by Rhys Ford
“You are gay, yes? Like Min-Ho?”
No hyung for her older brother, that was certain. I nodded. “Yes.”
“Does your mother know?” Ryeowon’s concern was visible, either sympathy for me or a woman she imagined was going through the same emotions she’d been through.
“No,” I said softly. “She died when I was born.”
“Ah.” Her smile was wide, brightening up her face. It chased the years away, even softening the dark circles under her eyes she’d hidden with a thick layer of makeup. “That’s good, then. She never knew you were like this. I am so glad for her. So much better for her. Have a good day, Mr. McGinnis, and thank you again.”
Chapter Seventeen
“SHIT, that’s a cold woman,” Bobby swore under his breath to Seong Ryeowon’s back as she left.
We abandoned the porch for the office when a swarm of gnats decided our mouths looked like glory holes in need of business. Jae’d shown up a few minutes later with a few orders of carne asada fries and spicy carrots. Bobby took them off his hands as soon as he walked through the door, kissing Jae on the cheek in thanks. He was insulted when Jae recoiled in horror.
“Yeah, he only likes men, Bobby,” I teased. My supposed best friend flipped me off and took a bag out of Jae’s hands.
“Mmmmm. Mexican.” Bobby ignored me in favor of opening the Styrofoam container and inhaling the intoxicating scent of charbroiled meat, cheese, and fries. “It’s good to have a Korean boyfriend. They bring take-out.”
“You don’t have one now,” Jae muttered. “Cole does, but I don’t mind feeding you too. It’s like he owns a dog I pick up hamburgers for.”
“And Cole is happy about his Korean boyfriend. Be nice to Bobby. He’s had a mouthful of gnat and spent the afternoon watching hippies commune with their extra-virgin spring water tea.” I tugged on the hem of his T-shirt. Jae leaned over and gave me a kiss, then stepped back to unpack the food.
Perched up on the edge of my desk, he handed me a laden container, opened his food, and promptly poured Sriracha over his fries. My guts winced in sympathy. His probably snickered at me, mocking my tender intestines. He offered me the bottle, and I must have given him the same look he’d given Bobby, because he laughed hard enough to need a drink of water. Patting him on the back, I told them about my meeting with Ryeowon.
“Wow.” Bobby whistled in disbelief when I got to the part about my mother. “That’s… some kind of fucked up.”
“We would think so,” I said. “But, for her… for their family, I think she’s doing more than most. Sounds like she pulled some strings to keep Shin-Cho under the Seong umbrella.”
“He’s not going to go off and get married, pop out kids, and forget about being gay.” Bobby shoveled a fry into his mouth. “She should accept that and move on.”
“Why not?” Jae cocked his head at Bobby. “Hyung did. Others do. He’s her oldest son. She wants him to have… she wants him to continue the family.”
“He’s a Park,” I pointed out. “They don’t have something to say about it?”
“No, they lost the family connection to Shin-Cho and David after Dae-Hoon.” Picking at the carrots, Jae found a red pepper and bit into it. I made a mental note to kiss him only after he’d rinsed out his mouth. “The scandal was too much. Luckily, it happened here, so they could—”
“Cover it up?” Bobby interrupted.
“Yes,” Jae agreed. He was matter-of-fact. I’d gone down this road with him before, but Bobby was new to the journey, and probably wouldn’t like where it was going to leave him. “The Seongs are more powerful than the Parks. It makes sense for Ryeowon to align her sons with the Seongs. It offers them more protection, especially after Shin-Cho was caught with that other man. The chaebol take care of their own.”
“I can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to you excuse this shit.” He pushed his fries across Claudia’s desk in disgust. “You’re gay. Tell me this doesn’t piss you off!”
“What is supposed to piss me off? Being gay is different when you’re Korean,” Jae replied calmly. “It is different. Do I wish I could love a man and still have my family? Yes, but I can’t. Not until my sisters are out of the house, and my mother can be taken care of. When I tell her, I won’t have a family left. Shin-Cho is lucky. His mother is forcing the family to provide for him. She loves him. She’s fighting for him. She’s risking her own family status when she tries to protect him.”
