Epilogue 1.4 - Going Home

"You should visit your father."

The words made Amari freeze, his spoon falling from his fingers. Yangyang's hand immediately move under the table to his thigh.

Just like introductions, dinner started off awkwardly, no one really sure how to cover ten years in one night. Finally, Amari just began speaking, starting from when he left. He kept his history brief. Only Yangyang knew everything about his past, and there were still some things he couldn't even tell him - things he still couldn't make himself say out loud. For his grandmother, he glossed over the awful year living in the slums, homeless on the streets, and then working for Seungwoo. Instead, he focused on his family, and told her about shushu and ayi, Ziggy and Cate, and the years he spent trying to heal.

As he spoke, the atmosphere changed from tense to curious to lively. His grandmother began asking questions. Ziggy told her briefly about himself, and they talked about his sister and Joe. Then Yangyang told her about how he and Amari had met. It wasn't a perfect conversation. There were still uneasy moments talking about relationships that made the woman uncomfortable, but it was better than Amari had expected.

Then Taitai joined the conversation, and the atmosphere changed again. The innocent nine-year-old took over, excited to tell her all about himself and his two bas, and how great their life was. He told her about school and his friends at VIBE, about the club, the coffeehouse, and Joe's studio. He bragged about his best friend Minwoo and their adventures, how he could play piano and guitar, how he had recently started learning the drums, and how much he loved making and looking at art. Taitai was a true extrovert, too friendly and open to worry about what this woman thought. He was just happy to share the things he loved with someone new.

They spent hours talking and drinking. While it was clear she was still uneasy with his relationship, Amari's grandmother no longer shied away from the topic and never once said anything negative or judgmental. When they were finished, Taitai shouted that he wanted ice cream, which she didn't have, so Ziggy agreed to take him into town to buy some.

Left alone at the table, sipping coffee and tea, it was quiet again. That's when she said, "You should visit your father."

The thought of doing that had never once entered Amari's mind. He had nothing to say to the man and had no desire to hear his voice again. To him, that man was darkness. His darkness. Now that he was finally out in the light, he never wanted to go back.

"No. I'm glad I'm blind so I can't ever see him again. I don't even want to hear him."

His grandmother sighed, a sigh filled with more sorrow than Amari expected. "That isn't what I meant. Your father passed away a few years ago. He's buried in the cemetary behind Calvary Baptist."

A small breath caught in his throat and he felt his chest tighten. He didn't know why he cared, since the man was dead to him the day he went to prison. It was still a strange feeling, though, to know he was actually gone. There was a sense of relief, but also a sense of remorse, knowing that even if he wanted to, he could never resolve the terrible issues between them.

"He spent three years in prison, then was released a year early for his good behavior and participation in rehab." His grandmother continued, seeing that Amari wasn't planning to speak. "He stopped drinking and even met a nice woman, but by then his liver was failing and it was too late."

"It's what he deserved."

Yangyang squeezed his thigh tight. "A Li!"

He didn't really mean it, but thinking of the man brought out that vicious, hateful side of him he usually kept locked away. Now that it was already said, he couldn't take it back, so he sat in silence.

His grandmother sighed again. "Perhaps that's true. There was no excuse for what he did to you. I know that's the only way you'll remember him, but he wasn't always that person. And he was still my son."

For the first time in years, Amari felt that overwhelming guilt churn in his stomach and he hung his head. He had been too consumed in his own anger to remember that this woman was also a mother, and that now he was the only family she had left.

After what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, he let out his own sigh. "Sorry. I just said it without thinking." There was no response and he lifted his head. "I'll go visit him."

A hushed gasp escaped Yangyang, then he heard his grandmother stand, picking up their dishes from the table. "Just go and say what you need to say. You both deserve some closure."

Amari nodded and she cleared the table, bringing everything to the kitchen to wash.

"I renovated your room a long time ago," she called out. "There is a box of your things in the attic you can take. And your father's guitars and old records are still in the back room, if you want them."

He sighed again and pat Yangyang's hand, still gripping his thigh. The moment was over, and if she wasn't going to dwell on it, he wouldn't either. He smiled softly, peeling the fingers away and pulling Yangyang away from the table.

"Sorry," he said, feeling more apologetic to his husband than his grandmother for having said something so cold. "Let me show you something. And I'll tell you a secret I've never told anyone before."

He knew the layout of the house well and headed toward the back room, just a small, closed-off porch at the back of the house. Yangyang guided him around furniture and other objects until he froze, his hand gripping Amari's arm, a small breath escaping. Amari smiled a little wider and tugged on him to continue. They walked over to a wall lined with guitars.

"Well?" he asked as Yangyang let go to examine them closer. "There should be five. Oh, no. Four. I took one when I left."

"This is a Black Beauty, 1954 Gibson Les Paul Custom... And a fifty-six Goldtop..." He could barely squeeze the words out.

Amari chuckled at his surprise. "The fifty-four's a re-issue from the early seventies, but still their most accurate re-issue I think. And that Goldtop's probably worth the same as your annual salary... Though I don't know what kinda shape it's in now."

Yangyang didn't say anything and Amari imagined him drooling over the line of Gibsons. After a short while, he cleared his throat to snap him back to reality, then crouched down on the floor with him, placing a hand on his back.

"I'd say you should play one, but they haven't been used in over a decade. They probably need some serious love."

He felt himself pulled over to sit on Yangyang's lap. "I'm not sure I could bring myself to touch them."

"What?" Amari giggled and squeezed his hand. "You can't touch them? You own them. Guitars were made to be played, and you're the best person to play them."

Yangyang stopped breathing for a second and Amari giggled again, receiving a light punch to the shoulder.

"But... why did your dad have these? Normal people don't own these guitars. From what you told me, there's no way he would have been able to afford them."

Leaning forward, Amari ran a finger along the edge of the closest instrument, feeling the polished wood of the body, then the raised knobs for tone and volume. "He was a guitarist. My father. And my mother was a singer. That's how they met."