Chapter Nine
Eric
“Hey, Captain, you wanted to see me?” I knocked on the open the door to alert him of my being there.
The captain’s head popped up from the files on his desk. He didn’t exactly smile, but his lips turned upward into a grimace that I’m pretty sure was supposed to come off as a smile.
“Yeah, Kim. Come in.” Captain referred to all of the men in the station by our last names. Considering it’s only been a few weeks since he signed on as our captain, we all were still feeling him out, as he was us.
“Shut the door,” he ordered.
I did as told and moved to sit in the hard metal chair across from his desk, which reminded me of the ones teacher’s used in the classroom. His desk was covered in files and stacks of papers.
“You hear they think that apartment fire from the other week was set intentionally?”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Not an electrical fire?”
He shook his head. “No, but that’s what the department is letting the media run with for now. If it was arson, they want the suspect to think he got away with it.”
“Don knows?”
“He’s been working with the police. Helping the investigation.”
I nodded. Don might be audacious and loud at times, but he wouldn’t broadcast this type of news. He was one of the best fire investigators in the department. More than a decade ago, the city decided to have an investigator at every station. Don has been Rescue Four’s for the last few years.
“He’s got it under control. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I know the guys are still feeling me out…” He paused.
Sitting back in my chair, I folded my arms across my chest. I hoped like hell he wasn’t about to ask me something stupid like trying to help him get in good with the rest of the guys. That’d severely decrease the respect I had for him. He had more than twenty-years in this department. He should know how the hell the rules are played. You wanted respect among the guys, you earned it. No two ways around it. The number of bars you wore on your officer’s suit didn’t earn respect. Your battle scars did.
“But, I wanted to ask if you’ve considered taking the lieutenant’s exam?”
“The exam?”
“Yeah, I see you haven’t registered. Rescue Four needs lieutenants. The exam’s in three months. Gives you plenty of time to study. I’m sure the test will be a breeze for you.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“I suggest you do more than think about it.” He stood.
“Copy that.” I stood as well.
When Captain reached out his hand across his desk, I reached over to shake it. He held my hand firmly.
“The men around here respect you, Kim. They already see you as an unofficial lieutenant. Certain guys in this department have that look. You can tell early on they were meant to move up the ranks. You’re one of ’em. You’re going to make captain someday, Kim. Hell, maybe even chief. It’s time you accepted that as your fate.” He let go of my hand.
I took a step back, replaying his words, and the assuredness in his voice. You’re going to make captain someday. I thought about the possibilities.
Captain Kim.
Chief Kim.
I liked the sound of those titles.
****
I pressed my thumb against the doorbell and heard it sound off in the house. It was just after six o’clock, and I’ve been looking forward to this time all day. I heard the click-clack of heels making their way across the hardwood floor to the door. Seconds later, my lips parted into a smile I couldn’t contain. She wore a loose-fitting sleeveless floral dress that went all the way to the floor but had a slit that showcased her shapely legs. On her feet were a pair of coral, strappy heels that matched the color of the flowers on her dress. Her makeup was done lightly with a glossy lip.
“Goddamn,” I said just above a whisper, right before swooping her in my arms to feel her lips. I ran my tongue along the seam of her lips, and as soon as they parted, I dove in, reveling in the taste of her. Her hand began stroking my chest, and I felt my groin tighten with need. Reluctantly, I pulled back and grinned at the dazed look in Angela’s eyes.
“Thanks for getting me all hot and bothered before meeting your parents,” she mumbled.
“Your fault for answering the door looking like my wet dream.” I tipped her chin and kissed her again, unable to stop myself.
“Come in. I just need to grab a couple of things.” She stepped aside to make room for me to enter.
“You probably should freshen up your lip gloss,” I told her.
She gave me a mock glare before heading toward the hallway. I stopped myself from following her. It was taking all the strength in me to not rush her into bed, but her time was running out.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, finally emerging from the kitchen.
“Nothing. What’s that?”
She held a covered platter in her hand.
“These,” she held it up higher, “are more of the strawberry cheesecake tarts you loved from the other night. You said your dad passed on his love of cheesecake to you, so I thought I’d make them for his birthday. I also made some with raspberries and other assorted fruit. And don’t tell me I didn’t need to make anything. I’m not about to show up to your parents’ home empty-handed.”
I held my hands up. “I’m not saying anything.”
