by Jaclyn Jhin
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I had recorded our Skype sessions so I could hear her voice again. I hadn’t stopped crying since I left New York. I only felt worse when I thought about Ian. I kept telling myself it was for the best that we had this time apart. We needed to think about what was right for each of us. My heart was broken. I had lost Halmuni, and now I might lose Ian, as well.
I felt B.B.’s strong hands on my shoulders. “Kelly.”
I realized we were the last ones left in the room. I kept my eyes locked on Halmuni’s picture as he guided me into the dining hall. Halmuni, Halmuni ... I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.
Tables set with white cloths displayed an arrangement of rice, vegetable soup, and, of course, Kimchi. I was thinking I should have brought Halmuni’s all-time favorite food: KFC. She would have loved that, I thought. People milled about, picking up black plastic plates and silverware, sitting down at tables adorned in bundles of white flowers. I looked around, wondering if I would ever speak to these people again. Maybe Halmuni was my last real tie to my Korean heritage. Maybe Halmuni had been my only true family.
“Can I help you?” B.B. asked.
I looked up, frowning, but realized his eyes were above my head. I turned around and gasped.
Ian, wearing a black suit, black dress shoes, and hair recently cut into a close buzz, stood in the doorway. He had his hands in his pockets and gave me a small smile like Yeah ... it’s me.
Everyone stared. For once, he was the one who looked wildly out of place. I would have laughed if we had been anywhere else.
I had no idea what to say. The way he looked at me made me think he couldn’t see anyone else in the room. But I could sense the wheels in B.B.’s head turning behind me: Who is this guy?
“I couldn’t stay in New York,” Ian said. I could tell his eyes were swollen from crying, his usually creamy skin reddened. “And I realized...”
He trailed off, slowly walking toward me. My breath quickened. I immediately put my hands in his. Instinct. The shock of Halmuni’s death made it easier to block out my feelings, but now, with him here, I couldn’t control my emotions. I had told Ian I didn’t know what I wanted, but now everything in my body was screaming: You just want him.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” B.B. asked, breaking the spell.
“Sorry.” Ian stuck out his hand. “I’m Ian Anderson, Kelly’s boyfriend.”
B.B. barely shook it before turning to me. “Is that right?”
I could feel my face blushing. Any other time and place, I would’ve loved to introduce B.B. to Ian, reveling in the inevitable banter that would include B.B.’s corny jokes and Ian’s charming deflections. But now Ian was just the weird white guy who had interrupted a funeral reception.
“I just, um, I really had to do something today.” He squeezed my hands. All I wanted to do was reach for the back of his neck and kiss him, but he didn’t give me a chance to rise to my tiptoes—because he was currently getting down on one knee. Oh, my God.
“Kelly. For a while, I’ve been imagining spending the rest of my life with you. But yesterday, after you left, I realized I couldn’t spend the rest of my life without you. I just want to be with you. Through everything. Good days. Bad days. Funerals. For as long as you’ll have me.”
I thought about the last time I had been in LA: pining over a love story like my parents, wishing anyone would notice me. Now, I had one of the most beautiful people—inside and out—wanting an entire life with me. I took my eyes off his for a moment to look toward the mourning room. I wondered if Halmuni was watching. I had a feeling she would be smiling. My heart felt twisted again, aching for her to witness this, overwhelmed by the fact I would have to go through many more of life’s milestones without her.
“Kelly, will you marry me?”
I looked away from Ian’s eyes, willing myself to peer around the room. I saw the dropped forks, the Kimchi poised in mid-air, no distant cousin sneaking a bite amongst the dead silence of surprise. More than anything, they were staring at Ian, playing the game I had been playing all my life: Which item does not belong?
“Ian.” Shaking, I grabbed his hand, trying to pull him off his knee. His face fell. “Look, I—”
He put both hands on my shoulders. “I know. It’s impulsive. Crazy. But I think we both know this is it. And if we get married, my mom will have no choice but to be nice. She can be crappy to my girlfriend, but she can’t be crappy to my wife.”
