The Unraveling of Nikki Kim

Unfortunately, I couldn't just go to CVS and get more. My prescription didn't allow for automatic refills, so I would have to call my doctor to get it renewed. And that might be complicated, because I wasn't supposed to run out of pills for another two weeks. Because Ambien is frequently abused for recreational purposes, it would be kind of shady for me to ask for a new prescription so soon. And I couldn't exactly tell my doctor that my current supply had been raided by a 19-year-old white guy who was trying to fuck me.

But above and beyond the question of how I was going to sleep at night, there was also the more alarming matter of how the Ambien had gone missing in the first place.

I knew that Steve had given Johan a spare key to the main house. I'd swallowed my concerns about this because it was unavoidable, as the shower in the in-law unit wasn't hooked up yet. Still, that key was never intended as an open invitation to wander through the house and go through our things.

But clearly, that's exactly what Johan had done at the very first opportunity. With Steve at work, the boys at school, and me out getting groceries, Johan must have let himself in and entered our bedroom. He must have rummaged through our things, because how else would he have found the bottle of Ambien in my nightstand?

The thought of him snooping around our house made me shudder. What else might he have found?

To my horror, it didn't take long to answer this question. Because when I opened my underwear drawer, my jaw hit the floor.

It was empty. My bras. My sports bras. My underwear. All of it. Just... gone.

Well, almost all of it.

There were only two garments left inside the drawer: a matching lingerie set that I'd bought as a birthday surprise for Steve a couple of years earlier.

The set consistent of a black demi-bra made of gauzy, see-through lace, accented by pink straps and a little pink bow in between the cups. The matching bottom was a tiny, black-and-pink thong made of a similar material, so thin and transparent that it really served to frame my pussy rather than covering it.

Although the set was a couple of years old, it was practically brand new. I'd only worn it once or twice, and even then, it didn't stay on for very long. For a busy mom like me, underwear like this was as impractical as it was sexy. It was meant for special occasions, not for daily wear.

My first instinct was to scream, to wake Steve up, to show him what Johan had done. If the stolen Ambien hadn't been enough to arouse his interest, maybe a drawerful of missing underwear would be sufficient to convince him that Johan was moving in on his wife.

But I didn't scream. I just stood there, looking at the empty drawer, staring at the two garments that Johan had left behind.

After the way Steve had handled the situation with the girl and reacted to my missing pills, I wasn't sure if I could trust him to deal with something like this. What's more, I feared that if I told him about this, it might lead to other revelations about Johan that I needed to stay hidden.

I closed the drawer gently and walked into the bathroom, where my bra and panties from the day before were still hanging on the towel rack. It felt a little gross and sleazy putting them back on, but not nearly as sleazy as it would have felt to let Johan "pick" my underwear.

This is only temporary, I told myself. You're going to deal with this.

As if this were any other morning, I made breakfast for Steve and the boys. When Danny came to the table, he didn't sit down, so I could tell he had a question.

"What's up, honey?" I said.

"Can I go down to the playhouse?" he asked.

"What's the playhouse?"

"The playhouse," he said, pointing into our backyard. "Johan's playhouse."

"That's funny," Steve chuckled. "Danny, did you come up with that name?"

He nodded.

"Tell us how you came up with that," Steve encouraged.

"Because that's where Johan plays with his toys," Danny said quietly.

"What kind of toys do you think Johan has down there?" Steve asked.

I knew what Steve was doing. When a child with autism initiates a topic of conversation, it's an opportunity to engage with them, to help them express themselves and develop social skills. But I wasn't entirely comfortable with where this conversation was going.

"Danny, eat your breakfast," I said, sliding a plate in front of him.

"I think he has Rubik's Cubes," Danny said, sitting down. "And video games. And dinosaurs."

"Do you think Johan has any other kinds of toys?" Steve asked.

"Steve, you're distracting him," I chided. "He needs to eat his breakfast."

"Just trying to encourage our son," Steve mumbled defensively, returning to his bacon and eggs.

Much to Danny's disappointment, Johan failed to make an appearance during breakfast, although this time nobody went to check on him. So Steve went to work and I drove the boys to school.