“Good.”
“Here, let me hold those for you.”
She eyed me. “And don’t you try to sneak any.”
I gave her an innocent look.
“Don’t even,” she reiterated. She grabbed her purse from the couch and her keys, which were hanging in their usual spot on the wall, and minutes later, I held my car door open for her. She insisted on holding the platter of tarts in her lap to keep them from sliding around the backseat for the duration of the thirty minutes it would take to get to my parents’ house.
“Tell me about what your father does again?” she asked as we drove.
I glanced over at her. “He’s the Chief Financial Officer at Townsend Industries. Meaning, he’s the top finance guy at the company. All the finances run through him.”
“That sounds like a huge responsibility.”
“It is.”
“And you worked for Townsend for a while after college, right?”
“Yup.”
“Was he your boss?”
“No, not directly. He was my boss’ boss at the time.”
“I bet he liked working with his son. My dad was so proud of Sean when he completed the fire academy.”
I nodded. “My dad was proud.”
“Do you ever miss it? Working in an office, I mean.”
I stopped at a red light and turned to her. “Never. Every day I go to work at the station, I pause and read the top of the marquee that tells everyone who we are, and I just know this is what I was meant to do.”
“Even on the hard days?”
“Especially on the hard days.” Reaching up, I moved a curl of her hair that fell over her eyes. We stared at one another, reading each other without words. A horn sounded behind us, alerting me that the light had turned green. I had half a mind to tell the person behind us to fuck off, but instead, I moved my foot from the brake to the gas and pulled off. We talked about my parents the remainder of the ride. I could sense Angela’s nervousness, but she was putting up a good front. I didn’t feel nervous myself, which was sort of strange considering this was only the second woman I’ve ever brought home to meet my parents. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, a few of which were long-term, but most haven’t been serious enough that I considered anything permanent.
“How come your parents decided to move outside of Williamsport?” Angela asked.
I chuckled. “It took my dad years to convince my mom to leave the city.”
“What finally did it?”
“One night my mom was leaving work, around seven-thirty, but it was winter, so it was dark out. She was mugged. Right outside of the building where her office is.”
Angela gasped. “No!”
“Yup.” I nodded, my hands tightening around the steering wheel. “They took her wallet, phone, and the tablet she had on her.”
“Was she hurt?”
I shook my head slightly. “No, but she was shaken up.”
“I bet she was.”
“Yeah. After that, my father insisted they move and that she only work during the daylight hours. Since she’s tenured, she’s able to change up her schedule and reduce her teaching time.”
“That’s scary. Did the police ever find out who did it?”
“Yeah, the dumbass used her phone to take selfies. He uploaded to her cloud, and the police used the images to track him down. He was a young sixteen-year-old kid. He’s on his second stint in juvie last I heard.”
“At least he’s off the streets.”
“At least. We’re here,” I stated as we pulled up to my parent's house. My mother and father’s vehicles were parked in their driveway, so I parked at the curb in front of their house.
“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Angela stated as she exited the car, looking around.
“Too quiet,” I grunted, placing my hand on the small of her back.
“You would say that,” she laughed.
“Seriously, no sirens within a five-block radius of this place. How on Earth is a guy supposed to sleep in all that quiet?”
She covered her mouth, laughing while holding the platter of tarts in her other hand. “You’re going to make me drop these. That would not be a good way to start this evening.”
I shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
We reached the door, and I knocked. I had keys to my parents’ home, but they were for use only in cases of an emergency. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Angela pat down her hair, and smooth down the edges of her dress.
“You look fine,” I leaned down and said in her ear. I nipped her earlobe for good measure, causing her to giggle. At that same moment, my mother opened the door. Angela gasped. I looked down at my petite mother’s stern face.
“Hey, Ma,” I greeted.
I watched as her sepia eyes carefully assessed Angela from head to toe, pausing when they looked over Angela’s hair. Her face didn’t soften until she turned her attention to me. The edges of her eyes crinkled, revealing the age lines she’s developed over time. Her dark hair was cut into a short style a few inches above her shoulders but framed her face. Some greying strands were apparent. I bent down, pulling my mother into a warm hug.
“Eric,” she said, cupping my face with her hands.
“Ma, I want you to meet Angela.” I stepped back, wrapping my arm around Angela’s waist, pulling her to me.
