American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

Jin Heon hadn’t even reached the building entrance when she heard the sound of rapid, THUMP THUMP THUMPing footsteps on the stairs.

Her father rushed down at a speed she had never seen before—if he could run this fast normally, the casino thugs would probably never be able to catch him.

He practically leaped down three steps at a time to the landing, then shoved open the half-closed iron door.

"My good girl is here!" he boomed, as if afraid the neighbors wouldn’t hear. "Heon! Dad just knew you’d amount to something!"

He threw an arm around Jin Heon’s shoulders and, as they walked into the building, turned back to shout and show off to Uncle Park and Aunt Li:

"Hey! Mr. Park!" His chin jutted out so far it nearly poked Uncle Park. "See this? My daughter! She came back in a Porsche! She’s an executive now! Do you even know what an executive is?"

Standing in front of his grocery store, Uncle Park gave the Porsche a complicated look but said nothing.

"Aunt Li!" her father yelled, turning in her direction. "Look at this! My daughter works at a big company!"

Watching this scene unfold, Jin Heon felt for a fleeting moment that her father might actually be genuinely happy for her success.

Then she quickly extinguished that thought.

Her father chattered nonstop as they went upstairs.

When they reached the third floor, he pushed the door open with one hand, all eager attentiveness.

Her mother was standing at the kitchen doorway. When she saw Jin Heon, her expression was a mixture of pleasant surprise and unease.

"Heon? You’re really back?" She quickly wiped her hands. "Are you hungry?"

"I’m not hungry, Mom," Jin Heon said softly. "You can stop what you’re doing."

Her father had already plopped down on the sofa. He patted the seat next to him and said cheerfully:

"Sit, Heon, sit." Then he ordered his wife, "Go get a glass of water. Heon, have a drink first. No rush."

His eyes were full of expectation.

But Jin Heon didn’t do as he wished. She didn’t sit on the sofa, but stood in the space between the entryway and the living room.

"I’m fine standing."

The living room fell silent for a moment.

Her father licked his lips. The smile was still on his face, but his eyes had changed.

Jin Heon stared at his face and opened her mouth to speak.

For a split second, a bone-deep hesitation surged up from the depths of her chest.

’He was so happy downstairs. His voice was so loud, all the neighbors heard him—he’s probably never been that proud in his entire life.’

But.

Jin Heon closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

"I’m not giving you a single cent. And—"

"I called the police ten minutes ago," she said, her voice devoid of joy or sorrow. "They’ll be here any second."

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it had the effect of a gunshot in the living room.

The smile on her father’s face froze. The sound of chopping from the kitchen stopped. Even the voices of the characters on the TV seemed to grow quieter.

"What did you say?" Her father was stunned.

"I called the police on my way here," Jin Heon said, looking at him. "I reported a case of domestic violence."

"Are you crazy?!" Her father looked like an aging lion as he strode right up to Jin Heon. "You called the cops? On your own family?"

Hearing the commotion, her mother rushed out of the kitchen, shielding Jin Heon like a mother hen protecting her chick.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked, then turned to Jin Heon, her eyes already red. "Heon, how could you call the police? We don’t air our dirty laundry in public! You’re just making a spectacle for the neighbors!"

"Everyone on this street knows he hits you, and that he hits me, too," Jin Heon said. "Mom, there’s no dirty laundry to air. Everyone already knows."

Her mother opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Jin Heon!" Her father shoved her mother’s hand away and pointed at Jin Heon’s nose. "You think your wings are all grown, huh? You make a little money and suddenly you don’t have any respect for your old man?"

His finger was almost poking her in the face.

"You think you’re so great now? Calling the police? What good will that do? I’m your father! What are you going to do to your own father?!"

Jin Heon looked at the man who, just five minutes ago, had been beaming at her. All she felt now was that he was ridiculous.

She was prepared.

"Go on, hit me," she said.

Her father’s movement froze.

"Go on. You know I have money, right?" Jin Heon stared into his eyes without flinching. "The police are almost here. If you hit me now, the slap mark on my face will speak for me when they arrive."

She even tilted her head, offering him her left cheek.

"It won’t be a domestic dispute then," she said. "It’ll be a criminal case where the victim filed a report, the police arrived on the scene, and the victim has visible facial injuries. The choice is yours."

Her father’s hand remained raised in the air, his fingers trembling.

He stared into Jin Heon’s eyes, but in them he saw none of the fear he expected—no anger, no hatred.

His hand suddenly dropped. His voice shrank as he took two steps back and collapsed onto the sofa. "Fine... fine... You’ve really turned on me."

Her mother stood between them, crying silently.

Four or five minutes later, the sound of two pairs of steady footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by a knock on the door.

"NYPD, did someone here call the police?"

Jin Heon went to open the door.

Two police officers stood at the door: a middle-aged Black man and a younger white woman.

The middle-aged Black officer glanced around the room, his gaze shifting between Jin Heon, her mother, and the father on the sofa.