____

{3}

I couldn’t believe that Minju let me in and gave me a glass of water. Most girls would’ve sent me packing after spitting venom on my face, how was she so comfortable with letting her girlfriend’s ex sit with her? “Where’s Taeyeon?” It was well past noon on a Monday, she should’ve been home. Why wasn’t she home?

“She’s having lunch with Xiumin today, she won’t be back for another hour at least,” the blonde replied and sat down beside me. She’s gone for an hour and you’re still here with me?! What are we supposed to do?! I fidgeted away the nervousness; I wasn’t supposed to be fighting for Taeyeon’s affections, but why did I not want to lose to Minju? I didn’t recognize the clothes she wore so I hoped she was wearing her own PJ’s, but I was afraid. Even though it was perfectly normal and reasonable that Taeyeon and Minju had , I was too afraid to acknowledge it. “Stan is down for his nap too; he’s not supposed to get up until 2.” I don’t even have the baby to help me?! I took another breath. Small talk used to be a part of my life, the standard daily life questions, talking about relationships. I could do this.

“Is it okay if I ask how you guys met?” I don’t want to hear about their love story. Why did I ask that? I don’t want to know. But I thought back to all the times other celebrities came out dating, the question was natural. It was the first thing I thought of. She tilted her head a little but hummed nonetheless.

“I own a food truck called The Sweet Shack, I make pastries, candy, and other sweet things. I parked outside of the hospital and she was dragged by her coworkers to buy stuff. She kept coming back, even without the others.” She tried but failed miserably to not smile. I understood the feeling. Tae doesn’t even like sweets that much. My stomach churned.

“Shouldn’t you be out manning your truck then? It is your business,” I added and she hummed nonchalantly.

“I’m also the executive chef of a pretty nice restaurant, it pays for most of my bills and the truck is sort of on-the-side fun,” she explained. She’s passionate, driven, Taeyeon must love her to pieces. Minju was perfect for Taeyeon. The fact pounded in my ears and rang in my chest. “My schedule is fluid that way, I work when Tae’s home and stay to keep an eye on Stan when she’s not.” I bristled, but nicknames were reasonable for couples. They were reasonable. I couldn’t own a nickname. “To be honest, I was super shocked when she told me who you were and what you did.”

“Most people are, I assume,” I nodded. My anxiety sky-rocketed now that we were talking about me. In the presence of the woman who Taeyeon now loved, I felt vulnerable.

“You’re very inspiring and talented, I hope you know that.” These were compliments but why did they feel like threats? “You sacrificed a lot to get where you are.” I know, I know I did. I ditched my family and friends in order to travel to another country full of strangers. My identity and personality had to be altered in some way to make me more likable. The woman I loved with every fiber of my being had to be cut out of my life in fear that my career wouldn’t succeed with her around.

“It was a tough road to take.” I adored being an idol. People cherished me, whether it be for my looks, my voice, or my personality. Fame gave me a rush that I’d never felt before, but it became emotionally exhausting. My life ran at a million miles an hour, I could barely slow down and understand what I was doing. It had to change. “But we all made sacrifices for our careers at some point.”

“Definitely, lots of -kissing and long hours,” Minju agreed and I couldn’t even bring myself to truly hate her.

“Do you love Taeyeon?” Maybe if she hesitated, maybe if I saw doubt I could hate. Was Minju in love with Taeyeon? Did she look at her and start to cry? Did she hold her and feel a physical crack? The woman met my eyes and the hope that appeared out of nowhere started to sink again.

“I do love Taeyeon. She’s a beautiful woman and I want to be with her for a long time.” Is she the one, Tae? Is she your last? Is she going to, one day, be your wife? “Tiffany, I love her, and I know and accept that I won’t be everything to her. She told me that you two were best friends, the closest of friends, and she needs that stability from more than just her lover. Are you here to take her back or are you here to be her friend?” How could I respond? I knew I couldn’t live without Taeyeon in my life, the feeling was absolute, but I also knew that a really dark and not-very deep part of me wanted to make her mine again. Millions of people could want my love, some piece of me wouldn’t budge.

