Forty-Eight
On a cold day in late November, I arrive home to Hana napping on the couch. I move quietly to let her sleep as I make some tea and check the secret email. I do it every day and can’t tell if it’s a punishment or reward.
Ari—the tour is complete and it was breathtaking and exhausting. Now I have time to think about what might have been and what I could have done different. I have too much time.
I wonder if I should write back. He must see that the messages are being read, but he never mentions it.
A knock at the door disturbs my thoughts. Hana must have ordered takeout. I check the peephole.
Dear God. Hana’s mom stands peering at the door, holding a covered dish. I muffle a groan. Talking to Mrs. Choi can be difficult even on a good day, and today was mediocre at best.
I slide on my socks across the wood floor. “Hana.”
She throws an arm over her face. “Sleeping.”
“Your mother is here.”
This gets her eyes open. “What?”
“Your mom is outside the door.” There’s another knock, and we share a look.
Hana’s lips go thin. “I was over there yesterday.”
“We can pretend we’re not home.”
To my surprise, Hana sits up. “You know what? No.” She throws the blanket on the floor, strides over to the door, and flings it open.
“Why did you take so long?” Mrs. Choi marches to the kitchen, where she uncovers her dish. The rich smell of kimchi fried rice spills out.
Hana remains at the door. “Eomma, I told you when I left your house that we have food.”
“You have bad food,” she corrects. “Good food equals good thoughts.”
Hana looks like she’s going to explode, so I step in to give her a moment. “Hi, Mrs. Choi. I was about to cook, but we can keep this for later.”
“The Chinese don’t know good food,” she says as if this is canon.
Hana comes into the kitchen. “I said to please call before you come over. I might be busy.”
Mrs. Choi scoffs. “Too busy for your eomma?” She looks through our cabinet and flicks her finger at the hot chocolate. “You shouldn’t drink that. No wonder Mrs. Lee’s boy didn’t like you. You need to try harder.”
For the first time in my life, I witness Hana Choi rendered speechless. She stares at her mother as if ticking off the ladder of lines the woman has crossed. She can’t say it because that’s her mom standing there, interfering but still family. Hana glances over at me, and I nod at her. I’m here for her, however she handles this.
That must be what she needs, because when she turns back to her mother, her head is high.
“Eomma,” she says. “You weren’t invited over.”
Mrs. Choi doesn’t even look up from where she’s hunting in a drawer for chopsticks. “I don’t need an invitation. We’re family.”
“You do.” She takes a breath. “Please leave and call to ask if you can come next time.”
This is a night of firsts, because now it’s Mrs. Choi’s turn to be without words. She looks to me as if for confirmation, but I keep my face a rock. Then her mouth opens and closes like a fish.
“You don’t want your terrible mother here? You’re ashamed of me? Keeping secrets?”
Hana doesn’t move. “I love you, but I need you to listen to me. I’ve asked you a dozen times to not talk about my love life or how I look or what I eat. I don’t want you to come over uninvited. From now on, when those things happen, I’m going to leave or ask you to leave.”
Mrs. Choi’s hand is on her throat. “How can you say this to your own mother?”
“I’m saying it because I love you and I want to keep seeing you. If you don’t respect me, we can’t do that.”
“Respect.” Mrs. Choi glares at her, voice getting high. “What do you know of respect? I raised you! We came here so you would have a better life. You should respect me.”
“I do. I also need some space.”
I’m in awe of Hana right now. I thought it was hard to talk to Phoebe, but Hana’s gone right into the bear’s den. I can tell how scared she is by the way she picks at her leggings with one hand, but she’s standing up for herself.
“Your father will be ashamed of you, speaking to me like that.”
Hana doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t lower her eyes. The staring contest between the two Choi women lasts for another few seconds, and then to my shock, it’s Mrs. Choi who breaks.
She slams the cutlery drawer shut and spins around to grab her rice. “Only dutiful daughters deserve my cooking,” she says.
Then she leaves, slamming the door behind her. I rush to lock it and then turn to check on Hana. She looks almost dazed. “What the hell did I do?” she whispers. “I’ve never seen her so mad.”
“Hey, you did good. It was hard but you did it.”
She bursts into tears as I hug her. “Am I a bad daughter? She’s right. I do owe her respect. She’s done so much for me.”
“Hana, you can love your mom and want to live your life.”
She doesn’t reply, but after a few minutes, she moves from sobs to sniffles. “I thought she was going to cry.”
“I know you feel bad.”
“I feel terrible.” She rubs her eyes. “I had to.”
“You did.”
“Thanks for staying here. It helped.”
“Anytime. Kind of wish she left the food, though. Your mom is a great cook.”
Hana hiccups and starts laughing. Soon we’re both laughing, and it feels like a cure.
