Memorial(51)

Yeah.

Do you have anything keeping you in Houston?

Or anyone keeping you here? said Ma, and my skin froze for a moment.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know I was gay. She knew. But it wasn’t something we ever spoke about. Not with actual words that you could feel and see between us. It was just a feeling in the air, whenever we interacted, like a pothole in the road. Something we didn’t have to acknowledge every time, all the time. Because that shit was implicit.

Not really, I said.

Not really? said Ma. Or no?

No one worth mentioning.

Ma and I looked at each other for a moment. We weren’t smiling, but there wasn’t any malice either. The air was exactly empty, aside from the diners beside us, clinking their glasses and going on about whatever the fuck went on in their lives.

I have no reason to go back to Japan, I said.

Of course not, said Ma. You’re only Japanese.

Stop.

I’m just saying. What will you do with yourself here? And don’t say it’s whatever little job you’re working, Michael.

That’s pretty fucked up.

All I stated was a fact. That’s it.

Whatever, I said. I’m thinking of switching jobs anyway. I’ve got a friend at this shop.

A shop?

A deli. Sort of.

So you’d cook. Like your father.

What?

Eiju cooked. Cooks. And it sounds like you want to, too.

This has nothing to fucking do with him.

That’s not what it looks like.

Whatever. I probably won’t even do it.

Calm down, said Ma, playing with her napkin.

What if I said that I wanted you to come with me, said Ma. What if I wanted you to come home? Would that sway you at all?

If that were the biggest deal to you, I said, we would’ve gone back earlier.

And I suppose I’m not a big enough reason, said my mother, smiling.

And I’m not important enough for you to stay, I said.

We sat with that for a moment. Before I could open my mouth again, my mother signaled the waiter for our bill. He nodded, smiling even wider as he handed it over, and Ma slipped him her card. She didn’t even glance at the numbers.

Then there isn’t much else to talk about, she said, standing, reaching for her coat.



* * *





When Eiju left us for the final time, it was entirely unceremonious.

The sky didn’t fall.

The clouds stayed in place.

We’d grown used to him taking off for a day or two. He’d reappear a few nights later, in the same clothes, smelling like piss.

A few days passed without hearing from him. And then a week. And then the place where he tended bar called our apartment asking about him.

I don’t know how long Ma knew he’d gone back to Osaka or if she’d just needed to confirm or what, but the next thing she did was call my father’s sister.

I’d never met her. But I’d heard stories. And I knew about the history between their families, or the complete lack thereof.

Ma called her once in the morning, their time, and nobody answered.

Ma called her again in the evening, their time, and nobody answered.

Ma called her again the next morning, their time.

No one answered until the final ring.

Eiju’s sister told Ma that he’d been home for a few days. He was sleeping.

You didn’t know? asked my aunt.

I didn’t know, said my mother. But now I do.

And then Ma hung up.



* * *




? ? ?

I told Ben all of that one night in bed. This was the week after he’d put his hands on me. I’d shoved him back, not even thinking about it, and neither of us knew how it’d happened. But the only thing we could do afterward, to clear the air, was to fuck. That became our routine whenever we fought. Whenever things got bad. Like we were fucking away the thing that’d sat itself on our chests.

Afterward, Ben said, Shit.

Yeah, I said.

And you stayed.

I’m looking at you right now.

Well, said Ben.

We both sat cross-legged on the floor. Ben thumbed at the waistband of his boxers.

What about your parents, I said.

What about them? said Ben.

You know what I mean. How’d they split?

It wasn’t anything like that. They just got sick of each other. There’s no story to tell.

That’s a whole story right there.

If you say so, said Ben. But my parents weren’t surprised. They knew it was coming. It’d been building up for a while.

And y’all had money, I said.

What the fuck does that have to do with it?

It has everything to do with everything.

Ben shifted onto his elbow, staring at me. He’d been letting his hair grow out.

Sure, he said. They had money. I grew up middle-class. But we’re Black. So that cancels everything out.

If you say so.

I say so.

That wasn’t an attack, I said. It’s not a competition. It’s okay to grow up okay.

Fine, said Ben. Sorry.

Don’t be sorry.

All I’m saying is that my folks knew who they were when they settled in with each other. The only ones blindsided were me and my sister. So maybe that’s the funny thing. The surprise. We were the ones who ended up having to find out.