“Hi, Mrs. Kim, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Eric has told me so much about you. Thank you for having me over. I brought a little something for dessert,” Angela started.
“Thank you,” my mother responded rather curtly, before looking back to me. “Come in. It’s been so long since you’ve been over to the house.” She wrapped her arms around my free arm.
“Ma, I was here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Much too long. A lot can happen in a couple of weeks. Anyway …” she waved her hand around dismissively, “your grandmother is here. She’s in the living room with your father. Go in and say hello. Dinner’s almost ready. Oh, let me take those,” she said to Angela, retrieving the platter of tarts.
I escorted Angela toward the living room where I first saw my father seated watching a baseball game.
“Happy birthday, Dad.” I went to him, and we embraced. “Dad, this is Angela,” I introduced.
“Nice to meet you. Happy birthday, Mr. Kim.”
“Thank you. A pleasure to meet you as well.” His reaction was different than the somewhat cold reception my mother had given Angela just moments before. He and I stood shoulder to shoulder when he turned, grinning at me. “Your mother was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”
I frowned. “Why would she think that? We’re not even that late.” I checked the watch on my wrist. It was a little after six-thirty.
“You know how your mother is.” He waved his hand. “Say hello to your halmoni.”
I turned. “Halmoni,” I greeted my grandmother in Korean, bending down to hug her and kiss on the cheek in the comfortable chair she sat in. “Grandma, I want you to meet Angela.”
“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
My eighty-five-year-old grandmother may’ve looked frail, but her eyes held a keenness. She eyed Angela much the same way my mother had at the door. Thankfully, my grandmother’s gaze softened, and she gave Angela a small smile.
“Thank you.” My grandmother didn’t like to speak much in English, so she kept her introductions short.
Just then the doorbell rang. I peered over at my father. “Who’s that?”
He gave me a puzzled look, shrugging. “I have no idea,” he stated but began moving toward the doorway to answer.
“Oh, your father got the door?” my mother entered the living room, questioning.
I nodded. “He said you weren’t expe―”
“Look who decided to join us,” my father’s voice rang out, surprise in his tone.
I pivoted to see who stopped by and my eyes widened and then narrowed as I turned to my mother, who was already walking over to the new guest. On instinct my arm went around Angela’s waist, pulling her into me.
“Son, don’t be rude, say hello,” my mother urged me.
“Hey.” I nodded toward the woman standing by my father.
“Eric, I didn’t know you were here,” Lisa stated.
“It’s my father’s birthday,” I retorted dryly. Lisa is the one ex of mine who my parents met. We grew up together and dated for a few years after college. Once I decided to make the career change to a firefighter, she―like my parents―was extremely disappointed, and practically begged me to reconsider. Not too long after, we parted ways. Another thing my mother has yet to get over.
“Well, I didn’t know if you’d be working or something.” Lisa’s dark eyes went to Angela, assessing her. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“No.”
“Eric,” Angela admonished, her hand pressed against my abdomen.
“Angela, this is Lisa. Lisa, Angela,” I begrudgingly introduced.
“Nice to meet you.” Angela stuck out her hand.
Lisa hesitated, her gaze flickering toward my mother before she gave a limp handshake to Angela. It was then I knew my mother was conspiring with Lisa.
“Dinner’s ready!” my mom called out. “Eric, help your grandmother to the kitchen,” she ordered.
“I can help,” Angela jumped in.
“No. Eric’s got a handle on it,” my mother cut in, rather abruptly.
I looked at her, tilting my head, silently asking what that was all about.
“You know how your grandmother doesn’t take to new people too well,” she explained before turning and heading back to the kitchen area. “Lisa, follow me please.”
Watching the two women traipse down the hallway, I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy the rest of the evening.
I helped my grandmother out of her chair and held her by one arm as she gripped her wooden cane in the other. We slowly made our way down the hall into the dining space. My father, like always, sat at the head of the long table. Moments later, my mother and Lisa emerged from the kitchen, placing plates and dishes at the center of the table. When finished, my mother sat at the opposite end waiting for everyone to sit. After I helped my grandmother to her seat, I went to hold the chair out for Angela.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at me.
“Eric, be a gentleman and do the same for Lisa,” my mother ordered.
I stood erect, gaping at my mother as if she’d fallen ill. “Lisa isn’t my date.”
My mother’s mouth widened, and she was about to say something when Lisa finally spoke up.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Kim.” She went around the table and sat directly across from me, to my grandmother’s left.
