We look at each other. There’s no more screaming anymore, there is only sobbing.
I pull my hand out of his, and my skin is left burning. “Come on, Duncan, we have to go down. Stop trying to protect me, I don’t need it.”
“He’s been drinking. I can smell it.”
“I know.”
“He just wants to use you to make a point, Dee.”
“Isn’t that what he’s doing with you?” I ask. A few seconds later I wish I hadn’t. The bite was unnecessary, even if he didn’t flinch. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Together we walk into the living room. Dad is sitting in the sofa looking toward the fireplace.
Just in front of the fireplace is a man on his knees. He’s got his head bowed, and there’s something dripping off his chin.
It’s blood.
“Frank,” Dad says. Frank, behind the man, lifts his head up by his hair. I gasp when I see the bruised and broken face. It’s completely misshapen, split open on both his cheekbones, and his eyes are swollen shut. I look away immediately. My hands start to shake.
“This is my family, Mr. Jung,” Dad says. “This is who you are hurting.”
“Please,” the man says, shaking his head. “I didn’t hurt anybody.”
“When you don’t pay me what you owe me, you hurt my livelihood. My livelihood is my family’s livelihood. Now, you’re an eastern fella, aren’t you? Aren’t you all always talking about family, tradition, all that? Isn’t it strong in your culture over there? I trust you’ll understand how important family is. My family is important to me.”
“Please,” the man says.
I grit my teeth together. I hate my father. I hate being in his family. I hate all this bullshit.
I look up at Duncan, but all he’s doing is staring blankly at the man. How can this not affect him?
“You see my beautiful daughter,” Dad says. “She’s going to be a teacher. And my son, he’s going to be a champion fighter. They are who I care about most in this world.”
I roll my eyes. Dad only cares about himself. Duncan only just got here. It’s all a show. It’s all dramatics.
“Please,” the man says. “I’ll get your money. I need more time.”
“When you come into my town,” Dad continues, waving his hand. “And open your fucking little shops, your laundries, your fucking liquor stores, then I get to tax you. This is how it’s always been. This is how it always will be. If you don’t pay your tax, then you don’t get to run your God damned fucking business! If you don’t pay your tax, my family suffers!”
Dad’s breathing hard, snarling. He’s rabid… I can almost imagine saliva dripping from his mouth.
“I don’t have it yet!” the man cries, his voice a dribbly slur. He can barely enunciate anymore, his lips are so puffy. “Business is not good.”
“That’s on you!” Dad roars. “Go to business school! I don’t fucking care, that’s not my problem. My problem is you have not paid me what you owe me. You are two weeks overdue. I expect it by Friday.”
I grimace. Dad is just one big bully.
“That’s not enough time,” the man says. “I can’t get it to you by then.”
Dad looks at Frank, who nods and then thumps the man in the gut, drawing a howling moan of pain from his lips. He hauls him up to his feet, then slaps him across the face, dropping him back down to his knees.
“Look at my family,” Dad says. “Look at them!”
The man looks up at me. My eyes are red. I know I shouldn’t cry but I can’t stop the tears from forming. I feel nothing but compassion for him, and wish I could make it end.
“I will be very angry if you hurt my family’s livelihood again. Now get the fuck out of my house. You’re getting my carpet dirty.”
Frank hauls the man up, pushes him out of the room. I hear the front door open then shut.
“That is what fucking happens when you don’t follow the rules in my fucking town!” Dad belts out, casting angry looks at us. He pours himself a big glass of something brown, and drains it in one gulp. Then his eyes settle on me.
I shrink as he approaches me. I don’t miss that Duncan straightens his back, steps a little forward and in front of me.
“Are you crying?” Dad asks me.
I shake my head.
“Are you crying, damn it?”
“No,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“You’d better not fucking be, not in front of anybody else, you got that? I can’t have you crying in front of anybody. It’s a bad look.”
“What you did to him looked worse,” I say.