Namjoo’s mother faked a loud cough to get all their attention. Smiling a visibly fake smile, she said as she stood, “I have to make a phone call to the restaurant. Honey, go pull out the chicken from the freezer to thaw. And could you two make a trip to the market for me?”

֎֎֎֎֎

“I think your mother’s scarier,” Jongin commented as they walked toward the market. Since the weather had warmed the outside stalls had opened, now filled with harvested fruits and greens from farms nearby. Villagers could shop inside and wander outside before leaving for home. Luckily, Namjoo’s mother only wanted lemongrass and some tangerines.

Children were hardly seen tagging along with their parents. Late afternoon only wives or husbands stopping home from work were out and about. Plastic bags rustled as a man passing by shifted the weights from hand to hand. Further ahead someone called out for shoppers to come take a look at her green peppers.

“My mom would go crazy here,” Jongin said as they slowed down to locate their item. “You see those super heavy bags she always comes over with? She’s always taking the bus to the town market because she says grocery is cheaper than at the store.”

“Why don’t you go with her?”

“No way,” he shook his head. “It’s like staying fifteen hours at work.”

Namjoo scoffed, “I’m sure it’s not.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn one day,” Jongin said. “Just don’t mention market to her.”

She scoffed again and lightly hit his arm before pulling his sleeve to tug him after her. “I see some lemongrass.”

Not within five minutes they also grabbed a bag of tangerines. Jongin peeled one open and handed her a slice as they slowly wandered their way back to his car.

“It’s sweet,” he commented chewing on a piece.

Namjoo moaned in agreement and held her hand out. “I want another one.”

He breathed a laugh. Part of him having expected her to say that. He obediently handed her another piece and watched her gobble it.

“Here,” he took the bag of lemongrass from her and placed the partially eaten tangerine in her hand. “Let me know if you want another one.”

“I want another one,” Namjoo grinned and held out her palm. As he handed her one, she said, “Do you know how to peel an apple?”

“Why?”

“My dad loves fruit,” Namjoo told. “If you serve him a platter, he’ll become your best friend. His parents used to own an apple farm, so apples have a dear meaning to him.”

“Really?” Jongin felt a lightbulb go on above his head.

“So do you?”

“Know how to peel an apple?” he asked. Namjoo nodded. Jongin nervously shook his head. “I’m not that great at it.”

“Come on,” Namjoo grabbed his arm pulling him after her.

He drove the ten minutes back to her parent’s house. Namjoo brought the bags into the kitchen while she made him wait out back. It was even cooler because the roof tilted so low it created the perfect shade from the sun. Jongin thought he’d like to stay out here forever if he could. Then the door opened and Namjoo appeared with a plate, several small sized apples on it, and small knife.

They sat down on the flat concrete. Namjoo placed the bowl between them and showed him how to peel the first apple. The skin came off perfectly in one whole curly piece as she twirled the apple skillfully within her fingers.

“Do I have to?” he asked.

“You could show him what a good cook you are, but you can’t touch their kitchen unless they’ve warmed up to you,” Namjoo explained. “To be honest, you didn’t do such a good job talking to them.”

“Don’t rub it in my face.”

Namjoo coyly grinned. “Cut it up into pieces. My dad will appreciate it regardless. My mom was looking for me, so I have to leave.”

“What am I supposed to say to your father?” Jongin asked as she grabbed the doorknob. Namjoo shrugged then opened the door and disappeared inside. Sighing, Jongin stared down at the plate Namjoo had left behind.

Several minutes later Jongin gave up. Two apples were choppily peeled with shortened peeled strands piled up to the side. The fruits appearing jagged and heavily dented. Quickly chopping them up into bite-sized pieces he tossed a few into his mouth listening to them crunch. He’d saw off the uneven sides to make them look nice he decided. Jongin nearly jumped out of his skin when the door burst open and Namjoo’s father poked his bald head out. His narrowed eyes searched the backyard like laser beams before landing on him. Jongin choked on a chunk of apple but fought to hold back an explosive cough.

Jumping to his feet he greeted with an airy voice, “Sir.”

“What is this?” he questioned eyeing the plate on the floor. Pointing at the mess he assumed, “You’re hiding out here eating by yourself?”

Jongin coughed once and another time with more force. The piece of fruit in his mouth shot up between his molars. Finally breathing, Jongin quickly chewed before swallowing as Namjoo’s father eyed him. He heated up neck down certain that he looked obnoxious and abnormal.

Clearing his throat, he invited, “Sit. I was just peeling some apples.”

“You did a horrible job,” the man straightforwardly commented but he sat down anyway and invited himself to a jagged piece of fruit. Hurriedly sitting down, Jongin rubbed his knees while watching Namjoo’s father savor the fruit.

“What are you staring at?” the old man grumbled. “Am I supposed to wolf this down all by myself?”

Nervously smiling, Jongin grabbed himself a piece. “Actually, Namjoo said apples are your favorite. I was trying to peel them for you like she taught me.”

“You need improvement,” the old man wagged his finger at him.

