A Touch of Mistletoe (3 page)

"I need to get out of the house," he'd explained. "I love my father but he drives me crazy."

I'd bitten back what I'd wanted to say, which was
why did you come to Canada at all then
, and agreed to go with him to the mall. The crowds were hectic, but I liked hearing bursts of Christmas music from the different shops and picking out gifts and cards with Kyung's help.

I finished paying for the cards and we left, Kyung leading me with my hand on his arm like I'd shown him. I'd brought my cane with me, but hadn't ended up needing it.

Kyung drove a fancy car with leather seats and a near-silent engine. Kali had driven an old beater, but I'd sold it after she'd died to pay for funeral costs. It wasn't as if I'd have been able to drive it. "What does your father do?" I asked Kyung, wondering if the car had been a gift, in exchange for his company.

"He's retired now," said Kyung. "He was a businessman. After my parents divorced he moved to Canada and I visited him in the summers."

"This is your first Christmas in Canada, then?"

"Well, yes." Kyung laughed. "But we have Christmas in Korea too."

"Of course, sorry." I felt my shoulders hunching reflexively. "What will you do? Celebrate with your father?"

"Missy and Alex invited us both over for Christmas Day. Will you be there?"

Missy had invited me too, of course. "I don't know. My parents are going on an Alaskan Cruise so… "

"You won't be alone, will you?"

"I don't mind being alone." That was a lie. I hated it. But I'd grown used to it in the past year. "I probably wouldn't be good company anyway."

Kyung didn't say anything for the rest of the drive. When we got back to the house, I led him upstairs and showed him the closet where Kali had kept all our Christmas decorations. As he pulled out the bag of wrapping paper, the familiar scent of pine wafted out, startling me. After I'd mentioned one year that I missed the smell of the live trees my parents always chopped down for Christmas, Kali had bought several aerosol cans of pine scented spray and doused the entire living room in it. It smelled more like metal than a pine tree, but it had become a Christmas tradition, and the smell was viscerally nostalgic.

My throat caught and I turned away, pretending to cough.

"Are you all right?" Kyung asked, concerned.

"Fine, just dust."

We headed back downstairs, wrapping supplies in tow, and planted ourselves on the living room floor to wrap presents. Kyung picked out the papers and addressed the cards while I wrapped.

"This is nice," he said after a while. "We need some Christmas music though."

"I have some. I don't listen to music very much anymore though." I got up and went to the old dusty stereo, running my hand along the shelf of LPs, thoroughly labeled in Braille for me by Kali. I pulled out an old Christmas album and set it on the turntable. "Better?" I asked as the first notes of Silent Night began to crackle from the speaker.

"Much better," laughed Kyung. "You have a lot of albums."

"I love music," I admitted.

"Why don't you listen anymore?"

I sighed. "It all reminded me of Kali. By the time I could think of her without it being too painful, I'd gotten out of the habit."

"Does it?" he asked. "Become less painful, I mean. I'm—" he paused. "I'm worried it never will."

The fact that Kyung's father was dying struck me like a brick. Of course, I knew that. And I knew Kyung loved him. Why did I think he wouldn't be going through pain? Was the bitterness he was projecting simply a facade to keep himself together? Kyung had stopped moving, and suddenly I felt the urge to put my arms around him.

"It does," I told him. "It doesn't stop hurting, but it gets less… sharp. It can be a good pain." The familiar arrangement of the Christmas album wafted over me, drawing me back into Christmas memories. "You remember the good times you had."

Kyung sniffed. "I'm trying to make the most of the time I have left," he said. "I don't want to fight with my father like I always did, but I can't help it. I feel… ungrateful. Like I will hate myself later." He sniffed again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't burden you with my thoughts."

"You're not… burdening me," I said. He shifted closer and then, mercifully, let me put my arms around him. He sunk into me, too still to be crying, but I could feel the tenseness in his body. "I'm sorry, Kyung."

"How did Kali die?" he asked quietly.

"She was walking home from work, and a drunk driver hit her," I said, shuddering at the memory of that night. The phone call from the hospital, waiting for her to get out of surgery, the news that it had failed… "It was quick. That morning I kissed her goodbye before she left for work, and that night she was gone."

