TWENTY-SEVEN

For a moment, it feels like time has stopped. Mrs Lee’s eyes go from Donghae to Hyukjae and then back again. Donghae is suddenly very aware of how messy his hair is, and how he’s clearly wearing clothes from the day before, and- , the mark he’s only just noticed on Hyukjae’s neck. Donghae doesn’t even remember when that happened, but he sure as hell knows his mother has seen it.

‘Mom,’ he says again timidly, as he and Hyukjae shuffle guiltily into the hallway. ‘Uh, have you been here long? Why- uh, why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I’d have- um, made sure I was here-’

‘Why didn’t I let you know I was coming?’ his mother’s voice rises but also somehow remains as cold as compressed ice. ‘When did you last respond to a call or message? I rang you less than five minutes ago!’

Donghae realizes with horror that he maybe has forgotten to give his mother his new number. He realizes too, that if Hyukjae is paying attention he’ll know that Donghae was with him and his phone didn’t ring; which means the other phone that Donghae said was broken is not actually broken at all.

He risks a quick glance at the confectioner and his mother looks him over too. Hyukjae visibly wilts under the stony scrutiny. He’s still in his baggy sweater, hair in his eyes, his bag and Choco clutched close. Donghae is pretty sure if he wasn’t holding Hyukjae’s hand the other man would have bolted right back into the elevator.

Donghae doesn’t blame him.

He’s debating doing the same thing himself.

Instead he smiles bravely.

‘Mom,’ he says, holding Hyukjae’s hand tightly. ‘This is my- uh, my friend Hyukjae.’

‘Friend?’ Mrs Lee says, and it’s quite amazing how much disproval and distaste she gets into the one word.

‘My friend,’ Donghae says again, more convincingly. He looks at Hyukjae and takes an unsteady breath. ‘Um, and my future boyfriend. H-hopefully.’

‘It’s nice to meet you,’ Hyukjae says, bowing as deeply and politely as he can while holding a dog, a bag of clothes, and simultaneously wanting to sink through the floor. Even his ears are pink with embarrassment. Donghae doesn’t know what to do; he can’t invite both of them into his apartment, not when he and Hyukjae need to shower and get a bit more presentable, and when his mother obviously has a lot more to say.

But he is not ashamed of Hyukjae, or of being with him, and he absolutely won’t send him away.

It’s Mrs Lee who ends the impasse.

‘I traveled up early so I could make breakfast,’ she says coldly, ‘but I can see you are otherwise engaged this morning.’

She checks her wristwatch, a pretty gold one Donghae had bought for her the previous Christmas.

‘What time do you start work?’

‘Um, at 9:00am,’ Donghae stammers. ‘But Mom-’

‘Then we’ll meet at the café down the road in 30 minutes,’ Mrs Lee says, lips pressed together tightly. ‘Just you and I. Tidy yourself up first, please.’

She marches past him into the elevator.

‘Put those things in the fridge!’

The elevator door closes and Hyukjae visibly sags beside him.

‘Oh my god,’ he says. ‘Donghae, I’m so sorry!’

‘For what,’ Donghae says. He’s still holding Hyukjae’s hand, even though his own is sweaty and clammy. Hyukjae risks a quick sideways glance at him.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure seeing her son making out with another man in a public place was the best introduction. Did- did she already know you were gay?’

‘Yes,’ Donghae says. ‘But she’s never, um, never witnessed it before.’

In truth, he’s pretty sure his mother thinks if she ignores his uality hard enough, it might go away.

Which is sort of what Donghae has been doing with her messages and phone calls for the last while.

‘Should I go?’ Hyukjae asks.

‘No,’ Donghae says. He pulls himself from his stupor. ‘No, Hyukkie! Please don’t. Let’s go inside and work things out from there.’

He lets Hyukjae key in the door code while he looks in the carrier bag his mother had left on the doorstep. It’s stacked full of plastic containers, all carefully labeled, heavy with her home cooking. There’s a smaller bag too, with things she had purchased on her way from the station so that she could cook him breakfast.

Donghae swallows hard.

His mother has been worried about him and he’s a terrible son.

It’s Hyukjae who gets out clean towels, turns on the shower and pushes him gently into the bathroom.

‘Go on,’ he says. ‘You’d better not be late.’

Fifteen minutes ago, Donghae had been anticipating he and Hyukjae showering together; perhaps washing each other’s hair, perhaps kissing, perhaps letting hands slide down wet, slippery skin.

Maybe not as friends.

Now, nothing is further from his mind.

He steps out of his clothes and under the hot water while Hyukjae quietly tidies things away in the kitchen. Donghae groans.

Why has his mother turned up?

It’s clearly not about Hyukjae, since she had been even more shocked than they were.

Is she- is she just visiting?

