Page 64 of For You, Sir

Now, twenty years later, Ho-Sung had finally accomplished what my father never could. Gratitude rolled through me, and my eyes burned with profound relief. After Ho-Sung totaled two cars andstillhadn’t cut back on drinking, I’d started to fear he would never reach old age. For years now, any time I got a phone call after 10:00pm, my first thought was,“Ho-Sung is dead.”Was the nightmare finally over? Was my brother done with the car crashes, unexplained bruises, and weepy phone calls he couldn’t remember later?

“To be honest, I started going ‘cause I got a DWI,” Ho-Sung admitted sheepishly. “Did the whole 90-meetings-in-90-days thing, you know? But I stuck with it after.”

No wonder I didn’t see his car in the parking lot.“I’m proud of you, Ho-Sung. Truly.” I held his gaze to show how sincere I was.

“Hey. What’s up?” Einar rejoined us with drinks in hand and handed me my iced tea.

“I’m sober now,” my brother announced cheerily. “From alcohol, anyway.”

Ho-Sung’s candor gave me a flash of second-hand embarrassment, but Einar smiled broadly. “Hey, congrats!” he said.

“Thanks.”

I cleared my throat, eager to redirect the conversation. “Anyway, Ho-Sung... I wanted to ask you how Mom’s financial situation is looking.”

“Eh. She’s fine, I guess.” Ho-Sung shrugged. “Tight-fisted as ever. She doesn’t have much, but she spends even less. You’d think she plans to live to 150 with what a tightwad she is.”

Not that she’ll live out the year if she keeps drinking while she’s on her cancer meds.

“How about you?” I asked. “Are you still trying to save for a down payment on a condo?”

Ho-Sung waved a hand. “Not anymore. Staying with Mom is working for both of us. And sometimes I’ve gotta travel for work.”

“Where do you work?” Einar asked, voicing my question. It was nice to have this glimpse of what Einar was like around other people—a gracious listener, genuinely interested.

“Oh, damn!” Ho-Sung turned to me. “I don’t think I’ve even toldyouabout my job yet. Remember when I was trying to make it as a DJ?”

Ah, jeez. Here we go…

“It never really worked out,” he continued, looking between me and Einar. “But I’d already bought a bunch of gear and got pretty good at sound mixing and adjusting audio levels.” He grinned triumphantly. “Landed me a job as a sound engineer. Well, apprentice engineer, but after a few more months, they’ll let me do it solo.” His eyes gleamed.Be proud of me,they said.

“Wow,” I said. “That sounds right up your alley.” I clapped him on the shoulder, pushing myself to be more effusive than usual.

“It is! I work the sound board for concerts and conferences and stuff. High-paying corporate gigs. Been at it for seven months already.”

It didn’t escape me that the timeline for his new job and sobriety went hand-in-hand. “That’s great, Ho-Sung. Sounds like the perfect fit for you.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Einar chimed in. “What a cool job.”

Ho-Sung beamed at us both, but his eyes lingered on mine. Had he always been this eager for my approval? I couldn’t remember.

“Do you need to get a degree for that kind of work?” I asked.

“Nah. It’s more of a learn-on-the-job kind of deal.”

“Wouldn’t it help to finish school, though?” Paying Ho-Sung’s tuition sounded even better than helping him buy his own place.

He pulled a face. “Fuck, no. I’m done with college. I figured if anyone would go back to school, it’d be you.”

“Ohh?” Einar raised an eyebrow at me quizzically as he sipped his coffee.

I frowned at Ho-Sung. “What do you mean?”I’ve already got a job I love.

“Culinary school, man. It was all you ever talked about when we were kids. But Dad was like, ‘only peasants are cooks,’ and didn’t want to hear it.”

“Oh, yeah…” I had forgotten theonly peasantspart, but it came back to me as soon as Ho-Sung mentioned it. In my father’s eyes, the worst things his sons could amount to were cooks or domestic servants—the only two occupations that had ever appealed to me.

“I’m surprised you never went,” Ho-Sung said. “It was your dream, wasn’t it?”

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