“Taeyeon’s happiness comes first. She’s happy with you, I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

You never wanted marriage. You never wanted kids. Why now. Why now? I the faucet and threw cold water into my face. I needed to get a grip. I needed to find an answer to the questions that haunted my young adult life. I pushed my hair back and sat against the cabinets, breathing. At one point, I expected Taeyeon to wait. I didn’t know why she was waiting or why I was making her wait, but she was going to be patient. Then, her teenage dreams of the ideal family and relationship would dissolve and I would become her priority in life. We would be happy, somehow, even if we were five thousand miles away and leading completely different lives.

I walked out of the bathroom and chanced upon the sight of Minju cradling Stan, who woke up early. I never thought of sacrifice, I knew that Taeyeon would give me everything. I watched the baby and tried to see how he interacted with Minju opposed to with Taeyeon. He did seem a little awkward and stiff in her arms. He didn’t cuddle up to her or lean in her direction, but he did lie in her arms without fussing. She only pampered me and I couldn’t understand why I had to change if I was happy. I had to confess that Minju seemed like a good mother, just looking at her made it obvious. She loved him, even though he wasn’t hers. I dug my nails into the wall and sighed. “Things are moving pretty fast for you guys, huh?” I cleared my throat, sitting back on the couch as she swayed.

“I guess you could say that. She was very upfront about the things in her life. I met Stan after a couple of months but she talked about him since our first date,” she brushed his hair and he wiggled a little, letting out a gentle hum. I stared a bit longer at his drowsy face. He’s cute, at least. He had small eyes and a round head, but his chin jutted out and you could see the faint dimple on it. Things could’ve been different. “Tae said that he’s her world. Since he’s on the spectrum, he doesn’t talk much, but when it’s just the two of them, you can tell the feeling is mutual.”

“You’ve heard him talk?” I hadn’t heard anything from him besides the occasional grunt or noise. She nodded.

“He speaks sometimes when I’m around, but not too often. Tae said that there are just some people he prefers over others, but his autism isn’t too severe so hopefully he can learn to like me more when he gets older.” Older? I imagined the child in her arms growing, outgrowing her arms. What happens when we get older? I barely knew what I was going to do now. Minju suddenly dug into her pocket for her vibrating phone. She’s holding the kid with one hand! “Hello? Right now? Are you serious?” Her voice suddenly became stone cold, her face showing slightly creased brows and a stiff jaw. She let out a long sigh and carefully set Stan on the floor, rushing into his room. The baby and I stared at each other for a minute. “Fine, I’ll be there in 20.” Be where in 20?! “Tiffany, you’re gonna have to stay with Stan until Taeyeon gets back, there’s an issue at the restaurant that I have to deal with.”

“Are you serious?!” My voice cracked. Minju handed Stan a box and uncovered the lid, exposing a multitude of colorful toys.

“Yeah, I gotta go. Don’t worry, he’s not rowdy or anything. He might be a bit upset because he needs a little more sleep, but Tae won’t be out for too much longer.” Stan threw out a rubbery block and I jumped back, unconsciously grabbing the other woman’s white coat.

“Children aren’t my forte, you know that, right?”

“Tiffany, you’re a grown woman, a two year-old is not going to hurt you. If you’re not keen on playing then feed him his bottle,” she pointed and I looked back, noticing a bottle of milk on the counter. “Just heat it up a little.” Heat? How am I supposed to heat up a bottle? Microwave it?! But before I could turn, the door was shut.

I moved the couch back – because what if he fell over it? – and set the table into the corner – it wasn’t baby proofed – before sitting down in the suddenly very open space in front of the TV. Stan played with the purple rubber block, which I saw had the letter ‘T’ on it, and twirled it in his hands. He was studying it. What was there to study? He raised his hand and I jerked. “What is it? What are you doing? Are you gonna talk?” He’s a damn baby, they’re not taught to raise their hands and ask questions like in a class. I leaned back when he set his hand back on the block. At least he’s not whiny or violent. All of a sudden he stood and I raised my arms to catch him but then I realized that kids who were almost three should know how to walk. However, he had autism, and I wasn’t sure what that meant for his physical development. He handed me the block and I held it, staring, as he picked up even more rubber pieces and tossed them onto the ground. “Don’t throw your toys everywhere.”

“Line.” I looked up with wide eyes but he simply sat on the ground, examining his blocks and their letters. He said line! But why did he say line? I watched the boy place his toys in a neat row, placing them in alphabetical order.

