Bree watched the display from living room.
He unloaded his arms onto the kitchen bench, drying his hands on my tea-towel. “I figured the other roses would be getting a bit tired by now, so I bought you some new ones.” As he straightened again, he spotted Bree standing there. Rather than look angry or disappointed or any of the things he should have, recognition just passed over his face and he smiled. “Bree, isn't it?” He walked over to her and held out his hand. “I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Stunned, Bree shook his hand automatically. I didn't know what to make of it, either, but I supposed it made sense. This was Henry, 'nice' was his MO. I shouldn't have expected otherwise.
“Hi,” she said up at him when they were done shaking hands. “You're as tall as Min.”
He laughed. “Thanks, I think.” He looked between us as I wandered cautiously out of the hallway. “It occurred to me that I've never actually had much of an opportunity to get to know Bree. Maybe I could fix that by cooking you two lunch?”
My stomach was already beginning to knot, but I very carefully tried not to let that show. Behind Henry, Bree was looking really uncomfortable. I didn't want to put her into another stressful situation when she had so much going on at home, but being cooked for by my boyfriend wasn't really something I could say no to, was it?
“Sounds great,” I managed.
He beamed at me, and then nodded once. “Great,” he repeated. “I was thinking I might cook something a bit traditional today, so I bought the ingredients for Japchae.” For Bree's benefit, he added, “A Korean noodle dish.”
He didn't need to explain what it was to me; it was probably my favourite Korean food, but only when Henry cooked it. He knew that, too.
“Oh, right,” Bree said, trying to sound excited. “Sounds yum.”
Henry asked us to sit down on the couch, and we all made polite conversation while he was preparing all the ingredients. When he actually had to cook it, though, he needed to turn around to the stove. The range hood fan plus the splattering sesame oil meant that the noise was too much for us to hear each other. It was a relief, but it was over too soon.
“So, ladies,” he asked, plates out and spatula ready, “How big a serving would you like?”
I didn't know how I made it through that lunch. Stress always made it basically impossible for me to eat, and even though I loved Henry's cooking, the taste alone wasn't enough to break through the discomfort so I could enjoy it. I did succeed in getting all of it inside me at least, and created enough of a fanfare that Henry must have been convinced that I thought it was delicious. He sat back when we were all done and looked content.
“Anyway, I’d better get moving,” he said as he stood up and cleared our empty plates, taking them back to the sink and turning the tap on. “People are going to start asking where I am if I’m not back at the office soon. Thanks for having me, though. It was great to learn more about you, Bree.”
Bree looked at me, confused. She'd said a few things, but for the most part she'd been silent.
When he was done washing up the plates, he threw out the old roses and filled the vase with the lovely new ones. I could smell them from where I was sitting; they must have been very fresh. He stood back after he'd spread them in the vase to admire his handiwork, asking, “What do you think?”
I thought that I didn't deserve them. “They're beautiful.”
He smiled fondly at me. “Well, they've come to the right person.”
It felt like a knife twisting in my gut. When I stood up to show him out, he walked me up the end of my hall where Bree couldn't see us and I was worried he was going to kiss me. Fortunately, I was wrong.
“I didn't want to spend ages talking about your family in front of Bree and make her feel excluded,” he said, picking up a plastic bag he'd dropped in the doorway. “Anyway, I bought these for your mum and grandma. What do you think?”
He'd bought them each one of those godawful Coogee jumpers they loved, and he held them both up so I could inspect his purchase. I could even tell which one he'd got for which person, because he knew them both and guessed their colours. It just hurt. Even the sizes were right.
“They're lovely,” I told him, feeling empty.
He noticed my expression. “It's not too late to come with me to Seoul,” he offered. “My family would still love to have you stay.”
I shook my head. “I'm going to Broome with Sarah. I can't say much.”
“Work?” he asked and I nodded, and then I saw something pass over his face. Disregarding it, he asked very casually, “Sounds fun, is Bree going, too?” When I shook my head, he may have tried to hide it, but I saw relief.
A silence stretched between us. Tell him, Min, I thought. Just say it. Say anything. I kept thinking about Mum, though. She loved him. She would have been spending the last week cleaning the house to make sure it was perfect for him. She would have been planning what they'd eat for a month and have half of it cooked already. She'd have told everyone he was coming, and be so looking forward to it. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment.
“Well, I suppose I'd better head off...” Henry said, when I stayed silent.
This time when he leant in to kiss me, I stopped him. “Henry, no,” I murmured, and then sighed.
I saw his throat bob as he swallowed, and then he took a breath. “It's probably for the best,” he said carefully. “If you're sick, you don't want to give it to me so I can give it to your grandma.” I let him lift his hand and tenderly cup my cheek. “I'll be waiting for you to feel better, though,” he told me. “Okay? You just let me know when you do.”
His hand dropped and then saluted me, the same way I'd done to him a thousand times. “See you soon,” he said, and then turned to walk toward the lift.
I watched him leave and then shut the door after him, leaning on it for a second.
If I had any doubt that he knew exactly what was going on between me and Bree, that exchange laid it to rest. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling sick.