I slumped in his arms. This isn’t about me. Everything went back to the one person I was desperately trying to get away from: Beverly.
“Ian, I love you. And I do want a life with you. I want to be your wife ... someday. But not like this. And I don’t want a mother-in-law who hates me.”
“My mom will love you. She just needs some time. And she’ll try even harder if we’re engaged.”
My stomach flipped. I did not want my grandmother’s funeral to turn into a marriage proposal, and I did not want my marriage proposal to turn into a fight.
I heard B.B. behind me. “Okay, kids.” He slapped Ian on the back, like he had just fumbled a touchdown pass. “Let’s take a breather.”
Everyone started whispering in Korean as we took our seats. I met Ian’s eyes. I could tell he was starting to sink with me, not quite at the same depth, but just enough to feel a little scared.
* * *
Even though had I rejected Ian’s proposal, I realized he was right: I was in no state to break up with someone. I was reverting to instinct, the one I exercised during etiquette school: to flee. But I didn’t want to run from Ian; I wanted to run from Beverly, Sophia, the busyness of New York. I wanted to seek comfort in the arms of Halmuni--which reminded me not to take what I had for granted.
Ian and I were standing on the porch of Halmuni’s apartment. I kept my hand in his, glancing over at his chiseled profile as he watched the gradual sunset. I smiled. Fresh out of his funeral suit, he wore a T-shirt with HASTINGS LAW printed on the front and a pair of basketball shorts with CHU LAW OFFICES on the side.
We had gone out here to sip some iced tea Halmuni had left in the fridge after spending the day sorting through her belongings. Before, I couldn’t imagine him coming with me, but now I couldn’t imagine what this experience would have been like without him.
“So, I know you don’t want to get married now, and I don’t blame you.” He set his drink on a glass table beside the stack of Korean newspapers Halmuni had piled up. “But I want you to know I’m crazy about you. So ... this is a promise to you that someday soon we’ll be together.” He wiggled his hand in the pocket of the shorts, revealing a small, black box. Oh, no. Was he going to propose again?
“I got it express shipped,” he said, reacting to my surprised expression. “It’s a family heirloom.”
He opened the box, revealing an elegant ring with silver bands intertwined around a gorgeous pear-shaped diamond.
“You don’t have to put it on now. I just wanted to you to know I want you to have it.” He smiled at me, the sunlight highlighting the sparkle in his eyes, almost comparable to the ring. Looking at him in his B.B. Chu regalia, I couldn’t help but chuckle. It didn’t matter where we were: his home, my home. He always found a way to belong. And I belonged with him.
I cupped his face in my hands, my heart beating faster. “Yes.”
He raised his eyebrows, almost uncertain, and then his face exploded into a smile, reaching down to kiss me.
“I love you,” I breathed, realizing the gravity of the phrase. But it was true, and I suddenly wanted to repeat it over and over again.
“I love you, too.”
We both marveled at the words, how easy they felt to say. How obvious it had already been to each of us. A warm feeling gushed through my chest, relieved to hear him say it back to me.
I hugged him again, crying, the happiness soon replaced with a nagging, sinking feeling. I was in Halmuni’s apartment, deciding a future with Ian. Why couldn’t she be here?
>
“Hey, let’s get out of here,” he said into my hair. “Celebrate with some champagne?”
“Okay,” I said quietly. I guessed it would be better than staying at Halmuni’s, although I still wasn’t entirely sure. Was it better to live in the grief or try to forget it?
Ian suddenly grabbed me in a hug, and I squinted out at the lowering sun, wondering if I would ever feel completely normal again. I knew I wanted Ian. I knew I wanted to share my life with him. But I still didn’t know if I could live the way I should without Halmuni beside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
New York welcomed me back with slippery arms. After being warmed by the always dependable California sun, I found the battery of frigid downpours sweeping through the city unsettling. Halmuni would have understood. She always thought rain was an ominous sign: the universe’s way of warning you about some impending doom. While the joke was that, in L.A., traffic ground to a halt the moment someone spit on a windshield, no amount of precipitation seemed to halt this city’s frantic buzz.
