Pokémon-shirt guy muttered, “Well, at least it’s Booze Day Tuesday. If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the beer cart.” He slung his computer bag on his shoulder and left the room.
Yes. At least we had that.
Welcome to the gaming industry, Melody Joo.
Chapter Two
The battering rain made crossing the 520 bridge a nearly impossible task. Even on the highest setting, my windshield wipers couldn’t seem to keep up with the buckets of water dumped from the sky. I had lived in Seattle for a couple of years, and while the rain and dreary weather got me down at first, I didn’t really mind it anymore. I grew up in Nashville, but went to college in the Midwest and stayed there for nearly seven years. My slight Chicago snobbery had worn off (or was washed away) and I loved my life here. With its outdoor beauty, amazing restaurants, and laid-back lifestyle, this city had grown on me.
As I pulled into my gated, rain-free garage, my phone buzzed.
Oh no.
Mom.
Damn. I hadn’t called her in two weeks. I braced myself for the imminent onslaught of Korean mom guilt. Bullets of sweat sprouted on my forehead as I tried to cram my Nissan Sentra into the only parking spot available in my apartment building’s garage: a compact parking spot between an Escalade and a Honda Odyssey. I pulled in and backed out about fifty times. WHY did these fools park so close to the lines? Well, because they parked their fucking enormous cars in compact spots, that was why. None of my doors could open wide enough for a person to get out, so I had to climb out my passenger-side window.
While I shimmied out and banged my head on the metal window frame, Mom texted, Melody why you nOT CALL US? YOU WORKING TOO HARD YOU CANNOT FIND TIME FOR US. OR TO FIND HUSBAND.
For years, my mom and dad had pressed me so hard about getting married. I was only twenty-seven, for god’s sake! I had plenty of time to settle into a good career and could still wait on marriage. But to them, twenty-seven was too old to “play around” because I wasn’t, in their words, “a springing chicken anymore.”
Mom texted again. Never mind don’t boTHER CALL US WE are fINE!!!!!
My mom was like a really old teakettle on high heat: when in her low-boil stage, I needed to make contact before she became too hot to handle—because then the deafening screeches would annoy the hell out of everyone within earshot.
I unlocked my apartment and unloaded my computer bag and purse next to my shoe rack. As usual, it was dinner-for-one that night. I threw a lasagna brick in the microwave and poured myself a glass of cheap white wine. I liked my quiet nights in with my Lean Cuisines and Bagel Bites. And Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni was so bomb. And cheap!
After I’d eaten a few bites of delicious microwave fare, I called my parents’ home phone. Mom picked up after the third ring.
“You calling too late. We are tired,” she said.
“Mom, I just got your text about five minutes ago.”
“Yes, I text five minute ago but I waiting for you calling many days.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I had back-to-back meetings today and I haven’t had time to do anything except work, eat late dinners, and go to sleep. I was planning to call you this weekend.” Okay, so that was a lie. I had no plans to call her. My girlfriends and I were heading to Portland on Friday night for a tax-free shopping jaunt, but maybe my white lie would make her feel better.
“I thought you go to Portland this weekend. You mention it in Instant-gram photo post and I like it with heart picture.”
Damn it.
Another lie? “I was going to call you on the drive down there.”
A few seconds passed. Would she hang up on me? She’d hung up on me before for calling her to wish her a happy birthday a day too early. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Instead, she said, “Your dad is here and want to talk to you.”
“Melody? It’s Dad.” I tried to stifle a laugh. Thanks for clarifying you were my dad, Dad.
“You upset Mom. She very worry when you not call.”
I sighed again after taking a bite of lasagna. “Yeah, I know, I know. I should have called. Things got superbusy at work. I promise, I’ll be better at checking in with you guys more often.”