My Korean Christmas Prince Ch. 06

"I'd started my freshman year at a college out east, but I told them when I came home that Christmas break. I knew it would hurt them, and I was planning on hiding it from them a little longer, but they kept asking me if I'd met any nice girls, crap like that. They'd always brought me up to be honest, and I just couldn't lie to their faces. But when I told them, they said, they said it was just a phase, that I didn't know what I was saying, that I'd been corrupted being away from home, but I told them I was absolutely sure, and that I was still their son..." Caleb looks up, and the haunted expression on his face is heart-wrenching. "They told me to leave that same night. They said never come home again, never talk to us again. They said... They said they wished I'd never been born. They didn't love me, Yeong-soo," Caleb's voice breaks, and my eyes well up along with his. "They didn't love me enough."

I hold Caleb's hand tightly and after a few shuddering breaths he pulls himself together and continues.

"I had to work multiple jobs and go to school part time. It took me a while, but I finally graduated, and I got a great job. I was really successful at work, and I had a boyfriend I really liked, and I was happy, and I thought maybe then, maybe after all these years, maybe they could be happy for me."

Caleb's voice turns angry and bitter, his frustration evident. "I tried to call them, but they ignored me. I even came to the farm to try to visit them, but they refused to talk to me. I tried to send them money to help them out, but they would never accept it. Our family has had this farm for generations, and they insisted on using outdated farm equipment, even as they were getting older. They refused to hire more extra help. They got to a point where they wouldn't even go to the doctor or take any medicine, saying that they put all their trust in God."

Caleb wipes his eyes angrily. "And when my dad was in the hospital dying, they wouldn't even let me come see him. Not even then. And then he died. My mom followed him soon after that."

"Is that when you took over the farm? After they passed away?" I ask tentatively.

Caleb looks startled, as if in his anger he'd forgotten I was still there, but he grasps my hand more tightly, as if it's the rock that will keep him steady, keep him from being swept away.

"Yes. I don't know. It seems crazy to have left this fantastic job in international finance to come work on the family farm in the middle of nowhere, but I felt so guilty. Even now, I feel like I could have done more. They shouldn't have died. I should have tried harder to get through to them. I should have forced them to let me help out with the farm. I should have been a better son."

Caleb is trembling with all the emotions he's letting out and his eyes are closed tightly, a tear or two leaking out of the corners. My heart aches for him. What could I say that would make him feel any better about what happened? That wouldn't just be a miserable attempt doomed to failure to console him, that wouldn't be a pat little cliche that would rationalize away all the years of pain he's felt, the pain he continues to wrestle with? Not wanting to fill the silence with useless platitudes, I just sit with him, waiting for him to calm down, staying with him for as long as he wants me here.

"I didn't have any sort of plan for the farm when I came back," Caleb resumes quietly. "At first I made a lot of changes, I don't know, to show them that I was right or something. That's when I remodelled the house, used money I'd saved up to buy all this new farm equipment, hired a bunch of workers, tried to make the farm a big successful money-making enterprise. But somehow that just made me feel worse, you know? Like I was desecrating what they had worked so hard for, like spray painting graffiti all over their grave or something. Once I realized that, I scaled things back. I tried to go back to doing things their way, the traditional way. I tried to understand them. I've tried to connect with them, even though they're gone. I've tried to forgive them, and even though I don't believe in an afterlife, I still hope that wherever they are... that they forgive me too."

Caleb goes silent again, and we sit together still holding hands.

"Thanks for listening," he says after a while, finally opening his eyes and slowly pulling his hand away. "You're the first person I've talked to about any of this. Sorry. I really should be going to therapy, not dumping this all on you."

"No, it's fine," I say reassuringly. "I'm really sorry you had to go through all that. And I'm more than happy to listen to you anytime. Really."

"Thanks," Caleb says emotionally. "That really means a lot. Really, thanks."

"You're the first person I've ever told about my parents," I tell him. "And about... being gay. So thanks for listening to me. Hearing what happened with your parents, it makes me wonder how my parents would react if they knew. At some level I just don't care. It's sad, but it's true. But at another level... I suppose all kids want their parents' approval."

