“With whom?” her mother was quick to ask.
“Her name is Sheryl and…” Kristin knew that any hesitation at this crucial moment would allow either one of them to make a dismissive remark that would make her veer off course, but it was so hard to say it. What would she even call Sheryl? Her girlfriend? They had met barely ten days ago.
“I’ll get some more tea.” Her mother was in the process of rising from the table already.
“Mom, no, please sit.” She couldn’t let her flee. It didn’t matter that Kristin didn’t have a label to stick on Sheryl yet. It did matter that Kristin was head-over-heels in love, of course it did, but it didn’t change anything about who, at her very core, she was and had always been.
“Her name is Sheryl and she’s not just a friend.” There. She’d said it. Damn it. A blush heated up her cheeks, despite this being one of the proudest moments of her life.
“I think I will get that tea now.” Her mother rose again.
“Get us something stronger while you’re at it,” her father said.
Kristin didn’t know what to say while her mother hurried into the kitchen and clattered dishes about. She and her father sat in silence, waiting for her mother to return, as though only then another word might be spoken.
Kristin’s pulse thudded beneath her skin. It was a relief to have said what she’d just said out loud, but it also changed the careful balancing act she and her parents had been performing ever since Kristin had told them to no longer push her to date the sons of their friends. In a way, this was her second coming out. She wondered how many more she would need to do until it truly sunk in.
The first one hadn’t been as intentional as this one. It had just been a request uttered in an uncharacteristically impolite fashion, which always made Kristin’s parents sit up and take note. And it had worked. They had ceased their endless nudges toward her dating this or that boy, reciting the boy in question’s many accomplishments, which, more often than not, included him being about to graduate from law school or med school. Once they had tried pushing a mere accountant on her, though pushing wasn’t the correct word for it either—it was just how Kristin perceived it. It was more subtle than that, and it had taken Kristin a couple of years to realize that when they spoke of Mrs Kim’s son in encouraging ways, it wasn’t just because they liked him as a person and admired his accomplishments.
Kristin knew that for this coming out to be effective, she might have to be clearer, might actually have to spell it out to them, to these two highly intelligent people.
“In fact,” she said, as her mother returned with a bottle of soju, “I would like you to meet her.”
Her mother banged the bottle onto the table, shocking herself, apparently. She brought a hand to her mouth.
“If that’s what you want, then we will,” her father said. He looked at her mother, trying to find her gaze, but her mother had her eyes cast down, inspecting her hands in her lap.
“What does she do?” her father asked.
Kristin knew she shouldn’t think like that, but she was so glad that Sheryl had gainful employment of a certain stature. “She’s a post-grad student getting her PhD in Gender Studies,” she said.
“Gender studies?” her mother asked. “You mean sociology?”
“Here’s an idea,” Kristin said, “why don’t you invite her over and she can explain it all herself.”
“Hm,” her mother grunted.
Her father poured a tiny amount of liquor into three glasses and distributed them around the table. He held his up, looked Kristin straight in the eye, and said, “I look forward to meeting Sheryl.”
“They want to meet me?” Sheryl asked. “The people who held you hostage all evening long on your thirtieth birthday, preventing me from celebrating with you.”
“I’m here now.” It was barely nine o’clock. Kristin had rushed over to Sheryl’s apartment after the dinner at her parents. “We have all night.”
“All night would have been me taking you to a fancy restaurant, ordering a bottle of champagne, and hand-feeding you spoonfuls of caviar.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re hardly the type to do any of these things.”
“You don’t know that.” Sheryl smiled warmly.
“Either way, it’s a pity you don’t have any champagne in the house, because not only is today my birthday, but I also came out to my parents and I haven’t been disowned.”
“This goes to show just how little you know me.” Sheryl walked to the fridge and produced a half bottle of champagne. “All the way from France, for my lady.”