Free Food for Millionaires (18 page)

Douglas had reached Casey’s table. He patted her shoulder gently, and she looked up. The other guests at the table offered their congratulations to the father of the bride. Douglas waved them away, entreating them to eat and dance a lot. “Look alive,” he joked. “Presbyterians need help from you kids to have a good time. Also, I speak as a physician: Dancing is good for your digestion and cardiovascular health.

“The minister would have my head, you see,” Douglas said as an explanation for why there was no booze. Church basement wedding receptions were traditionally dry, and though they were having it at a rented wedding hall as a concession to Ted—who’d wanted it at the much fancier New York Athletic Club or the Union Club, where he was a member, despite the fact that Manhattan parking would have been a prohibitive expense for the poorer Korean guests from Queens—the groom was not given a say regarding alcohol service to the largely Korean and conservative Christian crowd. After the honeymoon, Ted intended to have a smaller, private reception at the Union Club for his guests. “I’m very sorry about this. Believe me, I could’ve used a drink earlier today.” He winked. “But did you see the sparkling apple cider?” he chortled, pointing to the champagne flutes.

Helmut, a German investment banker who’d gone to HBS, piped up, “Oh, there is no alcohol here?” With a harrumph, he put down his napkin dramatically, pretending to get up to leave. The guests laughed at this, and Helmut’s wife yanked him down to his seat.

Douglas high-fived the kidder, then rested his hand on the back of Casey’s chair. “So this is Jay?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. The white American seated beside Casey was tall, with square shoulders and bright, unblinking eyes. It was striking how dark bits of color shimmered through his blue green irises. He had a pale, open brow. A genial smile flashed across Jay’s face at the mention of his name. He looked like a nice boy.

Jay held out his hand, and Douglas shook it warmly.

“How do you do, sir,” he said.

“And I understand you will be marrying soon,” Douglas said, trying to give off a kind of warm American heartiness. He was fond of Casey and wanted Jay to feel welcome.

“Yes, sir,” Jay replied.

Casey felt grateful for Dr. Shim’s kindness.

“Good, good. Marriage. . . marriage is a beautiful thing.” Douglas had a lot of thoughts about marriage, but today none made much sense to him. “Casey, have you had a chance to talk to your parents today?” he asked. “Your parents look wonderful.”

A small, tight smile formed across her lips. “Not yet. . . I will soon.”

“C’mon. I should try some of this fried lobster anyway. Ted chose the menu.” Douglas glanced at what the guests were eating. He shifted his feet toward the direction of his table. “Jay, you should come, too. Aren’t the Hans just the nicest people? Have you ever heard Casey’s mother sing? She’s like heaven.” He began to whistle “How Great Thou Art” to himself.

Casey opened her mouth to protest, but Jay got up and stood beside Douglas, who had already started to move away. Jay reached his left hand backward so Casey could take it, and she tried to catch up with his brisk steps.

Whatever small pleasure Joseph and Leah had felt at being seated at such a prominent table dissipated at the sight of Casey approaching them with Jay. Leah clasped her hands together on her lap. Elder Shim was talking to Jay, and he was smiling and nodding back. Casey concentrated soberly on her steps.

The table lit up, however, when Douglas appeared with the young people. The deaconesses brightened suddenly, the way women tend to when an attractive man enters the room. They wanted the bride’s father—a well-regarded and kind doctor with property—to finally sit down and chat with them. The men, not missing this, teased Douglas right away about the cost of the wedding. They took their shots.

“So, how much a head?” Elder Koh asked. He was a businessman with four daughters. This was essential information.

“
Yobo
.” Koh’s wife batted his arm. “You’re so tacky,” she said in English, and everyone laughed. Deaconess Sohn, Koh’s pretty Korean-American wife, had been born in the States—a Mt. Holyoke grad. You weren’t supposed to talk about money. Although she was curious, too.

Douglas wrinkled his brow in amusement. It would’ve been just as easy for them to ask the managers of the Coliseum about the price, but they wanted him to squirm a bit or exaggerate how he was stretched by such an expenditure. But in fact, Douglas could’ve easily afforded a wedding at the St. Regis for the same number.

