Disappointing Mom

(My mother really wants me to get a divorce.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. Go is a popular game here in Korea. Yet I have no idea how to play. It comes with lots of flat black-and-white ceramic pieces, and you have to maneuver them around a checkered board. People often bet money on the outcome. Anyway, a couple of old drunk geezers were having a Go match in the park when an argument broke out over the result. So the loser stabbed his buddy to death with a knife but told the police he can’t remember because he was black-out drunk at the time. The killer is in his early 60s, and the victim is in his late 50s.

I ate hash browns for breakfast as I surfed the internet. San Francisco’s new second-string quarterback is a guy named Sam Darnold. He was a star at USC and played for both the Jets and the Panthers over the last few seasons. Sam was staying in George Kittle’s pool house, but he had to move out because he thinks the place is haunted. He says that he kept waking up at 3 a.m. to take a piss and felt a malevolent presence in the room. He also claims that this demonic force had him pressed down on the bed during one of these occasions. Three is a big number for the satanic community. Evil spirits torment their victims during this hour to mock the trinity. Anyway, that’s what I’ve been told.

I called my mother using Facebook messenger.

She said, “How’s it going between you and your crazy wife?”

“Well, I have some bad news.”

“What is it this time?”

“I don’t think she’s leaving me.”

“How can you tell for sure?”

I shrugged. “I have no proof. She says that she’s divorcing me in a week. Yet my gut tells me that she’ll probably just stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. In fact, I don’t have a clue one way or the other. But where is she going to go? I’m the only asshole who treats her kindly.”

Mom released a heavy sigh. “You should kick her out.”

“It doesn’t work like that over here. No-fault divorce doesn’t exist. Therefore, both parties have to agree before the split can occur.”

And this is true. For instance, a bigshot executive who works at SK had a love child about fifteen years ago with his mistress at the time. I suppose he has more than one girlfriend. Most rich men do. Anyway, he asked his wife for a divorce, but she refused to sign the paper. So he is still legally hitched to this woman even though he doesn’t share the same apartment and never sees her. Asians are big into the idea of the family unit. Martial dissolution is not as lickety-split as it is in the west.

Mom said, “You need to piss or get off the pot.”

I nodded. “I agree. But we’ll see what happens next Monday. I’m not her prison keeper. If she signs the paper, then I’ll gladly lend my John Hancock to the document. Yet if she refuses…”

“Yes?”

“Well, there ain’t a fucking thing I can do, is there? Life will go forward as normal.”

“Doesn’t personal happiness mean anything to you?”

“I look at it this way. I’m not getting shot to pieces in the Ukraine, nor am I foraging for roots and berries in The Congo. Trust me. Lots of people in this sorry world would trade places with me in a second.”

She hung up the phone. I could see the disappointment in her eyes. But what’s a boy to do? I have to work within the parameters of the law. 

(Did you like this post? Then read my novel for free. Click here.) 

(Give my message board a try.)