“Yes, sir,” Jongin nodded.

Namjoo’s father took another slice and bit a chunk off. Staring off into the distance as he chewed. “How is she?”

“Yes?” Jongin nervously asked. “I think you raised her really well, sir.”

Namjoo’s father softly coughed from within his throat embarrassed to hear him say that. “We raised her to be happy, knowing we couldn’t always protect her. Namjoo can be stubborn and quiet-spoken, so you have to learn to be patient with her. We each raise our own wishing they would have the best, so they would never suffer. Her mother and I never expected to have her, but when she came she became the light of our lives. I always hoped she would find a person who would stay by her side regardless what decision she makes. When you have a child, you never want to see them cry but yesterday my daughter called and she cried. To hear that does more than breaks a parent’s heart. One day you’ll understand what a parent feels.

“About Seojun, Namjoo’s mother and I will to talk to their side, so that we understand each other and can work something out. But what are you going to do? If you have no plan to stay with my daughter, I would like for you to disappear from her life. My daughter does not need another mistake weighing her down. If you believe you don’t have the ability to make her happy, leave now.”

“We agreed to take it slowly,” Jongin said.

“No,” her father shook his head, “that’s not what I said. I am asking, will you be able to make her happy?”

Jongin pursed his lips.

Not just taking responsibility. Would he be able to make a commitment? Not just a ten-pound word. His entire life weighed on it. Truly, without looking back he would have to carry the rest of Namjoo’s life on his shoulders. Her happiness. Her troubles. Their child.

“To be a mother, a woman has to set aside her greed to nurture the child that will become her hope and dreams. My daughter is already giving up a portion of her potential future to have this child. My daughter has done her part, will you do yours?”

֎֎֎֎֎

“Come cut the lemongrass,” her mother ordered when she appeared at the kitchen doorway. “Always scampering off, are you?”

“I didn’t,” Namjoo retorted walking toward the sink to wash her hands.

“Tell your friend to stay the night,” her mother instructed. “Your father wants to have a word with him.”

“Why? What does dad want to talk to him about?” Namjoo asked.

“Why do you have so many questions?” her mother wondered. “If your mother says so, you do so.”

“He’s supposed to go home later.”

“Oh, I’m sure if he came he has time to stay,” her mother insisted.

“Mom.” Namjoo moaned.

“He can leave early in the morning,” her mother argued. “Your father and I don’t even know him. Don’t you think we should at least spend some time getting to know the father of your baby?”

“No, I don’t.”

“How dare you say that?” her mother scolded. “I should be lecturing you for living with a man without first getting married, but I held myself back for your sake.”

Namjoo bit down on her teeth.

“Is he taking care of you?” her mother inquired putting a cutting board onto the counter.

“He cooks like I said.”

“You really let him do everything?” her mother asked in disbelief. “How lazy are you?”

“Well, he’s a good cook,” Namjoo rebuffed.

“Don’t praise him too much,” her mother warned. “No man is perfect. Does he know about your wedding?”

“I told him.”

“Good,” her mother stated.

“Why?”

“It’s good to have a man at your back if Seojun can’t take no for an answer,” her mother said. “I won’t have to worry about you being alone.”

“I’d still be fine alone.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would,” her mother mocked slamming the lemongrass onto the cutting board. “And cut those evenly.” Walking off she muttered, “Now where is your father?”

Her mother’s footsteps faded out of the kitchen and a minute later footsteps sauntered down the hall.

“What are you doing?” Jongin asked opening the fridge.

“Cutting lemongrass. What are you doing?”

“Your mom said to gut the fish.” He pulled out a bowl stinking of fish.

“What? Why?”

He shrugged just as her mother stepped back in and scolded, “What are you doing? Get him an apron!”

Dropping the knife Namjoo immediately walked toward the spare apron hanging off the cabinet handle. She handed it to Jongin and then realized his hands were occupied.

“Here.” He lowered his head for her to hook it over his neck. Namjoo glanced at her occupied mother as her hands brushed his hair. Shifting the bowl from one hand to the other to adjust the apron Namjoo proceeded to tie the apron at his back. She gazed up at him awkwardly while becoming flustered in front of her mother.

“Sorry,” he turned around nearly spilling the water in the bowl on her. “But I think you tied it too tight.”

“Oh…” Namjoo breathed and quickly undid the knot. She quickly took a step to the side and picked up the knife again. Anxiously and nervously glancing at Jongin.

“Oh yes, we were just talking,” her mother piped up, “about how you should spend the night.”

“Yes?” Jongin spun around to look at her mother.

“Namjoo was saying how nice it would be for us to get to know each other,” her mother grinned. Eyes widening, Namjoo glanced at Jongin and shook her head. She would have never suggested such a crazy thing!

“Ah…well…” Jongin started. “I don’t think I should. I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. There are a lot of spare around the house,” her mother waved him off. “Your father is looking forward to it. I think he’s already preparing the room right now.”