Donghae brushes his teeth and wishes he’d gone to the gym. If he’d known his mother was coming, he could have prepared. He could have looked good, could have had a gift ready and his apartment spick and span! He could have carefully introduced the topic of Hyukjae over an expensive meal, and then even more carefully introduced the man himself.

But now-

Donghae doesn’t know what to think, he only knows that he’s feeling very anxious.

He brushes his teeth a second time and puts on a good shirt. His mother likes seeing him in a jacket and tie too, so he adds those.

‘Donghae,’ Hyukjae says, and he’s watching from the doorway with kind, worried eyes. ‘You look good.’

Donghae nods without comprehending.

Has his mother come to check up on him? Has she heard he’s doing badly at work?

‘I’ll let myself out after showering, if you don’t mind?’ Hyukjae says.

‘No!’ Donghae rounds on him. ‘Please stay, Hyuk. I really want to introduce you to her again, properly. I’ll go and talk to her first then come back here, okay? If you want to, you can borrow anything you like of mine. Or m-maybe we can meet at lunchtime and all go somewhere together.’

Hyukjae nods and then frowns, coming over and gently taking Donghae’s toothpaste from his hand as he goes to brush his teeth for the third time.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he says. He looks at Donghae searchingly and squeezes his hand. ‘I’ll wait here.’

The walk to the café is far too short. Donghae pauses in the entrance and looks around. He sees his mother before she sees him; she’s a small woman, and the lines on her face show that her life has not been easy. Her circumstances are much improved now, however; her coat and dress are expensive and her hair is nicely styled. She wears some small, tasteful pearl earrings and carefully applied lipstick. Donghae and his older brother make sure that she gets her little luxuries these days.

She looks tired though. Donghae wonders how early she got up, hoping to catch him at home before he went to work. He wonders if she took a cab or walked to the station, struggling along with the food she had prepared for him.

He wonders too, with dread, how much of a disappointment he will be this time.

‘Mom,’ he says, going over and leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

She gives a tight smile.

‘I’ve already ordered,’ she says. The meal arrives shortly afterwards, something breakfasty involving salmon for herself, and sausages, eggs and rice for Donghae, his childhood favourite. He swallows hard. When he was young, he loved this sort of spicy sausage. He hasn’t eaten them for years though, not since he realized he’d never be the perfect son so had settled for trying to look like a perfect son instead.

‘You’ve lost weight,’ his mother says anyway, filled with disapproval. Donghae apologizes, eats his breakfast and wonders anxiously if he’ll need to apologize for being overweight afterwards. His mother has this way of making him feel like a naughty child; he doesn’t quite know what to do to ease the atmosphere.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you lately,’ he says. ‘I-I’ve been really busy.’

‘So I saw,’ his mother says acidly. She waits until the waiter has moved away before leaning forward and whispering fiercely. ‘Didn’t I bring you up better than that? What if somebody had seen! My own son, cavorting with men in broad daylight!’

‘I-It’s not like that,’ Donghae says. He struggles to swallow a mouthful of rice, appetite suddenly gone. ‘There’s only one man, Mom.’

‘Only one?’ His mother says, voice rising. ‘And is this one man the reason you’ve been skipping work and risking your career?’

Donghae pales.

‘I rang the clinic last week, Donghae. You hadn’t answered my calls and I was worried! But do you know what they said? You’d called in sick that day. That you’d been working reduced hours! Not showing up! I came to see you as soon as I could, thinking you must be unwell, and what do I find? You’re staying out all night, partying and- and debauching with other men!’

‘I’m not,’ Donghae says, putting his spoon down. ‘And there’s only one man!’

‘Don’t talk back to me!’ Mrs Lee rummages in her handbag and pulls out a folder, slapping it down on the table between them. ‘Don’t you understand how much your brother and I sacrificed for your education?’

‘Mom,’ Donghae says again, weakly. His mother opens the folder and pushes it into his hands.

‘Look at this,’ she says. ‘I swear this hasn’t come up a moment too soon. You need to get out of Seoul and this loose lifestyle. This is the perfect opportunity.’

Donghae stares down at the documents, and it takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at.

‘Now it’s not much,’ Mrs Lee says. ‘But it’ll be more than enough as a first business. It’s much nearer home, an established clinic with a good list of clients and plenty of room for expansion. I’ve already looked into what staff you might need, there’s a woman with extremely good references who can take over the administration side of things-’

‘What?’ Donghae croaks. ‘Mom, I’m not really looking-’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Mrs Lee snaps. ‘Donghae, in a few years you’ll be thirty. You’re not married, you’ve done nothing to further your career, and everyone who graduated with you has already settled down or opened their own clinic!’

‘I’m not married because it’s not legal,’ Donghae says, and his voice is beginning to tremble. ‘And I’m not ready to run my own clinic, especially not-’ he turns the page so he can see what remote tiny town the clinic is in, ‘-especially not in South Kyongsang!’

‘Donghae, it’s time to stop fooling around!’

‘I’m not! I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life fixing dentures!’

There a