But today, instead of driving around after dropping them off, I came straight home. I was nervous about being there alone with Johan, but at the same time, I was very uncomfortable with the idea of him roaming through our house again.

Of course, by the time I was home, Johan was back where I'd found him the day before, sitting on our porch with a mug of coffee that he'd clearly gotten from inside our house.

"Good morning, Nikki," he called as I stepped out of the car. "How did you sleep?"

"We need to have a talk," I said flatly, walking up the steps onto the porch. "What you're doing is not okay."

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said, sipping his coffee.

"Steve gave you a key to the house so that you could use the shower," I said. "Not so that you could steal from us."

"Nikki, are you sure you want to talk about this here?" he said. "Shouldn't we go somewhere more private?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, crossing my arms.

"Okay," he shrugged, lifting his coffee mug and gesturing towards the houses on either side of us. "We can talk here, if you don't care what the neighbors think."

"Give me back what you took," I said, lowering my voice.

"Can you be more specific?" he asked coolly.

"Give me back my Ambien," I hissed. "And my... clothes."

"Ohh, the pills," he nodded. "Well, how about we share?"

"I'm not sharing my prescription with you!" I said angrily, trying to keep my voice down. "You can't just steal a person's medication."

"Actually, I was wondering about that," he said, scratching his chin. "Why are you having so much trouble sleeping, Nikki?"

"Just give it back, Johan. I'm not playing games with you."

"I just thought maybe what's keeping you awake is the same as what's keeping me awake," he smirked. "Maybe we should talk about why we aren't sleeping."

"Stop," I said, starting to feel uneasy. "Just stop right there."

"I thought it was because of the time difference," Johan said. "But I slept fine in San Francisco, so that can't be it."

"I don't care, Johan."

"It must be something about being here," Johan mused. "Don't you think so?"

"I need my pills," I said, trying to keep my voice assertive. "And I need my clothes."

"Oh, Nikki," he laughed. "You definitely do not need those clothes."

"You can't just take my things," I stammered. "That's stealing."

"But I didn't just take them," he grinned. "I replaced them."

"What?" I said, my eyes going wide.

"I went shopping yesterday," he smiled. "I bought you some new underwear."

"What are you talking about?" I said nervously.

"They're in my room," he said, standing up. "Come on, I'll show you."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, backing away from him down the steps. "Just give me back what you took."

"Nikki, you don't want those back," he said calmly. "I got rid of them to make room for the presents I bought you."

"You can't just throw my things away!" I said, my voice wavering. "What's the matter with you?!"

"Your body's too hot for mom underwear like that," he grinned. "So I bought you some MILF underwear, more like the set that's still in your drawer."

There was that word again: MILF. He'd used it to describe me over and over in Sydney, as if he could affix it to me like some kind of name tag. It sent a shiver down my spine to hear him say it again.

"Don't call me that," I said, raising my finger in warning.

"Let me ask you a question," he said, casually ignoring me. "Do you think your sister Nina wears underwear like that?"

"Don't--what...?" I stammered. "You don't know my sister..."

"I guarantee she wouldn't be caught dead in old, drab underwear like that," he continued. "You really need to start dressing more like your sister, Nikki."

"Don't talk about Nina," I said, my heart starting to beat much too fast.

"She's hot as fuck, and she dresses like she knows it," Johan said, licking his lips. "But honestly, Nikki, you've got an even better body than she does."

"Stop talking," I said, glancing around furtively. "Stop talking right now..."

"I guarantee she doesn't wear extra-small panties with 34D tits," he growled, not bothering to hide his arousal. "God, how is that even possible? How is your body even real?"

"Shut up," I said, stepping away from the porch, backing towards the car. "Shut your mouth..."

"I like knowing your bra size, Nikki. Thirty-four Dee," he purred, enjoying each syllable more than the last. "It even sounds sexy..."

"SHUT UP," I said, yelling at him under my breath, looking around to see if anyone else was out on the street. "JUST SHUT UP..."

"You're so fucking stacked, Nikki," he continued, stepping towards me. "You're the reason why I can't sleep."

"Johan, stop," I said, backing myself against the car, my voice faltering. "You have to stop..."

"It's because I know how close you are," he growled, advancing on me. "How close I am..."

