Instead of responding to my loaded question, he remains quiet for a while and I turn my head slightly to glance at him curiously. He seems to be deep in thought and when he narrows his eyes at the tombstone in front of us, I conclude that he does still hate our late father a little. It's why he didn't cry at his funeral. He was angry at him for not taking the necessary precautions.
He shouldn't have driven in that weather. He should've known that something terrible could have happened. But I don't want Yang Jin to live his life thinking about what could have been.
The longer I keep looking at the darkness looming across his facial expression, the more I can see him standing at the crossroads of his existence. One path leads to absolute relief and the other leads to the weight of regret hanging heavy on his shoulders and for some reason, as I keep looking at him, my heart grows heavier.
"What are you doing?" he muses and I don't miss the nervousness in his tone, his body stiffening under my hold.
"Hugging you," I murmur quietly.
"Why?"
"Just don't make this weird, Yang Jin."
"It's already weird."
"Would you shut up, a-hiann?"
"I thought you don't speak Cantonese," he points out, narrowing his eyes down at me and I'm going to guess from that response that he overheard Halmeoni reprimanding me for choosing to learn Korean over Cantonese. I don't understand why she's so pressed as if she cannot both understand and speak Korean too.
"I looked up big brother, younger brother and younger sister. I'm going to call Chu Hua sió-tī and Ji Ho sió-muē so Halmeoni can shut up about the fact that I don't know any words in Cantonese."
"Other way around," he corrects me quickly and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion when I glance at him. "Chu Hua is sió-muē and Ji Ho is sió-tī."
"Yeah… I knew that. I was just… testing your Cantonese. Still good."
He releases a noise of amusement behind his throat and we stay in our embrace until it isn't as uncomfortable as it was in the beginning. I press my ear into his chest and listen to the drumming of his heart under the layer of his shirt. He lays his chin on my hair and I take in this moment. A moment that will forever be stored in my happy thoughts.
My breathing is barely audible, but puffs of mist leave past my nose and I watch it to see how far it'll go before dissolving into invisible gas.
The twins rarely ever visit our late father. Ji Ho has a phobia of graveyards after he watched a movie that messed him up. Hopefully, that taught him to wait until he's old enough to watch horrors. Chu Hua doesn't consider Appa her dad. Yes, she acknowledges that he's the man who aided in her birth, but other than that she feels nothing towards him.
Franklin raised her from the moment she was a baby. I don't blame her for seeing him as the person who deserves the place as her dad in her heart.
It's a little bit more difficult for Yang Jin and I, especially Yang Jin though. I can barely remember Appa's face sometimes. I have to take a furtive look at his picture to refresh it in my mind before hiding the picture as if to erase the entire ordeal.
My brother was older and, I have to admit, had a greater bond with him. What I had established in my five years of living with him, Yang Jin had established in ten years, approximately one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five thousand days more, give or take.
It's why I understand his forlorn anger towards him. It's why I understand the reason he was being difficult with our mum and Franklin. He felt as if he was replacing his dad. In his heart no one could be Appa.
"I'm not," he says, breaking the silence that we were comfortably entrapped in.
"You're not what?"
"Angry." I tilt my head up to look at him and I see him still staring ahead of us. "At Appa. I won't lie for the longest time, I was, but I soon came to the realisation that it was not his fault that that accident happened. He didn't drive with the intent to die. Nobody does."
His eyes land on me when he says those last two words. It does not take a genius to read between the lines of what he's saying to me. Even though I hate to admit it, he is right, but at the same time, we just couldn't help, but be a little upset at him.
Franklin was right. Appa knew the risk of driving in those strong winds and harsh rain. If he had just waited it out, then he would still be here. That is part of the reason why I don't want to drive. I've been telling so many people that it's because I cannot drive without instructions so much that I started believing it myself.
The truth has always been in front of me all this time. I was just too afraid to face it head-on. When that accident happened, it wasn't only our family who were left devastated. The young girl in the other car also got hurt. Granted she didn't die like my dad did, but she did lose her lower limb in the process. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for her to have gone through that.
I cannot imagine having to live with the knowledge that I wounded someone to the point that they had to get one of their limbs amputated off. I remember back when I almost ran Dominic over all those months ago. When he was just lying there on the floor, unmoving, I was so scared. It would have been so ironic. The one time that I decide to drive and I already kill my first victim. When Dominic started touching his knee, I was sure I had hurt him terribly.
Luckily, it was just a nudge.
"Sometimes I feel like Amma hates me," he voices out softly out of nowhere and I can hear the break in his voice.
"What?" He remains quiet afterwards, his eyes clouding over with darkness, a despondent darkness. "Is this about what she said at the bus station? I think she was just joking about that, Yang Jin. Granted, it was a horrible joke, but a joke nonetheless."
"I'm not just talking about the time at the bus station, Seong Jin. Sometimes, when she looks at me, I feel like she's just… wishing me away."
I sit up and my gaze stabs him earnestly. "That's bullshit. Why would you think that? She looks at you the same way she looks at all of us."
