Jung Yun - Shelter

After an awkward attempt at conversation with a woman who doesn’t speak English, he notices Elinor poking her head inside the door. She enters the room and introduces herself, crossing her hands limply over her chest. Up close, Elinor is one severe swipe of color after another. Her hair is an unnatural shade of red that reminds him of an old penny. And her lips are red too — a bright, thickly applied shade of fire engine.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “And for reading at the service.”

He shakes her warm, perfumed hand, trying not to stare at her unusual outfit — a shapeless blue jacket that hangs from her shoulders like a cape, and white pants so billowy, they look like a skirt.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Kyung. How are you holding up?”

“I’m all right, thanks.”

She looks at him skeptically, but doesn’t try to press the matter. “I was devastated when I heard about what happened. I mean, no one can be more devastated than you and your father, but—”

“It’s not really something we have to compare like that.”

“Yes, of course. I just meant … it was such an exciting time in her life. Before I went on vacation, we were on the phone almost every day making plans.”

“Well, she loved to redecorate.”

“Oh, we weren’t redecorating anything. She was going to come work for me.”

“Work? You mean like volunteer?”

“No. It was a full-time position, with benefits and everything.”

Kyung shakes his head. The idea of Mae having a job, a real job, doesn’t compute. “You mean you were going to hire her in exchange for an investment? My father was going to give you a loan or something?”

Elinor stiffens. Suddenly, the nervous, tongue-tied woman is gone, replaced by a visibly piqued businesswoman. “I’ve never needed a loan from anyone, not even when I first started out. I have three employees and more work than I know what to do with.” She pauses, softening a bit. “I wanted Mae to join us because she had an exceptionally good eye. You knew that about her, didn’t you? How she could track down almost anything she put her mind to? I mean, really obscure pieces that other decorators would usually give up on.”

He didn’t mean to insult Elinor, to insinuate that her intentions weren’t good when she offered Mae a job, but this is the only way he knows how to make sense of it. His mother had never worked before. She’d never expressed any interest in it either.

“I’m not sure why she didn’t tell you about this. She beat out two other women who had much more formal training. One of them even had a master’s degree in design. Every time I talked to her, it seemed like she was so excited to get started.”

“Wait…” Kyung still can’t imagine his mother going into an office every day or bringing home a check at the end of the week. He also can’t imagine his father being amenable to it. “When was this supposed to happen?”

“She was planning to start after I got back from vacation, but the day came and went, and she didn’t show up, so I kept calling and calling. It wasn’t like her to not call me back, so I drove up to the house and there were all these news crews there. Of course, it made sense after that. It was so awful, what they did to her.… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t be talking about this now.” She rummages through her bag and removes a key attached to a small plastic disk. “I’m guessing you’ll probably want to get her things at some point? I wrote the address on the key chain for you.”

“What things?”

“In the apartment…” She frowns, studying his face as if she might be speaking to the wrong person. “The apartment above my studio? She asked if she could rent it. She’d been having some things moved up there.” She looks flustered again. “Is there someone else I should be talking to about this? Your father, maybe?”

“No, no.” He takes the key from her. “I just don’t understand why she needed an apartment.”

“The drive, I suppose. I got the sense she wasn’t comfortable asking you or your father for a ride every day.”

It feels like Elinor just shoved him into a wall. His reaction must register on his face because she quickly tries to smooth things over.

“I mean, she never said that directly. But it’s a long drive from here to Connecticut. Two hours, round-trip. Four, if you had to drop her off in the morning and come back for her at the end of the day. It would have been completely impractical.”

Kyung stares at the key, trying to understand why Mae never mentioned any of this before. He remembers her talking about Elinor — endlessly, in fact. Whenever he had to drive her somewhere or drop by the house because she’d complained so bitterly that he hadn’t, Mae would go on and on about a project they were working on together. Rather than fight to change the subject, he’d simply tune her out. He wonders if Mae told him about the job while he wasn’t listening. Or maybe she didn’t bother to tell him because she knew he wouldn’t listen at all.

“It’s not like it’s a big apartment or anything,” Elinor continues. “It was just a place to stay during the workweek.” She turns at the sound of someone clearing his throat and sees the reverend standing outside the door. She seems relieved to have a reason to end their conversation. “She paid the rent through the end of the year, so there’s absolutely no hurry. You should feel free to come and go as you please. I just thought you’d want to have the key for whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.… I appreciate you being so nice to her all these years.”

“It was mutual.” Elinor’s eyes begin to well up. She searches through her bag and removes a small package of tissues. “I never expected we’d become such good friends when we first met, but she was such an amazing woman.” She dabs at her eyes as they begin to spill over, leaving watery brown smudges on the tissue. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I should really get going now. Please, take all the time you need with the apartment.”

He has more questions he wants to ask, more things he wants to know, but Elinor leaves before he has a chance to tell her not to. The reverend is quick to enter as she exits, stopping when he notices the papers on his desk.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left such a mess in here.” He collects his eulogy and deposits the sheets of paper into the trash. “Gillian asked me to check on you. You know there’s plenty of space in the living room, right? You don’t have to sit here by yourself.”

“I’d prefer it, if you don’t mind.”

“I understand. You’ve always been a little shy.”

“Shy” is a generous assessment of his personality, and a completely incorrect one, but Kyung lets the comment pass.

The reverend gently kicks the trash can. “So, did you read any of this?”

“I didn’t mean to, but yes, I got a sense of what it was.”

“And you’re upset with me, I assume.”

Kyung shrugs. It’s not the right word, “upset.” He can’t bring himself to feel that much about an event he didn’t plan, a rite of passage he doesn’t fully believe in. The service wasn’t perfect, but his mother wasn’t there to see it. And the longer he drifts through the day, the more he realizes that everyone is pretending in some way. They have to. The truth has no place in the etiquette of mourning.

“I don’t have anything to be upset about.” He turns around and scans one of the bookshelves. “Have you always read so much science fiction?”

“I used to, but not anymore. This was actually my bedroom when I was little. I just have a hard time throwing out books.”

“It’s not strange, living in your father’s house?”