“Oh, stop it. Who cares about this? Your pride is simply ridiculous.”
“Thank you.” Casey wanted to smoke. There was a fresh pack in her purse. Isaac didn’t like the smell of cigarette smoke in the house, but she could have one on the terrace by the living room.
“I love you, Casey,” Sabine said, wanting Casey to look at her.
“I love you, too, Sabine,” Casey said, her voice disgruntled and resigned.
“And I respect you,” Sabine said.
“Ditto.”
“But you are ignoring the obvious in your life,” Sabine said.
“Clue, please.”
“Stop ignoring your feelings.”
“Okay, I’ll think about that.”
“You are angry with me right now,” Sabine said. It had taken her a decade of therapy to figure out this invaluable lesson: Your truest feelings led you to greater and greater success in life. She had accomplished nearly impossible goals by recognizing her finest and ugliest feelings and everything in between. “You’re furious.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.” Casey made her face go blank. “I’m grateful that you are such a good friend.”
“You can be grateful and angry. Such feelings can coexist.”
Casey sighed. “I’m so tired, Sabine. I should go to bed.”
“Okay.” Sabine got up from the chaise. “Unu is a lousy choice. A man is supposed to help you.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.”
Sabine came by her side and put her hand over Casey’s brow. “My dear Casey. You don’t know who you are. Try to—”
“Sabine. . .” Casey was seething. “I am doing the best I can.”
“No one ever doubts that of you. You should perhaps do less.” Sabine smiled. “I shall let you go to bed now.”
“Okay,” Casey said.
“Good night, baby. And drink that detoxification tea I bought for you. It’s on the counter next to the espresso machine.”
She nodded, letting Sabine kiss her on the cheek good night. As soon as Sabine closed the door, Casey climbed out of bed and grabbed her purse. She opened the window as far as it would go and lit a cigarette. Unu would be asleep, she thought. He always slept on his left side, facing the middle of the bed, his left arm tucked in by his shoulder, his hand beneath his cheek. When she came home late and he’d been sleeping, he’d open his eyes and murmur, “Hey, babe, you’re home. Come to bed.” Sometimes he’d continue snoring quietly. Casey stubbed out her cigarette on the window ledge and lit another.
T
HE SILVER CUFFS SHE COULDN’T POSSIBLY WEAR
lay on top of the dresser. Tina fingered the extravagant gift Sabine had made to her sister and that her sister had later made to her. There was no way Tina could have refused them, but the gift only reinforced in her mind that her sister was out of touch. It was a kind gesture, surely, but what did she need a pair of matching bracelets from Tiffany’s for? Where was she going with a two-month-old that would require her to wear Wonder Woman cuffs? As it was, she and Chul barely had money for groceries, diapers, and the occasional video rental. They took the BART everywhere because they couldn’t afford to keep Chul’s Toyota in San Francisco. Besides, even if the edges were smooth, the hard metal would bother Timothy when Tina was feeding or bathing him or changing his diapers. That night in New York, right after Tina and Chul had dropped Casey and Unu off at their apartment on the Upper East Side, Tina had slipped off the cuffs and dropped them into her diaper bag.
In forty minutes, Timothy would wake from his nap and need to nurse again. Hopefully his last feeding for the night. Chul was still studying at the library. He was taking summer classes to accelerate graduation. She’d made tuna salad for dinner, but he’d called to say that he’d grab a burrito before he got home. She had spent another day alone in the apartment with the baby. Tina craved her books, her classes. Seeing adults. It was Friday night. But it could have been any other.
What was her sister doing right now? Tina wondered. In their last brief phone conversation, Casey had dismissed any possible worries about their mother’s health. She was thoroughly anxious about getting a permanent offer from Kearn Davis. Tina had thought of reassuring her, but it wasn’t easy to do with Casey. You never really knew if she was listening. Also, Casey was single again. She had screwed some guy she used to work with on some out-of-town business trip, then confessed. “But I felt like such an asshole for not telling him.” Tina had kept from saying,
Well, now he probably thinks you were an asshole for sleeping with another guy.
For now, Casey was staying with Sabine and Isaac until she got her shit in order. Nice life, Tina thought. Nice landing.
Tina dialed her parents’ number to make her Friday night call, and Leah picked up.
“
Yuh-bo-seh-yoh
.”
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Ti-na. How is the baby?” Leah asked. She remembered Timothy’s softness, the round black eyes beneath the ruffle of his dark lashes.
“He’s good. He’s sleeping now.”
“And eating well?”
“I’m nursing constantly. Some days it’s like twelve or thirteen times.” Tina blew the overgrown bangs away from her face. Whenever the baby wasn’t nursing, it felt as though Chul were trying to slip his hands beneath her shirt. She still had thirty pounds left to lose, but Chul didn’t seem to mind. Her engorged breasts made him horny, he said. Her boobs had become communal property. Had her mother ever felt like that?
“How are you?” Tina asked.
“
Umma
is okay.”
“But Daddy said you missed church again.”
