Make Me Yours

I just can’t even. “Why should I be careful? Dad wasn’t Korean, and it didn’t stop you from marrying him.”

“I should have listened to my mother.” She takes a bowl of kimchee out of the refrigerator.

That makes me remember. “I saw Henry Pak last night. He said to tell you hi.”

“You should go out with Henry again. He’s a good Korean doctor.”

“Who looks like Dumbo.” She makes a scolding noise, but I let it pass. “So what did your mother have to say?” She looks confused, and I lean closer. “The part you should have listened to.”

Her eyes close, and she shakes her head. “She said I should not have married outside our community.”

This intrigues me. Ma has never dared to speak ill of my late father. “Are you saying she didn’t want you to marry Dad?”

“Your father was a very good man, but it is a lot of work to be married. It was very difficult at times.”

I can’t say no shit or she’ll lose her shit.

She’s quiet, thinking, then she does a sharp nod. “I’m not saying bad things about your father, but it’s good for you to know.”

“So why did you? Marry him, I mean.” She puts one of the dumplings on a small plate and cuts it in half.

I watch as she tests it, and I pick up the other half to test it as well. It’s delicious.

She hasn’t answered me, but when her dark eyes flicker to mine, she can’t stop her smile. Ma doesn’t show her soft side very often, so I always jump on it when she does.

“You thought he was hot.” I point my chopsticks at her and start to laugh. “Dad was Mr. Handsome American Doctor and you couldn’t resist.”

“He was very handsome, and I should have resisted.”

“Why?” I hop off the counter, legitimately curious. “I mean, he was hard on me, but—”

“Your father wanted you to be the best. He had very high standards.” Her voice is stern again, and she arranges large butter lettuce leaves on a platter. “He was no harder than a good Korean father would have been.”

She uses a wide ladle to spoon the dumplings onto the platter, and I watch as she sprinkles the pale beige skins with bright orange fish eggs.

“So what’s the problem?”

She shakes her head, carrying it all to the table. “He did not respect our traditions. He wanted his home to be completely American. He did not like the grace, the politeness.”

He said we were all push-overs. I remember that very well. Submissive, is what he called it. Ma called it good manners. If I didn’t know how tough she could be, I might have agreed with him. As it is, I know her “good manners” made for a very peaceful home.

“I don’t think Remi would oppose other cultural influences in his home.” She gives me a hard look, but I know I’m right. “Anyway, this is a silly conversation. I’m not even dating him, and you’re acting like he proposed to me.”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

I huff a laugh. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“It is also through his children.”

When we get back to the house, I find Eleanor in the living room, digging in one of the cabinets under the enormous flat screen television. I don’t want to stop, but she sees us before we can make a dash up the stairs.

“Hello, girls.” She stands up, holding a long, brown bottle. “How was lunch?”

“I made a dumpling. It’s called mangoos, and Ruby’s mom made a dessert that had beans and fruit mixed together!” Lillie’s talking fast, which I know means she’s excited.

Eleanor doesn’t seem so impressed. “That sounds very exotic.”

Her attention returns to the bottle she’s holding, and I can tell she wants me to ask about it. With a sigh, I decide to be a peacemaker.