Page 6 of Mother Parker
“What am I supposed to do, Halmeoni? It’s my business. It’s my home. I’ve only just started. I can’t take a break yet,” I tried to reason with her, but I knew where she was going with this.
“You need to hire help,” she said.
“I have help,” I said.
“Elliot only work weekends. He don’t count. You a young boy, you have so much to live for, but the last few years especially, you work so much. You know what they say. All work, no play make Hwan a dull boy.”
I felt my chest tremble, but I kept down the laugh that threatened.
I loved my grandma. She was my only family, and I knew she loved me, but she had no idea what it was like for me on this island.
There was a reason I’d devoted myself to a life of hard work and barely ever went out or dated. There was a reason my dream of opening my own bubble tea shop had become my obsession, especially in the last couple of years. So many reasons, yet she only knew a tiny few of them.
As close as I was to my halmeoni, I couldn’t necessarily share my dating woes or details. I respected her too much, even if we were unconventionally close and somewhat casual for a Korean grandma and grandson.
It had been us two against the world for sixteen years, after all. At this point, she was less a grandmother and more a mother and confidant.
“I know. I know, Halmeoni. But I can’t afford a full-timer yet. After buying the place, you know money is tight.”
“You can’t do everything alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I said. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m old.”
“When it’s convenient, maybe,” I smirked, and she gave me the stink eye before laughing it off. “And Elliot’s a lot of help when he’s in. And I’ve got Carson, the guys from the restaurant who owe me, like, a gazillion favors, Nim…”
Halmeoni put her hand up and shook her head.
“A lot of sacrifice for a shop,” she said.
“How can you say that, Halmeoni?” I put my chopsticks down and looked at my grandma’s plate. “You know what the shop means to me. What it means to both of us.”
She reached her hand across the table and squeezed mine with her warm, skinny fingers, and I reluctantly raised my gaze to meet her eyes.
“Of course, I know. But, yeya, when I say to use your appa’s money, I mean it because it was holding you back. I do not mean to sacrifice your life for a shop.”
I took a deep breath, the aroma of the roasted barley tea I’d grown up with—one of many wonderful flavors—adding extra comfort to my halmeoni’s words.
My sperm donor’s hefty inheritance, as unwanted as it had been at the time of his demise, had been weighing heavily on me, but it had also managed to make my dream come true. I wish she could see that I was happy just as I was. Or as happy as I could be at this point in time.
“The shop isn’t forever, yeya.You are young. You have so much to live for. All I say is, don’t just live for the shop.”
If only those were things I didn’t know myself already. And when Halmeoni talked about living, I knew exactly what she meant.
“You don’t know how hard it is to date as a queer Korean man on this island, Halmeoni,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow, piercing me with her intense brown eyes.
“You never know. Love may be around the corner. But you can’t see it if you don’t stop playing with boba and open your eyes,” she said.
I usually didn’t mind Halmeoni’s positive thinking. Heck, I’d inherited a healthy dose of it myself.
But somehow, after what our family had been through, especially my omma, and after everything I’d experienced from the dating scene in Mayberry Holm, I seriously doubted that the love of my life was around the corner.
“Okay, okay. I hear you. Loud and clear. Can we stop talking about me now? Let’s talk about you,” I said and smiled.
Halmeoni patted my hand and returned her attention to the food between us.
