A Love Triangle Most Unusual (Season 1)

What We Bring With Ourselves into Adulthood

"So, how long are you staying with Mom?" I asked casually, trying to end the awkwardness.

"It's not completely determined," he replied. "It could be another month, another six months, or until next week. I'm still waiting for a call from my business partner."

"I see," I replied.

I had been avoiding going home because of Popo. But, now knowing that Dad was there...

I don't know how to feel about this.

"How is Martha?" Dad asked.

I blinked. "What?"

"Your friend, Martha. Is she doing okay?"

I blushed. "Oh, you mean Marie?"

Dad had only seen Marie a few times when we were kids, because she went to the same church as us. I mostly remember her not liking him and telling me she was glad that he got divorced from Mom, which, kinda harsh. But fair enough.

"Uh..." He's not going to kill her, is he? "She's doing okay, I think she got a new internship with a fancy law firm."

"I see." There was a silence, and I imagined him nodding to nobody in particular. "That's good, good for her. I knew she would make it big. She was always very smart."

I frowned.

Dad barely interacted with Marie when she was over. The only incident I could remember was that he slapped me in front of her, and she yelled at him. For a second, I had been more worried that Dad might hit Marie too than about the fact that he had hit me. But instead, he just looked at her silently and left the room. After that, she stopped visiting us for a while (at least until Dad stopped living with Mom and I).

Looking back at it, maybe it was silly of me to think Dad would raise his hand against a seven year old kid that wasn't his. But you never know when it comes to him, I guess.

"Oh. I didn't...know you remembered her," I said awkwardly.

Dad made a vague sound of acknowledgement.

"So, is Popo doing okay?"

"Yes. I made her take a nap."

I felt dread in my stomach. "Is she...in her room?"

"No. She's sitting on the couch in front of the TV. I had your mother wake her up so she could take her medicine."

"Oh, okay, I see," I said. "Is she taking it?"

"Yes."

"That's good," I replied, relieved.

After that, there was a bit of an awkward silence. I didn't know what to say, and Dad didn't seem to have any more news to relay to me.

"Well, thank you for talking to me," I said. "Um...is Mom still there?"

"Yes."

"Can you pass me to her? Sorry, I just want to ask her some stuff before I go," I lied.

"Sure."

I heard my Mom's voice and the sound of the laundry machine beeping. "Huh? What's wrong, why are you giving it back to me?"

"He wants to talk to you more," Dad replied curtly. I felt almost embarrassed. A few seconds later, Mom's voice came back.

"What's going on?" she asked. "What else did you want to tell me?"

"Uh, uh..." I blanked out. "Um, can you tell Popo hi for me?"

"Oh, I can pass the phone to her right now. But you need to speak louder, because she is getting a little deaf-"

I used to have to press gingerly on my flashlight button just so she wouldn't hear the click and catch me reading under the covers at night. That's how good this woman's hearing used to be.

"No, it's fine, I need to take a nap," I lied again. "But can you just say happy early birthday to her for me? And...tell her I hope she feels better."

I wonder if she told Mom about my secret. About me being gay. Or if she's planning to.

I tried not to imagine Popo on her death bed with Dad caring for her, and using her last breath to tell him "Your son was raised wrong. I saw him trying to bring a man into this house."

Dad would be furious; his pupils would dilate, and he would gnash his teeth and swear not to rest until he'd killed me, the festering source of sin and weakness gnawing at his family line. And then, when he finally struck me down with his beatings, he would set himself on fire to ensure that the weakness in our blood was completely eliminated, atoning for the sins of his failed son.

Stop imagining weird scenarios of Popo dying and Dad killing you. She's going to be fine.

"Okay, I'll tell her," Mom said. Thankfully she didn't pry any deeper. "When are you coming home? We want to celebrate Popo's birthday with the whole family. "

I sighed.

"Maybe in a week or two," I replied. "How does that sound?"

Mom still sounded a bit dissatisfied, but she didn't hound me any further. "Okay," she said. "I will call you again in exactly two weeks." I smiled. "Are you still eating well? Mrs. Wang keeps saying, "Aiyah, you are not feeding that boy right. He is too skinny." She thinks that I am starving you."

I laughed.

"It is not funny! She is accusing me of being a bad mother," Mom whined. "As if I didn't work my back off for twenty years to put you through school. Now, she keeps calling me and insisting I am ruining your education. I am getting blamed because you are too lazy to do online school!" she said, accusatory.

"Okay, I'll make sure to talk to Mrs. Wang when I get home so she knows you're not a bad mom," I promised.

"And also, your stupid dog is being very annoying. I am not your housekeeper, you should be the one taking care of him."

"Oh, you mean Bup?" I asked. It'd been a while sine I'd last seen him. I had wanted to take him to Seattle, but Popo had bonded with him, so I decided to leave them. Mom had also tried to make me take him to Seattle, but deep down I knew she also had grown fond of him and wanted to keep him, even if he was a bit of a hassle to take care of. "I hope he hasn't pooped in your garden again."

"He did," Mom complained. "He is ruining my beautiful tulips. I spent hours planting them and waiting all winter for them to sprout, and what do I see? Your stupid mutt digging and peeing all over them!" I covered my mouth, trying not to chuckle. "He is just as bad as you. Like owner, like dog. So messy!"

I laughed out loud. "Okay, I'll make sure to come home so I can take him off your hands."

"Good." Mom paused. "Do you have enough money? Do you need me to send some over?"

"No, Mom. I'm fine. I don't need anything."

"Okay," she said. "What about food? I can go to Costco-"

"I have a Costco up here too," I reminded her, although it's true I didn't have a Costco membership to go with it. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," she said.

"Take care," I told her. "I love you." 

"Thank you. But if you really love me, you should hurry up and come home!" she grumbled.

I laughed.