“
Umma
is okay. Have you heard from Casey?”
“Last week.” Why didn’t her mother just pick up the phone and call Casey?
“I thought Ella’s cousin was nice,” Leah said.
“They broke up,” Tina blurted out.
Before her mother could ask any more, she said brusquely, “Let me talk to Daddy now.”
“But they seemed happy,” Leah said, her voice cracking.
“It didn’t work out, I guess,” Tina said, trying to skip the details. She hated being the messenger.
“Where is she living then? I don’t have her phone number.”
“She’s staying with Sabine Gottesman. Until she finds a place.”
“Oh,” Leah took a breath. “I’d hoped that they would. . .”
Leah nodded. Tina wouldn’t tell her any more than that. The nice young man was gone. It wasn’t that she believed that if her daughter was married, then everything would be all right. But she wanted her child to be stable. And why didn’t she come home if she needed a place to stay? Maybe Casey was right to look up to a person like Sabine, who was a success in America.
Was God punishing her? Was she losing Casey to Sabine because of what had happened between her and the professor? No, Leah argued with herself. God wasn’t like that. You didn’t always get what you deserved. Thankfully. Job was a good man, and he had suffered. Christ was the son of God, and all he did was suffer. But Leah had sinned. King David lost his baby after taking his friend’s wife and killing his friend. Her daughters did not respect her. They didn’t like her.
“Yobo,”
Leah shouted over the noise of the television coming from the living room.
Joseph folded his newspaper and dropped it on the seat of his chair. He muted the television and picked up the phone.
Leah held on to the receiver. She could hear the happiness in her husband’s voice. First, Joseph asked to speak to the baby, but he was asleep. Then he asked Tina how she was. Tina told him how tired she was, how much she missed school.
Leah put down the receiver.
Tina heard the click. Her mother had sounded awful. And there was little she could do for her so far away. After graduation, she and Chul intended to go back east.
“Daddy, can’t you and Mom come for a visit?”
“The store. One of us has to be here. You know that.”
Tina nodded. The store. They had never been on a family vacation. Her parents had never asked Mr. Kang for the time off, and the owner had never offered. But even if her father had gotten permission to close the store for a few days, Tina didn’t believe that her mother would have gotten on a plane for California.
“Why hasn’t
Umma
been to the doctor?”
“You know she doesn’t like to go. I told her, but she said she’s doing better. It sounds like a cold. Maybe the flu.”
“Daddy, a cold shouldn’t take this long.”
“If she doesn’t go to church on Sunday, Elder Shim is coming by with the hospitality committee. He’s a doctor. Maybe he can talk to her.”
“He’s an eye doctor.”
“Okay, okay. When will you bring Timothy to New York?”
“We were just there, Daddy. You should come here.”
“Okay, okay.”
“I better go,” she said, getting ready to say good-bye.
“Take care of my grandson.”
“I will,” Tina replied. She wanted to keep talking to her father; she wished he’d ask her more questions. Was it possible to tell him that she felt lonely ever since she had the baby and that Chul had no idea what her life was like now, to lose school and friends? He just wanted to have sex regularly and get good grades.
“Daddy. . .”
“Hmm. . .” Joseph cleared his throat, unable to say how much he missed her. He could tell she was tired, and he was embarrassed that he couldn’t send her a maid. That was what a rich man would have done back home—send his daughter a nanny so she wouldn’t have to work so hard.
“Good night,” she said.
“I know you will do a good job with everything,” he said before hanging up.
Tina got off the phone, then went to check on the baby.
The following day, Leah went to work, came home, and made dinner, then went to sleep at eight o’clock. On Sunday morning, she could hardly move her body out of bed. The weight of it overwhelmed her. Joseph made her stay home and went to church by himself. That afternoon, whether she liked it or not, the hospitality committee would come.
Douglas Shim, Elder Kim, and Deaconess Jun rang the buzzer at exactly three-fifteen. After being let in, they marched inside without much of a greeting, sat on the sofa, and prayed silently. Douglas finished praying first, Elder Kim second, and Deaconess Jun prayed vigorously for another three minutes. Joseph led them to the bedroom.
Everyone bowed and smiled at one another.
Leah felt shy about being in bed in her nightgown and robe in front of the elders. She offered them coffee. A little while before, she had boiled water and put out a fresh jar of Taster’s Choice and Coffee-Mate on a tray with three clean mugs so Joseph could fix the coffee in case the committee wanted some refreshment. There were no biscuits at home, and she was embarrassed by this, but she hadn’t had company in a long time. But the committee explained that this was their third visit of the day and they couldn’t drink another drop of coffee or tea. They had brought her twelve cans of orange juice and a box of eclairs from Le Paris bakery.
Joseph brought three kitchen chairs into the bedroom.
The committee sat down and prayed for her quick recovery.
