c h a p t e r t w o

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"...and then I was like, 'tell God I said 'hi'' and you should've seen him go! He would've taken the door of its hinges it wasn't bolted to the frame." Sam cheered, tapping her glass of soju against Ryan's.

After a quite long – and torturous – day working from her living room couch, Sam finally thought it might be an appropriate time to go to her parents' house for dinner. Upon arriving, she heard her parents grilling Ryan about not having prospective partners lined up, since his age was coming up to 30 and they desperately wanted grandchildren.

Sam was 26 herself and had no one lining up to take her on a date, let alone the possibility of having any children. For once, she was grateful they were on Ryan's case about his lack of love life. Typically, all she would hear is something similar to 'but there are so many nice, young doctors at that hospital!' because yes, mum, there is nothing more appealing then being stuck in a life-long tug of war between her and her partner, about where the kids go while they're both working 12 hour shifts, and then having said children grow up to resent her for her lack of presence in their childhood.

That's a big fat NO.

"Cretino!" Annie shouted at her, throwing a slice of radish at her head. "We have to go see him on Sunday!"

Ducking too slow, the slice bounced off her temple. Ryan and her father, James, laughed so hard that Ryan's soju came out through his nose, and he ended up sputtering all over his japchae. With three of the four of them laughing so hard they were crying, Annie settled back in her chair a bit.

She smiled to herself and shook her head, "I just need to make sure you're careful, Sam. You and your brother are both very public with your atheism, so it's odd to anyone else when you show up with us."

"That's no one else's business, mum. Maybe we're converting," Ryan snorted again and Sam shot him a look. "No more soju for you."

"Hey!" Ryan argued, reaching to snatch his glass back from Sam. "I've barely had any!"

"Yeah, but if we're counting what's in your bowl, then you've had twice as much as everyone else."

"Children," James chastised. "You know your mother is only looking out for you."

"Well, it's not like it matters," Sam replied, twirling her noodles with her chopsticks. "He left; we have a new priest at the church."

"Oh," Annie's eyebrows raised, "he said he wouldn't be going until May."

"It's definitely not May, mum." Ryan cut in sarcastically, referring to the red lanterns currently hanging from every available part of the archway separating the living room from the dining area for the Lunar New Year. Ryan had to duck on his way through, and he's only 5'8.

"Ha ha, Omari," Annie sniffed.

"What?" Ryan replied, putting his palms out in surrender. "I didn't do anything."

Shaking her head, Sam continued with her story. "He said something about a Father Henry coming to take over for him for the next year. Apparently, he's younger than Father Michael. I hope less of a gae-sai-kki."

"Samaria," James frowned at his daughter, but didn't go further to warn her. His liking to Father Michael was similar to Sam's – he just held out for the sake of his wife.

Sam twisted her chopsticks up and clicked them together in the air, "I'm just saying, for him to even have the gall to come to my workplace? That's mental. I don't care who he needs to tell; he could just be like every other normal citizen and send out a memo or something."

"He's probably just trying to cover his ass," Ryan stared at the wall and sucked in the back of his bottom lip, his go-to expression when in deep thought. "You know, in case someone tries to vandalise the Church or something. Can't be his fault or his problem if he's not here to deal with it."

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