Who was he, and what was I to him?

The longer I spent with him, the more I realized just how incompatible we were. It should have been obvious. He’d made it known from the start that he’d never wanted to accommodate me in any way, that he called me in the middle of the night when no one was around because he enjoyed fucking me and lecturing me afterward. He saw me as someone to teach and change, and I was unfortunately not receptive to that. There were many nights when I’d find myself unable to sleep, thinking of all this.

Then, after a week of silence, he texted me back.

How are you?

It almost made me mad at how easygoing he was being. Or to be honest, I was mad at myself for the burst of happiness I felt, but I couldn’t help feeling that way. Tears came to my eyes. The more he seemed like a mysterious world I would never fully know, the more I wanted to conquer him. I wanted to squeeze him until he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care if I was his, but I wanted him to feel that it was either me or nobody else. I wanted to grab his life by the balls and do with it whatever I pleased. So I made a huge, life-changing decision.

I would introduce him to my mother.

My suggestion was made in a light, casual way, as if it meant nothing to me, over a dinner of angler stew and soju. He was busily deboning the fish when I popped the question.

—Would you like to meet my mother?

He looked up with an expression of Now what?

—Why would I want to do that?

—I don’t know . . . The weather is so fine these days. It would be nice to take a walk together in Olympic Park . . . I don’t know.

His chopsticks searched for more angler flesh among the masses of bean sprouts in the big shared pot between us before giving up.

—All right. Let’s.

—OK, hyung. Let’s take a walk together on Sunday. And maybe have some coffee together.

—All right . . . I’ll meet you at Olympic Park.

That was easier than I thought.

◊

As the date of her second operation approached, Umma made a big fuss about the nightmares she was having. Look at her go, I thought. She had always been so panicky when it came to work, her child, and her education. This was after her tumors had been removed, and the procedure coming up was only a simple one where inflamed tissue was being removed to aid blood flow. Someone would have to really try in order to mess it up. I thought this would be a good opportunity. The brief window that would open when the procedure was over, when she was about to begin her new second life, free from disease, filled with love for God and humanity and the universe . . .