“Your husband said that you had a cold,” Douglas said, concerned that she might have something more serious, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He had tried to visit earlier, but Joseph had put him off, saying that Leah couldn’t manage having visitors. After nearly two months of Leah missing church, Douglas had insisted, and Joseph could no longer say no. The last time they spoke about the committee visiting, Douglas had sensed that Joseph might even welcome a little help. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. I had some stomach problems which have gone away, but I’m so sleepy. And there’s been a lot of work at the store.”
Deaconess Jun nodded, understanding perfectly. She worked in a dry-cleaning store that her mother-in-law owned on the Upper West Side. She did the alterations when she wasn’t working as the cashier. With two little boys at school and work, she felt as though she never had enough sleep. If it wasn’t for her
midum
in Yesu Christo, she could hardly bear her angry mother-in-law and her feckless husband, who could never take her side.
“Have you seen a doctor?” Douglas asked.
“I told her to go, but. . . ,” Joseph interrupted. Douglas nodded and waited for Leah to add something.
“I really am much better,” Leah reassured them. She made her voice a bit stronger. “It was good of you to come by. But I really am okay. I hope to go to church next Sunday.”
“You’ve lost some weight,” Douglas remarked.
“Have I?”
“You didn’t have anything to lose. Aren’t you eating better now? After the stomach problems?”
Leah nodded. She wasn’t being truthful but couldn’t take any more of this attention.
She wasn’t really sick. At least, she didn’t think so. And lately, it had been getting better.
“I was worried that you had chicken pox,” he said with a smile, recalling their visit together to the choir director’s house. “But you’d said that you had it as a child.”
“Nothing so serious. Maybe I’m just tired because I’m getting older.” She smiled, pointing to her brilliant white hair.
“Don’t be silly,” Elder Kim chided. She couldn’t have been more than forty-five. The woman who sat up in bed in her pajamas had the face of a pretty girl from the country. The accountant felt sad for her. Many of the women at church labored sixty to seventy hours a week in small businesses without pay or breaks. When home, they faced chores and took care of their children besides. His wife helped him out at his office during tax season, but she stayed home mostly with their two sons.
“No doubt you’ve been working too hard,” Elder Kim said.
Joseph bit the inside of his cheek.
“Maybe it’s good that you rest on the Sabbath and miss those boring sermons.” Douglas winked. “I’m sure God would understand.”
Both Elder Kim and Deaconess Jun laughed. Today’s sermon on tithing and the necessity of sacrificial giving had felt unusually long.
“Are you anemic?” Douglas asked.
“No. When I was pregnant with Tina, the doctor did say something about eating more meat and spinach.”
She needed to get her bloodwork done, he said. He knew of an excellent internist not far from her store. Maybe she could walk over during her lunch break. Leah thanked him but said it would be all right. She’d been feeling well enough that she planned on going to church next week, she said. The committee clapped their hands at this. Deaconess Jun exclaimed, “Ah-men.” The elders and the deaconess got up from their chairs. They bowed their heads and prayed for her healing in the name of their savior and redeemer Yesu Christo.
After the hospitality committee left, Joseph went out to buy seasoned
bulgogi
meat from the Korean market. At home, he washed the rice, turned on the cooker, and heated the frying pan.
The garlicky smell of the meat frying soon filled the apartment. From the bedroom, Leah could smell the ginger and sesame oil of the marinade. She tried to get up, but the pull of her own weight fought her. She took a deep breath and willed herself out of bed, her bare feet thudding against the floor. In the kitchen, she saw Joseph’s squat back. He was putting out kimchi in a bowl. The kitchen table was already set with two place settings. He had done this. She pulled out a chair to sit, and at the noise, he turned to her, proud of the Sunday dinner he’d fixed.
The smell of the meat grew stronger; a cloud of steam wafted above the pan. Leah tried to get up to open the window. There was no air conditioner in the kitchen. It was as if she were submerged underwater wearing a heavy coat.
There was a hard smack. Sharp pain—such sharp pain in the center of her face—radiated across her cheeks and brow. Her nose hurt. So much. Tears sprang to her eyes, their warmth trickling down her cheeks and nose. Joseph’s slippered footsteps rushed toward her.
“Yobo, yobo, yobo!”
he cried. Her head had planted straight down on the table. The meat sizzled in the pan, and all Leah could think of was that the stove was still on and the meat would burn. It would be such a waste of money. How could she turn off the stove? But she had lost her words. A thin trail of blood streamed across the white table. Everything darkened with smoke.
Douglas Shim hovered over her. “Deaconess, Deaconess. . .”
Somehow she was in bed, the bib of her nightgown covered in blood. She remembered the kitchen. She had fallen, hadn’t she?
“Is this okay?” she asked Elder Shim. It hurt to talk.
“Your husband called my pager. I was only a few blocks away at Elder Chung’s.” He smiled knowingly at her. Elder Chung was ninety-three years old and bedridden. He lived with his childless son and daughter-in-law in Maspeth. The visits were more social than spiritual. Elder Chung loved to talk more than anything, and the hospitality committee always visited him last, because he might cry at short visits. “You saved me, actually. He was about to tell the one about the freckled Japanese soldier who had fallen in love with his sister. You know that one.”