“Ah, be quiet.” Elder Koh shushed his wife. “So how much?” His tone was jocular, but he wanted to know. There were four hundred guests at this location in Queens with parking—the nicest Korean wedding hall he knew of. His oldest daughter was twenty. Paying for a wedding couldn’t be that far off in his future. His wife would certainly chide him for being a
ssangnom
when they got home.

Douglas folded his arms, quiet until he held everyone’s attention.

“Two-fifty a head,” he said. The guests gasped loudly.

“Give or take fifty. Saved a fortune on no
suhl,
though. Being a Presbyterian can be economical.” Then everyone laughed. This cost wasn’t hurting him at all. More than envious, they were awed by his abundance.

Casey’s parents hadn’t yet looked in her direction. Naturally, she’d anticipated this before she’d approached the table. They were capable of great detachment. Jay continued to grin, believing that somehow they’d ultimately fold him into their embrace. At times like this, she found his optimism delusional.

Douglas cleared his throat. “I brought the beautiful bridesmaid and her fiancé,” he said. “Has everybody met Jay?”

“Whaaaaa—”
the guests murmured, smiling at the Hans, who’d never mentioned this important detail. They smiled at Jay, assessing him privately and wondering how old he was. To the Koreans, he didn’t look young, but a little mild, as though he wouldn’t be much trouble for Casey.

“Hello there,” Jay said, waving like a royal. There were nine people at the table, and it would have been impossible to shake everyone’s hand. They tipped their heads, and Jay returned the gesture identically, but that was wrong. He should’ve bowed deeper from the waist, since he was the younger one. It wasn’t his fault—Casey didn’t blame him.

Jay spotted Leah. The short bald man to her left must have been Joseph. He and Casey had the same mouth.

The elders congratulated the Hans all at once, and Joseph gave them a clipped nod. All this was taking him by surprise. He could see no way to talk himself out of it.

From her seat, Deaconess Sohn reached over to clasp Casey’s forearm. She had a habit of touching people forcefully.

“He’s so cute.” She winked at Jay, feeling more comfortable with the American than the other deaconesses. “Congratulations,” she said to Jay. He shook her small, plump hand.

Again, she winked to Casey, then exclaimed, “I love your dress.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say.” Casey laughed quietly. The deaconess kept talking about the reception, but all Casey wanted to do was excuse herself. Jay was expecting to be introduced to her parents. No one at the table seemed to know that this was the first time Joseph was meeting her fiancé.

Casey swallowed. Facing her parents, she said, “Hi.”

The guests didn’t think much of it. Several men returned to their conversation. Leah smiled at Casey yet said nothing. Joseph would not look her way.

Wordlessly, Joseph pushed his chair away from the table and got up. The guests turned to him. Then they understood. One elder coughed as though he had something stuck in his throat, and the others sipped their 7 Up. Douglas then remembered how oddly Leah had behaved when he’d mentioned Casey being Ella’s bridesmaid. This awkwardness was his fault, but he couldn’t have imagined this possibility. He’d thought it would be nice to bring Casey and Jay to the table. He’d done so to make Jay feel welcome, but he’d made it worse. Joseph was visibly furious.

Douglas moved to Jay’s side, understanding that Joseph wanted to leave the wedding. He would take the boy away. Get him a soda.

Joseph smoothed down his suit jacket. He wore a two-button navy pin-striped suit, a white shirt, and a burgundy necktie—on it, a tie pin in the shape of a cross that Leah had given him when he became an elder.

Jay stepped toward him and stood right in front of him.

“Mr. Han, Mr. Han,” Jay said. “Hello, sir. I’m Jay Currie. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

Joseph stared at him. The boy was pop-eyed and tall—little was remarkable about him. Smiled too much for a man. If Casey wanted to throw her life away, that was her business. He was resolved on this point.

“Excuse me,” Joseph said, and tried to walk away.

Jay blocked him, continuing to smile. “Sir, sir,” he said.

“Excuse me.”

“No. Excuse me,” Jay said, refusing to move aside. He didn’t smile anymore. “I’m your daughter’s fiancé.” His voice was full of rebuke, reminding Joseph of his duty. At that moment, Jay hated fathers in general.

The guests looked among themselves.

“Get out of my way,” Joseph said.

“Sir—”

Joseph cocked his head, and a quizzical expression crossed his face. What he felt was disbelief. He thought, This boy wants to die by my hands.