I stood at the arched window of the condo, opposite the kitchen I had just cleaned. The whole place practically glowed with a spic and span shine. I did exactly as Lynette taught me, dusting the crevices behind the flat screen TV and wiping behind the sink faucet with Beverly’s potentially toxic cleaning solution. After all, now that I didn’t have a job, I might as well do something valuable with my time.
I felt warm in Ian’s blue Columbia sweatshirt. I pressed my fingertips against the living room glass panel overlooking the street below. Hoods of heavy rain jackets flapped in the wind as people darted between parking meters, keeping their chins down to avoid the steady downpour. Brake lights blinked in gushes of water, punctuated by a cacophony of annoyed honks, creating a swell of only slightly controlled chaos.
I still had a couple of weeks until my sophomore year at Columbia began, and I had been spending all my time on the couch or at this window, vacillating between scouting on-campus jobs and people watching. Whenever I took a moment’s breath, I thought of Halmuni. Whatever memory popped up in my head either made me laugh or burst out crying. More than a few times, I pulled up Skype just to look at her profile picture—the shot out-of-focus, only capturing half of her face. It reminded me of the person I missed so much. Lessons from my parents’ death came back to me in glorious Technicolor. Once again, I confronted the hard truth. When it came to real grief, there was no quick way out. I would have to endure the suffering until the passage of time made each day slightly easier.
I traced the squiggle of a raindrop on the glass with my finger, then noticed a limo out of the corner of my eye. I followed its snaking path, the enormous vehicle looking out of place amid the bumper-to-bumper traffic. It stopped outside my complex, and a man with a navy-blue rain jacket rushed out. Ian? Shouldn’t he be at his internship? Then again, he had been full of surprises lately.
I turned, smiling, then tightened my ponytail and readjusted my sweatshirt. I reached for the doorknob. Maybe we could have a romantic, rainy day in, cooking, making out and—
The door opened before I could reach it, making me jump back. I must have left it unlocked. Ian stood there, hoodie still over his head, water trickling down his nose. He pushed through the door, tearing off his jacket, leaving a puddle on the wooden floor. Despite the cold, he was steaming.
“Are you—?”
“Well, that certainly backfired!” He pumped the air with his arms. His grey T-shirt was splattered with water, and he wore black jeans with red Converse sneakers. He must’ve skipped work today. Where had he been?
I started toward him, reaching out a hand. “What backfired?”
He pulled away, as if my touch would only make things worse. He paced the living room and the kitchen. I had never seen him wound up like this. His movements suddenly seemed childish, like an impatient teen I had to counsel, instead of comfort. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do either.
“Can you believe it? She disowned me!” He threw his hands up again, then let them fall. I noticed his cropped hair had already begun to grow back, framing his angry face.
“Who?” I asked, stupidly.
He wasn’t even looking at me, just staring out the huge, rain-spattered window. “Who do you think?”
“Because of our engagement?”
“Well, duh!”
Okay. No need to be a jerk about it.
“And she wants you out of here immediately. Like, okay, Mom, just make Kelly homeless, that’s cool!”
I dropped onto the couch with a sigh, hoping he might follow my lead. Instead, he increased the pace of his agitated pacing. I couldn’t live here anymore? Sure, it was only a couple weeks until school started, but this was so sudden.
“Wait, so when do I have to—?”
“I thought about it. It’s fine, you can just stay with me until you move into campus housing with Melissa when school starts. Kevin and Roy won’t mind. But I’m pissed off at my mom. Fuck her! Fuck this!” He circled the kitchen table in a frenzy, knocking napkins and cutlery off the counter. So much for cleanliness. In a matter of seconds, it looked like a tornado had torn through the place.
