Page 27 of Kings Don't Break
“Would you tell me… if you were unhappy?”
“Mama—”
“A mother knows her child,” she interrupts. “If you were unhappy, I hope you’d do what’s best for you. Not for me. I’ve lived my life, baby. You’ve got yours laid out in front of you. You can do anything. Haven’t I always told you that? Didn’t your father too before he passed?”
I’m in tears before I know it. A running theme for today. I let out a shaky sigh and pull into our driveway. “Yes, Mama. You’ve both always encouraged me.”
She reaches over and wipes the tears from my cheek. “I know I’m not always here. I wish I were. I wish I… oh. Oh no.”
“What is it—bathroom?”
Her wide, horrified eyes tell me we have seconds.
I rush from the driver’s side to make it to her in time.
In the end, we do. Just barely.
I spend the next hour getting her cleaned up and settled in her room. The entire time, I’m preoccupied with thoughts about what she said earlier during our drive home.
Mama makes it sound so simple. As if it’s that easy to follow my happiness and forget the consequences.
Her never-ending medical needs and the steep bills that come with them say differently. My lack of financial freedom and any meaningful career prospects prove otherwise.
I’m not even supposed to have my Geo anymore. Luckily, Ken felt guilty after his latest violent fit once he realized he’d beaten me a little harder than he intended. The black and blue marring my skin were inconvenient reminders which forced a change of heart in him. He let me keep the Geo—unfixed and sporting the crushed rear bumper from my hit-and-run—but not without first mentioning I should be grateful for his kindness and mercy.
That sums up the extent of agency I’m allowed…
I went to the Autoshop yesterday, behind his back, with what little funds I have saved.
How do you escape being suffocated when you’re never given room to breathe?
Today’s phone call was reckless. If Ken even senses leaving him is on my mind…
Intense dizziness threatens to take over just imagining his reaction.
It wouldn’t be pretty at all. Would he even let me out the door alive? Already aware of the dark answer to that question, it disturbs me so much I have to force the thought away.
I focus on staying ahead of the schedule, rushing to start dinner prep.
I’m quick and efficient. I chop the green and red peppers as the chicken bakes in the oven and the tomato sauce boils on the stove. The table is set with no plate or piece of cutlery out of place. The fireplace is lit, and Ken's drink is poured and left for him at his seat at the head of the table.
He enters the kitchen, still in his uniform, to the sight of me at the stove. He sniffs the air and gives a nod of approval.
“Smells delicious, Kor.”
It’s as he comes in close to kiss my cheek that I detect a scent of my own—flowery notes that can only be women’s perfume. Far from the first time I’ve smelled it on him, I’m caught between reactions. Instant curiosity about the scent conflicts with the roil of nerves his proximity brings me. The nerves win out, and I bite my tongue, making every effort to keep my hands steady and appear calm.
He’s taken to studying me. His gaze rakes over me, head to toe as if checking for a mistake. Once he’s satisfied, he backs off, his hands on his belt. “How was Sunny’s appointment?”
“It went well. The doctor thinks he might have a new treatment that could reverse some of her condition.”
“Sounds expensive.”
My nerves twist tighter in my stomach. “You’re right. I’m… I’m sure he’ll figure something else out.”
“I said it sounds expensive. I didn’t say we wouldn’t try it. Sunny is a part of our family. Why would you think I wouldn’t want her to get better?”
“You’re right,” I repeat, puzzled by his mood swing. “I just meant if it was too expensive?—”
