Chapter 31 Liam
Chapter thirty-one
Liam
October
“Do you have enough socks? You never want to be without comfortable socks,” Madison says from where she’s perched on my bed.
We’ve been pretty strict about sticking to our rule of staying out of each other’s rooms, but I gave her a free pass today.
She created the most thorough packing list I’ve ever seen and is taking great joy in checking off the boxes.
“I have plenty of socks, MJ,” I reply as I zip up my carry-on suitcase. “I’m only going to be gone for five days.”
She sits up on her knees, scooting to the edge of the bed where I’m standing. “Are you sure that suitcase is big enough?”
“You just watched me zip it up with no problem,” I answer sarcastically.
“Yes, it’s big enough for the trip there, but what about all the souvenirs you’re bringing back for me?” she says, the golden flecks of her eyes sparkling.
“Exactly what souvenirs am I supposed to be bringing back?” I ask. “English tea?”
Madison smiles. “Hmmm, that’s a start. I don’t know, maybe miniature figures of Buckingham Palace or Big Ben to display on my desk.”
“I think you’re supposed to get those types of knickknacks when you’ve actually been to the places yourself,” I quip, placing my hands on her waist.
Her hands slide up my chest and her lips quirk as she says, “Well, you could at least bring back a thicker British accent.”
I dip into her beloved accent as I murmur, “Such cheeky behavior.” Leaning down, I catch her lips with mine, and the flammable chemistry between us takes over quickly, just like it always does. I break contact between our lips long enough to thread my arm under her legs and swoop her into my arms.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” she exclaims.
“I’m taking you somewhere away from my bed to finish this kiss,” I say. The words are hardly out of my mouth before her lips are back on mine, and I pause in the hallway rather than completing my intended path to the kitchen.
The sound of the doorbell jolts us back to reality, and I carefully set Madison down on her feet. She reaches up and smooths down my hair.
“Your parents’ first impression of me probably shouldn’t be signs of me tousling your hair while making out,” she says. She’s made the statement with her signature sauciness, but I see the nervous way she runs her hands through her own hair and pulls down the hem of her tunic.
Taking her hands in mine, I press a kiss to her knuckles.
“They’re going to love you,” I say, bringing a genuine smile to her lips.
We walk hand in hand to the entryway, but Madison hangs back a little as I open the door.
My parents stand side by side, and I try to imagine Madison’s thoughts as she sees them for the first time.
I share my father’s height and hair color, but my eyes are a lighter shade of brown than his, thanks to my mom’s genetic influence.
Her brown hair has started to streak with gray, but she won’t dye it.
She says the gray makes her look even more dignified as a Shakespeare professor.
Whatever smile lines I have are definitely Mom’s influence.
“Appa, Mom, good to see you,” I greet. My mom lets me shake my dad’s hand before pulling me into a long hug.
“It’s been too long, Liam. We’ve missed you,” she says, patting my cheek. Her eyes turn to Madison, and the smile on her face widens. “You must be Madison. We’ve heard so much about you! Well, more than Liam usually shares about people, at least.”
“Mom!” I groan. I beckon Madison to step closer. “This is my mom, Jessica, and my dad, Min-ho Park.” While we’ve all become accustomed to the American pronunciation of our last name with the hard “r” sound, I’m sure to enunciate the original Korean Pak pronunciation.
Madison holds out her hand to shake theirs, saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Park.” I smile with pride at her adjusted articulation of our Korean surname. “I’m glad you could stop through on your way to the airport. Would you like some tea or coffee before we have lunch?”
“Oh, some tea would be lovely!” my mom answers. “What kind do you have?”
“Several,” Madison replies with a smile. “Why don’t you browse and take your pick?”
“I like her already,” my mom says in a dramatic stage whisper, holding a hand up to hide her mouth from Madison.
I purse my lips, shaking my head.
Mom follows Madison to the kitchen, and my dad claps me on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re able to come with us. It will be really nice to celebrate Chuseok all together again.”
“Me too, Appa,” I say. “How were Harabeoji and Halmeoni when you saw them over the summer? Any big changes I should be preparing myself for?”
“Halmeoni looked a little more frail following the procedure, but the doctors all said she’s doing fine.
