“I’m going to get joint custody of Irene. She will live with us at least half the time,” he said.
“What kind of talk is that? How?”
“I just will.”
“No, Teddy.”
“Where’s Michael and Julie?” Ted looked around for his brother and sister. They should have been here.
“How could you do that? I don’t understand what’s happened to you.”
Delia felt sorry for Ted. She wanted to put her hand on his arm or stroke his back. But his mother wouldn’t approve.
“Teddy, that is not nice. That’s bad.” She said this bit in English.
Ted locked his jaw. He exhaled.
“Come on, babe. We’re going to the hotel,” he said to Delia.
“How could you do that to Ella?” His mother looked upon him with disgust.
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Ted said to her. He took hold of Delia’s hand and walked out.
Two hundred people attended the funeral. None of the children gave a eulogy, but they sat with their mother in the front row. Mrs. Kim wailed inconsolably. She leaned against Michael—her body limp and folded like a partially filled potato sack. Julie sobbed through the length of the service.
The trials were over, the minister said. There was comfort in this. Johnny Kim had suffered—his hard life had been filled with difficult physical labor. The body had broken down, but his soul had been perfected. The Lord loved a faithful and humble servant and would give him a fine room in His mansion. Ted could not cry; he felt as though he weren’t really there. He wasn’t in Anchorage; the heavily powdered body in the casket was not his father; and he didn’t know if there was a soul or heaven—though the ideas appealed to him. It was impossible that his father had died without saying good-bye to him. The back of his head hurt, and he pressed his hands against his temples. Delia rubbed his back.
After the service ended, Michael and Ted stood at the back of the church while Mrs. Kim and Julie had to be seated because they could not remain standing. The guests lined up in single file and gave their respects. Michael spoke a great deal more to the guests than did Ted. Delia occupied Julie’s two sons, Eric and Shaun, who were seven and four years old, by drawing pictures of Garfield on the back of the service program.
Back at the house, the guests came to the modest reception but didn’t linger. Many of the men and women who’d worked at Lowry’s told Michael, Julie, and Ted what a good man their father had been. They spoke of how Johnny Kim would spot you with what he had when you came up short on rent and groceries. Ted felt proud of his father, who had been kind to his friends.
For the entire day, Michael and Julie were careful around Ted, as if they were afraid of him. Ted tried to speak to them about their lives, but Michael said almost nothing, and Julie talked on and on but said nothing interesting or new. They knew about his divorce but didn’t ask him anything. They promised to talk on the phone when Ted returned to New York, about what to do with their mother. Julie had offered to move in with the kids, but Mrs. Kim made it plain that she would continue to live alone. In the end, Ted and Delia focused on Shaun and Eric, who were lively and bright children. The younger one was smarter than the older one, Ted thought, but the older one was better looking. He would make sure that they were properly educated. When all the guests finally left, Ted decided to go, too. Their flight was at midnight, and they hadn’t checked out of the hotel yet.
He went upstairs to get their coats from his brother’s old room, which now housed their mother’s sewing machine and a foldout bed. He had shared that room with Michael over twenty years ago. This had been his world—the shit neighborhood, the stick furniture, the backward schools, and the uneducated parents who rarely spoke. His old life made no sense to him anymore, and his father had been right to tell him to never come back.
As he walked downstairs with the coats, he saw the crown of his mother’s head as she slowly climbed the steps.
“I’m leaving now,” he said.
“Already?” she said.
“I’ll phone you from New York. I have a lot to do. The custody hearings and—”
“Don’t take the baby away from Ella.”
“She’s my child, too.”
“No. Not as much as she is Ella’s. If Ella didn’t do anything wrong, then she should get the baby. You have Delia. You can have more babies with her.”
“She can’t have children.”
“Makes sense.” Mrs. Kim nodded to herself. She had figured that Delia must be over thirty-five, even though she was young looking.