[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
was Julie, and she was an elementary school teacher, and she was
Chinese. Throughout most of the night, my relatives left her alone.
There was a feeble Q&A session, but most decided it wasn t worth
getting to know her, not if Andy was going to bring another girl
the next year anyway.
I can t believe. Why Andy bring new girl? My mother threw
her hands up in frustration. My mother, father, and I were driving
home after New Year s dinner. My brother had gone off in his own
car, back to his apartment on the other side of the San Fernando
Valley. Lucky him.
What are you talking about? I liked Julie. She was really
sweet.
He bring different girl every year. My father shook his head.
Very bad. Why he do that? Why his mom not say anything?
Andy s mother is my father s youngest sister.
He does not bring a different girl every year. He s only brought
two in his entire life.
Two is too many. My mother turned her head to look at me
in the backseat. Only need one. Two make people confuse.
What s so confusing? There are two girls: he dated one; they
broke up; and now he s dating another. It s actually all very easy if
you pay attention.
198
Rul e s of Eng ag e me nt
He act like a fool. My father gripped the steering wheel and
concentrated on the road. Andy should only bring most impor-
tant girl. He should know that.
Well he thought Eunice was the most important girl.
Filipino. My mother added.
Yes, he thought Filipina Eunice was the most important girl.
And now he thinks Julie is the most important girl.
Chinese.
Whatever. I heard that in other families, everyone meets
boyfriends and girlfriends all the time. I wasn t sure why I was
defending Andy I didn t really want to expose every boyfriend
I d ever have but I think I was defending reason and common
sense, two things my family could use, along with patience and a
volume button. Andy and Julie have been together for over two
years. Maybe they ll marry.
Maybe they not marry, my mother contended, Who know?
That why so confuse.
But it s not confusing!
Anne, you not understand. My father shook his head.
We only interest in one you marry, my mother added.
Most important one, my father echoed.
I know. I get it, but it s not fair for you to get mad at Andy just
because he brought a girlfriend to dinner. Don t you care who he s
dating? Because you re supposed to care.
No, we care. . . . We just don t want to know. My mother
adjusted her seatbelt so she could turn around even more and look
me squarely in the eyes. When you find husband, you tell us.
Don t bring home everyone you meet. Only bring one.
Don t be like Andy, my father warned me.
Throughout my life, my parents urged my brother and me to be
more like Andy: be more studious like Andy; be better at sports
199
happy birthday or whatever
like Andy; speak and write Korean and go to church every week
like Andy. Now they were saying, just kidding, forget Andy. Don t
be like him.
OK, so you want me to tell you when I ve found a husband,
but I shouldn t tell you who I m dating? That s confusing.
My mother rolled her eyes. Why you ask so many question? I
thought you say not confusing! Ayoo, I give up. She looked at my
father. He shrugged.
Don t worry, he told her in Korean, she ll figure it out. She s
smart. Someone will marry her.
You think? my mother asked him in Korean. They laughed.
I speak Korean, too, you know.
You don t speak Korean very good, Anne. My mother smiled
impishly.
You mean I don t speak Korean very well.
Ayoo, Anne, you never find husband because you cause so
many problem.
What did I do? I m just sitting here. No problems here.
No problem? my mother asked, So that mean you find hus-
band? Where is he? She looked around the car.
Why do I have to find the husband? Why doesn t the hus-
band find me instead?
You need help? You know Dr. Kim s son, Daniel, he ortho-
dontist
MOM, STOP!
The car was silent. Finally.
I think Daniel engaged already, my father whispered.
DAD!
See, Anne? You run out of time!
5 5 5
200
Rul e s of Eng ag e me nt
My parents want the impossible. They want me to get married
immediately, but to the perfect man who apparently is waiting
for me to find him. Where do I even begin? Whenever I want to
find anything, I consult a map, so I typed in Annie s husband
into Google Maps and surprisingly it came up with four pages of
options, including a bed and breakfast in Springville, California;
an outlet store in Lenox, Massachussets; and a nanny referral ser-
vice in Mountain Village, Colorado. Sadly, none of these places
deliver to New York, but it s comforting to know you can find
anything on the Internet. The pressure my parents put on me to
find a husband makes me a bad girlfriend, but it s not because I
feel the need to get married in the next five minutes. In fact, I m in
no rush to get married. Unlike my parents, I can t hear my b-clock
ticking away. In fact, my clock could be in its final dark and lonely
hour and at this very second, my withering ovaries could be spit-
ting out the last tired egg, but I wouldn t know it. That is not the
kind of pressure I feel. Instead, I feel the same pressure I felt when
I brought home my first B+. I know that when my parents ask me
if I ve found a husband, they are referring to a very specific kind, a
Korean, Catholic, Harvard-educated doctor/lawyer/orthodontist
husband. My last few boyfriends have not fulfilled any of these
requirements. The one who came closest was Aaron, who only
went to M.I.T., which is down the street from Harvard, but he was
white and Jewish. Korean Catholic men from Harvard just don t
interest me. The problem is, if I marry a man I like, my parents
are in for a big let-down, and as much as I hate to admit it, I don t
want to disappoint them. So it seems easier to never fully commit
to anyone than to commit to someone and disappoint my parents.
This makes me a bad girlfriend.
I dated Aaron for six years and even lived with him at one
point, and I never told my parents about him. On the other hand, I
201
happy birthday or whatever
didn t exactly hide Aaron from my parents either. I ve known him
since I was twelve and we both attended the same junior high, high
school, and college, and even moved to New York together. My
parents knew him as one of my best friends. Aaron was the bright-
est kid in high school, but he also dyed his unruly blond hair and
his King Tut goatee blue. When we both returned to Los Angeles
for the holidays, I always invited him over to my parents house
for a Korean dinner, as I did other friends. He always arrived on
time, with fruit (the appropriate Korean dinner gift) or my mother s
favorite coffee beans (Swiss Chocolate Raspberry) in hand. He did
everything right, with only a little coaching from me. Aaron and
my parents, especially my mother, got along well. He was charm-
ing at the dinner table making jokes, complimenting my mother s
cooking, and shooing her out of the kitchen so he could do the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]