by Harper Bliss
There she sat, opposite them, in the apartment where she had grown up. If she went down the hall and opened the door to her room, she would find it intact, nothing altered, as though her mother felt the need to keep it as a shrine to the dream of the daughter she knew she would never have.
One weekend and everything seemed to have changed, even the way she carried herself around her parents. How was this Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy going to work now? So far, it had been easy. Kristin had, literally, had nothing to tell them. As if being a lesbian was only true if she were having sex, which was a ridiculous notion. But it was also a very comfortable safety blanket to hide beneath all these years she had known, but never said.
In their family dynamic, it was more important to be kind than to be completely truthful, and in this particular instance, kindness translated into omitting some crucial facts about herself, despite them being inherently understood. Kristin’s parents were no fools, but tradition still weighed heavy on them, even though they had left Korea a very long time ago—or perhaps that was why they attached more importance to it, because of the connection to their motherland it still offered.
Either way, it was only tradition in spirit. They were always enlightened enough to not make any futile demands of Kristin, didn’t think their own wish to see their daughter marry a decent Korean man more important than their daughter’s happiness. So, in that, Kristin considered herself lucky also.
They had the obligatory miyeok guk and made polite conversation the way they always did. Kristin inquired about her parents’ jobs and they about hers. They feasted on half a bottle of Korean plum wine, even though Kristin had brought a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, if only for herself. But she always drank the beverage her mother served. She didn’t know why exactly, though she was sure that, subconsciously, it had something to do with the wish to comply, to obey. Which, come to think of it, sounded like something Sheryl would say. Kristin would never be able to keep Sheryl a secret if it felt as though she was going everywhere with her.
“I’ll get the birthday cake,” her father offered and disappeared into the kitchen. Kristin hadn’t received a gift-wrapped present. Instead, she knew that when she checked her savings account tomorrow, the same amount as every year would have been deposited into it. Her parents were practical people and had, long ago, forsaken the habit of finding a suitable gift for their daughter’s birthday. Kristin knew that, despite always making the effort of buying each one of them something small and inexpensive enough not to seem wasteful of money, she couldn’t give her parents a better gift than showing them a bank statement of the growing amount in her savings account.
To Kristin’s surprise, the cake was not the same old pavlova her mother made from scratch every year. This year, because it was a special birthday, she’d bought a chocolate mirror cake with an outside layer so shiny, Kristin could make out her own reflection in it. What would she see if she looked into an actual mirror right now, as she celebrated her thirtieth birthday with her parents? Would she see a happy woman? Yes, she would, Kristin concluded. So why could that happiness not be shared with the people who, she presumed, wanted to see her happy most in the world? Or was the happiness they wanted for her so tangled up with their own expectations and hopes and dreams that Kristin was not allowed her own individual style of happiness? Her own desires? And wasn’t that the most ludicrous notion of all?
Keeping up appearances was not on Kristin’s to-do list for her birthday party. It simply couldn’t be. It was a milestone birthday. Thirty years ago, her mother, who had come to this country as a mere adolescent on a student visa, had given birth to her, had made Kristin’s life possible. So didn’t she owe it to the labor her mother had gone through, not just on that day but all the ones coming before and after, to share this new happiness she had found? One more profound than she had ever encountered before in her adult life, where birthdays had become a reminder of all the things she hadn’t yet done?
Kristin’s mother cut the cake. She offered a big portion to Kristin, while only cutting a thin slice for herself and Kristin’s father. This was usually the time when Kristin’s father would say a few words expressing his pride in her. Kristin remembered the elaborate speeches he used to deliver when she was in her early teens, and how she’d sat beaming in the gloriousness of his words, still too young to be aware of the many expectations it heaped on her.
Instead of speaking, her father fixed his eyes on her and gazed at her intently—the way he would look at one of his patients, Kristin knew, because her father was still her GP when it came to trivial matters like a cold. For more intimate medical matters, she’d found someone outside the family a long time ago.
“There’s something different about you,” Kristin’s father said.
“She looks like she spent too much time in the sun without applying sunscreen,” her mother, the dermatologist, said.
Kristin hated it when they spoke about her in the third person, as though she wasn’t even there. But old habits were hard to break. Her parents had done this for as long as she could remember. As though their daughter was an asset to be discussed—to be valued.
“I went to the Blue Mountains last weekend,” she said. She almost added “with a friend”, but Sheryl was already so much more than a friend. Calling her that would diminish what they had, and that was the opposite of what Kristin wanted to do. She wanted to honor their connection, their coup de foudre, that special something they shared.
“With whom?” her mother was quick to ask.
“Her name is Sheryl and…” Kristin knew that any hesitation at this crucial moment would allow either one of them to make a dismissive remark that would make her veer off course, but it was so hard to say it. What would she even call Sheryl? Her girlfriend? They had met barely ten days ago.
“I’ll get some more tea.” Her mother was in the process of rising from the table already.
“Mom, no, please sit.” She couldn’t let her flee. It didn’t matter that Kristin didn’t have a label to stick on Sheryl yet. It did matter that Kristin was head-over-heels in love, of course it did, but it didn’t change anything about who, at her very core, she was and had always been.
