Someplace Like Home |n.j

35.

"The chicken's a bit old so don't expect this to taste great," My mother placed the chicken soup in the centre of the small dinner table, then sat herself down across from me.

I simply nodded, continuing to eat the rice out of my bowl. I've been eating regularly ever since I moved into my mother's. It's adding some weight onto my body, but I don't mind. I might even like it. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think of what Namu would say about it if he were here. I don't think he'd care much either. It's the little things that remind me of him.

She pauses to look at the beaded bracelet on my wrist and points at it before picking up her own spoon, "That's pretty."

I nod again, this time with a small smile, "It is."

My secret lover in South Korea gave it to me. It sounds a little funny if I word it that way. I found it in my suitcase not long ago when I was cleaning it out. It doesn't really go along with my other jewelry but I like it that way. It stands out. It makes me miss him a little more than I have to.

"Have you got a boyfriend?"

Has she got a way to look inside my brain? I stop chewing and gulp down the food, "Uh,"

"So you do," My mother fished for some gomea with her chopstick.

"Something like that," I sucked on my inner cheek with a shrug.

"Something like that?" She repeated with a shake of her head as if I was saying something odd.

"You and your relationships," My mother exhaled.

"What?" I stuffed a ball of rice in my mouth, "What do you have to say about my relationships?"

She gives me a look, like I was supposed to know what she meant, then continues with the food in her bowl. What the hell does that mean? Now I'm confused. I furrow my eyebrows, putting my chopsticks down.

"What."

"What?" She asked back like some parrot. I hate it when she acts all clueless.

"What was that? I asked you a question and you just fucking looked at me," I mimicked her little glare.

"I'm a dying lady, you think other children talk to their mother like that?"

I roll my eyes. My use of expletives should be the last thing on her mind, "You think other mothers raised their children the way you did?"

She goes silent. I couldn't soften my glare as I watched her put down the bowl and lean back against her seat.

The silence made me want to smash my head against the table. It made me want to run away. To Korea. To Namu. It made me want to do all that I'd done eight years ago.

I was always best at choosing what was easiest.

"So this is what it's about." Her voice was quiet yet threatening. She sounded disappointed. Had she expected us to live together and pretend none of this exists? This black hole in between us?

I crossed my arms with a scoff.

"Why, you don't want to talk about it? You don't want to hear what it was like living with you? You don't want to hear h-how your daughter turned out? I bet you would hate it to hear that I've been fucking suffocating all these years, because that's just so fucking embarrassing for you, isn't it?"

Only when I was left hyperventilating for my breaths, had I known my face was wet with streaming tears. I take a thick swallow and turn my head to avoid meeting her gaze.

"You left, Nami. You could have stayed and 'talked', or whatever it is that you're looking for from me. But you left, and you-"

"Right, and that's why I'm the bad guy. I know," I didn't need to hear it from her lips to know that's what she thinks.