“Bullshit,” Bobby spat.
“Because it’s not what you know? Because it’s easy for you to walk away?” Jae’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper, but the heat in his tone was growing. “Some families ignore what their sons do if they get married and have children, like hyung. Others cut them off like they weren’t ever born. Korea isn’t big. Your family’s reputation and situation determines everything in your life: your work, your school… everything. Even here, we’re caught between being Korean and wanting what’s in our hearts. Don’t tell me it’s bullshit if you don’t live like we do.”
“Hey, both of you,” I cut in. I was trying not to get up and dance around the desks. Not because I couldn’t dance… although apparently there was a general consensus that I was lacking in that department, but because Jae said when not if he told his family. I wanted to savor the moment, and the two of them arguing would put a damper on that. “Pull it back a bit. Bobby, you know how crappy it can be to hide who you are. Shit’s different for everybody. You know that.”
“Yeah,” he grunted in agreement, but he tackled his fries again. “That’s why it pisses me off to see people shoved into hiding. We’ve worked so fucking hard to open shit up here. Hell, it was so fucking hard for me to do it.”
“Here,” Jae said. “The world is not here. I wish it were because… change is easier. In South Korea, not so much.”
“Okay,” Bobby capitulated. “Just don’t expect me to like it.”
“I don’t,” Jae responded gently. “I didn’t say I liked it either. It just is.”
For the next hour the only sounds in the office were us eating and the tap-tap of my fingers on the keyboard. Every once in a while Bobby would swear when he hit a dead end. Little by little our list of arrested blackmail victims dwindled. By the end of the afternoon, we’d discovered one moved back to South Korea while two others took their own lives. Of the two remaining in America, only one was still in Los Angeles. The other appeared to live in New York with his wife and daughter.
“I’ll see if I can get a hold of Brandon Yeu. Maybe he’ll be willing to talk about that night.” I printed his information out of the contact database I subscribed to.
“Do it tomorrow, kid,” Bobby suggested. “It’s going to be visiting time over at the hospital. You’ll be kicking yourself in the ass if you don’t go.”
“Fuck.” I checked the time. “I’ve got to grab some flowers too.”
“Don’t forget the balloon,” Jae teased. “It just won’t be the same without the balloon.”
IN THE end, we got the balloons.
Wrestling with the Mylar apocalypse I’d summoned to the hospital, I followed Jae as he carried in the large bouquet of roses and carnations we’d finally settled on. He liked the spray of white lilies which I vetoed for being used at funerals. I then chose an ornate chrysanthemum arrangement which apparently were death flowers for Koreans.
It was good to find out we were both morbidly compatible.
The hospital room looked like the botanical gardens vomited up its stomach after a hard night’s drinking. There were at least two large wreaths with hangul written on banners across them, but it was difficult to see around the sheer number of bodies in the room. Martin spotted me through the herd, and took control.
“Okay, everyone out.” He didn’t speak loudly, but apparently there was some kind of vibration sensor among the Claudia brood, because within seconds the room was clear, a few stopping to kiss her on the cheek before they left. The door closed behind me, and I was left alone with the woman who
should have had more common sense than to come work for me.
“Did you think you were going to tie those to me, so I’d float away like that house?” she rasped from her hospital bed. “Come here, boy.”
I let go of the balloons. I didn’t give a shit if they tangled up on the ceiling or popped when they hit the florescent lights. A few steps and I had Claudia’s arms around me, squeezing the air from my lungs.
She smelled of antiseptic and the sour-skin powder scent of someone who’d been in surgery, but under it was warm vanilla and lavender soap and the steady thump of her heart pouring life through her soft, round body. The collar of the purple velvet robe I’d given her for Christmas tickled my nose when I buried my face into her shoulder, and something crinkled when I shifted against her side. Sheepishly, I let go and pulled out a stack of crayon drawings from under my hip, trying to smooth them out on my leg.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and put them on the table next to the bed. My face was wet, and I wiped at my cheeks, hoping Claudia hadn’t seen me lose my shit.
