Page 45 of The Comeback
He smiles. “I’m glad you trusted me.”
We’re in our own thoughts for the rest of the ride, but it’s a comfortable silence. The rush hour traffic eases, and we make good time to my parents’ house, a standard suburban bungalow with a yard edged by a high wooden fence and two cars in the driveway. We get out, and Jihoon stops to fluff up the flower blossoms. He’s frowning, and I touch his arm.
He takes my hand and laces our fingers together as he leans against me. I’m taken aback by this show of vulnerability and the intimacy of his hand in mine.
“They won’t bite,” I assure him. I give his hand a squeeze for good measure.
“I wanted to come with you, but I get nervous before I meet new people,” he says. “That they’re your parents makes it worse.”
Emotional openness isn’t really my wheelhouse, so there’s no way I can meet him halfway on this, but I give it a shot.
“I feel the same way,” I say. “Once, when I had to meet my ex-boyfriend’s family, I chickened out and hid in their garden. They grew corn, so I thought they couldn’t see me.”
“Could they?”
I nod. “They were all watching me from the window and laughing. We didn’t last long after that. What I’m trying to say is, no matter what, you can’t do as bad as me.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” He tilts his head to the side.
“If it’s working.”
He laughs and pulls my hand up to give it a kiss. “Oddly, it is.”
“Good.” I lead him toward the door and do my best to not think about the press of his lips on my skin.
We untangle ourselves to knock, but Jihoon retreats a half step behind me. Before I can say anything encouraging, the door opens.
“Ariadne, how was the traffic?” Dad looks better than he did, but there’s a slackness around his face I don’t remember from before. Or perhaps I’m only noticing it now. He glances past me to Jihoon.
“Traffic was fine. Dad, this is Choi Jihoon. He’s Hana’s cousin from Seoul.”
“Jihoon, nice to meet you.” Dad gives him a small smile before extending his hand.
Jihoon bows and shakes his hand, then passes over the chocolate and flowers. “Mr. Hui, I’m glad to see you’re better,” he says.
Dad looks confused, and I do my best not to nudge Jihoon into silence. “Jihoon came with me to the hospital,” I explain.
“Ah.” Dad steps aside to let us in. “They made it out worse than it was. Call me Martin.”
Jihoon opens his mouth, and I interrupt before he can say something anyone normal would find caring and polite and Dad would find painfully personal. “Is Mom cooking?” I ask.
The house is quiet because my parents never have background noise like music or talk radio or the television. Mom comes out of the kitchen and waves hello to Jihoon. “Good to see you again,” she says. “I’m finishing dinner, but go relax with Phoebe. Martin will help me.”
“Coming, Soolin.” Dad nods at me. “You heard your mother. Talk to your sister.”
Phoebe’s not in the living room, but she pops her bleached head around the corner a second later. “Hey.” She waves at Jihoon. “I’m Phoebe. Thanks for bringing Ari to see Dad in the hospital. She probably wouldn’t have left the office otherwise. Wine?”
“I was done with work for the day, and you couldn’t even be bothered to get the right train,” I say, my voice already tight. “No wine for me, I’m driving. Jihoon?”
“Thank you.” He smiles as if unaware of the strain in the room, although I can feel him tense.
Phoebe manifests a bottle and two glasses like a magician, and I check the label. “Where did this come from?” My parents are not the kind to have a wine cabinet, especially since Mom goes maroon after half a glass of chardonnay. Thank God that genetic gift skipped me over.
“I brought it, of course. This house is drier than the Atacama.” Phoebe gives Jihoon a glass and checks him over when he sits beside me on the couch. “Hana’s cousin, huh? I see it. When’s she back from Vancouver?”
She remembered. This is a pleasant conversation. It’s going pleasantly. My shoulders drop down a centimeter. “Another week or so.”
“I used to live there. It was gorgeous but had too much rain.” She shudders.