"I'm so sorry."

"I thought my life was over too," I sighed. "She was everything. I—I was so dependent on her, she did everything for us, all the paperwork, the shopping. I just… I didn't even realise everything she did for me. It's been over a year, and I'm still finding things that I have no idea how to do for myself."

"You don't seem dependent to me," said Kyung softly.

"Do you really believe that?" I asked him. "Or are you just telling yourself that because you don't want to get involved with someone you might end up having to take care of."

Kyung stiffened again from where he had been slumped against me. "You must think I am very unkind and selfish."

"I don't blame you," I said quickly. "It's just that—"

"No." He shifted away from me and stood. "I've given you a negative impression of me, and it's my own fault. I should go."

"Kyung, don't go—" I called after him, but managed to swallow the words
I don't want to be alone
. How pathetic and needy would that make me seem? It wasn't any wonder he was leaving. But I didn't want him to think I thought badly of him.

He stopped at the door to put on his boots, and part of me wanted to chase after him. But what could I do? Rush out the door after him, grab his arm, kiss him? It wouldn't be fair to either of us to trap him in something he felt bitter about. I knew that, and I shouldn't have deceived myself otherwise. It wasn't as if I even knew if Kyung was interested in me. All he'd wanted from me originally was a kiss, and then to help me discover my latent sexual urges. Nothing serious. Perhaps I was even more desperate for an emotion connection than a physical one.

The door slammed shut, and I got up to turn off the record-player. I scooped up the presents and cards and put them to the side of the room. Then I went upstairs to bed. I didn't want to cry, or break down. But what was I going to do now? Was I going to be alone forever? Could I live like that?

My bed felt empty and cold, and I could barely remember Kyung's warmth against me. I wished that he was right, that I wasn't dependent. I wished we could have a relationship that we were equals in. I wished for Kali back, as I always had, but part of me wished that I had never had her, so that I wouldn't always have to compare other lovers to her.

It had been wrong of me to say those things to Kyung. Wrong of me to expect anything of him, or to want him to be like Kali. Maybe Kyung was a little selfish, but so was I. That didn't mean we couldn't have had something, if I hadn't gone and ruined it by expecting too much of him. I sighed, rolling onto my back and listening to the empty quiet of the house.

Christmas was less than a week away. I would go to Missy's, I decided, and talk to Kyung then. I'd apologise, and ask him to forgive me. Maybe, just maybe, we could work something out.

*~*~*

"I invited Kyung-sam and his father too," said Missy happily. She'd picked me up early, and I could feel the faint warmth of the sunlight on my skin through the window of the car. It was a beautiful Christmas morning. "They'll be coming around three to help with dinner."

"That's nice," I said, my heart doing a little jolt.

"Kyung-sam told me you had a fight." She had a way of bringing up serious discussions like they were nothing, but my stomach twisted anyway. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "I'm gonna apologise to him today."

"Oh, that's good. What was it about?"

"The fight?" How much did she know?

"Yeah." She sounded quizzical. "Is there something you're not telling me, Warren?"

I swallowed. "Well… you know Kyung is gay, right?"

"Of course." Missy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "Wait, you don't have a problem with that, do you?"

"No, no it's not that at all. It's just… well, you know that mistletoe you had hanging in the sitting room at your party?"

"You kissed him?" Missy sounded flabbergasted. "At the party? Is that why you wanted to leave so quickly?"

"Yeah, well… "

"But you told him you weren't gay, right?"

"I did." I tilted my head back, my heart pounding. "But I might have been wrong. I mean—" I could practically feel her eyes boring into me. "I'm not gay, but… I've been thinking about it a lot, and… I think I might be bisexual."

Missy was silent for a minute. "You've never mentioned that before," she said finally.

"Well, I never thought about it before. I'm still not sure, but," I swallowed, "I know that I… I loved Kali. And the way I felt about her, when we first met… I feel something similar for Kyung."

"Oh. All right then," said Missy, and I felt myself relax a bit. I hadn't even realised I had been tense. "So what did you fight about?"

