CHAPTER 11 #3
In front of me there are lots of little bowls with different kinds of pickles and kimchi, mounds of noodles and pancakes, and a tray full of what looks like sushi. The only familiar thing is the mountain of stuffing, squared off like a brick at the end of the spread.
I follow Tek's lead with the food. He shows me how to wrap bulgogi in lettuce and which side dishes to use.
Halfway through, his mother turns to me. "You have somewhere else to be?"
I almost choke on a mouthful of scallion Jeon—which might just be my new favorite food. With a meager cough, I say, "Do you mean after dinner? I thought I'd just go home."
"Psh," she scoffs, but not in a rude way. "You don't want to get caught out in the bad weather. Wootek-ie stays. You stay. The boys always stay."
Oh god. Sleeping—or at least trying to—in the same house as Tek is a recipe for disaster. "I don't want to be any trouble."
She waves me off. "There's a spare room in the basement Eden always uses. Until he comes back, it's yours. And maybe after too… I might like you more."
Tek pushes a bowl of spicy radish towards me. "You'll like it better than an Uber at two a.m."
Two a.m? What the hell have they got planned?
I agree to stay, convincing myself it's because I don't want to offend his parents and not at all because I want to see what he wears to bed.
Tek’s father gestures for him to fill our glasses. He opens a new bottle of soju and when our glasses are full, his father stands and says a few words in Korean. We all drink, and even though I’m not a lightweight, my ears warm instantly.
After the meal I offer to help with the dishes, but I'm forced to watch as Tek and his dad clear the table. His mom wipes it down then brings out four new coasters, glasses, and another unopened bottle of soju. She pours only for me and her, then leans in close. "You like Broadrock?"
I shrug. “It’s quiet. That’s new for me.”
"You don't like the quiet?" Her eyes are as sharp as her mind, though not unkind.
I shake my head. “It's not that. I just didn’t know it would be so… empty in the winter, I guess.”
She nods, as if this is the answer she expected. “Tek just told me you work at the shop now. Do you like it?”
“I do,” I say, and mean it, leaving out the fact that it's the only thing still keeping me here.
Tek enters from the kitchen. His mother and I watch him as he takes a seat and pours his own drink. "Is he annoying you yet?" he asks his mom.
“Be nice to your friend,” she chides and Tek sulks—or pretends to, because as he looks away I catch the corners of his mouth lifting.
His mother turns back to me. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
I nearly spit soju out through my nose. "Not right now."
She squints. "You're very good looking. Eden is not as handsome because he is always scowling. But he has had lots of girlfriends."
I laugh. "Are you calling him easy?"
"Perhaps." She nods, looking me over again.
My whole body is hot now, like I'm under a heat lamp, or in an interrogation room surrounded by a bunch of detectives that know every little thing about me and are trying all their tactics to catch me out.
"What do you do with yourself?"
This I can handle. "Surf… usually. For almost as far back as I can remember I was in the water. Sometimes I feel like it's the only thing I'm good at."
She gives me a small, genuine smile. "I can tell. You look healthy. Nice and lean. Not like Tek-ah who spends too much time at the gym."
Tek snorts. "Thanks, Omma."
"You're welcome." She leans back in her chair. "Can you surf here, Carey?"
"In Broadrock, no. It's too deep in The Sound. But there are beaches in Washington that get decent enough waves."
"Even in the winter?"
"Yeah. Sometimes winter waves are the best."
"Will you go?"
"I'd like to—"
"But my son won't give you the time off?"
"God, Omma. It's only been a couple weeks."
"Aigo," she flaps her hand in Tek's direction to hush him. "You need to go. If it's what makes you happy, you need to do it."
"Always so loving to everyone else, aren't you, Omma?"
She dismisses Tek with another wave of her hand.
I look at him and he rolls his eyes. He downs the rest of the soju in his glass then scoots his chair further away from his mother. "She didn't want me going to art school. And she most definitely didn't want me to open a tattoo shop."
The tension rises, and I have a feeling if my brother was here she wouldn't be holding her tongue.
"I'd love to go surfing," I say, desperate to fill the air. "I'm just a little too isolated. I don't have a car—but that might change. Depending on how long I end up staying."
Tek's mother turns to him and he raises his hand as if to say seriously, don't start with me. I'm not in the mood, and I won't be polite.
It gets quiet after that.
Tek's father makes a short appearance then excuses himself.
His mom puts on some Korean music and the tension dissipates, but the conversation doesn't really pick up again.
"Why don't you head back downstairs? Show Carey where he will sleep."
Tek takes his mother's invitation a little too readily, and there's a harsh squeak as his chair slips off the rug and scratches across the floor.
Tek leads me back to the basement, and when we're half way down the stairs he turns back to me. "She likes you."
“I like her, too. She’s intense.”
“It’s the only way she knows how to be.”
We step into the den again and it feels like home.
Tek opens a door off to the side, and inside it is a queen-sized bed, a desk, and a bedside table. “This is you,” he says, and leans in the doorway. "Next door is the bathroom. There are towels in there. They're clean. She changes them every week even if no one comes over."
I stand in the middle of the room, not sure if I'm supposed to sit or compliment it in some way, and eventually Tek clears his throat. “Do you want another drink?"