still didn’t love seeing her upset. Not unless he was the one who put her in that state.
“None for me either,” he signed to her mother. Not out of solidarity with Dawn, he insisted to himself. Rather because he wanted to stay sharp and clear for this once-in-a-lifetime meeting.
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Dawn’s Husband! You know sign language?”
Victor cut his eyes to Dawn, eager to see how she would explain this to her mother.
But Dawn just answered, “Yes, Mom, he knows sign language, too, and I’m just going to take this bottle from you and put it back in the fridge because I get that you’re probably scared and upset, but there’s no way you should be drinking the day before liver surgery.”
That declared-signed, Dawn tugged at the bottle in her mother’s hand as she asked, “Do you have a pitcher we can use for water?”
“When did you become the boss of me?” Gyeong asked her daughter with an annoyed cluck.
Nonetheless, she relinquished the bottle to Dawn and went back to the cabinets to pull down a plastic pitcher.
“Has Dawn made you any Korean food?” her mother asked after handing Dawn the pitcher. “Or do you two only eat takeout like my son?”
She eyed Dawn up and down. “You look like you’ve only been eating takeout. What happened to that diet from the year when you lied to us all about going to med school?
The ding of the microwave saved Dawn from answering.
And that was how he ended up having an unexpected lunch with Dawn and her mother.
“Look at how nice he is chewing!” Gyeong observed with a pointed look toward Dawn. “Unlike some people I know.”
Before he could stop himself, Victor glanced over at Dawn, the memory of their one and only conversation on this topic echoing in his head. She had been right about how her mother would respond to his necessary chewing habit.
“See, I told you she would like that about you!” Dawn crowed, her voice triumphant.
Victor tried and failed not to laugh.
“He’s savoring the food,” her mom insisted, taking a drink of water. “Not shoveling it down like you and Byron. Probably because he hasn’t had a homemade meal ever from you.”
“I cooked for him,” Dawn insisted. But then she sheepishly added, “Once.”
“What did you make?” Gyeong asked, her eyes lighting up. “Was it good? It must not have been if he never asked for it again!”
Victor’s hands started moving before he could stop them. “She made me bulgogi. It was much spicier and more garlicky than the kind you heated up for us. But she said it was from your recipe, and she guaranteed me it would be the best meal of my life. She did not lie. I appreciated it because most of my tongue is missing. That means my taste buds are highly compromised. So the meal was perfect for someone like me.”
Both Dawn and her mother stared at him, their eyes wide, but for different reasons.
“You made him my spicy garlic bulgogi?” Gyeong grinned and squeezed her daughter’s arm. “No wonder he is so happy to be married to you. I don’t make it anymore because it gives me the heartburn, but that is my best, best recipe. You know I invented it. You couldn’t get bulgogi recipes off the internet back when I first had Byron and Dawn. And the Asian market was very far from where we lived in New Jersey. I had to shave my own meat and put together recipes for the Korean foods I loved as best I could, using ingredients from the white people’s store. But my spicy garlic bulgogi was always Dawn’s favorite. I used to try to make it at least once a week because she loved it so much.”
Dawn turned her wide-eyed stare on her mother. “Really? That’s why you made bulgogi so often? For me?”
Her mother shook her head at her. “Why do you think that was the only dish I would make every week? And I always let you have as much as you want, even after you started to gain so much weight. Of course, I made it for you!”
“I didn’t…” Dawn blinked rapidly. “I never stopped to consider that you were cooking it for me. I mean, you were always so weird about me eating too much. I never thought you’d actually make something I liked, just because I liked it.”
Her mother shrugged. “Well, that’s why I made it. And your father was right. Men over here don’t mind that you are a pork chop. Look at your very handsome and attentive husband, coming all the way down here to see about your silly old mother.”
Dawn cast Victor a troubled glance. “Yeah, look at him…”
She clearly didn’t feel as much ease with lying to her mother as she did with lying to Victor all those years ago. A new thought occurred to him. Perhaps, that was the real reason she hadn’t been in contact with her friends and family. She didn’t want to lie to them.
Victor wasn’t sure how to feel about that possibility as he poured himself another glass of water from the pitcher Dawn had brought to the table.
D-Liar. That was what he’d renamed her for so many years.
But now, for the first time, something inside of him was starting to wonder if that was entirely true.
