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“We’re good together. It wasn’t supposed to happen?—”
“—highly unprofessional.”
“He didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s what you are thinking,” I argue. “Though technically being his employer, I could be accused of taking advantage of him. Have you considered that?”
“No,” she says. “All I’mconsideringis you quitting acting, which, if he’s supporting that decision, the bright side is that he’s not angling for your money. But you still never know?—”
“Stop.”
I want to be respectful, but this is something I won't hear.
“You don't understand, which is okay. You just need to get to know him in the context of not being the bodyguard, but as the person I chose. As for money, you’ve never questioned that about my past boyfriends. Why are you starting now? All you’veever said is they should treat me right. Well, he treats me right, and I treat him right. As for acting?—”
I want to itch. Really, I do. Instead, forcefully, I trace shape patterns on my leg.
“I was happy in London, and Huan was part of the reason, but even without us, I was most happy when I wasn’t thinking about the movie. Me making this decision against Pollywood is not a phase or something I’m opening myself up for you to convince me against. I've had time, and my feelings have not changed about that.”
“Komal”—her voice pleads—“I worked hard to get this opportunity because I know you’ll shine in it.”
Taking a big, steadying breath, I keep going. “Mom, I love you, and I am so grateful—but that’s not fair. As a kid growing up, I didn’t know your sacrifices for me were going to be bartered down the roadagainstme as the reason I have to listen to you. I know you work hard. I love you so much, and I am so thankful that you've worked hard for our family. That shouldn't be a reason I am forced to do this.”
“That’s not it.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Komal.”
“Mom.” I sigh. “Please.”
Whatever she was going to say breaks into a sound. I don’t think she’s heard me be this desperate in a while. For so long I’ve been amenable, but that please I just uttered was broken. “You’re… serious,” she says. “It's not that I'm ignoring you, but I don’t want to believe it. That this isn't nerves or a phase?—”
“It's not. I promise you on our relationship, it's not.”
“You also said spiked bracelets weren’t a phase,” she says, “and technically?—”
“I threw them out a few months later. But again, I promise you, this is not those bracelets. I’m not a teenager, but a woman making decisions about her life.”
There is more long sighing. We’re regrouping. I look up and see Huan enter the living room. He stops short of joining me on the couch. We were going to watch a movie, but he sees I’m on the phone and tilts his head.
“Later,” I mouth to him.
He nods, swings by and kisses my forehead, and then leaves. And that’s another green flag which joins the heaping pile of green flags Huan has shown to me. He respects me. He respects my choices.
“Are you coming back home?” my mother asks, finally breaking our silence.
“I will tomorrow.”
There is another sigh, but this one is deeper.
“I’m glad,” she says, “because we’re arguing, and you’ve been gone for so long and with everything in the news, I feel like the worst parent who missed the chance to hug her kid.”
Those words feel more like home.
"I'm sorry—I don't know what to do," she says.
"I know, Mom. But I do, or I'm starting to know. We should let me figure it out. And—I miss you, too,” I say through a lump in my throat.
“I don’t understand, but I don’t want you to feel you can’t be home.”