“Oh wow, you are smart,” I noticed as he stood in front of me, pointing at the block. “Oh, yeah, you’re missing a letter.” I crawled to the empty spot in the line and carefully placed it next to ‘R’ and ‘S’. Stan giggled, running in place with glee. I snorted. He was so damn cute. “Okay, so you know some words and your alphabet. What else do you know?” I wondered aloud as he began to calm himself. He waddled back to his box, careful to not knock over his blocks, and pulled out a small toy piano. He poked the ‘on’ switch and smiled a little as it blinked to life. A chubby finger then pressed on a note before it was continued by a few others. B flat, C, D, E flat, wait, what? “A B-flat major scale? What the f-heck has your mom been teaching you?!” Swearing is bad in front of children. “Can you play any other scales? Or say any other words?”

I pulled out my phone and groaned a little, typing into the search engine: how to warm up baby bottles. Stan expressed his desire for milk after whining a little and pointing to it. A bowl of warm water? I opened up the cabinets before finding large bowls and filled it up with water from the tap. I placed the bottle inside. Do I hold onto it or just let it sit? I looked at the page and noticed it said to submerge so I laid it on its side. “Gotta wait a few minutes for the milk, Stan,” I said to him as he frowned when I returned without milk. “Don’t just leave your things here, clean up if you’re not using them,” I pointed and he placed his piano away but left the alphabet line intact. “What about your blocks?” He shook his head and ran away, lifting his knees to his chest as he ran. Are you serious? I bent down and reached for some of the toys to put away when the toddler ran back over with a frown. “What? I’m cleaning up after you.” I picked one up.

“AH!” I blinked. he just screamed at me, what do I do? I couldn’t discipline him, but I didn’t want him to think that was okay. “Fine, I won’t touch your toys, but don’t yell at me. Use your words.” He folded his hands over his stomach and twisted side to side. “Can you say sorry?” He suddenly bowed, dangling his arms so they almost touched the floor and I couldn’t help but giggle at how dumb it looked. Stan looked back up at me and pointed at my face.

“Piáo liang.” Was that Chinese? Who taught him Chinese?

“Who’s pretty?” I looked over and saw that Taeyeon was home. Our eyes met and she smiled – momentarily melting me – before looking to her son.

“Umma!” Korean now? What? Stan was already bounding over to her, hugging her, and took Taeyeon’s hand over to his alphabet line. He pointed at it vigorously.

“Ah, good job, Hun. You did it right,” she smiled and gently kissed his head as the child smiled even wider. “Clean up, now please.” He didn’t hesitate. It suddenly occurred to me that Stan didn’t want to put away his toys because he wanted his mother to see. “Did you play with him this whole time?”

“Um, sort of, I was going to give him his bottle in hopes that he knew how to feed himself.” I had no idea how to give a baby their bottle. I was going to have to look it up if Stan didn’t want to do it himself.

“He does, but thanks. Hm, seems like you could hold your own with him so that’s nice. I’m impressed.” A sudden urge to be complimented by Taeyeon blossomed so I swallowed it whole.

“He’s really calm and quiet, he kind of takes after you,” I ended up saying and she smiled. It was a small smile, but it was one of those dreamy ones.

“I tried my hardest to raise him the way I felt was best for him,” she sighed, taking the bottle out and placing the bowl in the sink. “Stan! Nainai,” Taeyeon called and the child ran over, muttered a broken ‘gamsahabnida’, and ran off with the bottle.

“You taught him three languages?” I wondered. “He said ‘line’ to me earlier.” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Really? He talked to you?”

“Yeah, I was pretty shocked too.” I forgot he didn’t just talk to anyone. The realization warmed me.

“Well, we live in America so English was obviously going to be in his arsenal and I’m Korean and I’d like it if he knew my native language. When I adopted him, they said he was Chinese and Korean, so I decided to try and learn a little Mandarin just because I didn’t want him to feel like he was missing out on part of his culture.” My eyes followed the bouncy boy, happy to have his mother back in his sights. Taeyeon walked over to him and let out a small grunt, pulling the child to sit on her lap and drink as she stared at him, brushing his baby soft face with her fingers. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.