Don’t, the voice of reason warned. Don’t go down that road. Trusting her. Falling for her. That will only le
ad to ruin.
The voice was right, as always. He pushed that thought from his head and drank his water.
Dawn’s mother went to take a nap after lunch. And Victor thought about checking into the hotel. It was a bit early, but they would most likely accommodate him.
This situation wasn’t…a strange feeling resonated in Victor’s chest…it wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be. The original plan had been to decamp to the hotel after throwing out the bomb of his existence and identity. But neither his name nor his and Dawn’s history had come up at lunch somehow.
It was as if he’d lit a stick of dynamite, and for reasons unknown to him, it was still burning, refusing to ignite.
“I have to watch this 80’s Czech stop-motion film for class on Monday. Want to join?” Dawn asked after she was finished with the dishes.
A million answers ran through Victor’s head. But in the end, he signed, “OK.”
The movie was a wildly strange retelling of Alice in Wonderland, but not as horrible as he thought it might be. He rarely took the time to enjoy entertainment. So it felt nice to be diverted for an hour or so.
His enjoyment certainly had nothing to do with being reminded of when they were in high school, and Dawn would come over with a DVD of some obscure anime that she insisted they just had to watch.
But just in case, when the film was done, he retreated to the kitchen where he could be alone. There he returned business texts and emails for the rest of the afternoon.
Mostly with Han and Phantom. As poorly as his conversation with Nora had ended, it turned out she was right. Moreover, according to Phantom, two or three of their businesses were in a ripe position to be exploded into global brands with the right infusion of cash.
Victor let himself get lost in work until Dawn, and her mother suddenly came through the kitchen door, their arms filled with bags of groceries.
He frowned. He hadn’t even heard them leave. Much less go to the grocery store.
Dawn wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t allowed it. Yet, it felt as if he were quickly losing control of the situation.
“Dawn told me that you prefer more liquid things, and Cal-Mart was having a sale on their shabu shabu sets. So we’re going to make you the Korean hot pot recipe I made up when we were in Japan.”
As much as Dawn and her mother had sniped at each other over lunch, they worked seamlessly together in the kitchen. And they were right about his liking the hot pot. The broth they made was rich and spicy with just the right amount of umami flavor.
He quietly savored the meal as he listened to Dawn’s and her mother’s conversation.
They mainly talked about her mother—not tomorrow’s surgery, but the mundane day-to-day details of a life filled with church and gardening. They also talked about the winter weather in Texas compared to Rhode Island and whether Byron would ever settle down and get married.
“Hopefully to a girl,” their mom said, clasping her hands together and shaking them at the sky. A prayer or a threat to her God? Victor wasn’t sure. “You know your dad and I didn’t find out he also likes men until he was named to that New Jersey Gay Police Committee!”
“Hopefully to anyone who makes him happy long-term,” Dawn edited. “And he would’ve told you before he was named to the New Jersey Police Officer LGBTQ+ Liaison Committee if he wasn’t afraid of how you would react.”
“That tall policeman son of mine is scared of his little parents?” Gyeong sucked her teeth and waved a dismissive hand at Dawn. “You always did indulge him too much. Always worrying about him. Like you are his mother, not his sister.”
Dawn laughed and admitted, “True, true…”
However, Victor inwardly jolted. Had Dawn also not been acting when she told him she was worried about her brother back when they were in high school? Had that truly not been a trick?
“How do you like our version of hot pot, Dawn’s husband?” Gyeong asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Again he told the truth. “It is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”
A delighted smile spread across Gyeong’s face, and she clapped her hands together. “Good, good! It’s the least I could do to thank you for bringing my daughter home to me.”
Gyeong’s eyes became a little damp. “I did not realize how much I needed someone here with me until she showed up with you. It feels as if God has ‘come through’ as black ladies at my gardening club say.”
“Aw, Mom,” Dawn said, leaning over to give her small mother a side hug. Her eyes then found Victor’s across the table. “But seriously, thanks. You don’t know how much this means to my mom…and me.”
Their affection, Gyeong’s thank you, the dinner they’d made special with him in mind….a new emotion pierced his chest. One he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
Not since Dawn came to his apartment and signed that she liked him too.
Unworthy. He felt unworthy of their soft gazes filled with gratitude. It was too much.
