Page 89 of Strictly Against Policy

Traditionally, Hmong families and households were often multigenerational, and adult children didn’t leave the home until they were married. Hmong sons have especially been raised to take on the responsibilities of caring for their aging parents. I was no exception. I grew up understanding the importance of being there for my mom as her only son.

No one from the Hmong community has ever questioned why I was still living at home despite my career and income. In fact, the elders praised me for it—for being such a good and thoughtful son.

“No,” I replied.

She laughed again. “See? Your girlfriend doesn’t live at home, so you shouldn’t either.”

I hesitated. “Aren’t you worried people are going to gossip about me moving out and practically leaving you to live alone? People are going to say I abandoned you. Especially the elders⁠—”

My mom waved her hand dismissively. “Jonathan, you know I’ve never been a traditional Hmong mom. If I were, I would be fighting tooth and nail if you even mentioned the idea of moving out, especially before you get married,” she said firmly. “Traditions are traditions for a reason. But some of those don’t need to be upheld anymore—not when they stunt your growth as an adult and as a person. You need to move out.”

“Now?” My mouth hung open again.

“When you’re ready.”

I frowned. “Why does it feel like you’re kicking me out instead?”

She smiled. “You shouldn’t live with me forever.”

“Just like how you shouldn’t be alone forever too,” I said softly.

Her eyes brimmed with a fresh set of tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and Julie at the same time that I was dating again. This changes nothing about how much I love you two and Dad though. I will always love you both and him.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how lonely you were, Mom. You’ve always said you were happy with it being just us three, so I never took the time to slow down and acknowledge your loneliness,” I said. “You looked happy with your boyfriend, by the way.”

My mom laughed hard. “At my age, it sounds strange calling him my boyfriend. We both agreed we’d just call each other good friends.” Delight spread across her lips in a big and warm smile. “Hais tias yog kuv tus phooj ywg.”

Say that he’s my friend.

I nodded slowly, letting everything we just talked about sink in. I knew I wanted to talk to her about the relationships we had with our partners. But I didn’t expect the conversation to segue to me moving out.

“I also wanted to clarify something with you. I wasn’t lying to you, Jonathan,” said my mom, grabbing my attention. “Kham—my friend—and I were truly platonic at first before any other feelings developed. He’s a widower himself. He lost his wife five years ago to ovarian cancer.

“They had no children, so it’s just him now. We understand each other . . . our losses, and one another’s grief. He’s not here to replace Dad, and I’m not here to replace his wife. We’re not looking for a second marriage. We’re just two lonely people who lost our life partners too early, and we’re just seeking companionship.”

“I’m happy to hear you found someone who can be there for you in the ways Julie and I can’t,” I said. Emotions tightened my chest with a shuddering breath. “I mean it, Mom. I’m happy for you.”

Her breath rasped. “I’m happy for you, too, Jonathan.”

We smiled through teary eyes as we finished breakfast, savoring the food and silence.

CHAPTER 36

Lina

I looked at Jonathan with wide eyes. “What?” I asked.

Jonathan shrugged nonchalantly as he stirred a piping hot Korean stone bowl brimming with tofu soup. Red pepper flakes encrusted the sides of the bubbling bowl as he cracked a raw egg directly into its boiling contents.

The pharmacy was surprisingly normal-paced today. We didn’t have crazy rushes throughout the day as we had recently. A trickle of patients came in and out at a reasonable rate, making it easier for all of us. Jonathan asked me to meet up with him at this Korean tofu soup shop for dinner, since he had something to say to me.

“My mom wants me to move out,” he repeated.

“Did something happen? How did the conversation go from you asking her about her relationship to her asking you to move out?” I asked with knitted brows.

He finally glanced up from the soup he was still stirring. “Nothing happened. My mom started talking about Julie’s life now. How she’s married with a child on the way. My mom wants the same for me. She wants me to focus on myself and live my own life, outside of her and my childhood home. She believes moving out will help me with that.”

I took some time to let what he said settle. “Your mom sounds so understanding and progressive, especially for a Hmong mom,” I finally said.