"I don't know," I hunched again. "I think I scared him away with my blindness."

"I'm pretty sure you didn't," said Mindy calmly. "What did you say?"

"I… " I pushed past the guilt, determined to explain myself. "I told him that I thought he would probably end up resenting me, because of the extra help I need. I know how he feels about having to take care of his father. "

"Kyung-sam
loves
his father," Missy cut in. "He left everything, his job, his friends, to come take care of him. In my opinion he's very compassionate."

"I know," I sighed, and then hunched back into myself. "I know, I shouldn't have said it. But honestly, Missy, I
don't
want to be with someone who resents me for having to take care of me. I'd rather be alone."

"Well, that's your choice," said Missy. "But you really have to understand that people are human, and no one's perfect. Everyone feels overwhelmed sometimes, even Kali did, but she loved you, and so do we."

"Kali never told me she was feeling overwhelmed," I said, feeling strangely hollow.

"No," said Missy, "she didn't, because she knew how bad your parents made you feel about it, and she didn't want to do that to you."

I sat quietly, processing the new information.

"Does that upset you?" asked Missy finally. "To find out that Kali wasn't perfect?"

"No," I let out a long sigh. "It's a relief actually. I don't want to remember her as perfect, I want to remember her as her." I felt elated, but at the same time, my heart ached to hear confirmed what I'd always suspected. "I wish she'd just told me."

"Me too," said Missy. "I told her you could handle it, that you would understand, but she didn't think so."

"I don't know if I would have understood," I admitted. "But I'm going to try to this time, with Kyung."

*~*~*

It felt strange to arrive at Missy's house and chat with her and Alex's families as if nothing had happened. I felt a bit emotionally winded after our conversation, and not up to making conversation with adults, so I sat with Alex's young nephews for a while and let them tell me about their morning.

Kyung-sam and his father arrived a few minutes before Missy's cuckoo clock chimed three o'clock. Missy introduced me to Kyung's father, who took my hand in a withered, but surprisingly firm grip. Kyung was being so quiet that I was barely able to tell where he was standing.

"Right," said Missy after introductions had been made. "Let's get to work. Kyung-sam, I am teaching you to make a proper Christmas dinner. You and Warren in the kitchen with me."

"Me?" I said weakly, but she grabbed my arm firmly and led us both to the kitchen.

"Peeling potatoes," she said, setting us at the kitchen table and setting two heavy-sounding bowls and peelers down in front of us. "Warren, show Sam how it's done." Then she left us alone in the kitchen.

"Okay," said Kyung. "I want to apologise."

"No." I reached for the bowl and took out a potato, turning it a few times in my hand before picking up the peeler and beginning. "I was an ass."

"You made a valid point, and I ran away like a coward." Kyung took a potato as well and began peeling it. "I don't blame you for thinking that I am a bitter… what's the word…
resentful
man."

"I'm sorry
I said that." I hoped he could hear the sincerity in my voice. "You confided in me and I turned it around and made you feel bad about feelings you can't help."

"What if you're right though?' Kyung was peeling the potatoes at a quick pace, the peeler scraping harshly at the skins. "You need someone who isn't bitter and is not always complaining."

"What I need," I said slowly, "is someone who cares about me, and is willing to be with me even if everything isn't perfect and easy all the time." I put down the potato peeler and reached tentatively across the table. "I'm not perfect, so I can't expect you to be either."

Kyung gave my hand a quick squeeze, then returned to peeling his potatoes. "My father might see," he explained apologetically.

"Your father doesn't know?"

"No."

"But what will you do if—"

"Ouch!"

"Kyung?" I leaned forward, concerned, as the scent of blood hit me.

"I cut my finger," gasped Kyung. "Ah,
shibal—
"

"Kyung-sam!" Kyung's father's voice carried shrill into the kitchen. "What did you just say?"

"I said I cut my
fucking
finger open, father!" snapped Kyung. I snorted, and Missy rushed into the room.

"Warren, you were supposed to show him how to peel properly," she chided. "And Kyung-sam, please do not swear in front of the children."

"I'm sorry, Missy," said Kyung, sounding miserable. "I got blood on your tablecloth."