He abruptly rose from the table. “We should check into the hotel.”
“Okay,” Dawn said carefully, standing up as well. “Mom, we’ll be back first thing tomorrow to take you to the—”
That was as far as she got before her mother exploded. “You think you will be staying at a hotel? I already got the guest room ready for you this afternoon!”
Dawn looked helplessly toward Victor as if they were a real husband and wife, and she needed his backup.
“I’ve already made the reservation,” he began to sign to her mother.
“No hotel is as good as my guest room,” Gyeong insisted.
“Actually, it’s the Four Seasons…” he started to answer.
Gyeong stomped into the small foyer at the front of their house before Victor could finish that sentence. And by the time they caught up to her, she had already grabbed hold of the rolling suitcase and backpack he and Dawn had left in the hallway.
Dawn’s little mother charged down the hallway with their luggage, toward what Victor could only assume was the guest room of which she’d spoken so highly.
And if he thought Dawn would be any help in this argument, he was quickly disabused of that notion when she rushed after her mother, calling, “Mom hold on, let me help you with that!”
This was supposed to be about revenge.
But as Victor watched them go, he couldn’t tell what the hell the situation had become.
21
DAWN
So Victor meeting my mom didn’t go quite as I’d expected.
Technically, it was a perfectly pleasant evening. Mom couldn’t drink or eat anything after 9 PM, so after watching an unnecessarily long Marvel movie with us, she knocked off to bed.
We stayed up for a little while longer. In the same room but not necessarily together.
Victor had been on his phone nonstop since dinner. If I quizzed him on the movie we all supposedly just watched, I doubt he would’ve been able to answer any questions about it.
That was A-OK with me. I still wasn’t quite able to wrap my head around him being here. In my parents’ home. Like, chatting with my mom over dinner. And telling her she could choose the television fare because he was okay with whatever she wanted to watch.
Mom doted on Victor the same way she used to fuss over Byron. I could barely stand to go to the bathroom without her asking Victor if he needed anything while I was up. Then grousing behind his back in sign language that “a good wife shouldn’t leave it to the mother-in-law to do the asking.”
“He must really love you,” my mother had said earlier at Cal-Mart when we were shopping. “I don’t know many husbands who would come all this way with their wife just to keep a mother-in-law he’s never met company.”
“Maybe he was curious about you,” I suggested, even though I really did not want to talk about Victor. Especially with my mother.
“Or maybe he loves you that much. I see the way he looks at you whenever your back is turned.”
Yes, like a ps
ycho who thinks he owns me because of something that happened fifteen years ago. I swallowed down the lump of bitterness that welled in my throat. What I had with Victor could be called a lot of things. But love wasn’t one of them.
It was mom’s idea to make Victor the hot pot. But I’d been surprised by how Victor had responded to it. He slurped down what had to be at least five bowls of the DIYish stew. And that super nice compliment he gave us afterward about it being one of the best things he’d ever tasted…
I had forgotten that about him. How sincere he could be about the little things in life. He’d ordered around his security guards, Han, and Phantom like he was entitled to their service. But both times I’d given him a drawing, he had acted like it was the most precious thing he’d ever received.
I hated the conflicted feelings inside of me as I watched him eat. Hated that I loved seeing him enjoy a meal my mom and I had made, especially with him in mind. Hated that it still felt like he was hanging on my every word as I made small talk with my mom.
Not true, not true, not true. Dawn, girl, it is not true. We weren’t who we were in high school anymore. We weren’t even a real husband and wife.
And now, we’d be sleeping in the same bedroom, even though it wasn’t an anniversary night.
I stalled as long as I could after mom left, watching “the YouTube,” as my mom called it while Victor continued to type nonstop on his phone. But eventually, he put the phone away in his suit pocket.
“Come, we should go to bed.”
Not wanting my mom to overhear us, I switched to sign language. “Okay, but you know we’re not going to have sex, right? It’s not our anniversary, and this isn’t a hate fuck kind of situation.”
His eyes, which had been so unusually relaxed all evening, suddenly went hard as stone.
There he was.
The husband who hated me. The one who would try to punish me for daring to command him.
But then he raised one hand to sign a simple “O” and “K.”
Victor: Her Ruthless Owner: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 2 [50 Loving States, Rhode Island] (Ruthless Triad) Page 14