Sublimation(14)

“That’s fine,” Soyoung’s mom says. It’s so mild. Your mom is never so mild. She walks out the door and closes it behind her. “Do you have time to talk now?”

“A little,” you say.

She comes over to the gate. She looks older. You can’t tell if there’s any differences from your mom. They look the same to you. She smiles at you. You have the feeling that she wants something from you and you have no idea what.

“So. How have you been? What do you do?”

You blink.

“I’m good. Um. I’ve been good, mostly. I’m a software engineer. Why are you asking me about this?”

“I’m asking you now because I don’t know when I get to ask again,” she says. “Your mother and I—anyway. Are you happy? Do you like living in America?”

Do you like living in America? It’s not so much that you like it as it’s where you live. You live there because you live there. You live in New York because you went to school in the tristate area and you grew up in New Jersey. You live there because it was somewhere to live and you had no compelling reason to go anywhere else.

Were you happy? You weren’t unhappy. You considered happiness to be a fleeting state, but there wasn’t anything you were discontent with. Someday, you might want something more out of life but you liked your current life and the holding pattern it was in. Anyway, you couldn’t give your mother’s instance a different answer than what you would have given your own mother.

“I’m good,” you say. “I’m happy.”

“Good. That’s good.”

She just looks at you. You just look at her. You think about asking her about the deed to the house, about what your grandfather—her father, had asked of you. Of what he had asked your instance. You want to ask her whether he asked anything similar of your mom and her.

“Do you still live here?” you say.

“No. I moved out, after Soyoung was going to college. When we didn’t need the space so much. I share an apartment with one of your aunts. We took turns coming back and taking care of your grandfather, at the end.”

The use of the words “your grandfather” seem like a deliberate stab.

“Did you ever want to move out of the house, when we were living here?”

“Of course I wanted to leave, Rose,” Soyoung’s mother says. “I left for America, with you.”

She looks so matter-of-fact about it. Like it didn’t hurt her, to be the instance who stayed. You can’t ask about the deed to the house. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up and pretend that it’s time sensitive.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you lie.

“Wait—” Soyoung’s mom says. You pause. You turn back. You think she’s going to call out your obvious ruse. You think she’s going to open the gate and step out and hug you. You would accept it. She’s your mother. She’s a version of your mother.

“See you tomorrow,” she says. “Be safe getting around.”





SOYOUNG


You’re waiting for Yujin in the cross-section of the underground mall. This is because he’s got a date later with some girl he met last week—not important enough yet, in the grand scheme of things, to be given a name—and there’s four subway lines out of the underground.

You’ve bought Yujin a cheese-cream-foam-strawberry-ice-latte since it sounded disgusting. It was a thing with the two of you, as kids. Making potions. You grew out of it and then grew back into it. Now you get each other terrible coffee drinks when the baristas don’t look too harried. You also bought him a red bean bun. You’re not completely heartless.

It’s early enough that you didn’t feel bad ordering an awful drink. You like Seoul best when it’s quiet. Sometimes you think about moving out of the city core, but that feels like a later decision, after you’re married. When you want to raise a family. You’re supposed to babysit Jangmi the day after tomorrow. The awful drink slowly coagulates.

Yujin comes bounding over, sliding into the seat across from you with more enthusiasm than you think 10:30 AM on a Saturday deserves. He’s wearing date clothes (button-down shirt, real pants), and he’s styled his hair. The thing about funerals is that other people still go on dates.

“You look cute,” you say. “Do I get to meet her, yet?”

“Nope. Not until after a few more dates. I like Youngmi, though. I think this could be something. Damn, is this congealing?”

He picks up the cheese-cream-foam-strawberry-ice-latte and takes a long sip before making a face.

“Oh, this is even worse than it looks.”

You smile a bit, then slide him the red bean bun. He takes it and bites down with too much enthusiasm. Red bean paste smears on the corner of his lips. He wipes it.

Through a mouthful of pastry, he asks, “So, wha’s up?”

“How do you talk to your instance?”

He swallows his food. “Mostly over Wi-Fi.”

“Not logistically, I mean like … how do you try and convince YJ to do anything? What’s it like talking with him? Do you guys ever fight?”

“Things with Rose are going well?”

“Oh, shut up. I’m serious. Do you have a good sense of what he’s feeling, most of the time?”