Dawn turned her wide-eyed stare on her mother. “Really? That’s why you made bulgogi so often? For me?”
Her mother shook her head at her. “Why do you think that was the only dish I would make every week? And I always let you have as much as you want, even after you started to gain so much weight. Of course, I made it for you!”
“I didn’t…” Dawn blinked rapidly. “I never stopped to consider that you were cooking it for me. I mean, you were always so weird about me eating too much. I never thought you’d actually make something I liked, just because I liked it.”
Her mother shrugged. “Well, that’s why I made it. And your father was right. Men over here don’t mind that you are a pork chop. Look at your very handsome and attentive husband, coming all the way down here to see about your silly old mother.”
Dawn cast Victor a troubled glance. “Yeah, look at him…”
She clearly didn’t feel as much ease with lying to her mother as she did with lying to Victor all those years ago. A new thought occurred to him. Perhaps, that was the real reason she hadn’t been in contact with her friends and family. She didn’t want to lie to them.
Victor wasn’t sure how to feel about that possibility as he poured himself another glass of water from the pitcher Dawn had brought to the table.
D-Liar. That was what he’d renamed her for so many years.
But now, for the first time, something inside of him was starting to wonder if that was entirely true.
Don’t, the voice of reason warned. Don’t go down that road. Trusting her. Falling for her. That will only lead to ruin.
The voice was right, as always. He pushed that thought from his head and drank his water.
Dawn’s mother went to take a nap after lunch. And Victor thought about checking into the hotel. It was a bit early, but they would most likely accommodate him.
This situation wasn’t…a strange feeling resonated in Victor’s chest…it wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be. The original plan had been to decamp to the hotel after throwing out the bomb of his existence and identity. But neither his name nor his and Dawn’s history had come up at lunch somehow.
It was as if he’d lit a stick of dynamite, and for reasons unknown to him, it was still burning, refusing to ignite.
“I have to watch this 80’s Czech stop-motion film for class on Monday. Want to join?” Dawn asked after she was finished with the dishes.
A million answers ran through Victor’s head. But in the end, he signed, “OK.”
The movie was a wildly strange retelling of Alice in Wonderland, but not as horrible as he thought it might be. He rarely took the time to enjoy entertainment. So it felt nice to be diverted for an hour or so.
His enjoyment certainly had nothing to do with being reminded of when they were in high school, and Dawn would come over with a DVD of some obscure anime that she insisted they just had to watch.
But just in case, when the film was done, he retreated to the kitchen where he could be alone. There he returned business texts and emails for the rest of the afternoon.
Mostly with Han and Phantom. As poorly as his conversation with Nora had ended, it turned out she was right. Moreover, according to Phantom, two or three of their businesses were in a ripe position to be exploded into global brands with the right infusion of cash.
Victor let himself get lost in work until Dawn, and her mother suddenly came through the kitchen door, their arms filled with bags of groceries.
He frowned. He hadn’t even heard them leave. Much less go to the grocery store.
Dawn wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t allowed it. Yet, it felt as if he were quickly losing control of the situation.
“Dawn told me that you prefer more liquid things, and Cal-Mart was having a sale on their shabu shabu sets. So we’re going to make you the Korean hot pot recipe I made up when we were in Japan.”
As much as Dawn and her mother had sniped at each other over lunch, they worked seamlessly together in the kitchen. And they were right about his liking the hot pot. The broth they made was rich and spicy with just the right amount of umami flavor.
He quietly savored the meal as he listened to Dawn’s and her mother’s conversation.
They mainly talked about her mother—not tomorrow’s surgery, but the mundane day-to-day details of a life filled with church and gardening. They also talked about the winter weather in Texas compared to Rhode Island and whether Byron would ever settle down and get married.
“Hopefully to a girl,” their mom said, clasping her hands together and shaking them at the sky. A prayer or a threat to her God? Victor wasn’t sure. “You know your dad and I didn’t find out he also likes men until he was named to that New Jersey Gay Police Committee!”