"I think she might not over my high school endeavours," he says, averting his eyes onto his lap. "I am a disappointment. And I can't exactly blame her for feeling that way. I never used to respect her. I wasted her money by getting that degree and doing nothing with it. I'm fucking… twenty two and I still live with my parents."
My eyes soften sympathetically. "Where is this all coming from, Yang Jin?"
He glances over at me for a quick second, and then he blinks and looks away. My brows dip down and I slant my head, observing him curiously.
This is so weird. Yang Jin and I barely have a heart-to-heart with one another. Has he been keeping all these emotions buried within him or is this the first time that he has had these thoughts? Is it because of the comment that our mum made back at the bus station? That he's a disappointment to her.
I thought Yang Jin was smart enough to tell when someone is joking. That's what this family is built on. While other families tell each other that they love each other very single day, we bring each other up by insulting one another and never telling each other that deep down we actually love each other.
Looking at him intensely, I realise that this is something that's deep rooted. This is not something spurned by a single comment. Perhaps the comment was a catalyst for him to acknowledge said feeling.
Thoughts like these don't just pop up. They are planted and the brain, the intellectual, overthinking monster, manifests that thought into something so ugly. Doubt assists in the process, spouted by the organ itself. Now, he is here, telling me about those thoughts. Has it gotten to the point that it's eating him inside out?
"I'm calling Amma," I tell him, fisting my phone out of my pocket.
"To tell her what?" he asks, watching me in panic.
"How you think she feels. I don't want you to go back to the house thinking that our mum hates you. Like, what kind of fuckery is that?"
"You can't tell her.".
"Too late," I exclaim delightfully and show him the phone's screen. Fortunately, my mum answers her phone on the second ring. She normally does not answer at all. Yang Jin glares at me and tries to snatch the phone, but I'm too fast for him. My voice coming out strained from the scuffle, I say, "Amma..."
"Why are you calling me?" she whisper-shouts demandingly without greeting me. "Your grandma is working me like a slave."
"Sorry about that, but I–"
"She said it's because she can't work on her own anymore from her ageing bones," she interrupts me and I purse my lips in irritation, "but I think she just wants to punish me because I didn't let you learn Cantonese."
"Can we talk about this later maybe, cause right now I–"
"That's so fucked up of her to do," she whispers, lest Grandma hears her and whacks her in the head for cursing. On Christmas of all days. "I mean, did I set the curriculum of your school? Who does she think I am? Boris Johnson."
"Boris Johnson doesn't set our curriculum, Amma." I state in a defeated tone and my brother has given up fighting me for the phone and is now just watching me in hilarity.
"Your grandma is giving me the death glare," she says quietly and then out loud, she adds, "Hai, Má-mah, I already checked the baked potatoes. I'll be there in a minute." Then to me, she demands hurriedly, "What do you want?"
I put the phone on speaker and ask, "Do you hate Yang Jin?"
"What?" I can imagine her frowning in confusion, wondering why I'm even asking her such a question.
"Do you hate Yang Jin?"
"Where is this coming from?" she muses, her tone turning more serious.
I glance up at my brother and instead of snatching my phone to disconnect the call, he looks at the device, waiting. Almost as if, deep down, he actually believes that our mother could possibly hate him. Could it be that all this time he wanted to be told that we love him like we do with Ji Ho. Sweet, sensitive Ji Ho? Is he just as sensitive as our little brother is? I have always known that he gets angrier faster, but I didn't think it could get to this point.
"I'm just wondering. You look at him a certain type of way." Apparently.
"What type of way?"
"Like you're not over his behaviour from when he was just starting out in high school. So do you hate him?"
She remains silent and Yang Jin's eyes dim into a sudden acceptance. That Amma hates him.
Worriedly, I call for her to answer my question and hopefully, she just says that she loves him. "Amma?"
"Is Yang Jin there with you right now?" she asks instead of replying to my question.
My eyes enlarge and flicker up to meet my brother's eyes who has lost interest in the conversation. He turns around and walks over to our dad's tombstone with his head hung low and his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his white hoodie.
"Uh… no?" Technically, he isn't, right? He's all the way over there, out of earshot.
"I need to go, Seong Jin. I think I smell something burning," she mutters abruptly. Even I can tell that she's lying and I furrow my eyebrows in perplex. "Be safe, okay?"
I'm quiet for a little while until I reply with a soft, "Okay."
She hangs up the phone and my thoughts run wild until one stands out clearly. Does she actually hate Yang Jin?
As the day draws to a close and the sun begins to dip below the horizon, my friend Yang Jin and I take a leisurely stroll along the path that leads us past the rows of houses in the nearby cemetery.
As we approach the hill that we must climb over in order to reach our destination, I pause to catch my breath and assess the challenge ahead. I can feel my heart racing and my muscles beginning to ache as I contemplate the effort that will be required to ascend the steep incline. Despite my best efforts to maintain my fitness, age has taken its toll on my body and I find that even the thought of physical exertion is enough to leave me feeling tired and drained.
Nonetheless, I steel myself for the climb ahead, determined to reach our destination no matter the cost.
"Alright. Let's do this."
"You sure you can make it up there with your," he gestures to my mid-section area, "flab?"
