“Mom?”
“Hmmm?”
“Where did you go?” I barrel on before I lose courage. I want to be able to tell June when she wakes up. “When you were gone for so long?”
She sighs. “Your father said you would ask,” she says. “I wonder when I’m going to start believing him.”
I stay silent. Hoping this time she’ll say what I need her to.
“I went to Korea,” she says. “I had to go home.”
“Why didn’t you bring us with you?”
She shakes her head. “That wasn’t your home. I can’t explain it. I needed to be in Korea. Your grandmother was furious, crying, hitting me every day, telling me I was a disgrace, but I just stayed at my childhood home and cried. And slept. I went to Ji-soo’s grave every day. That’s the only thing I did.”
I picture a small grave. A child’s grave.
“I missed you girls every day. I hope you believe me. I was haunted by thoughts of you. But Ji-soo needed me too. My body didn’t want to be in America. This life we chose, it was so hard. Your father and I had worked sixteen-hour days for over ten years. I thought I’d made a mistake. That I’d made a mistake to choose this life and that I’d brought you girls into it, which was unforgivable. But one morning, when I went to talk to her, it was pouring rain and then it cleared up. I was on my knees, clearing off the clumps of grass that were sticking to her, telling her about everything we’d seen, what our house was like, what the two of you were doing, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The horrible feeling, the weight that was pressing down the moment we landed in Texas, the way it would bear down on my chest until I couldn’t breathe, was lifted. I knew it was time to come back. To my real home. With you two and your father.”
She looks at me.
“I’m sorry I don’t have better words to describe it,” she says. “When you have children, you’ll understand.”
I picture my mother, in the suit she’d left in, in her blouse, on her knees. The way the dirt and small stones bit into them, ruining her pantyhose. I imagine her talking to her dead baby on a green hill.
I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what my mother felt. Whether it was grief for herself or her dead daughter that kept her away. I know what it’s like to want to leave. How it feels when the home you have is a mirage, an illusion. But I know that wherever I am, if June’s around, I’ll be okay. Even if she hates me a little. Because even when she hates me, she loves me the most.
“You know, the trick to taking care of your sister is letting her think she’s taking care of you.” She scoops my hand in hers. “I suspect you can ask your father the best way to do that since he does it so well with me.” This makes me laugh.
“Your unni needs you. You’re the only one who can get close enough to help. Be good to her. Especially when you two have to do this again.”
I give her a questioning look. “When it’s your turn to have children, you’ll have to be June, because after this surgery ‘Jayne’ won’t be able to. At least not according to your medical records. You’ll have to switch places and help each other again.”
My heart stops. I realize she’s right.
The thought of doing all of this over makes my soul leave my body. I can’t imagine how tiring it’s going to be. But I also love the idea of June’s name looking after both of us. Maybe my kid’s name will carry her Ji. Or maybe it will be inspired by a poison or a war general.
“Umma?”
“Hmm?”
I scooch low in my seat so I can put my big head on her bony shoulder. “What does Ji-soo mean?”
I feel her heartbeat in her small chest. “I never told you?” She pulls my hand closer so she can trace the characters on my palm with her finger.
I shake my head, eyes closed. “Tell me.”
resources
If you experience shame, obsession, and perfectionism around food and body weight, you are not alone. Please reach out to the support systems below.
The National Eating Disorders Association （NEDA） is the largest nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting individuals and families affected by eating disorders.
Call or text: （800） 931-2237
For crisis situations, text “NEDA” to 741741 to be connected with a trained volunteer at Crisis Text Line.
www.nationaleatingdisorders.org
Overeaters Anonymous （OA） is a community of people who support each other in order to recover from compulsive eating and food behaviors. There are no dues or fees to join.
Call: （505） 891-2664
www.oa.org
acknowledgments
Lol. This book.
Remember when I said the second one was hard? Well. Just… Wow.
I am grateful to so many people for their love and patience. Edward Orloff, my agent. You are decent and kind and I love the way you do business. Thank you, Susan Hobson at McCormick, for all the beautiful international editions.
Thank you to my family at Simon & Schuster. Kendra Levin, I didn’t know that editors like you existed. Thank you for your wisdom. And for extracting me from the hellscape of my own making when I decided I wanted this book to be done before it was ready. Dainese Santos, thank you for understanding my heart and reading with such sensitivity and care. I feel so stinkin’ affluent that I got to have a pair of Asian eyes on this trust-fall of a manuscript.
Justin Chanda, I’m grateful for your unwavering support. Chrissy Noh, Lisa Moraleda, Anna Jarzab, Anne Zafian, Lauren Hoffman… you guys! Here we are again. How even? I miss y’all! Remember offices? Plus, hi, Mackenzie at S&S Canada. Hearts.
To gg, a genius. And Lizzy Bromley, a legend.
Thanks to my people: Phil Chang, Asa Akira, Minya Oh, Eric Chang, Leilani Zahn, Kenzo, Eric Hu, Steven Yeun, Yoonjin Ha, Trish Hook, Naomi Zeichner, Rose Garcia, Kerin Rose, Sara Vilkomerson, Jess Gentile, Soo-young Kim, Keith Abrams, Gabriella Ainslie, Maeve Higgins, Melanie Campbell, Imelda Walavalkar, Brooke Nipar, Stephen Porto, Usha Khanna, Ginny Hwang, Emily Pai, and Kyoko Fukuda.
Suze Webb, thanks as always for the astute read. Karen Good Marable for the voice notes and the sentiments. Mark Lotto, thank you for bearing witness to every single multiverse version of Yolk and straight up telling me which ones were trash. Jami Attenberg for the perspective and reminders to be gentle. Aminatou Sow, Dr. Betty Nyein, Emily Eagan, and Dr. Jennifer Mueller at Memorial Sloan Kettering for your time and guidance around reproductive health.
Thanks to Zareen Jaffery for all the hand-holding and the love.
Thanks to Jenna Wortham for hanging out with me in outer space.
Thanks to Jenny Han for being a Virgo and for world-class discernment and courage.
To Jermaine Johnson, Priya Verma, Jason Richman, and Mary Pender. We are the most beautifullest together. I am so lucky.
To my therapist Ryan and the fellowship of now two different flavors of 12-step group. You guys stay saving my life and my sanity. Thank you for teaching me that feelings are not facts and that the universe is a benevolent conspiracy hellbent on showing me magic if I simply get out of the way.
For my family. Especially Ollie since he’s new. Especially—especially—to the mom one. I love you to the moon, Peaches. I’m so glad you’re still here even though you don’t read a lick of English.