Seeing Joseph’s look, Douglas moved closer to Jay and put his hand on Jay’s elbow to pull him back.

“Sir—it’s a privilege to meet you.” Jay’s voice grew louder—all pleasantness in his tone having vanished. The table stared at the boy in shock. It was not acceptable for a younger person to speak this way to someone of Joseph’s age.

Joseph exhaled through his nostrils. He had to remind himself where he was. “Excuse me.”

Jay remained still.

Joseph took a long breath, then raised his right hand. In one quick beat, he threw a powerful shove against the boy’s left shoulder. Jay stumbled back but did not fall. The guests gasped, but Joseph was gone. If he had stayed, he would’ve murdered the boy.

Douglas patted Jay’s back to calm him. Jay turned to Casey, but her eyes were shut; she was like a child attempting to make a room disappear. Leah covered her mouth with her hands. She didn’t know if Joseph would return for her, not realizing that her husband hadn’t taken the car. He was already outside, walking up Queens Boulevard toward the 7-Eleven. He went to buy cigarettes—his first pack in twenty-three years.

Ella had missed it. She’d been greeting guests herself when the banquet manager told her it was time for the father-daughter dance. She’d come to get Douglas herself. When she got to her father’s table, no one was talking. The first person she saw seated was Leah, her face pale, her hands held over her nose like a mask. The deejay was playing disco music still, but for their dance he’d play “The Best Is Yet to Come.”

“Daddy, we’re supposed to dance,” she said, glancing at Casey and Jay, who looked dumb with shock. “Hi, Casey. What’s the matter?”

Casey shook her head, saying nothing.

Douglas patted Jay again, then turned to take Ella’s hand.

They headed to the parquet dance floor. When their song started, he led her through a respectable fox-trot learned from an Arthur Murray dance instructor.

There was no time to apologize or explain. Casey and Jay left without eating their dinner.

During the cab ride going home, Jay kept repeating, “Unbelievable.” He was hoping Casey would talk, but she didn’t. Here and there she nodded, and at one point she said, “I’m sorry, Jay,” but nothing more. When Casey was sad, it was impossible to pull her out of her silence. Usually he’d talk until she chimed in, but when it was something serious, he’d wait it out. He almost preferred it when she was angry because at least she’d talk—shout, even—but this quiet thing was hard. He had no clue as to what she was thinking. By nature, Casey was impulsive, and though overall she was funny and good-natured, by now he knew that she was always sorting through other things beneath whatever she was doing or saying. Casey was complicated, and most of the time, he liked it. But what did she mean by sorry?

At home, they changed out of their clothes. She removed her wedding makeup and the bobby pins in her hair. In the hot shower, she tried to think of what she could tell Ella when she finally reached her. She had wanted to see Ella in her
hanbok
for the
pae-baek
ceremony, where she’d bow to Ted’s mother. She was supposed to have helped her change, too. It was awful, what had happened. Ella’s friendship was valuable to Casey. Her goodness had trumped Casey’s childhood envy after all. But Casey had walked out on her wedding reception. Her father had behaved like a thug, and Jay. . . Oh, Jay. He’d been ridiculous. When something went wrong, the first emotion Casey touched was shame. But here, the shame was below the surface. It was deep and vast. There was no way out of this, she thought.

When she came out of her shower, Jay was in bed reading Wallace Stevens. He read poetry when he was unhappy. Casey smiled at him, feeling sorry for both of them. She was sad, too. In the taxi, she had said the truest thing she felt inside. She was so sorry—about not having introduced him earlier, about her father pushing him, about all those people witnessing him being shoved around, about everything—her family’s disgrace at a dear friend’s important day. On top of shame, there was always remorse.

“I’m going upstairs. For a cigarette,” she said.

“You’re wearing your bathrobe, honey.” He laughed. “And jammies.”

“You’re right!” She pretended to be shocked. He’d used a child’s word for her nightgown. There was something boyish about Jay—even when he was being manly and responsible. This quality had made her love him, but she saw that it had also been this naive pluck of his that had convinced him it was okay to approach her father without warning when the same tactic had been a failure with her mother. Jay was convinced that he was impossible to reject as long as he was well intentioned and had a sunny manner. In a way, it was lovely, and in a way, it was stupid.

Casey turned to go.

“And it’s late,” he said, not wanting her to leave.