I wake up earlier than the 4am alarm, with my little sister puttering around. I drop her off at the terminal before dropping off the car. Getting lost, leaving the airport and coming back in. It is 4:30am, and there is no traffic. We land at La Guardia, to meet her girlfriend. The iced coffee and bagel from Boston is not as good as the everything bagel Stella gets for S.
After pleasantries, and the two finding seats next to each other, we land in Norfolk. For my very first time, no one is here to pick us up. Busy with celebratory preparations. An uber picks us up, with a young man playing Santeria in the background. I feel as if we are inside 1997.
When we get there, no one is home. I go buy Korean groceries, and pick up Audrey on the way back. Who is sick, only to find out later she wanted to come home early to partake in all the festivities. I was afraid the school wouldn’t let me pick her up because I am not registered as one of the authorized. I bring my license, with the same last name. And the fact that Audrey recognizes me and is at ease with me releases her to me.
One by one, the family arrives. I tell older sister about the tombstone, and she says fine. No apology. I bite my tongue. These few days are about her. I let her go. Is this called growing up? But also seeing that the addition was the literal last nail on the coffin. He had sealed his fate by the way he lived, and on his epitaph, the truth of his capitulation. The promise of rebirth to see if he can be free to live his own life.
We are supposed to go out to dinner, but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy the food. So I make bibimbap and other side dishes, including kimchi. I was right. The cold platter of cheese and marinated vegetables are salty and straight out of the can. I pick at others fries and come home.
Still, it is wonderful to be with everyone. In the evening, I go and pick up the brother, everyone else too tired to drive. The way there feels dangerous, with foggy windows in the spitting rain, that I cannot see out of, in this massive spaceship when I am used to my Volkswagen Polo. At least, on the way back, the rain abates and we get home safely. My brother hadn’t read the chats and didn’t see that the ceremony is actually tomorrow, not Saturday. That we are all leaving on Saturday and not Sunday. He promptly switches his ticket, as to not be the last one leaving.
We get home, and I decide to sleep downstairs, on another sofa. Because I don’t want to snore and inconvenience the sister and her partner. And also to give them the space and privacy that would be given to a straight couple.