American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

A few seconds later, it rang again.

It was the same number.

Jin Heon narrowed her eyes, furrowed her brow, and pressed the answer button without saying a word.

"Heon?"

It was her father’s voice.

Compared to his anger yesterday, he sounded like a completely different person.

"Heon, about yesterday... I’m sorry," he said. "I drank too much. I didn’t mean it. You know I can’t control myself when I drink."

Jin Heon gazed out the car window at the gloomy parking lot. A stray cat leaped from behind a nearby trash can onto the hood of a car, took a couple of steps, and jumped away.

"I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, you know," he continued. "I promise it won’t happen again."

Jin Heon listened quietly, not interrupting him.

It wasn’t because she was considering whether to forgive him, but because this whole speech was just so familiar.

Ever since she could remember, these words would play on a loop every two or three months, just like a promotional ad at a South Korean supermarket.

"I drank too much." "I didn’t mean it." "I can’t control myself." "It won’t happen again."

As a child, she believed him unconditionally. At eleven, she still believed. At fourteen, she would occasionally fantasize that it was true, forcing herself to believe. By sixteen, she didn’t believe him anymore.

Never trust the words of a gambler or a drunk. A gambler lies to others, and a drunk lies to himself.

Now, Jin Heon couldn’t be bothered to figure out if he was genuinely apologizing or just paving the way for his next outburst.

"Okay," Jin Heon said, her tone completely flat, as if she were talking to a McDonald’s employee at the drive-thru. "I get it."

"So... come home some other day, and I’ll treat you to a meal." Her father’s voice sounded relieved. "What do you want to eat? My treat, okay?"

’With what money?’

Jin Heon swallowed the words.

The last time he’d used this excuse, he had left an underage Jin Heon alone in the restaurant and skipped out on the bill.

"We’ll see," she said. "I have to go."

She hung up the phone.

After hanging up, she sat for a few more minutes, then dialed her mother’s number.

"Mom," she said, getting straight to the point. "Send me your bank card number."

"What for?"

"I’m transferring you 5,000 USD."

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end.

"No," her mother said. "Keep it for yourself. You haven’t even graduated yet—"

"Mom, Mom, Mom! Listen to me," Jin Heon insisted. "You save this 5,000. Don’t give it to Dad all at once. The next time he acts up, just give him a little. And give it to him in odd amounts, not round numbers every time."

"Heon..."

"I know you’re not going to divorce him," Jin Heon’s voice suddenly dropped. "I’m not going to try to convince you anymore. I’ve tried so many times before... but at least don’t let yourself get hurt."

A few more seconds of silence followed.

"Well... I’ll take it for now," her mother said. "But I’ll try my best not to use it."

"It’s okay if you use it," Jin Heon said. "Mom, you don’t need to worry about me making money."

"Okay... if you have time, come home and see me," her mother said, then quickly added, "I’ll let you know when your father is out. That way you won’t have to see him. I’m not trying to rush you, it’s just..."

"I know."

After hanging up, Jin Heon waited for her mother to text the card number, then transferred 5,000 USD to the account.

She knew perfectly well that this would be a recurring transfer every few months from now on.

It was like a construction company working on a street having to pay a monthly fee to the local Mafia or thugs to ensure their site didn’t get wrecked.

Jin Heon used to think people who did this were idiots, but now, it didn’t seem absurd at all.

Because it was the most effective method, and after all, they were her own parents.

What else could she do?

All Jin Heon could do was keep paying her father protection money, buying a few months of peace for herself and her mother—

—or was it?

A thought flashed through her mind, so fast she couldn’t even grasp its entirety.

She knew a lot of people now. She knew socialites, lawyers, people with resources. She could even—

Then she cut the thought off herself.

’Not now.’

She hadn’t thought it through, wasn’t ready, and hadn’t made up her mind.

After all, they were her parents. No matter what, they were the closest people she had.

She started the 911 and pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto Northern Boulevard. She was surrounded by the all-too-familiar Korean signs and low-rise shops.

White smoke still billowed from the barbecue restaurant, and the same few uncles were still squatting by the lottery station entrance, smoking.

Nothing had changed. The road was the same road, the smoke was the same smoke, her mother was the same mother, and her father was the same father.

But Jin Heon was no longer the little girl she used to be.

As the car entered the highway, Jin Heon’s fingers began to tap unconsciously on the steering wheel, the rhythm gradually quickening.

An inexplicable anxiety began to spread from her chest.

It wasn’t sadness, but something more uncomfortable. It felt like something was stuck in her chest, something she couldn’t cough up or swallow down.

It wasn’t a sore throat or some chest congestion that cough syrup could fix.

If she was no longer the Jin Heon of her childhood, then who was the Jin Heon of today?

She was in no mood to study or work today. It was Saturday.

She wanted to spend money.

The thought seemed to sprout directly from the tightness in her chest. It was a pure, animalistic impulse: to spend money, spend it on herself, on beautiful, expensive things that belonged only to her.