"You say that like you're fit."
He pulls the end of his hoodie up and reveals his barely visible abs. "I still look better than you so… I think the point goes to me, Seong Jin."
"Whatever," I murmur irritably and walk ahead of him.
Once we get to the top, I'm panting like a dog and prompting Yang Jin to open the gate a little bit faster than he is. I feel like Pi when he was stuck at sea. Thirsty as fuck. I keep swallowing my saliva to get rid of the sand papery feeling in my throat. Except it's not enough. I need water and I need it now. Placing a hand on my chest, I take in a deep breath and wipe the sweat from my forehead again.
Glaring at Yang Jin's back in confusion at what's taking him so long, I shove his immobile body out of the way and untangle the chain that is keeping the gates bound to one another, leaving it on top of the gate for Yang Jin to lock after he gets in. If he doesn't, Halmeoni will just shout at him and not me. I think I've been yelled at enough already.
When I surprisingly see Amma glancing up at us from where she is seated on the step leading up to the veranda, I ungainly stumble over my feet a little and halt. What is she doing out here? Waiting for us? She's going to give us a hiding, because of the phone call, isn't she? Before I can blame Yang Jin for it, she stands up and hurries over to me with her arms held open. Like she is going to hug me.
Well, this is a nice surprise. I open my arms too with a smile.
She walks right past me.
My smile is replaced by a frown and I turn around just in time to see her embracing Yang Jin. My eyes fall out of their sockets and roll on the floor in flabbergast. What the... is my mother actually hugging my eldest brother or am I merely hallucinating?
I pinch myself in my arm to confirm that this is not a dream. When I feel the slight pain, I conclude that my grandmother put something in my food this morning and the substance is only kicking in right now. That or, Amma is hugging Yang Jin. As in she has her arms around him and is showing him affection.
After a while, she pulls back a little and I can sense the tension in Yang Jin even from here, but she still makes sure to keep her hands on his shoulders. She whispers something to him that I can't decipher clearly, and Yang Jin's lips tremble a little before he manages to purse them to stop the mild tremors. His eyes start to glisten with tears. I scowl and narrow my eyes at my mum. What did she just say to him right now?
If she made him feel worse after I was able to make him forget about the fact that she could possibly hate him, I won't talk to her for a very long time. This Christmas will be spent with an upset older brother and an even angrier younger brother of said older brother. I hope. I say that because sometimes I forget that I'm angry at people and I end up talking to them. That ends up breaking the ice and then I can't go back to ignoring them afterwards.
Then my brother falls into her arms again and I see his shoulders shaking before he buries his face into hers. My heart sinks in concern. This is a good thing, right? He isn't crying because Amma hates him, right? Feeling out of place, I shuffle backwards until I spot my father leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene just as intensely as I was. I blink up at him and then skip onto the three steps before sitting on the swinging bench.
A comfortable silence envelopes us until I deadpan, "It's weird, isn't it?"
"I've never seen your mum hugging your brother before so… yeah, kind of," he answers, folding his arms over his chest, "but it's endearing."
"Did you know that he felt like that?" I ask him, glancing over at him. "That he thought Amma hates him?"
"I had my suspicions. Sort of," he murmurs softly, his eyes dimming sadly. "I thought he thought she was angry at him. He didn't correct me when I spoke to him about it. I did not think he thought his own mother could hate him."
He seems just as speechless as I was when my brother opened up to me at the graveyard.
Then he gazes back at the pair that is still hugging in the driveway. His lips twitch into a tiny smile when Amma wipes the tears from her oldest son's face and this time when she says something to Yang Jin and his eyes water again, I don't feel the same anger burning within me. I merely grin happily and swing back and forth on the creaking bench. I should fear for my life, sitting on this thing with how old it is, but if I fall, then I fall.
"Thank you, Seong Jin."
"For what?"
"For calling your mum. If it weren't for you… Yang Jin would still think she hates him. Which she doesn't. She may not be the most affectionate person ever, but deep down she loves all of you equally."
"Oh, I know that," I reply adamantly and then playfully, to break the serious atmosphere, I say to him, "You, on the other hand, have favourites."
He does a double take, his eyes widening in surprise at my accusation. "That… is not true."
As Yang Jin and Amma approach the veranda, I let out a disbelieving noise in my throat. Franklin immediately throws an arm over my brother's shoulder and rustles his dark locks, as if he has been waiting for the opportunity.
What was he saying about not having any favourites among his children? The more I observe his relationship with my older brother, the more my suspicions get confirmed. It is evident that Franklin loves Yang Jin dearly. In fact, I would not be surprised if he considers him his favourite child. As for me, I cannot help but feel that I'm last on his list of children he loves.
Yang Jin comes first, followed by Chu Hua, Ji Ho, Cameron, and Edward, and only then, after all of them, he thinks of me.
"Ever since you came out as pansexual, you've been more emotional, haven't you?" he teases Yang Jin.
"Shut up, Dad." Yang Jin mutters, averting his puffy eyes in embarrassment.
"Yeah, I don't think you're allowed to say that," I insert, climbing off the swing and jumping on Yang Jin's back as we walk back into the house.