“Don’t be ashamed to cry, Cole.” She patted my hand, tangling me into the tubing coming out of her arm. I undid myself and went to grab a chair, but she held onto my shirt. “Stay here. Sit on the edge of the bed, and talk to me.”
I did as she told me. I usually did. I took a moment to study her. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her skin was back to its rich café shade, not a hint of the sickly gray haunting my dreams. There was a small handprint of glitter on her left cheek and some plastic barrettes stuck in odd angles in her hair. She’d obviously been subjected to some sort of little girl makeover, but it looked nice on her. It felt damned good to feel her warmth against me, and I didn’t even mind when she smacked me on the side of my head.
“You will not apologize for me being here,” Claudia scolded. “If anything, I got a free tummy tuck and all the Jell-O I can eat. I will not hear any of your crap about being the reason I’m here.”
“I didn’t say anything!” I rubbed at the spot, mostly for effect. “I am sorry—”
She smacked harder this time and grunted slightly in pain. Waving me off when I reached for the nurse’s button, Claudia rearranged her robe so she was more comfortable and gave me an ogle. “Did they catch who did it? I heard about that boy. He was an idiot, but he didn’t deserve that.”
“No, he didn’t,” I agreed. “And no, they haven’t caught the guy yet. The cops found the car, but that’s about it. I probably shouldn’t stay long. The doctors will want you to rest.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she pronounced. “How are you? Where were you hurt?”
“Just on my back. Only a scratch.” Tugging up my shirt, I showed her the bandage. “I’ve had worse.”
“I don’t see why you keep getting shot up, son,” Claudia tsked. “It’s like you go asking for it.”
“This time I can say I don’t have a clue.” I told her about Wong’s theory about the shootings being related, and then my visit with Seong Ryeowon. She was thoughtful when I was done. “Honestly, I wish all mothers were like you. Marcus is lucky to have you.”
Claudia studied me for a long moment, then reached for my hand. Wrapping her fingers in mine, she sighed and squeezed hard. “Is that what you think? That it was easy for me when Marcus told me?”
“Maybe not… easy,” I stammered. “Sure as hell better than Barbara and my dad.”
“I threw him out,” Claudia said quietly. “My boy… the son I’d fed from my breast and rocked when he was sick… and I threw him from the house like he was rubbish.”
“You never told me that.” Shock rippled through me. Of all of Claudia’s sons, Marcus was the one she seemed to have the most fun with. “I didn’t know.”
“He was a boy, not even fourteen,” she murmured. “And he came to me with full faith, and I cast him out. What does that say about me? What does that say about my heart that I’d do that to my son?”
“Why?” I was confused. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’d been raised that it was a sin, and nothing Marcus did would save his soul,” Claudia responded. “I left the house to go find my pastor because I was so angry and hurt. I needed to find something to hold on to. I needed someone to tell me I’d done the right thing and that it would all be okay.”
“Did you find him?” I’d never been one for church, but Claudia and her family went every weekend. From what I’ve heard, they had a great time. I preferred sleeping in and having sex, but everyone communes with God in different ways.
“No, I never made it to church,” she admitted. “I drove around, and somehow ended up at those gardens at the Huntington. My car ran out of gas. Right there. So I got out, and it was free to get into the Japanese place that day, so I went in. I found some rock where it was quiet, sat down, and cried my eyes out.”
“I’m sorry….”
“No. Don’t be sorry for me. See, I’d beaten my son, Cole,” Claudia murmured. “I’d smacked their butts for misbehaving before, but this was the first time I’d raised my hand to him in anger. In hatred. My own son. And God, if I didn’t sit there in some strange place when I was going to head to church because I was so lost.”
“He’d come to me in faith and love, and I turned him away.” She shook her head. “I’d lost faith, not in God or Marcus, but in myself. I’d let someone tell me what was right and wrong. All of these years, I’ve listened to preachers and people around me saying that someone like Marcus was wicked and evil.”