"Johan, please--" I murmured, panic rising in my chest.

"I'm so close to fucking you again," he smiled, bearing his teeth at me. "Aren't I?"

Johan reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Let me show you the presents I bought," he whispered, pulling me towards him. "You're gonna look so slutty in them..."

"NO!" I screamed, thrashing wildly, ripping my arm away. "GET--GET AWAY!"

I whirled around, opening the car door and diving inside. I closed the door and locked it behind me.

Inside the car, I was panting like crazy, practically hyperventilating. But outside, Johan just stood there calmly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Hands shaking, I put the key in the ignition, turned on the car, and started backing out of my driveway. When I looked up, I saw Johan waving goodbye, as if he were seeing me off on an errand.

I drove away, driving blindly, my heart pounding, my mouth dry. I had no destination, but I was navigating on instinct, just trying to put distance between myself and Johan. But I couldn't seem to get enough air, and I had just enough presence of mind to pull into a random strip mall parking lot. Turning the car off, I sat in silence for several minutes, just trying to catch my breath, to will my heart rate back to normal.

When I was finally calm enough to process my surroundings, I looked around to see where I was. There, in front of me, was a giant Wal-Mart, big and blue and bland.

Idly, I got out of my car and walked inside. I thought that I was moving aimlessly, but soon, I found myself standing in the women's clothing section. And there, in front of me, were several rows of shiny, plastic packages, each containing a six-pack of women's underwear in different sizes and colors.

I reached down and picked one up, turning it over, inspecting it from all sides. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks.

How was this my life? How had I ended up here, a 34-year-old Korean wife, crying silently in the underwear section at Wal-Mart?

Staring at the package in my hands, I had to admit that Johan was right: Nina would never wear something like this. Not in a million years. These were tacky and drab, ugly and shapeless, sad little lumps of elastic and cheap polyester entombed in plastic.

Was I really going to buy these? How had I become the kind of woman who buys six-packs of underwear from Wal-Mart?

Suddenly, I felt a wave of intense nausea pass over me, and I genuinely thought that I might throw up. Dropping the package, I made a beeline for the exit, walking as fast as my legs would carry me.

Back outside and gasping for air, I bent down, waiting for the nausea to pass. Eventually, after a minute or so, I felt well enough to climb back into my car.

I must have sat in my car for at least an hour, just letting my mind wander, thinking about my life.

I kept coming back to that plastic package, and each time, it made me shiver with revulsion. Why had I decided that these underwear were good enough for me?

Was it because I felt like these were what a mom was supposed to wear? Because they were practical and affordable and I felt guilty spending money on myself? Because I could throw them into my shopping cart next to a gallon of milk and a 48oz bag of pretzels for my sons to devour?

I thought about what Nina had said to me during our conversation on the phone. About how I'd been so focused on getting married and having babies that I'd missed my opportunity to run around and have fun.

Why do I always insist on acting so much older than I am? I'd done it back in high school, forsaking parties in favor of whatever my parents wanted. And I was still doing it now, buying underwear meant for middle-aged, menopausal women when I still felt so fucking young.

After awhile, I started the engine and drove around. Not driving to go somewhere. Not running an errand. Just driving for the pleasure of it, listening to music with the windows rolled down, singing along at the top of my lungs to songs I hadn't heard in ages.

But then, before long, it was time to pick Danny and Riley up from school.

...

When I returned home with the boys, we found a much different Johan waiting for us.

He greeted Danny and Riley with high fives, and for the first time since our family trip to the beach, Johan seemed to be more focused on them than he was on me. I knew Danny had been disappointed by how aloof his friend had been, so this change in Johan's mood must have felt like the sun coming out after several cloudy days.

Immediately, Danny rushed into his room to get his Nintendo Switch, and the two boys followed Johan down to the in-law unit to play video games. This offered me a welcome respite from Johan's advances. Exhausted, I walked into my bedroom, locked the door, and collapsed onto the bed.

But as much as I wanted to rest, I was too wound up to relax. My mind was active with questions that seemed to have no answers: about Johan, about Steve, and about myself and my life.

Finally, unable to rest, I sat up in bed and called my sister.

"Hey, just a sec," Nina answered. "I've got something on the stove."

