Chapter 11
It was still pitch black outside when his alarm went off at four o'clock in the morning on Saturday. Mrs. Yang was hidden behind the pillows that separated them in the bed. When she was sleeping, her guard was down. Her body was at peace, her face uncoiled. There was something about her that he missed.
It had now been a little over three years since they had even kissed. She had a scare for early-stage breast cancer, and they removed some of the tissue. After that, she refused to let him even get close enough to touch her. Turned away time after time. At 48, he was becoming a monk. Slowly and sadly removing any expectations to prevent him from being disappointed. Trying to suppress his desires even to be close to her.
He still loved her. Felt obligation and duty to her. But he didn't understand what she wanted from him anymore. And that made him hate her as well.
Mr. Yang felt like nothing he did was ever good enough.
The house felt cold. He quietly made his way to the garage, passing by rooms with furniture that was hardly used. Old Korean antiques and paintings. Price tags and plastic wrap still covering some of the seat cushions and lamps. The only thing that he had put up as decoration were pictures he printed out at his office.
Mr. Yang got in his old dented truck and went to work at his wife's business. She used their savings and took over a retirement home that his wife said was profitable. He usually arrived when the night shift nurses were there. None of the employees treated him like the owner.
He would spend his time doing repairs around the facility. Remodeling the kitchen of the retirement home. Fixing a leak in the roof, rebuilding and painting the porch.
After 30 years of living in the United States, Mr. Yang felt like something was misleading about the American Dream.
Not that it wasn't possible. But that there weren't consequences.
The American Dream hijacked his marriage.
He felt torn down by it. He gripped the molded porch floors and pull them out one by one. Mr. Yang ignored the strain in his back. His day job was as a senior engineer, but the work never stopped after his wife started to run the business.
He worked for her for free.
When Mr. Yang worked, he replayed images in his head. Images that made the work easier and suppress the urge to quit and run.
He thought about how happy they were in their tiny studio apartment. Ling was 8 years old, June a little under 2 years, and Nate was just born.
Mr. Yang and his wife would wash Nate in the sink. Him holding his son in his two hands and his wife pouring warm water on top of his tiny legs and hands. His wife giggling at Nate's sweet face. They could feel her heart glowing. The fondness and comfort she brought to them. June hugging his leg in her diapers. Little Ling is playing around with their new camera. He could hear the click of the camera under her fingers a few feet away.
When they first immigrated over, they were happy to escape the reaching hand of communist rule. He and his wife already knew about sacrifice and saving. They were both dedicated to the mission of giving their children a better life. They had an equal relationship.
But after 17 years. They made it. Each was far more successful and well off than either of their parents. Their kids lived their days without want. With every meal had without question. Their time, wealth, and accumulation of possessions had only grown.
But Mr. Yang found that his wife was never satiated. They were now different people. Who no longer shared the same values.
When she started working, they were no longer living check to check. But Mrs. Yang was always fighting with him about money. Translating her disappointment into mockery because she now made more than him. She'd instruct him how to talk to his boss.
Once she started working, she chopped her elegant long black hair into a short sharp bob below her chin. Her intuition made her confident. Her ambition swallowed up her compassion. Her worth ethic shined, and her family values tucked underneath. Now she was making all the decisions and wouldn't hear otherwise.
At noon his wife drove into work. In their new BMW X5, her makeup on and ironed pretty silk suit. Mrs. Yang checking in with her employees and then sought him out. When she finally found him. Mr. Yang was dirty, sweaty, and covered in paint. The back of his neck burned from the hot sun.
Her anxiety was evident. She took little notice of him. Indifferent to her husband or the work he had put in that morning.
"Come, I need your help." Mrs. Yang cried out. She walked ahead of him back to the office. He followed behind her, his spine trembling.
"Tsk, aya - you're going to get the furniture dirty." Mrs. Yang would scold him when he sat down in her office chair. Waving her hand to get him to stand. Mrs. Yang would complain three or four times about something that one of her employees said to her.
Every word that came out of her mouth felt like she was nagging him. He leaned back against her cabinet, half-listening to her since she spent a very long time getting to her point. The whole time he was praying for her to stop.
Audrey, one of the managers, tentatively knocked on the door. Mr. Yang watched her as she approached his wife like she was walking on eggshells. He liked Audrey. She was competent, polite, and patient with his wife. She was now the third manager they've had, the other two quitting a few months in.
"I hope I'm not interrupting. I just wanted to let you know that we have an open house this week for the open room. I went to go pick up this month's medications from the pharmacy. And we are training a new nurse for the night shift as well." Audrey delivered the report to his wife.
The young blonde turned to him and gave a weak smile. "Hello, Mr. Yang. Thank you for coming in to do the porch. Did you need lunch? How are your kids doing?"
Before he could answer, his wife did it for him.
Mrs. Yang declared herself satisfied. Even though eight minutes ago, she was complaining about how Audrey was forgetful. "Ah, yes, go to the kitchen to see if they have some leftover from the lunch they served today. Otherwise, we have leftovers at home. Ling just got an internship this summer at Wells Fargo, and both June and Nate are in the top classes and doing well. We are pleased. They get that from my side of the family."
"Actually, Ling got an internship at JP Morgan." Mr. Yang corrected his wife.
Audrey only smiled politely again. The general pause made him think she could also feel his wife's psychotic fury bubbling up. He longed to speak but could think of nothing to say. And after the awkward silence, Audrey attempted to diffuse and flee. She repeated how great things were and apologized for interrupting them.
After the door closed behind Audrey. Mrs. Yang viciously attempted to correct her husband.
"How would you know? They don't tell you anything. Also, Audrey is married. I don't want her to quit because you made her feel uncomfortable." Mrs. Yang said. The distrust oozing out in every syllable.
Mr. Yang looked into his wife's eyes and didn't recognize the mother of his children. It was too late. This woman thought he was dangerous. A threat to her control over their lives. He let the moment pass, knowing it was a useless fight in the making, and changed the subject.
"Can I have the credit card to get a new belt for the lawnmower?"
Mrs. Yang eyed him. "I thought last week you fixed it."
"No, I said this week I would."
Mrs. Yang pulled out her purse and handed him a credit card with his name on it.
"You never try to help me. Fine, but try and get a cheap one." Mrs. Yang picked up her phone, angry that he refused to engage with her. She was itching for a fight.
Every encounter with his wife drained him. He knew she didn't want him. After having their kids, he was a tool to her, and she treated him that way. As Mr. Yang drove to Home Depot, he tried to pull up happy memories to keep him from driving out of state. In their culture, their family and generations before them all felt duty. His own father and mother taught him that no matter what that you stick around. You don't get divorced. You always come home. Loyalty was the top priority in a marriage. But whoever made those rules forgot to emphasize respect as well.