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“Thanks. Have fun and good luck.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.”
With a deep breath, I head out the door, hoping the walk to my parents’ house will help me figure out how to say this.
It’s only a couple of blocks from Amelia’s apartment to their place, and I could walk it in my sleep. Most summers in middle and early high school were spent running around town with my friends, acting like idiots and having the best time doing it.
As I turn onto my parents’ street—technically still mine, I guess—I still have no idea what the fuck I’m going to say. I know my mom will be excited. She’s let us know in no uncertain terms that she wants grandbabies. Of course, she tells us we should only do it if wereallywant them, but one of us better want them. So hopefully, she won’t be pissed this is how she’s getting one.
My mother is a force to be reckoned with. She always has been. She was raised not to take anyone’s shit and to live an honest life with a kind heart. In turn, she raised us to be fiercely good people—me especially. My little sisters got a bit more spoiled, but then I had my own spoiling for the years I was an only child. My dad, on the other hand, is one of the most relaxed people I’ve known in my life—for the most part. I’m almost positive I get my anxiety from him, and he’s learned how to handle it well. The only times I’ve seen him at his worst was when his parents died. Particularly his dad. That was rough on him when it happened a few years ago. I know he won’t be mad. I’m hoping he’ll have some good advice for me because the anxiety is always there in the back of my mind. Amelia makes it easier. She sees my coping mechanisms and doesn’t question them. When I’m not using them, she encourages them.
It’s cheesy as fuck, and I’m not sure I ever thought these words would occur to me, but I’m pretty sure I’ve found my person. To some degree, I got it when Aaron and Rae would say that shit. Because I have Mackie. And Mackie is my person—to a point. Now that Amelia is in my life, though, I understand the difference.
I walk up the front steps, and as I get to the door, it swings open. Mackie grins at me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a laugh.
“Having brunch.” She looks at me for a beat, then shrugs. “You were with me when I came out to my parents. I know it’s different, but… it’s big. So, I’m here for you this time.”
“Thanks, Macks.” I pop a kiss on her forehead and stroll into the entryway. “Hello,” I call.
“Hi, honey,” my mother says, walking over and giving me a hug. She’s so much shorter than me, it’s ridiculous, and yet her hugs are all-encompassing.
“Hey, Ma.” I kiss her cheek as I let her go.
She looks me up and down. “You look tired. Do I want to know where you slept last night?”
She cocks an eyebrow. My mother is not stupid. She’s known for a long time that I liked to play the field. She doesn’t know that’s past tense, and I was upfucking my baby mama, then rubbing her back while she threw up. There was some sleep mixed in there, but not a lot.
I blink once, then smile. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to. Besides, I texted you before bed, Ma. You know I was safe.”
In high school, it was common for the six of us to spend the night at each other’s houses or go home late. The rule our parents developed was that we had to text them each night to make sure they knew where we were and that we were safe. Though texting where I was stopped when I got to college, I still text my mother every night to let her know I’m safe. It takes thirty seconds to do and gives her peace. Why wouldn’t I?
She nods slowly, letting out a long breath. “I know. I will always appreciate that. Taller than me and becoming a thoughtful young man, but you’re still my first baby.”
“I know.” Maybe I get it more now. Because the thought of not knowing where my kid is already makes me sick to my stomach. Or maybe that’s my base state these days. If I didn’t have anxiety, I might think it was sympathy nausea, but no. I’m just an anxious bastard. Even more so right now, because my mom is looking at me like she knows something is up.
I slide my shoes off, and as we walk into the house, my mother yells out in Korean, calling for my sisters, Addie and Jameson, to come downstairs.
While I know some Korean—at least enough for conversation—my mother is fluent. Her parents emigrated to the United States shortly after they got married. My mom and her little brother were born here. My grandparents chose to blend the American culture with their Korean culture, letting their kids have American clothes and music and cultural identity, while still maintaining a Korean cultural identity as a family unit. Because of this, my mother remains fluent in Korean, spoke it to us as kids, and taught me plenty of incredible Korean dishes. She also taught me how to make a perfect lemon meringue pie. She’s truly a jack-of-all-trades, and I’ve become a bit of one as well—at least in the kitchen.
We walk through the living room and then cut through the kitchen to the dining room. My dad is already there, setting orange juice on the table.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Miles,” he says warmly, pulling me in for a hug. “Mackenzie. I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” He gives her a hug, too.
“Like I’d ever miss out on Katie’s homemade waffles.”
Sensing my anxiety, Mackie squeezes my hand, and I’m incredibly grateful she’s here.
As my sisters drag themselves into the room, a monstrous combination of teen sass and hormones, my mother instructs us all to sit.
Deep breath, in and out.
It’s impossible to calm my nerves or put on my mask. I know I don’t have to here. Sure, my sisters will probably make snarky comment after snarky comment, but I can handle that. I’ve been the butt of their jokes for a long time, including when it comes to having kids. Whenever my mother would not-so-subtly mention wanting grandkids one day, my sisters would laugh that my mom would have to wait until they were old enough because it wouldn’t be me settling down.
Now, here I am. Except I’m not exactly settled. There’s so much Amelia and I are still learning about each other. We’re doing things out of order and hoping it’ll still work. That’s what’s killing me right now. I don’t want to disappoint my mother.
