“Okay …” It sounds like she’s the one who did the research. Did she hire someone to tail me or something? Nah, she wouldn’t have put in that much effort. I briefly consider telling her that I met Dr. Kim, her friend, that I watched her by the church before running away, that I got off the bus to reluctantly walk to get here, but then I decided against it. There is clearly no point in trying to explain how sad each day of my adolescence was without her.

“Why didn’t you remarry?”

“What, do you wish that I had remarried a rich man, so I could give you some pocket money?”

“What?”

“I haven’t been with anyone other than your father. I’m married to God.”

“Ha,” I laugh awkwardly. “Very funny. Why don’t you put on any makeup? If you put on some makeup and dye your hair black again, you’d look very nice. Younger.”

“I don’t care for such things. I like keeping things natural. My silvered hair will turn black soon, anyway. I’ve been praying for that, so I shall receive it.”

Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace

Mother calmly places her hand over mine. Her hand is cold and rough. Beneath her large pupils, tears well up. I imagine those tears to be cold as the winter rain.

Mother says when I get married and have kids, I will understand. She adds that the easiest way for me to understand her would be sharing her belief in Jesus Christ, but, “That’d be too hard, hmm?”

Like a condescending reporter interviewing a fanatic in a cult, without making eye contact, I spit a few curt questions at her. Her responses are lengthy and complicated each time.

She explains her absence like this: when my father quit his job, which was a fine job, and opened a factory, she had to work herself to death, cooking for all the factory workers while working as well. He slept with almost every female worker and was drinking all the time. One day he brought a woman with a three-year-old son to the house and insisted that they move in. When they started unpacking their things, she had no choice but to leave.

“Why did you abandon me?”