Yolk(109)

“Hi, June,” says Sandy to me. “I can also answer any questions as you have them. And I’ll let you know when you can see your sister in the post-anesthesia care unit. Oh, and please don’t bring flowers until she’s set up in her recovery room.”

June pipes up. “Sandy?”

“Yes?”

“Did you get the glasses first, or did Dr. Ellington?”

Dr. Ellington laughs abruptly, then clears her throat.

Sandy smirks and taps the right side of the frames. “It was a joint decision,” she says. “I got them first, but then Suze tried them on, and they looked better on her.” She rolls her eyes and then laughs.

“They were on sale,” pleads Dr. Ellington.

“They were on sale,” agrees Sandy.

“They’re really good glasses,” says June, nodding.

“We’ll come get you shortly,” says Dr. Ellington.

As soon as they leave, I’m terrified that I’ll start crying hysterically. I pull my lip. Rolling the meat between thumb and forefinger.

My phone rings. I check the screen.

“Tell Patrick I say hi,” says June cloyingly. And then, “What does his dick look like?”

“June, stop.” I grab my phone and walk out into the hallway.

With Patrick I’ve been as honest as I can be. I already told him that I’d be out of pocket for a few days. That I’m dealing with a family thing but that I’ll see him on the other side. He didn’t press, and my heart was so grateful, it hurt.

I need to show up for her. I need to get used to the strangeness of helping June for once and not the other way around. This phone call is the best way I know how.

Once I’m back, June sighs extravagantly. “I think the last half hour is the longest I’ve been without my phone,” she says. “You were gone, what, five minutes? Without a phone it was like an eternity.”

I check the time. They’ll be taking her in shortly.

“June,” I tell her.

“Don’t you mean Jayne?”

“I did something.”

I know from the tone in her voice and the crumpling in her face when she says “Umma?” as the door opens that I did the right thing.

“Oh, Ji-hyun, Mom’s here,” she says in Korean. “Don’t worry.” She rushes in, kissing June’s temple.

As soon as I’d gotten home from school yesterday, I’d called her. She’d left last night, made two connecting flights to arrive in the early morning after a thirteen-hour flight that would have normally been three, just to be here. Even when she called me from downstairs, asking what room we were in, I couldn’t believe it.

Our mom’s here.

Mom’s tears fall freely as she cups June’s cheeks. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

There are no more jokes. No snappy chatter. My sister begins to sob. “We’re here,” says Mom. “Don’t cry, Ji-hyun, or you’ll make your sister cry.”

I’ve been crying. I’ve been openly weeping from the moment June said “Umma.” Mom smooths the worry lines on my sister’s forehead with her hands. “Shhhh… Stop crying, stop crying. Honestly, you’ll get wrinkles.”

June laugh-sobs. Even if Mom’s deigned to descend upon us in filthy, freezing, godless New York, she’s still Mom.

There’s a knock on the door as a nurse comes in. She’s young with bright, round eyes and shiny dark hair. “Good morning, Ms. Baek. I’m Celia,” she says, and slots June’s arms into the blood pressure cuff.

“Aw, y’all make me miss my sisters,” she says in a distinctly Brooklyn accent. “I have two sisters. One in the city, the other in Westchester. I love them so much I want to kill them all the time. Who’s older?”

I look over at June sharply. “I am,” I tell her.

Celia takes a quick look at Mom. “You don’t look nearly old enough to be their mother. You look like sister number three.”

Mom smiles charitably.

“And what’s your name?”

I feel my mother’s eyes on me. “June.”

The air’s sucked out of the room. I can’t even look at my sister.

“Jayne and June. I love that,” says Celia, taking June’s temperature and then shooting the plastic thermometer cover into the trash. “All right, Ms. Jayne, I’m going to need you to get on the stretcher, so hop on up.” She slides down the sides so my sister can get in.

Celia fixes it so that June can sit up. The look is complete. With the gown, the IV stand, the hospital bracelet, and now this.

When Celia leaves. I brace myself for Mom’s questions. All I’ve told her is that June’s having surgery.

“I worry so much about you girls,” she says, blinking through tears. “Moving so far from home, struggling to make a life. But I’m so proud of you both.” Her voice breaks. “You’re both grown now and you’ll make your own decisions. I might not approve of all of them, but I’m so proud of the way you’re taking care of each other right now.”

Mom starts crying openly and takes June’s hand. “Ji-hyun, you’ve always been so good at taking care of everyone. I wonder if that’s why you’re sick. If my failings are what did this to you.”