“Her name is Sheryl and she’s not just a friend.” There. She’d said it. Damn it. A blush heated up her cheeks, despite this being one of the proudest moments of her life.
“I think I will get that tea now.” Her mother rose again.
“Get us something stronger while you’re at it,” her father said.
Kristin didn’t know what to say while her mother hurried into the kitchen and clattered dishes about. She and her father sat in silence, waiting for her mother to return, as though only then another word might be spoken.
Kristin’s pulse thudded beneath her skin. It was a relief to have said what she’d just said out loud, but it also changed the careful balancing act she and her parents had been performing ever since Kristin had told them to no longer push her to date the sons of their friends. In a way, this was her second coming out. She wondered how many more she would need to do until it truly sunk in.
The first one hadn’t been as intentional as this one. It had just been a request uttered in an uncharacteristically impolite fashion, which always made Kristin’s parents sit up and take note. And it had worked. They had ceased their endless nudges toward her dating this or that boy, reciting the boy in question’s many accomplishments, which, more often than not, included him being about to graduate from law school or med school. Once they had tried pushing a mere accountant on her, though pushing wasn’t the correct word for it either—it was just how Kristin perceived it. It was more subtle than that, and it had taken Kristin a couple of years to realize that when they spoke of Mrs Kim’s son in encouraging ways, it wasn’t just because they liked him as a person and admired his accomplishments.
Kristin knew that for this coming out to be effective, she might have to be clearer, might actually have to spell it out to them, to these two highly
intelligent people.
“In fact,” she said, as her mother returned with a bottle of soju, “I would like you to meet her.”
Her mother banged the bottle onto the table, shocking herself, apparently. She brought a hand to her mouth.
“If that’s what you want, then we will,” her father said. He looked at her mother, trying to find her gaze, but her mother had her eyes cast down, inspecting her hands in her lap.
“What does she do?” her father asked.
Kristin knew she shouldn’t think like that, but she was so glad that Sheryl had gainful employment of a certain stature. “She’s a post-grad student getting her PhD in Gender Studies,” she said.
“Gender studies?” her mother asked. “You mean sociology?”
“Here’s an idea,” Kristin said, “why don’t you invite her over and she can explain it all herself.”
“Hm,” her mother grunted.
Her father poured a tiny amount of liquor into three glasses and distributed them around the table. He held his up, looked Kristin straight in the eye, and said, “I look forward to meeting Sheryl.”
“They want to meet me?” Sheryl asked. “The people who held you hostage all evening long on your thirtieth birthday, preventing me from celebrating with you.”
“I’m here now.” It was barely nine o’clock. Kristin had rushed over to Sheryl’s apartment after the dinner at her parents. “We have all night.”
“All night would have been me taking you to a fancy restaurant, ordering a bottle of champagne, and hand-feeding you spoonfuls of caviar.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re hardly the type to do any of these things.”
“You don’t know that.” Sheryl smiled warmly.
“Either way, it’s a pity you don’t have any champagne in the house, because not only is today my birthday, but I also came out to my parents and I haven’t been disowned.”
“This goes to show just how little you know me.” Sheryl walked to the fridge and produced a half bottle of champagne. “All the way from France, for my lady.”
Kristin walked over to her and threw her arms around Sheryl’s neck. “Do you have caviar in there as well?”
Sheryl shook her head. “I have to draw the line somewhere.” She pulled Kristin into a closer embrace. “Congratulations on a successful coming out. I’ll be on my best behavior when we meet.”
“It would have been better if you were a doctor or a lawyer.”
“Once I finish my PhD I will be a doctor.”
“I’m not sure they fully understand what it is you’re getting your PhD in.”
“That’s something we can sympathize over then. I’m not always sure myself,” Sheryl joked.
Kristin laughed. The sound of happiness reverberated through Sheryl’s tiny apartment.
“Are you, er, okay with meeting them? It’s not too soon and…” A pause.
“And what?” Sheryl handed her a glass of champagne. She’d poured a tiny amount into a glass for herself.
“I’ll tell them in advance not to ask about your parents.”
Sheryl held up her glass. “I can handle any questions that come my way.”
“I’m sure you can, but what I’m trying to say is that if you want to talk about it, I’m here. Perhaps meeting my parents will stir up some unwanted memories for you.”
“First, certain issues should not be discussed on your birthday.” There was a sharpness to Sheryl’s tone that Kristin hadn’t heard before. “I told you about my mother and father because I wanted you to have that information, not because I want to discuss it. I’ve had the required therapy. I’ve done all the talking I want to do about it.” The hint of hardness disappeared from her face. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But it’s unnecessary. I’m a big girl, one who doesn’t dwell in the past. And I don’t mean to brag, but parents usually love me.”
Kristin swallowed all the questions that burned in her mind. She had many, and they’d only grown since they’d returned from the cabin, but if Sheryl didn’t want to talk about it, then she wasn’t going to push her. If anything, Kristin felt honored that Sheryl had confided in her, had shown her vulnerability so quickly and so openly. She clinked the rim of her champagne glass against Sheryl’s.