Ari—Daehyun and I met with the agency about our songwriting. They insist it’s better for StarLune to keep things the way they are. I gave in and hated myself again. Daehyun is unhappy and so is Kit hyeong, since they rejected his solo project. I hope you are keeping warm. I check the weather in Toronto every day. Watch for the snow.
I pull my coat tighter around me as a barrier against the cold wind while I stand in front of Dad’s office building.
It’s been years since I’ve been here. I don’t want to be here now, but some things are better said in person, and the formality of the office might be helpful. The other night, Phoebe and I had been at dinner when she finally exploded on him for pressuring me to beg Richard to end the leave he put me on. I hadn’t had the guts to tell him I’d already quit and was working at Luxe. I’d told myself it was for his own good because of his heart, but it was because I was a coward.
After seeing Hana confront her mom, I made up my mind. I always thought I had control in my life and of the decisions I made, but now I see that as long as I’d let him determine my path, however indirectly, none of those choices had been mine in the first place.
I push open the lobby door. The elevator is waiting, but instead I climb the stairs to the second floor.
“Oh my, Ari.” Gloria, Dad’s assistant, gives me a big smile when I lean around the door. “Look at you. It’s been so long. How are you?”
“Good, thanks. You?”
“Can’t complain.” She checks her monitor. “Is your dad expecting you?”
“No. I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d come say hi.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly because she knows the chances of me coincidentally being in the neighborhood are slim. All she says is, “He’s free if you want to go in.”
Nope, I do not want to go in to have this conversation, but I force myself through the door. Dad looks up from behind the desk. “Ari? Is everything okay?” He half stands, hands flat on his desk and eyes wide.
I shut the door behind me. “I wanted to talk to you.”
He sighs. “This couldn’t have waited until I was done with work? You should be trying to get your job back. You made a mistake, and you’ll have to earn back their trust. It’s getting too late.”
My nervousness transforms into anger at how one-track he is. He hasn’t even asked how I am. I’m more than my job, but not to him. “I don’t want to.”
He frowns. “Don’t be childish. You’re a bit upset, but you know better. Swallow your pride and apologize. Show Richard you can handle it.”
“No, Dad, I’m done with them.”
“Don’t say that. I should have called him for you.”
“I quit my job, and I’m never going back to Yesterly and Havings. I hated it there. I’m not even sure how much I want to be a lawyer.”
That was graceless, but the relief I feel once the words are out is immense. No more lies. We’ll have to learn a new way to relate to each other that’s not work based. I wonder if we can.
Dad lowers himself and stares at me. “You foolish girl. What were you thinking? You’ll never get a chance like that again. If you quit, you’ve wasted your life.”
“I was wasting my life when I was there.”
He’s talking over me before I finish. “You need to think this through. This is your future at stake. What’s going on with you? You used to be so steady. I never had to worry about you, not like Phoebe.”
“This isn’t about Phoebe. It’s about me.”
He blows out his breath and turns to his screen. “If that’s what you came to say, I need to get back to work.”
I start to leave, but there’s an itch in my mouth. I’ve started this, so I might as well get it all out.
“I haven’t said everything.”
He raises his eyebrows and puts his hands on the desk in a move of exaggerated patience.
“I only went into law to make you happy. You wanted Hui and Hui or Bay Street Hui, and Phoebe was never going to do that.”
Dad picks up a pen and looks over my shoulder. “Is this because of—” He frowns. “Jihoon?”
“It’s not.”
He looks up. “No?”
This rankles. “I am perfectly capable of making a decision without a man.”
He puts the pen down. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I only want what’s best for you.”
“How about you let me decide what’s best for me?”
Dad stiffens. “I don’t appreciate that, Ari. There’s no need to speak to me with that tone.”
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I take my courage in hand. I walk over behind the desk, wrap both my arms around his thin shoulders, and say, “I love you, Dad. I love you, but I’m done being what you want me to be.”
For a long moment, I don’t know what he’s going to do, but then he gives a little shake, so I release him, and he pulls away without looking up. “I want you to reconsider Yesterly and Havings when you’re calmer.”
“I’m very calm. I know you wanted me to be a lawyer,” I say. “I didn’t know what I wanted. Now I know what I don’t want.”
“I’m not happy about this, Ari. You’re showing a huge lack of judgment.” He purses his lips. “It’s a mistake.”
“If it is, it’s my mistake to make. Not yours.”
He gestures as if to indicate washing his hands of my decision and keeps his eyes trained on the monitor.
I’m almost out the door when he calls me back.
“Ari?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
He glances down. “Drive safe.”
I can hear the I love you under his words, but I don’t press him. I said my piece, and this will have to do. “I will.”
Then I go back out to the cold.