Chapter 9: Their Mom's Age

On Wednesday a regular at the Wick read a stranger's post about Missy out loud, at the counter, with a smile.

She was a retired teacher who wore a different cardigan every day, and she meant well.

"Listen to this, Missy. The internet found you."

She held up her phone.

"It says, 'Who is the cat café woman with the tattoos? She looks about their mom's age.'"

Missy's hands stopped on the milk jug.

The café was full again.

Two tables held tourists, a man worked on a laptop, and Hyunjin sat in the corner with his sketchbook and his hood up.

He had stopped drawing.

"Their mom's age," Missy repeated lightly.

"Oh, honey, it's the internet. They say terrible things."

"Somebody wrote that you're their grandma, but that's silly."

"Thank you," Missy said. "That's very kind."

"There's a picture, too."

It was from the day of the panic attack.

It showed Missy from behind, on the floor, with her arms around Jisung's shoulders.

Her hips took up most of the frame.

The comments under it ran for pages.

She felt something old and sour rise in her chest, and she put the milk jug down very carefully.

"Excuse me a minute," she said, and went into the back office and shut the door.

She stood with her palms flat on the cold desk and her eyes on the wall.

For one second she was fourteen again, and a girl in the hallway was saying she was too big to wear that.

She counted the cracks in the plaster until her heart slowed.

She was forty-nine years old.

She was a widow, tattooed and heavy and loud.

Four men who could have anyone had said they wanted her.

The comments said what the world thought of that.

The world was probably right.

She thought of Jisung's mouth on her stomach, and Felix's low voice, and Hyunjin's long fingers.

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