“Not Marcus.” I chuckled.
“No, not my Marcus. I raised that boy. I knew who he was. I’d seen him share with others who had nothing. I’ve listened as he worked out his brothers’ disagreements, because they knew he was fair. I spat on him because he knew himself? Because he knew how to love? Because he was honest with himself and me? He came to me, knowing I would love him and hold him when the world would tear him apart, and I crucified him for his love,” Claudia said with another squeeze of my hand. “There, that’s when I finally heard God laughing at me. I’d been given a son who had flaws, yes, but who was a good man with a good heart, and I’d fucked it up.”
“Claudia!” I mocked her. “Language. So you guys are okay? I mean now?”
“Now, yes, but he was a teenager eventually. I straightened him, okay,” she laughed. “Of all of them, he and Martin gave me the least worries. But, do you know what I think Marcus was really sent to me for? Other than to teach me humility?”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Not a clue.”
“I think God knew that I’d one day get bored with retirement and go looking for something to do,” Claudia said softly. “He knew that there was a broken gay boy who’d been treated with such little care that he’d need someone like me in his life. I just had to know how to love him. And if I couldn’t find it in my heart to love the son I already had, how could I learn to love the one I would find?”
She held me again, tighter than she’d done before, and I fought not to fall, but wasn’t very successful. Wrapped in her strong arms, I let the pain inside of me surface until I cracked open. It hurt. My throat turned raw, and I gripped Claudia’s shoulders like I was drowning. She let me silently drench her, rubbing at my back until I couldn’t breathe and finally had to come up for air.
Cupping my face, she held me fast and forced me to look at her. “There is nothing wrong with you that some good food and love can’t fix. You just have to eat well and open your heart up. Despite those people who have tried to make you less than who you are, Cole McGinnis, you are a good boy. You deserve everything good that comes your way. Remember that.”
“Okay,” I murmured, and kissed her palm. Chuckling, I asked, “Did you ever make it to church that day?”
“No.” She barked a laugh. “I called my friend to come bring me some gas, and then I went to find a church that didn’t tell me it was okay to hate. Just because God smacks me on the head once, doesn’t mean he calls me up to chat.”
“
True,” I agreed. “’Course if God starts talking to you on a regular basis, you let me know. We’ll get you a robe with the arms that wrap around your back.”
She was tired. I’d worn her out, and now Claudia was sagging in her bed. Gathering up the balloons, I righted them as much as I could, and tied them to one of the chairs. We both waited a moment, expecting the chair to take flight, but it was made of sterner stuff and remained grounded. Jae knocked on the door, and they visited for a few minutes, long enough for Claudia’s eyes to flutter and Jae to kiss her on the cheek. We let ourselves out of the room, holding the door open for a couple of the women to go in.
The hallway was remarkably clear of the horde, with the exception of a few of the sons hovering near the vending machines. Martin was waiting for us a few feet away and waved us over to where he stood. He gave me a quick hug and slapped me on the back. It was like being smote by a lightning bolt.
“I’m glad you came. Momma was asking about you. I told her you’d be in today.” He took a Coke one of his brothers handed him, urging me to take a can from the stack they’d purchased.
“Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away,” I said. Jae’d refused a can, but took mine from me after I’d opened it, sipping it before handing it back.
“Jae-Min here says there’s something we should talk about,” Martin said. “Something about one of the flower arrangements. The ones with the Korean on them.”
I looked at Jae. “What about them? They’re not from Scarlet?”
“One of them is,” Jae replied. “The other one isn’t. A man dropped them off and asked to talk to the head of the family.”
“I told him she was inside that room,” Martin responded. “But he could talk to me if he wanted. He was Korean. Kind of spoke the same way Hyunae’s mom does, like English was really hard.”
“Hyunae?” I asked.
“Marcel’s girlfriend,” Jae and Martin said at the same time.
“She’s Korean,” Jae interjected. “Martin, tell Cole what he said to you.”