"Is now a bad time?" I asked.

"No, no, just gimme a second, and... done," she muttered. "What's up?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not really sure."

"You sound kind of tired," Nina said with concern. "Are you still not sleeping?"

"Not really, no," I said. "There's just too much on my mind these days."

"Aww," she said. "Well, if you need a break from the boys at some point, Aunt Nina's babysitting service is just a phone call away. You know I'd love to see them."

"I know," I said. "Thank you."

"You and Steve could go out for an actual date night," Nina suggested. "You'll probably sleep better if you're getting laid."

"Ha," I said, not really laughing. "Probably."

"Something's up with you," she said, a note of concern returning to her voice. "I can tell."

"Unni... do you have regrets?" I asked softly.

"What d'you mean?" she asked. "Regrets about what?"

"Just--do you wish that you'd done things differently?" I asked. "That things would have turned out another way?"

"I mean, everybody has some regrets, Nikki," she sighed.

"I didn't used to," I said softly. "I used to believe that things happened the way they were supposed to. But now I'm not so sure."

"That's life, I guess," Nina said. "Nobody's ever sure."

"Do you think... do you think I got married too young?" I whispered.

"No," Nina said quickly, trying to reassure me. "No, Nikki, you didn't. You knew what you wanted, you met Steve, and he was perfect. There was no reason to wait."

"But you didn't get married," I said softly. "Maybe I should've been more like you."

"Nikki, listen to me," Nina said slowly. "We're sisters, but we're different people. Mom may have dressed us in the same outfits growing up, but we never wanted the same things."

"But I... I don't know what I want anymore," I whispered, trying not to cry. "I'm so confused, unni. So tired..."

"Just talk to Steve," Nina said. "Tell him what's going on."

"You really think so?" I said, a tear running down my cheek. "You think I should?"

"Yes, for sure," she said. "You two are a good team. Whatever it is, you'll work through it."

...

That night after dinner, as Steve and I were getting ready for bed, I tried to follow my sister's advice.

"Honey," I said softly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, babe," Steve replied, playing idly with his phone. "What's up?"

"You know how you talked to Johan yesterday about not having girls over?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing up at me. "Why?"

"I was just wondering... what did you say to him?"

"Umm, well, I think I told him not to do it," Steve said, scratching his chin.

"Because, you know, he told me that you said something else."

"What d'you mean?" Steve frowned. "What'd he say?"

"He said you told him you didn't care what he did," I said quietly. "So long as he kept it to himself."

"I mean, honestly, I don't really care what he does," Steve said defensively, shrugging his shoulders. "But I do agree with you that Danny's too young to be exposed to that sort of thing, which is why I told him he had to keep it to himself."

"But that's not what I asked you to tell him," I said gently, trying not to belie my frustration. "I asked you to tell him no girls."

"Nikki, I'm not his dad," Steve said, shaking his head.

"No, but this is your house," I replied.

"He's an adult," Steve sighed. "As long as he keeps it to himself, I don't see how what he does down there is any of my business."

"So what you're saying is, as long as Danny doesn't find out, Johan can do whatever he wants down there," I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "With whomever he wants."

"Why are we even talking about this?" Steve said, putting his phone down.

"Do you think it's weird?" I said, cocking my head to one side. "That the girl he brought back here was Asian?"

"What is going on with you?" Steve said, getting frustrated. "Why would say something like that?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I guess I just thought you might feel a certain way about it."

"It seems like maybe you're the one who feels some kind of way about it," Steve shot back.

"Actually, it did make me think about my sister," I said, climbing into bed. "Back when she was in college."

"Nina?" Steve said, his eyes opening wider.

"Yeah," I said, picking up a bottle of lotion from my nightstand. "She used to fool around a lot with guys like Johan back then."

"Huh," he muttered. "I didn't know that about her."

"She never really brought any of them home, though," I continued, uncapping the lotion and squeezing it into the palm of my hand. "Because my Dad definitely felt a certain kind of way about it."

"I take it he didn't approve," Steve murmured.

"He's pretty old-fashioned when it comes to that stuff," I mused, rubbing the lotion onto my elbows. "Maybe that's why I thought it might bother you that Johan is into Asian girls."