55: Your Dad and Your Daddy

For the rest of the week, Stephen slept over every night, and despite Inho’s job and money worries, the time together was a happy blur. Stephen cared for him like an injured bird, always handling him gently, bringing him ice for his wrist, checking on his pain levels, and cooking.

Inho felt pampered, spoiled, and a little guilty to be burdening him. The swelling had gone down on his wrist, and massive bruises bloomed on his ribs. The headaches faded and by Saturday morning he was feeling semi-functional.

At 9 AM the two of them were scrambling to get the apartment ready for Inho’s dad to stay the weekend. Stephen was helping him change the bedsheets. They’d made a mess the night before and had fallen asleep in the wet spot rather than sleep on a bare mattress.

“Who doesn’t own a second pair of sheets?” Stephen complained for the third time.

“Sorry, I’m not a fancy rich person,” Inho shrugged, leaving Stephen to glare at him in wordless outrage.

Inho’s phone rang, and he snatched it up, “Hello, Dad?”

“Hi, Inho! I’m almost there. What’s the building number again?”

“Dad, it’s only 9, you said you’d be here at 10:30.”

“The bus was faster than I thought. Can you send me the address again? See you soon!”

Inho hung up and turned to hustle Stephen out of the apartment, “You gotta go! He’s always so early – it makes me crazy.”

“I’m going! Stop pushing,” Stephen trapped him in a hug at the door. “I’m going to be lonely back in my empty apartment,” he pouted.

“I’d say I’m glad to have the whole bed to myself, but my dad will probably want to share it,” Inho sighed. His double bed was not made for two large men.

Stephen gave him a quick kiss on his forehead and then a long one on his mouth, “stop fidgeting, he’s not going to break down the door.”

“You’re making me nervous, just get going!”

Stephen departed with a laugh, leaving Inho to feverishly dust his bookshelf. He wanted his dad to think he was looking after himself well. He didn’t want him to fuss. The accident was bad enough already.

The buzzer rang, and he tossed the dust cloth still dirty into a drawer to answer it, then hovered nervously in the doorway. After a moment, his dad appeared at the top of the staircase, slightly out of breath, pulling a small piece of luggage.

“Inho!” he immediately grabbed Inho in a hug, and Inho hid his flinch when his sore ribs got squeezed. He hadn’t seen his dad in almost a year, and though Inho had not recently grown taller, he was somehow always surprised to find that his dad was much shorter than him. He had such an enormous presence, Inho always thought of him as bigger.

“Did you find it okay? You’re so early.” Inho went to the kitchen and put the kettle on for coffee.

“I was just too excited to see you!” his father replied, his favorite line to excuse his annoying habit of being way too early for absolutely everything. “I got a little lost after the bus and the Skytrain though. And, your building was hard to find, but a very nice man outside helped me get here.”

“Oh?” Inho held in his urge to ask about the man.

“Canadians are so friendly, he was so eager to help. I hope I didn’t make him late or anything, he was in a suit, and I couldn’t find your address in my phone right away. But, he walked me to the door and everything.”

Inho twitched, “I’m sure he was fine. Just being nosy.”

“Aw Inho, don’t be so negative. You’ve got to get used to the people here,” he sat on the couch, “They always smile too much, though, huh? Makes me think they’re going to sell me something. Or, maybe he was flirting with me?” He boomed a laugh.

Inho’s eye twitched with suppressed tension, “Dad, you smile too much. You probably imagined it.” he said, then quickly changed the topic while handing him a steaming cup of instant coffee and joining him on the couch. Of course, Stephen would find a way to talk to him. “Why did you take transit? There are so many transfers.”

“It’s cheaper! Have you seen the price of gas?” He took a sip of coffee, “Anyway, you’re looking good. I expected casts and things. Are you back to work?”

Inho grimaced, “Not yet, I can’t carry things still.”

“That’s okay, you’ll get there,” his father reassured him, “Where’s Jamie by the way? I thought she’d be here.”

Inho hesitated, lies were piling up around him like discarded cigarette butts – useless and stinking. When he imagined telling his dad about Stephen, his brain felt like it wanted to part ways with his body.

Earlier on, when Inho had examined his own openness to being bisexual, he suspected his tolerance was grounded in growing up in one culture and struggling to integrate into a second one. Maybe that made him predisposed to accept people different than himself? Regardless, he’d never had the same problems with gay relationships that most of his friends did.

He wondered if his Dad could possibly feel the same after all these years in Seattle… But, If he reacted badly, where would Inho be? Even if it seemed like Stephen loved him, he just couldn’t imagine that he’d want to stay with Inho long term. What was the point of upsetting his dad over it?

He didn’t want to tell him about Jamie either; there was nothing to be done about it, and his dad would probably be disappointed in him for messing it up. Inho was used to dealing with his problems alone, anyway.

“Inho?” his dad interrupted his garbled thoughts, “Can you call her, and see if she’s busy? I hoped I could treat you both to lunch today.”

“No, I can’t,” Inho snapped, snatching up the empty cups and marching them to the sink.