When I felt Angela’s hand stroking my arm comfortingly, I had the biggest urge to lean in and kiss her. Just as I started to bend down, I heard my name called.
“Eric, that’s a little inappropriate for the table, don’t you think?”
The sharpness of my mother’s voice had me looking at her sideways. I opened my mouth, but Angela beat me to it.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kim.”
I glanced down at Angela.
“We have nothing to be sorry for,” I directed my comment to my mother.
She pursed her lips but didn’t respond. My gaze slowly left her and I pulled my chair out and sat.
“Everything looks and smells great, sweetie,” my father commented.
“You did a wonderful job, Mrs. Kim,” Lisa interjected, not letting anyone forget her presence. “Eric, is pork bulgogi still one of your favorites?” she asked, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” I replied, then turned my attention back to the table.
My father was right; the food looked delicious. My mother often made traditional Korean dishes for my father’s birthday dinners, and this year for his fifty-ninth was no different. In the middle of the table sat dishes filled with mixed seafood stew, pork bulgogi, kimchi, and more.
“I hope you’re not one of those women who doesn’t eat pork. Or insists on eating a little because you’re watching your figure.”
“Ma!” I called, not liking the tone of her voice.
“It’s okay.” Angela wrapped her hand around mine under the table. “No, Mrs. Kim, I do eat pork, and everything looks so good, I wouldn’t dream of insulting the chef by not eating.” Angela gave her a warm smile, one that was only minimally returned by my mother.
“Thank God for small miracles,” Lisa mumbled but not low enough, looking toward my mother.
“What did you j―”
My response to her was stopped by a squeeze at my thigh from Angela’s hand. My grandmother suddenly spoke up and began telling my father a happy birthday and how proud she was of him. She spoke in Korean, and I translated for Angela so she wouldn’t feel left out. I didn’t want her being the only one at the table who didn’t know what was being said since Lisa also spoke Korean. My grandmother talked about how my father had become the embodiment of the dream she and my grandfather had when they came over from Korea all those years ago. My grandfather wanted to come to the U.S. for school, bringing his young bride with him. They had my father a few years after arriving in the U.S. They made a way for themselves, and my father lived up to all their hopes and dreams. It was the same speech my grandmother gave every year on my father’s birthday, but it never failed to make him just a tad bit emotional.
When my grandmother finished, my father reached across the table, patting her hand and telling her in Korean how much he loved her.
“And thank you to my lovely wife for this beautiful dinner. And my son and his new, friend, Angela, for coming to celebrate with us. And you Lisa,” he added.
We began spooning food onto our plates and in bowls. As usual, the food was great. Mom had made the kimchi with just a slight bit of spice to it. My father wasn’t a fan of spicy food, despite how common it was in many Korean dishes. My father discussed the happenings at his job, often looking pointedly at me. He mentioned that he was thinking of retiring in the next few years. I knew he wished I still worked with him, but that was one birthday present I couldn’t give him. For her part, Lisa kept interjecting with stories from our childhood, trying to jog some emotion from me, I guessed. It served to annoy the hell out of me more than anything. Lisa and I grew up in the same Korean community in Williamsport, but we weren’t close as children, and in reality only dated because it was something both our parents wanted. We weren’t compatible―I saw that as soon as I stopped living for my parents and started living for myself.
Toward the end of the meal, my mother stood. “I hope you all left room for dessert.”
“I can help bring it out, Mrs. Kim,” Angela began, placing her cloth napkin on the table, readying herself to stand.
“No, Lisa will help,” my mother tossed back, moving into the kitchen without a backward glance.
That was the last straw.
“You sit down,” I pointed at Lisa. My voice held a hard edge, daring her to defy me. Lucky for her, she didn’t. I patted Angela’s hand and got up, pushing through the swinging door to follow my mother into the kitchen.
“Ma, what was all that about?”
“All what?” She had the nerve to look at me with a confused expression.
“Ma, you know what. Why are you so rude to Angela? Why is Lisa here?”
“I’m not being rude. I just told her I didn’t need her assistance. And Lisa is a friend of the family.”
“Who conveniently pops by after years of not seeing her?”
“She was back in town,” my mother argued.
“I’m sure. Angela has been nothing but be respectful and polite since we arrived and you’ve given her the cold shoulder.”
