I sit at the kitchen table and try to drink tea with Lee’s mom, but it’s possibly the worst conversation I’ve ever had. She doesn’t answer any of my questions about the house or what she’s ordered for dinner or acknowledge any of my compliments on her garden or the very kind and generous people that came to Lee’s father’s wake yesterday. Nothing. She just stares out the large floor-to-ceiling windows at the rain softly falling on the stone porch outside. I try to lean forward and refill her tea cup, but she places her hand over the top and speaks in Korean.
“Mom,” Nari hisses from the stove. She’s making grilled cheese for Chase who’s in the other room playing video games. “Please be polite.”