Page 45 of Double Exposure

Carter clears his throat. “It’s good to see you up and well, Mr. Choi.”

“You can call me Ken or Kenny. I like to spell in K-I-N-N-I just to mess with people.”

My mother smiles.

“People think it's a surname. People can't figure it out. It’s like when you get asked where you’re from, right Jade?”

My father can be a chatterbox. But the sun is streaming in through large windows, large Shasta daisies sit perky in a white vase, compliments of the Westons, and my parents are together.

I'm oddly happy my mother's here. Although I'm unclear as to what's going to happen next, how they will annoy each other, or what they’ll do to set me off, right now, there seems to be nothing in the way of love.

My mother kisses my father’s forehead.

Carter’s hand presses the small of my back.

Both are simple gestures.

΅

“So, you were out there looking for bears.” I couldn’t ask this until Carter offered to take my mother down to the cafeteria for some lunch.

My dad shrugs. “Yeah, but don't tell your mother.”

She doesn’t care, is what I would have thought in the past. When that reaction registers in my brain, I push an internal STOP button.

“I won’t tell. She needs to get back to Germany and Arabella.”

“Is that what she’s performing? That’s a funny opera. Beautiful music.”

The light in the hospital is from the outdoors, not fluorescent bulbs and leaves my father’s complexion better than he may feel. I decide to address the elephant in the room. Or at least in the room where I put my parents.

“I don't understand what's happening here. I thought you didn't support her—that you—" I stop, unable to deal with his confused look. “Never mind.” I say, shaking my head.

“Look,” he says, picking up a waxy paper cup full of ice water, “she told me, no, she begged me early on before we even made the trip, that I would not do this. And,” he arches an eyebrow, “I kind of gave her my word I wouldn't.”

My father giving his word is a big deal. He doesn't renege. Ever. It might as well be a contract signed in blood.

“But you did.”

Leaning back against his pillows, he sighs. “Yes. I did.”

“And you left me behind.”

“To be fair, I thought I’d be out and back by the afternoon. I was just checking . . .”

“Checking what?”

He doesn’t answer directly. “A female bear suddenly appeared and two cubs, Jade. You know I couldn’t let that go. The cubs were very, very small and they kept to the mouth of the cave. She didn’t venture too far either. Then she disappeared back inside.” He shakes his head. “All I know is that's what I wanted. That's the moment I was looking for in that cave. They hibernate in clusters and I’d only found one fecal plug and so I knew I was onto something. There had to be more animals in that cave.”

Fecal plugs are what bears do when they come out of hibernation. It isn’t feces, but more like hair and skin from chewing the pads of their feet. Plugs are actually hygienic and quite a find.

“Okay,” I say, “So what's next?”

“Well,” he says, “that storm would have driven them inside and kept the rest asleep.”

“Chagrined” is not an adjective I would use to describe my father. But that is exactly what he looks like now—like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar.

I stare at him. “You're not thinking of going back, are you?”