“I have not. I’ve just been preoccupied with getting your father’s dinner prepared and out on the table.”
“And the comment about her eating pork or watching her weight?”
She waved her hand in the air. “I was just making sure the girl ate. So many women today are afraid to eat meat and all that. They watch one documentary on Netflix and next thing you know they’ve sworn off all meat and dairy products. It’s ridiculous.” She turned, cutting pieces of the chocolate cake she always made for my father and putting them on plates.
“Ma, Netflix documentaries? What are you even talking about? Can you just tone it down a little with the attitude toward Angela? She’s my guest.” I was doing my best to be as respectful as possible.
She shrugged. “Fine.”
“I’m going to bring out the cheesecake tarts as well,” I stated. I moved to the counter where the platter was sitting and removed the lid, exposing the little mini tarts. It was apparent that Angela had gone through a lot of trouble making these. Knowing that pissed me off even more at my mother’s behavior. I heard the kitchen door open and then swing shut behind me. I sorted the desserts out on the platter and then carried them to the table.
“Ohh, look at these.” My father’s eyes grew bigger in excitement, staring at the cheesecake. “Are those strawberry cheesecake tarts?”
“With graham cracker crust,” Angela answered, smiling proudly.
“I must try one of them. I don’t know if my son has told you, but I have a thing for chocolate cake and cheesecake.”
“He may have mentioned something about it.” She winked at me.
“Yep, I―”
“We need to light the candles before it gets too late. Don’t want it sitting out too long. That’s how cake dries out,” my mother began, shoving my father’s plate with his slice of cake on it practically in his lap.
My father gave Angela and I a contrite look before smiling at my mother as she lit the three candles she’d placed in the center of the cake.
“Time to make a wish!” Angela clapped‚ causing my father to laugh.
“We don’t make wishes in this house. We work for what we want.” My mother stared pointedly at Angela. Between my mother’s glare and Lisa’s stupid giggle in the background, I’d had it.
“That’s it. Ma, in the kitchen!” I stood and moved to the kitchen without a backward glance. “What is your problem?” I was doing my best to rein in my temper.
“I am not the one with a problem!” my mother protested. “Why did you let that girl come here with cheesecake of all things? Did you bother to tell her your father is lactose intolerant?”
I stared at my mother as if she had three heads. She was ordinarily one of the most rational people I’ve ever met. Except now nothing she was saying was making a bit of sense.
“No, I didn’t think it would be appropriate to discuss my father’s digestion issues,” I stated flatly. “What is this really about? The truth.”
“She’s not right for you!” my mother burst out, hands waving in the air.
My head shot back at how adamantly she stated this. “How would you even know that? You’ve barely spoken to her the entire time we’ve been here.”
“I just know. A mother knows these things. I can’t believe the first woman you bring home in years is someone like her. Did she even go to college?”
I squinted at my mother, not believing what she was insinuating. “Ma, what do you mean someone like her?”
“I just meant―”
“She’s black.”
“No! Of course not,” she insisted. “I mean, I don’t know anything about this girl’s background. Who knows where or if she went to college? What does she even do for a living? She has purple hair for goodness sake!”
I tightened my jaw, still not liking the distasteful tone my mother was taking on or the way in which she spoke about Angela.
“You need a good, ambitious woman like Lisa in your corner. She just got promoted to manager of her bank branch.”
I sucked my teeth. “Are you even listening to me? Do you even hear yourself?”
“I am … I just am worried about you. Ever since you quit your job at Townsend to become a firefighter―”
I erupted at the way she said, firefighter as if it was gum on the bottom of her shoe. “Are you fu―” I paused, remembering this was still my mother. “Are you serious? So this is about my career? You know what? I’m not fucking doing this.” I stormed out of the kitchen, violently pushing the door open.
“Dad, thank you for inviting us. I wanted to give this to you once we had cake, but that’s not happening. Here you go.” I pulled the envelope with the card inside from my back pocket. Inside were two tickets to the opera. Both my parents loved the opera.
“Angela, we’re leaving.”
“Wait, what?”
“Why?”
“Eric.”
I heard my father, Angela, and Lisa’s voices. Ignoring their questions. I rounded the table to kiss my grandmother and tell her in Korean that we were leaving. I came back to the table to help Angela up, not addressing the funny look she was giving me, quickly escorting us out of my parents’ home. So much for a great first meeting.