Page 7 of Mother Parker
“Talk what about me? I sixty-two, I retired, I bored. That is all.”
“Oh please, Halmeoni. Stop playing the old card today. Only two weeks ago you were painting my shop. You’re not old!”
She ignored me and instead drank her tea. I did too. The sweet nuttiness of the roasted barley spread through me like a fuzzy security blanket, and I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling.
Even if I drank tea daily, even if I made my very own barley tea, for some weird, mystical reason, nothing ever tasted as wonderful as Halmeoni’s boricha.
But then again, that was the case with everything else. My kimchi paled in comparison, as did my bibimbap. But I’d learned to accept it. At least for now.
I didn’t know what I’d do when Halmeoni eventually passed, hopefully in the very far,extremely distant,future. How I’d ever be able to feel at home.
I won’t even start with that thread.
The rest of the meal went by in a breeze after I relented and told her I’d get a life one day. I didn’t specify which day exactly, so I thought I was safe from further probing for the time being.
“You want some boricha for the road?” she asked as I picked up my coat and put on my cat-shaped headphones.
“Do you need to ask? The answer is always yes.”
I left Halmeoni’s house—and up until three weeks ago, my house also—with a thermos full of the good stuff.
It was still light outside, although the weather had taken a slightly windier turn. The sidewalk in the front yard was starting to grow weeds again, but the rest looked adorable as always.
Having a green thumb helped, I guessed, and my halmeoni had hers in bounds. That was why her garden was one of the best on the island. Especially in the summer months, tourists would stop by hourly and take snapshots of the cute “fairy house,” as some had nicknamed it.
Climbing plants hung from the roof all over the front wall, while on either side of the sidewalk was a gorgeous symmetrical garden with a couple of rows of white hibiscus, followed by big patches of pink petunias, then white chrysanthemums that wrapped around the pink rose bushes that were Halmeoni’s pride and joy.
A white arbor completely overwhelmed by purple bougainvilleas gave the front its finishing fae touches that charmed locals and visitors alike.
I inhaled the overpowering rose scent deep into my lungs and walked, thermos in hand, to my lime green Chevy Spark.
Just as I opened the door to get in, a flutter brushed my hair, and I looked up to find the familiar friendly beaks of Blanche, Sophia, and Rose. The beautiful and full of personality crows that had adopted Halmeoni and me a few years ago.
“Hey, girls,” I said and stroked under Blanche’s neck. “Did you miss me?”
They all cawed affectionately, and Sophia, the shortest of the bunch like her namesake, pecked my hand.
“I know. I know. I’ve been terrible. I promise I’ll try and visit more often as soon as business at the shop settles.”
Rose nudged my finger, and Blanche fluffed up. They were all so smart and such wonderful company. I looked at the gate that led to the backyard where we’d buried Dorothy after she got sick last year and felt a pinch of guilt that I’d neglected my girls. All my girls, Halmeoni included.
“Hold on one sec,” I told them, walking back to the porch to get their seeds and my smartphone. I clicked a few buttons, and two seconds later, I was live on Instagram. “Hi, Kimchis! It’s your boy, Hwanchan, here. I just visited Halmeoni, and I’m so sad you guys can’t try her food because, as usual, it was divine.”
The numbers on the top of the screen—the live viewers—kept rising until I had over three hundred of my two million subscribers watching. By the time I was done, it’d be in the thousands.
Comments, hearts, and compliments poured in through the screen, and I quickly showed them the garden before I turned my attention to the Golden Girls.
“Look who came for a visit. You guys, when I tell you crows are the smartest animals in the world, I’m not joking. Look at them. Sophia is still mad that I haven’t been over lately, and Blanche is just glad for the company. Some days I wish I could take them with me to the new place.”
I turned the camera back toward me and spun around so the birds were behind me. Rose climbed on my shoulder and pecked my ear.
“Someone’s hungry,” I said, laughing.
I threw the seeds in my hand away from me toward the sidewalk, and without missing a beat, all three of them dove right for their snack.
Which ended up landing on another, yummier kind of snack.
A tall, gorgeous, mountainous snack of a man that both made me choke and catch my breath on sight.
