Page 63 of Show Off

“Seen any foxes lately?” I lean on the counter to study the reader board.

Colleen winks, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “Just my lovely bride.”

Patti blushes and swats her with a spatula. “Honestly, Colleen. You’re ridiculous.”

They both are, and it’s adorable. My parents were like this once. I couldn’t turn around as a kid without seeing my mom pat my father’s backside or catching my dad with his hand up Mom’s top. Maybe less as we got older, the more Ji-Hoon and I became obnoxious teens. We’d make gagging sounds when they’d kiss, and eventually they stopped doing it in front of us.

I’d kill to see Dad hold my mom in his arms, just once.

An empty ache settles in my chest as Ji-Hoon wheels to a corner table. Patti sets down a plate of muffins with a flourish. “On the house,” she says. “I meant to make a regular batch, but I doubled the recipe on accident.”

Right.

I take a bite of muffin and chew before replying. “You’re sure you aren’t just saying that because you live next door to us and saw Doc Williams come to our place last night?”

“Don’t be silly.” Patti sets down two big mugs of oat milk, because of course she remembers we’re both lactose intolerant. “You boys shout if you need more.”

“Thank you, Patti.” Ji-Hoon’s already devoured half a muffin. “Damn, that’s good.”

I take a bite and, of course, he’s right. “Amazing as always,” I shout as she shuffles back behind the counter, giving us privacy to talk.

“So.” Ji-Hoon takes another bite of muffin. “Dad had Parkinson’s, huh?”

I’m not the only Yang brother who gets right to the point. “Were you shocked?”

“Shocked?” He cocks his head, considering. “Surprised, maybe. It actually explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember how Dad couldn’t smell kimchi anymore?”

“No.” A faint memory tickles the back of my brain. Dad at the kitchen counter, elbow deep in a bowl of cabbage and pungent vinegar. Mom’s arms wrapped around him, palm rubbing his chest as he worked. “Maybe.”

“We were stupid little teenage pricks,” he says, and I have to agree. “But I remember that part. How Mom kept waving things under his nose.”

“That’s a symptom?”

Ji-Hoon nods, his mouth full of muffin. “Yep. Same with sleep issues. Remember how he started staying up late and working weird hours?”

“Barely.” I feel like an asshole. “I guess I spaced on a lot of that. Self-absorbed pre-teen and all.”

He gives me a look that suggests I might still have my head up my ass. “Thanks for the help last night.”

I shake my head slowly, peeling the wrapper off a muffin. “I should have been there for you,” I insist. “It was shitty to leave you alone.”

My brother gives an exasperated snort. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes? What, you want to lock me in a cage and keep watch over me 24/7?”

“Tempting.” I bite into a muffin. It’s moist and spongy and tastes like summer. “Does it make you feel better?”

“The muffin?” He shoves the second half into his mouth and chews. “Definitely.”

“I meant learning we might not have caused the?—”

“I know what you meant, Dal.” He grabs another muffin off the plate. “We’ll never know for sure, will we?”

“What’s that?”

“If we hadn’t been horsing around, would Mom and Dad still be here?”

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