My son asks me when mommy is coming home and I tell him I don’t know because I don’t. We’re sitting in my bed and I’m reading him a book called Shoebag, about a cockroach who wakes up one morning and finds that he has been transformed into a little boy. My sons tells me the book is boring and when I ask him why he says, Because I don’t understand how you can wake up one morning and be something else. He tells me the book doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t explain how the cockroach has turned into a little boy. I tell him the reason the book doesn’t explain how it happened is because it can’t, because there is no reason, because sometimes you wake up one morning and what you were when you went to sleep is not what you are when you wake up. My son asks me if that’s going to happen to him and before I can tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about that – not yet at least – the phone rings and it’s my wife telling me that she’s still on her date with the Korean guy and that they’ve decided to go get frozen yogurt and that she’ll be home in a little while and that I shouldn’t let our son stay up any longer because he has to go to school in the morning. I turn out the light and my son and I talk in the dark. My son tells me that he doesn’t understand why mommy is on a date with another man if she’s already married to me and I tell him that there are some people who just can’t be with one person. He asks me how come I don’t go on dates with other women and I tell him it’s because I’m one of those people who can be with one person. I massage my son’s head because he says his head hurts. Whenever my son tells me his head hurts I get this dreadful feeling because about a year ago my son had a seizure and when they did an MRI they found a dark spot near his cerebral cortex. Thankfully subsequent MRIs confirmed that the spot was not getting any bigger and that we didn’t have anything to worry about – not yet at least – but still, every time my son tells me he has a headache I get worried that this is it, the spot is starting to grow, he has a tumor, brain cancer, and that I’m going to lose him. I also think that my son just likes to have his head rubbed. It puts him to sleep, and it puts me to sleep as well. My son and I are asleep when I feel someone tap my leg. It’s my wife. She’s standing at the foot of the bed with Jeong Lee, her date. He looks like a very pleasant man. He’s dressed in very nice clothes and when he says hello to me he whispers, which I think is very courteous. My wife asks me if I wouldn’t mind getting out of bed and moving our son to his bedroom. When I ask why she says, Because Jeong and I need this bed, that’s why. She tells me they need it right away, and when I suggested they maybe could use the couch Jeong says, I don’t think the couch is going to be big enough for what we’re going to do. When I ask Jeong what they’re planning on doing my wife says, He’s going to toss me around a bit, and things are probably going to get a rough, and I think if we do it in the other room we might break a lamp or something. So I get out of bed and scoop up my son. Before I shut the door I ask my wife and Jeong if they could do their best not to make too much noise and Jeong says, We’ll try, but I can’t promise you anything. My wife is very loud and swears a lot when she’s having sex with other men and she’s no different with Jeong, who starts off quiet but then gets as loud as she does, climaxing with a series of guttural yelps which makes it sound as if Jeong is giving birth to a cantaloupe. I start to worry that they’re going to wake up my son, but I shouldn’t worry, because experience has shown that he can sleep through anything. I’m sitting on the couch, reading the rest of Shoebag, when my wife and Jeong come out of the bedroom. My wife is wearing a robe. Her hair is a mess and she has a loopy grin on her face. Jeong says, Hey man, it’s nice to meet you, and I say, It’s nice to meet you too. As soon as Jeong shuts the front door my wife asks if I can get her a glass of water and I do. When I hand her the glass she tells me that I put in too many ice cubes. I reach in and take three of the ice cubes out and hand the glass back to my wife, who takes one long sip and then hands the glass back to me. Then she pats me on the head and smiles. She looks happy and that’s what’s most important.
My Father The Cuckold