I'd just listened to the man whose emotional acuity usually amazed me make a decision that was so unhealthy I couldn't even believe it had come from him. It was so unlike him, and it was my fault. I was doing this to him. I was so, so bad for him; we were bad for each other, and I'd wasted so many years of his life.
Bree padded gingerly up the hallway in her socks to check on me. “Are you okay?” I shook my head. She didn't try to touch me, though, not until after I'd gone into the bedroom and changed back into my guy stuff. Then, as we were sitting on the bed, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rested her head against mine.
“Wow,” she said bleakly. “He's really, really nice.”
I nodded slowly.
After a minute or so she took another breath, lifting her head from mine to look towards me. “I know you always take ages to tell everyone everything, but can you please not do that and tell him quickly this time? Because he's really, really nice and it just kind of really hurts to think about him assuming everything is okay when it's not.”
I made a pained noise. “He knows.”
She looked like she didn't understand. “But he was so nice to me.”
“Yeah. That's Henry.” I put my head back in my hands and swore. “Fuck. I wanted to tell him, but of course he's going to Mum's this weekend and if I break up with him now, I'm probably ruining Grandma's last Easter.” Bree sat up, silent. She had her hand on my back. “They love him. Mum's been telling me to marry him since day one. She's convinced he'll leave me as soon as he realises he's making a big mistake. She thinks he's way too good for me.” And she was probably right. Look at how I was treating him, after all.
“Your mum isn't very nice to you,” Bree commented.
I waved my hand dismissively. “She's just strict, maybe it's a Korean thing. Or maybe it's just my mum. She loves me, though.”
“Really?” Bree asked after some thought. It was a genuine question.
; I looked up at her. “Yeah, of course.”
She had those big sad eyes again. “Because you keep telling me all this stuff she says about you or all these things she's pressured you to do—”
“—She doesn't pressure me these days. Well, not like she used to. I just know what she'd want for me.”
Bree scoffed. “It's the same thing. Maybe you should talk to her. I mean, do you really think she'd want you to marry Henry, even if she knew you weren't in love with him?”
I knew the answer to that question. “Yes.”
Bree looked surprised by that, and it took her a couple of seconds to get over it. “But doesn't she know you're miserable?”
I shrugged.
Looking aghast, she touched my face with light fingertips, and it was such a delicate, affectionate gesture. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “But if she really loves you, like really, why doesn't she just want you to be happy?”
I hadn't expected that, and it felt like a fucking sword through the chest. I put a hand over my mouth as sudden tears welled in my eyes.
It was a question I'd felt my entire life, every time she disapproved of something I'd done. Every time she'd told me I was doing things wrong. Every time she'd dressed me in the clothes she thought I should be wearing, and cut my hair the way she thought it should be cut, and put me in 'the right type of school' so I could get into a course she'd chosen in her preferred university. I'd made friends I thought she'd like in uni, and I could still hear that phrase she always muttered when she disapproved of something, 'If only your father was here to see how the daughter he wanted actually turned out...'
Why didn't she want me to be happy?
Bree looked really distressed. “I'm sorry,” she said desperately, throwing her arms around me and obviously about to cry, too. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you upset!”
I shook my head, but I couldn't say anything straight away. Bree was so caring, and so sweet and she wanted to help me so much. But Mum wasn't something she could do anything about. I still wanted her to understand, though. I wanted her to understand. The trouble was, I didn't even know where to start. I'd never told anyone before, not even school counsellors, and Henry had just quietly understood.
I took a breath. There was one memory I still thought about, sometimes.
“When I was in high school, something that used to comfort me through all the shit was lying awake in bed at night and imagining what would happen if I was made dux of the school. It would be my biggest triumph. I used to imagine how proud Mum would be of me, how it would feel to have her look at me with real actual pride in her eyes.” I smiled faintly. “And then it happened. I got top marks. I walked out on that stage and was presented with the diploma by the principal and the whole auditorium stood one by one in their seats and gave me a standing ovation. It went on and on, all these people clapping and cheering for me. When I found her face in the audience, though, she was looking down the front where all the popular girls who made my life hell were standing, slow-clapping and pretending to yawn. Later, after the ceremony, she said to me, 'Of course none of those girls like you, you're too arrogant. Nails that stick out get hammered'.”
Bree looked appalled. “Min, that's so awful,” she said. “Why would anyone say that to you?”
I shrugged. “She was just raised like that, I guess. To her 'strict' is the opposite of 'neglectful'. She's not a bad person. She's just...” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She's just how she is.”
Bree stroked the hair at the back of my neck. “At least she's all the way over in Korea now...”
I laughed once, darkly. “Yeah, I thought I was going to be free, too, when I got moved up to Sydney and she decided to go back to Seoul. But I'm not. The worst part is, no matter where she is in the world, I still fucking care about it all. I still care. Even about tiny little things, like I put on my fucking blouse this morning and I was asking myself, 'Would Mum like me in this?'. Nothing I seem to be able to do stops that from being true.” I paused, looking down at my flat chest and jeans. “And if she knew how I feel about myself, and the way I'd rather be...”
