so many times over the last few years to travel to Europe with me and you refused.”
“Excuse me! I need chocolate breakfast, not the ba-nilla one.”
“What?”
“I talking to grocery man. No chocolate Carnation instant breakfast at this store. Daddy will be upset. He need that in case he can’t eat the Italy food. And then he die from starve to death.”
“Mom, you shouldn’t joke about that. You might jinx him.”
“I not joke. He need chocolate instant breakfast. If he upset, the blood pressure go way up and then he shout at everyone. And maybe he die from the too much stress. His poor stressed-ful heart.”
I asked again, “So why did you choose Italy?”
“You don’t have chocolate kind? Chocolate malted kind be okay. No strawberry. He hate strawberry. It taste like air freshener.”
“Mom, it’s hard to talk to you because you keep talking to people at the store about breakfast food.”
“If you call me back earlier, I not be at the store. I am home with peace and quiet.” She grunted. “We go to Italy with church group. They have a mission trip.”
She had finally answered my question, just as my thumb hovered over the hang-up button. “I don’t understand. Why would you go to Italy on a church mission trip? Aren’t there other places in the world that aren’t as holy that need help? The pope lives in Italy. He should have that country covered.”
She blew a puff of air into the phone and changed the subject abruptly. “I forgot ask. Any Korean guy working at the toy company?”
“You mean the game company?”
“Yes, did you see any Korean boy?”
I snorted. “No Koreans at all.” Amazing. I admired her single-mindedness. “Oh wait, there was one Asian guy who might’ve been Korean who worked in the HR department. A fresh college graduate.”
With a few seconds of silence I could tell my mom struggled to do basic math. I helped her out. “That means he’s five years younger than me, Mom.”
“Waaaaa! Five years? New generation it is okay for woman to be much older than husband. We see all the time in Korean drama. Men die earlier anyhow.”
I scarfed down the last of my dinner, scraping the corners of the black container for every ounce of sodium-filled sustenance. Still hungry, I opened the fridge and stared at the barren wasteland. Old jars of pickles, shriveled apples, and almost-raisin grapes were my tastiest options. Or rather, my only options. I shook my head and shut the door. “I need to go to the grocery store, Mom. I need to restock my fridge. Send me your trip information so I know how to contact you if there is an emergency.”
“You never call anyway. So just call in month when we back.” The Korean mom guilt, back in full force.
“You’re really leaving tomorrow? Like, you mean in less than twenty-four hours?”
“YES. I said tomorrow many time.”
Damn. They’d be off on a jumbo jet soon, and even though it made zero sense to accompany them to pope-land for a church mission trip, my heart hurt with abandonment.
I sank into my couch and rested my head back. What a long day.
My mom asked, “Melody, can you do Daddy favor? Can you buy chocolate Carnation instant breakfast? There is none here. Name is called ‘Carnation breakfast essential, rich milk chocolate.’ You can still ship tonight so we get before our trip. FedEx and UPS still open till nine o’clock.”
Was this a test of my unwavering devotion to my dad? A test to prove to my parents that despite me not calling, they were still the highest priority in my life? Okay, maybe I did feel guilty about not knowing their plans to embark on a huge overseas journey, so I grabbed a granola bar for dessert, put on my raincoat and boots, and headed back to my car.
Damn it. I had forgotten all about the nonopening doors situation. The Odyssey and Escalade were still there, blocking my access. As I shimmied into the passenger-side window while pressing onto the side of the Honda to provide balance, the goddamn minivan alarm went off, and the headlight flashes pulsed to a steady beat.
HONK!
HONK!
HONK!
HONK!
The incessant car alarm continued blaring as I contorted my body through my window. While scrambling over the gearshift, my knee banged on the steering wheel. Tears welled in my eyes from the pain as I peeled out of the garage, my shoulders finally relaxing as the minivan honking sounds remained trapped in the confines of the garage echo