Page 11 of The Waiting Game

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I can handle the temptation. I’m ready. I’ll enjoy my ginger ale and lime.”

“Okay. You be good. I’ll love you even if you slip up. But remember, I’ll know.” She tapped her temple.

Felix nodded very seriously. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”

Her face brightened. “Okay. You go and have fun tonight. But not too much fun.”

“I’ll have just the right amount of fun,” Felix promised, kissing her cheek.

Jonah did the same, hugging his grandmother. “Have a good night.”

She shrugged. “They’re all the same now that Cho is gone.”

“I know,” Jonah said, feeling a touch guilty he didn’t visit more.

She was still plenty active with a large social circle, but she hadn’t dated at all since Grandpa Cho’s death seven years ago.

He’d asked her once why she didn’t date and she’d snorted. “You ever met men my age? Your grandpa was not the norm. Thank God, because neither am I.”

And well, she had a point.

Jonah could understand why she was reluctant to date. Their marriage had set the bar high for him too. Though he was deeply grateful his grandparents had always been supportive of his sexuality.

Not every Korean family was as accepting.

But his grandparents had always been a little bit ground-breaking.

Lim Cho-eun and Ji-min had been born in Korea in the 1940s and as young adults, they’d attended university in Seoul, Korea, and married.

When Lim Cho-eun had come to Canada for graduate school in the 1960s, his wife had come with him and after several years, they had both been granted permanent visas.

Grandma Ji-min had eventually attended grad school as well and Grandpa Cho had been proud of his wife’s ambition at a time when many Korean marriages were still built along more traditional gender roles, even here in Canada.

The Korean population in Toronto had been small then and Grandpa Cho’s studies at the university had exposed them to a variety of people from other cultures and backgrounds.

Though Grandpa Cho and Grandpa Ji-min had held onto many parts of their heritage, they’d come to love hockey, Tim Hortons, and the overuse of the word ‘sorry’ just like many Canadian-born citizens.

Growing up, Jonah had been fascinated by the stories his grandparents told of their early lives together. Afternoons spent walking Toronto neighborhoods, passionately discussing architecture and landscaping, planning their future home.

They had been partners. True equals in every sense of the word, in business and in life. They’d built a thriving landscape design and architecture business together, melding their two passions into one.

And when they’d hired Clive Robbins to work for their business and had learned that he was gay and his family had disowned him, they’d chosen to help him get on his feet. Ji-min had quickly taken him under her wing, although Grandpa Cho had been slower to come around.

But he’d gotten there eventually.

Grandpa Cho grew fond of Clive and his partner, Terry Ramirez, eventually marching in parades and speaking up for marriage equality on their behalf.

As a child, Jonah had taken his family’s support of Clive and Terri for granted. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized it wasn’t necessarily the norm for every Canadian family, much less a Korean Canadian one.

When six-year-old Jonah had boldly declared that he was going to marry a boy someday, his grandparents had merely hugged him and told him they were fighting to make that happen.

Jonah had been twelve when Canada finally made gay marriage legal. By then, Felix had already been distracted by pretty girls and Jonah had already known Felix would never feel the same way Jonah did about him.

“Jo?” Felix said, pulling him from his thoughts. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jonah said. He leaned in and kissed his grandmother’s cheek, then inched toward the side yard. “We’re going now. Love you!”

“Love you too. Both of you.”

---