“Oh...”
“Yeah, 'oh',” I said, copying her. “She didn't even like me wearing sneakers because they made my feet look big and unfeminine, especially after I started getting teased at school. She threw out all my comfortable clothes. ” I exhaled. “So, yeah. Maybe she does want me to be happy, in her own way. Or maybe not. Maybe she wants me to be miserable like she is. I don't even know. I don't think I ever will.”
Bree's thumb brushed lightly across my cheek, over where some of my tears had spilt. She was so gentle. “Well, I want you to be happy,” she said quietly.
That got another tear out of me. I smiled wryly, and pushed a couple of curls behind her ears. She had tears on her cheeks; she'd been crying because I was. “I want you to be happy, too.”
Leaning her head into my hand, she said, “I am right now...” and gave me a little smile.
I just wrapped my arms around her shoulders and squeezed the life out of her. “Stop it, Bree, you're going to make me cry again.”
When I pulled back she was still smiling up at me, so I skimmed one of her rosy cheeks with the back of my knuckles. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to do more than that, but I wanted to start by kissing those gentle lips of hers again.
Almost like she could read my thoughts, she said, “I really want to just kiss you, but Henry's too nice. I would feel like such an awful person.”
Sitting back, I nodded. “I know.” I ran my hands over my face.
She began to look sad again and that reminded me of all the crap we'd been talking about. I was exhausted. “Come on,” I told her, standing up and offering her my hand. “Let’s go overdose on Disney.” I led her back out into the living room to do exactly that.
I didn't stop thinking about the stuff that we'd talked about as we watched the movies, though, and I kept remembering that I was leaving for Broome tomorrow and Bree would have to go back home to her messed up family.
“What are you doing for Easter?” I asked her. “Anything particular?”
She shrugged, looking from the screen to me. “Everyone usually comes over, which is just great.” She sounded heavily sarcastic. “There's nothing I love more than being in a house with my whole fucked up family, all together.”
“Your brother, too?”
She made a face at the mention of him. “Yeah, probably, because Grandma will bring a cake over and they're awesome.” She reconsidered that, scowling. “Who the fuck am I kidding? He'll be over because Grandma always carries cash and leaves her handbag by the front door.”
I couldn't get that image out of my head: her brother just coming into her room and stealing that bracelet she loved from right in front of her. Or the image of her lying alone in bed wishing she was somewhere else, like here.
Actually... “Don't go back there for Easter,” I found myself telling her. “Stay here and look after my apartment while I'm in Broome. If you won't be too lonely, that is.”
She unfolded her arms, her face relaxing out of the frown it had been in. “Really?” I nodded. “You're trusting me to stay here by myself?” She sounded completely incredulous, like she didn't believe anyone could ever have faith in her.
“Well if I get back and my apartment is gone, I'm going to be very upset.”
She wrapped her arms completely around me and the strength at which she was crushing me threatened to break a couple of my ribs. “Really?” she said, just checking again. “You're not joking, are you? Like, seriously?”
I managed to get an arm up despite the vice-like grip she had me in, and I ruffled those curls. “Stay here, Bree. It's fine. I'll leave you some money for food and emergencies.”
I didn't get her off me for the rest of the movie, but at least she obediently stayed on the other side of the bed all night.
The following day after I'd packed and showed her how to use the Smart TV—“You can
use the internet on your TV? That is so cool!”—I put my mobile number beside the phone and three hundred on the kitchen bench. I'd originally been planning on leaving five, but then I worried that given her family's situation it might look like showing off.
“Let me know if you need more,” I told her, worrying anyway. “I can arrange it via the hotel.”
She picked up the six fifties and fanned them like a suit of cards in her hand. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “What the hell am I going to need all this money for?” As I was checking I had everything I needed, though, I noticed her surveying the apartment and gave her a questioning look. She had a pained expression. “It's stupid,” she told me. “Like, as soon as I picked up the money, my first thought was, 'Oh, god, where the hell am I going to hide this?'”
“It's safe here,” I promised her, and then pat myself down, trying to figure out which pocket I'd put my phone in. I hadn't been wearing these jeans long enough to have routines about them.
She looked me up and down. “You're going as a guy?”
I shrugged. “Who's going to recognise me in Broome?”
She held her hands up. “I'm not having a go at you, I think it's great!” she said. “Take lots of photos.”
I gave her a look that said 'in your dreams'. “I'd better go or I'm going to miss my plane.”
She grabbed my sleeve. “You didn't hug me. I'm going to be by myself for like four whole days and you didn't even hug me.”
“Oh,” I said, and very pointedly put down my handbag and my suitcase before holding my arms out to her. She giggled and jumped into them, throwing hers around my neck. I had to hunch so much to let her do it that after a few seconds it started to hurt my back. For a moment I considered just picking her up. I could, I thought, if I wanted to. I didn't this time, though, I just hugged her tightly.
She pulled away from me with this elated expression on her face. Her cheeks were glowing and that made me want to kiss them. “That was a good hug,” she told me. “You're getting much better at them.”
Under My Skin Page 51
