Chapter 1

My parents had finished helping my cousin raise his kids. Now they said their health was failing, and they wanted to come live with me for their old age.

My wife didn't say a word against it. She cleared out the guest room and spent four hours in the kitchen making a whole table of food.

But the moment she set the braised fish down on the table, my father slapped her.

The reason was that she hadn't pointed the fish head toward him. He said that was disrespectful to an elder.

My mother kept her head down and pretended not to see.

I stood up quietly, dumped the fish into the trash, and said to my father:

"Dad, you and Mom should just go home today. We can't wait on you."

My father stared at me like he couldn't believe his ears.

"What's that supposed to mean? You'd throw over your own parents for your wife?"

I nodded. "Yes."

1

"You ill-mannered thing. Don't you know the fish head has to point at the elder of the house?"

"You set it a few inches off. What was that supposed to mean?"

"You looking down on me? Or do you think I'm old now, not worth any respect?"

Having already struck Leona Henson, my father kept up the furious tirade at her.

His voice was loud, out of control.

As if the way one plate of fish had been arranged were some enormous insult to him.

I looked at my mother.

Head down, she sipped her tea in silence.

Then I looked at Leona.

She had a hand over her cheek, staring blankly at my father, the tears she was holding back swimming in her eyes.

I knew she felt wronged.

I knew that for my parents' visit today, she'd taken a whole day off from work.

She'd gotten up at dawn to make up the guest room, clean the house, shop for groceries, cook. Four full hours in the kitchen.

To take proper care of my parents, she'd given every ounce of respect she had.

And still my father slapped her, on the grounds that she'd disrespected him.

Facing his anger, Leona bit her lower lip, her eyes rimmed red, and explained softly:

"Dad, I didn't know that was a custom where you're from."

"I just set the fish down without thinking. I really didn't mean any disrespect."

My father's brow furrowed.

"You're talking back now?"

And with that he raised his hand again, swinging at Leona.

I stepped forward fast and clamped my hand around his wrist.

He froze for a second, glared at me, and said in a low voice:

"Elijah Dickerson. What do you think you're doing? You dare stop me?"

I put myself between him and Leona and looked him straight in the eye.

"I won't let you touch her again."

His face went livid, twisting.

"I'm your father!"

"Your wife doesn't know the rules. I'm teaching her a lesson so she remembers. What's wrong with that?"

My mother, who had been silent all along, finally lifted her head and spoke for the first time:

"Eli, elders correcting their juniors is the natural order of things. Your father hit Leona so she'd learn some manners."

"Don't be difficult."

My father straightened his back, like the one in the right, and barked at me coldly:

"You hear that? Even your mother knows better than you."

"Raising your hand against your own father over an outsider. Aren't you afraid people will laugh at you?"

Outsider.

At that word from my father, the color drained visibly from Leona's face.

I said nothing.

I just let go of his wrist.

Seeing it, my father gave a cold laugh, satisfied.

"At least you've still got some conscience left. You know how to listen."

Then he sat back down, tapped his chopsticks against the rim of his bowl, and ordered Leona:

"Rearrange that fish. Point the head at me, and I won't bother holding it against you."

He said it looking down at her, like he was giving orders to a waiter.

Leona pressed her lips together and started forward to do it.

I stopped her.

Then I picked up the fish first and dumped it, clean and quick, into the trash.

"Elijah, what do you think you're doing?"

Through my parents' shouting, I set the plate down.

And said to them, coldly:

"You two should just go home today."

"We can't wait on you."