Of course, she insists that she’s doing fine and hasn’t slowed down at all, at least from what Hana reports,” my dad says.
“Halmeoni is really looking forward to seeing you again. Be prepared to be fawned over.”
I huff a laugh. “It’ll be like reliving my childhood,” I joke, but it falls flat. There’s still so much about the changes in my upbringing that we’ve never directly addressed. After all, it was probably my dad’s aversion to talking about personal matters that rubbed off on me.
We walk to the kitchen, where my mom is scanning the different types of tea that Madison has on hand. Madison pulls two mugs out of the cabinet as she says, “An Intro to Shakespeare class was required for my English degree, but I loved the professor so much that I took two more of his classes.”
“Then I must know your answer—which of his tragedies do you consider most tragic?” Mom asks.
Madison has no idea that she just walked into a literary trap.
My mom has very strong opinions on Shakespeare’s tragedies, and this question is her measuring stick for how deeply people think about the stories.
“Oh, King Lear, hands down,” Madison answers with utter confidence.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Madison expounds as she pours water over the rooibos tea bags.
“The ending is so complex and bleak, without any hint of the restoration of order or justice like the other tragedies have. To see Lear so badly misunderstand the character of his daughters and suffer so terribly in response. It’s awful.
” Madison pauses. “And, of course, there’s the whole eye gouging scene,” she adds with a shudder.
“It may be the perfect symbol for Lear’s metaphorical blindness, but, yeesh. ”
My mom smiles. “I absolutely agree with you.”
Madison looks at my mom with surprise. “Really? I would have guessed your answer would be Hamlet, based on your family’s cat names.”
“Oh no, I could never name my precious babies after the most tragic characters!” Mom replies with a chuckle.
“Hamlet is my favorite play to discuss in my classes. College students identify so easily with the existential questions about life and death the play raises, which makes for rich discussion.”
“The class I took on Shakespeare’s comedies was my favorite, though,” Madison says as they walk their mugs of tea to the table. “I suppose I’m drawn to the sarcasm and understated wit,” she adds with a wry grin.
“You realize you’ll never be allowed to break up with this girl now,” my dad says under his breath. I laugh through my nose as he checks his watch. “We’re going to have to break this up soon if we’re going to make it to the airport on time.”
We give my mom and Madison twenty-five more minutes to discuss Shakespeare over their cups of tea before insisting we need to leave for lunch.
I thought about asking Madison to drive with us to Joplin so we could eat at a nicer restaurant there, but if I’m really considering relocating here to Noel, my parents may as well experience it.
And I am really considering it.
Thankfully, there’s a new soup and sandwich shop that opened this summer that should be a little easier on our stomachs pre-international flight than the Deer River Bar.
I ride with my parents to direct them to the restaurant, even though I would have liked the few minutes alone with Madison.
I’m only going to be gone for a few days, but the thought of not seeing her for longer than a day sparks a fiery sensation in my lungs.
And not the good kind of fiery sensation she usually sparks.
Over lunch, Madison asks inquisitive but polite questions about my parents’ careers and backgrounds. In return, they inquire about her time living in Kansas City and her childhood growing up on a farm.
“What are some of your favorite memories from the farm?” my mom asks.
“Oof, that’s a tough question,” Madison answers.
“Even though I left and have no desire to go back to farm life, I still have so many sweet memories of growing up there. When I was really young, my dad would sometimes let me ride with him in the combine during harvest. He would let me think I was driving, even though he maintained control the whole time. It made me feel so important.”
“What crops did you grow?” my dad follows up.
“I know this will shock you, but we grew mostly corn,” Madison says with a sly smile.
“We would rotate soybeans into a field every couple of years because corn draws so many nutrients out of the soil, but we were mostly a Nebraska cliché. Once I got a little older, I was helping my mom and older sister prepare meals to drive out to the farm hands harvesting the fields. Farming truly is a whole-family effort, and I do deeply appreciate that upbringing. My younger brother, Chris, and his wife will take over the farm when my dad retires, so I’m grateful that I’ll still be able to go home to visit. ”
“What was your least favorite task?” I ask, curious to hear the answer.
Madison’s face groans even though her vocal cords don’t. “Laying irrigation pipes during the summer, for sure. It was hot and hard and awful. I was so grateful when Chris was old enough to take over that particular task.”