“I’m sure you’ll charm the pants off them.” She took a sip. “Exactly how many girlfriends have taken you to meet their parents?”
Sheryl smirked. “Only one. And they were completely besotted with me.”
Kristin wasn’t keen on interrogating Sheryl on her past girlfriends on her birthday. She’d keep that conversation for another time.
“This stuff isn’t half bad,” Sheryl said, and swallowed the liquid in her glass in one go. “And no, I don’t think it’s too soon for me to meet your parents. I think it will be good for them to meet me, if only to put their mind at ease that I’m not some vixen from hell who has seduced their daughter to cross over to the dyke side.”
Kristin chuckled.
“Happy birthday,” Sheryl said, put their glasses to the side, and pulled Kristin close.
Chapter Nine
“Monogamy all the way for you?” Caitlin asked Sheryl.
Sheryl shook her head in despair. She should have known. “I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
“I don’t know, Sher.” Caitlin leaned back in her seat, tipping a glass of wine to her lips, not a hint of hesitation about what she was about to say on her face. “You seem kind of pussy-whipped to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re meeting her parents. You told her about your family. What’s next? Shall I call the moving company, or do you want to do that yourself?”
“We’re in love. What’s so bad about that?”
“Oh, nothing at all, but, hm, don’t you think everything is moving a tad too fast?”
Sometimes, Sheryl wished she had the sort of friends who didn’t feel the need to analyze everything and could just be happy for her. “What is too fast, really? Maybe what is fast for you is slow for me. Everyone is different. Besides, I clearly remember someone telling me not long ago that this might be the one, that you just never know.”
“Guilty as charged, but I just don’t want you to rush into something and end up hurt. That’s all.”
“You don’t get it, Caitlin—”
Caitlin held up a hand. “Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say, being that I don’t get it because I’ve never felt this way.”
“Would I ever say something like that?” Sheryl shot her friend a big smile. “What I was trying to say before being rudely interrupted, is that I know. And which one of my dear friends was it again who coined that phrase? I do wonder. It must have been a wise woman, that’s for sure.”
“Well if you’re meeting her parents, I demand to meet her.”
“You will. Soon enough.” It wasn’t as if Sheryl hadn’t considered the swiftness with which she was falling for Kristin. She was all in already, which wasn’t her usual M.O.—and which was probably the reason why Caitlin was calling her out on it. Sheryl wasn’t the head-over-heels type. At least, she thought she wasn’t. Perhaps, if the right woman came along, she was. She wondered if she would have noticed Kristin at the party if someone else had been in charge of wine sponsorship—if she had allowed her past to keep her from taking on that particular task. Perhaps she would have been too busy to notice Kristin. Or her heart would have started beating faster as she applied the stamp after letting her in. Or, and this was perhaps most probable of all the things that didn’t happen, Kristin might not have come to the party at all. The sponsorship procurer might not have flirted with Kristin the way Sheryl had, and nothing would have happened. Kristin would still be in the closet. And Sheryl’s heart wouldn’t be all the way in her throat as it was now, even when she was just talking about Kristin.
“I’m nervous,” Kristin admitted.
“I really couldn’t tell. You keep fiddling with that bracelet and your knees
must be having a ball hopping up and down like that,” Sheryl said.
“That’s not helping.”
“I know, but you have nothing to be nervous about.”
“What if I’m not feminist enough for them?”
“What if I’m too feminist for Cassie?”
“Don’t worry about Cassie. You’ll blow her away.”
“Why would the same not be true in your case? Besides, Caitlin and Betty might not have officially met you yet, but they clocked you at the LAUS party. Trust me, your presence there did not go unnoticed.”
“Why? Because uptight Koreans stick out like sore thumbs at lesbian parties?”
Sheryl laughed and shook her head. “Trust me when I tell you that you are far from uptight.”
“But I’m not like you and, presumably, not like your friends.”
“Caitlin might give a speech on how monogamy is not built into our DNA and how it’s against evolution and all that, but that doesn’t mean she won’t like you. Though it might mean that you won’t like her.” Sheryl looked up. “Speak of the devil.” She bent over the table and whispered to Kristin. “And sometimes that can be taken quite literally.” She plastered a big smile on her face, rose, and hugged Caitlin as she kissed her on each cheek.
What a greeting, Kristin thought. She and Cassie just nodded at each other when they met up. Christ, she needed another glass of Merlot. Kristin didn’t know how Sheryl got through situations like these without the lubricating effects of alcohol. She herself was living proof that drinking alcohol didn’t have to lead to abuse.
By the time she was introduced to Caitlin, Betty and her girlfriend had arrived as had Cassie. Kristin couldn’t help but wonder how it made Cassie feel to have drinks with a bunch of lesbians. It wasn’t that long ago that they both had been, to Cassie’s knowledge, two straight best friends. That was the thing about coming out. It changed the lives of those around you as well.