"I guess so," Caleb agrees sadly.

We sit in silence, and Caleb looks drained. But hopefully he's feeling better, with all of that pent-up emotion finally released. Finally Caleb stands up with a big sigh.

"Well, I guess that's it for stargazing for tonight," he says with a wry little laugh. He leads us back down the loft and we head back to the house.

"So was there a particular reason you liked stargazing when you were in school? Was it a way to get away from your parents?" I ask as we walk.

Caleb turns to me, surprised. "You know, I never really thought about it. I guess you're right. It was a good excuse to not have to spend time with them in the house in the evenings after hockey practice and dinner. But," he says, pausing to think it through, "I think it was more like a way to imagine myself a million miles away. I always saw college as my great escape from my life here."

I nod in understanding and we continue to walk in companionable silence.

"I can understand now why you're not a fan of Christmas," I say, thinking of how Caleb had reacted when I had given him that box of decorations. "Sorry for making you put up those decorations..."

"No, no," Caleb says. "You couldn't have known. And... actually, it was... kind of nice. I was surprised. I'd been avoiding thinking about Christmas for so long, but seeing all those old decorations from when I was a kid... It made me feel a little better. Like, it was something that my parents and I enjoyed together. Even in high school when I was desperately wanting to escape to college, we still had fun at Christmas."

"I'm glad," I say.

"I wonder what time it is," Caleb says, suddenly changing the subject. He checks his watch. "It's still not that late. Is there anything in particular you want to do?"

Make out with you all night is the thought that immediately springs to mind. The thought makes me blush furiously internally, but externally I remain calm and just shrug and casually say, "I dunno. What do you think?"

"I dunno. We could just hang out in the living room for a while?" Caleb suggests.

Just then we're passing by a cluster of trees not far from the house and I stop in front of them, struck by an idea.

"Hey, is this a Christmas tree?" I ask, pointing to one of them.

"What?" Caleb says, surprised. He looks at where I'm pointing and laughs. "Oh, yeah, but that's a Norway spruce. Better for decorating outdoors. If you wanted an indoor Christmas tree, you'd want something more like a fir tree. For Christmas we always had a Balsam fir that we grew ourselves. There's still a bunch of them growing on the other side of that side barn."

"You know that box of decorations I found? There were some boxes of tree ornaments there too."

"Yeah? You want to decorate a Christmas tree?" Caleb smiles, but then thinks about it more. "I don't know..."

"You said putting up those other decorations made you feel closer to your parents, right? So why not put up a tree too?"

"What, like Christmas decorating therapy?" Caleb says, now laughing again, and seeing him more back to his normal self instantly makes me feel happier.

"Yes, something like that," I say chuckling along with him. Caleb still seems to be hesitating, so I say cajolingly, "Plus, I've never decorated a tree before."

At that Caleb gives in. "Okay, okay. I guess we have to give you the whole Christmas experience," he says, teasingly and still chuckling. "But I'm warning you, whole wars have started over people trying to pick out the perfect Christmas tree."

"I'm ready for a war," I say teasing him back, sure that, like the rest of today, we couldn't possibly get into any serious disagreement.

"We'll have to go back to the barn to pick up a saw and a flashlight," Caleb says turning us around.

We settle into a more cheerful silence this time, and I sneak another look at Caleb. I'm relieved that he seems calmer now, my heart still aching for all that he's had to go through. He deserves a great guy, I think to myself. Someone who could make him happy, to maybe help erase the memories of his parents' rejection.

Someone like you? the nagging voice inside me says.

My hand reaches for that small cubical box in my pocket for what must be the thousandth time today.

You're leaving tomorrow, I remind myself wearily. Him telling me he's gay doesn't change anything. Him knowing that I'm gay doesn't change anything. I just need to hold out for a little longer. You're leaving tomorrow. You're leaving tomorrow. You're leaving tomorrow...

Author's note: Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It took longer than anticipated, and I didn't want to rush it just to get it done. There is one more chapter left, so please stay tuned!