Namjoo and Jongin glanced at each other. Both sharing the same kind of panic. They may have been sharing the same roof, but it didn’t mean they shared the same bed at night. Namjoo could already feel her intestines swelling with anxiety.

After she finished chopping up the lemongrass her mother made her stay to watch Jongin gut the fish and prep it for the oven. Stuffing and seasoning the fish. Praising him proudly as if he was her son. Namjoo could have scoffed while watching if she didn’t know better.

“Good job,” her father remarked at the dinner table and that was all he said to compliment Jongin’s dish.

The entirety of dinner was spent talking about what Jongin did in high school and what he was doing now. More praise from her mother before she started telling stories about Namjoo’s childhood crisis when she didn’t know what she wanted to do as an adult. One conversation led to another as the minutes ticked by. Then they were cleaning up the dishes together, wiping the table clean, and she was left to wash the dishes as her parents went searching for clothes Jongin could change into.

“I guess it’s turned out to be entertaining,” Jongin commented taking the soapy dish from her.

“You think,” Namjoo said. “You should have left when you could.”

“It’s not so bad,” Jongin admitted. “I’ll admit I was dead nervous at the beginning.”

Namjoo snorted but laughed at him anyway. “You didn’t think it was obvious?”

“Was it?” he innocently asked.

“You stuttered!” Namjoo reminded slapping his arm. “Oh…sorry,” she apologized realizing her hand was still soapy.

“Are you two finished yet?” her mother asked walking toward the kitchen. They turned to see her holding out some folded clothes. “I hope these are all right.”

֎֎֎֎֎

The guest room wasn’t too big or too small that she and Jongin would have to squeeze their way around each other. There was enough room for even a table to fit. The vanity in the room was accompanied by a drawer with four slots, a small walk-in closet and a small bench tucked against the wall. Namjoo’s duffel bag was on the vanity seat which she was using to store lotion and moisturizer for her face. Earlier her father must have laid out a futon for them. Their bedspread completed by a soft pink blanket was wide enough to fill up a good portion of the floor.

Her parents had turned in leaving her and Jongin to be for the night. When they heard Jongin still needed to return to the city for work they had hurriedly ushered them off to bed. Rest and relax they had said. It was barely even nine. Now she was stuck waiting for Jongin to finish showering. He had made certain under her parents’ watchful eyes that she bathe first. While she waited she supposed she would have to get used to this awkwardness constantly blooming between them.

After all, they already agreed to have the baby. There was no point pretending she couldn’t try to put a foot forward. She touched her abdomen thinking about what Jongin had said to her.

“So, I’ll just be straight with you. I do want the baby, Namjoo. I want to be a father not out of responsibility but because I want to. And I’m sorry it happened this way, but I don’t regret it. I know we don’t know each other, but there has to be a beginning to an end. I’d like to get to know you and see where we go from there. What is there to lose?”

Six months to go. How much would she know Jongin by then? When the baby arrived would she want to remain at Jongin’s side? Or would they end up splitting custody?

Touching the blanket Namjoo shifted to lay down and stare up at the white ceiling. Maybe she would be able to sleep even if it was still early. She didn’t even close her eyes and the phone rang. Not her phone. She didn’t recognize the ringtone. Pushing herself up she glanced around the room before spotting the phone by Jongin’s set of keys on the drawer. Getting up Namjoo wondered if it was his mother calling. She hoped his mother hadn’t gone to his place only to find out he wasn’t in.

Namjoo recognized the name blaring across the screen, but it wasn’t his mother. Namjoo stared at Mina’s name. She continued to listen to the phone chime before it stopped and a beep signaled the woman had left a voicemail. A text message popped up. The first half reading: Where are you…

Namjoo glanced toward the door when the knob turned and quickly stepped away from the drawer. Pretending to be going through her duffel bag when Jongin walked in. Too busy pretending to be occupied she had to do a double take before laughing at the sweats climbing up Jongin’s calves.

“Stop it,” he muttered walking in and hurriedly sitting down on the futon. Her father’s old shirt climbed up his body making Namjoo laugh again. Jongin’s face reddened with embarrassment as he quickly climbed under the blanket to hide. “Don’t laugh!”

Covering , she wheezed into her palm and Jongin stared clearly not amused. Lowering her hand, she burst out with a hideous laugh.

“It’s not that funny,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” she apologized trying to calm down and wiped an oncoming tear, “I’ve just never imagined you looking like that before.” She laughed again.

Fully covering himself as he laid down he said, “You’re going to have to turn off the lights.”

Still laughing Namjoo walked over to the light switch and turned it off. Giggling now as she felt for the blanket and sat down. Through the dark she imagined Jongin glaring at her.

“That gave me a good laugh,” Namjoo exhaled when her head hit the pillow. Adjusting the blanket over her she stared up at the ceiling. A moment of quiet sunk into the room as it dawned once more on her that they were sharing a bed.

***I truly didn't expect to spend this many chapters on the visit to her parents. I guess in a way the visit is paving a way for them to become closer so Jongin can think more about Namjoo as a person than just someone who will give birth to his child and for Namjoo to learn to start trusting him