“She’s always been like this. I’m so sick of it.” He pounded his fist into his palm with loud, meaty smacks that frightened me. “I wish Grandpa Jack was here. He would’ve talked some sense into her.”
“Calm down, Ian ...” I tried to speak calmly. “I’m not sure even Grandpa Jack would have been able to talk sense to your mom.”
“Grandpa Jack would have at least told her to stop being an idiot.”
“Okay, but didn’t you say that once we got engaged your mom would be better about our relationship?” I asked, still trying to be as calm as possible.
“Yeah, yeah. I did, but, boy was I wrong. Does that mean that you will leave me again?” He sat down on one of the stools, rolling his fingers into fists, making the muscles and veins in his forearm pop.
I slowly moved toward him. “We were only apart for a day,” I said, trying to add a laugh, even though it felt misplaced.
“You broke up with me.” He finally looked over, the sparkle of his eyes replaced by smoldering disdain. “Remember?”
I let out a small scoff. “It was after Halmuni just—”
“I mean, if I hadn’t flown all the way to L.A., we would probably be done. You probably would’ve just been like ‘screw it.’”
“That’s not true.”
Was it? This was an arena I had never stepped foot into, and I had no idea how fair the match would be. I couldn’t believe he was bringing this up. Was he trying to start a fight to ruin our relationship?
Ian shrugged. “It is true. I mean, if I hadn’t put in the effort, who knows what could have happened?”
“Wait. You don’t think I put in effort?”
I crossed into the kitchen, almost slipping on the debris from Ian’s tantrum. I switched on the industrial lamps above the table, illuminating Ian’s glowering face. As I sat down across from him, I motioned for him to do the same, but he wouldn’t stop crisscrossing the room in wide figure-eight arcs.
“I’m not ... I just ... I just think that, yeah, sometimes I put in a little bit more.”
I wanted to laugh. Like a crazy, maniacal laugh. He thought he put in more effort? What, did he re-enroll in cotillion?
“That’s not fair.” I rose to my feet. “I have done so much—trying to please your mom. To make her like me.” Frustration over the unfairness of it all ballooned inside me. I counted off each item with my fingers. “I went to etiquette school, remember that? I survived racist Mrs. Williams, a dusty old relic from last century insulting me in every possible way. I went shopping with your neurotic mom, endured her condescending comments and dressing me up like a Barbie doll all day. I had to look at all of her Facebook posts about gold diggers, knowing all along she meant me in each one of her rants. What about all of that?” My frustration boiled over into furious anger. Now, I was the one charging around the kitc
hen, yelling. “What about the time she visited me at Poseidon with her mean girl friends? And last, but not least, how about Thanksgiving? That was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. But you know what? I did it—I put up with all of the bullshit because I love you.”
“But ...,” he tried to interject.
I was on a roll, with no intention of slowing down. “And now you’re mad because I left you after my grandma died? You left me at Thanksgiving! At a table with those horrible people!”
“I didn’t say I was mad.” His tone neutralized, his eyes meeting mine.
I sighed. Why did he have to comment on only the last thing I said? Was he listening to all the other things? “Okay,” I said dismissively.
“I’ve already apologized a million times about Thanksgiving. And I just got disowned over you. What else do you want me to do?”
“Nothing! And I’m not asking you to do anything. I just ...” I trailed off, looking away. I watched the appropriately gloomy weather outside, praying this would all end. It scared me how quickly this had escalated. This wasn’t like a fight with a friend where you worked out your issues quickly because you were hungry and wanted to get sushi. We were at each other’s throats. I didn’t see any way it would end without one of us screaming at the other to get the hell out.
“I never wanted you to be cut off by your mom,” I said quietly. “That’s horrible. But you always told me that money and status don’t matter to you. If you are now worried about losing everything, then let’s end it and you can go back to what you’re used to.”
“Here you go again. Your solution to everything is to just run away. I’m upset because now I won’t have a relationship with my mother. It has nothing to do with the money, inheritance, or lifestyle.”