“We got ham!” Chuck boomed from the hallway.

Helen stood, prompted by the polite policies her mother ingrained in her. Joaquin followed suit. A plastic crinkle of a bag preceded the men coming into the kitchen.

Chuck led the way with the large ham hefted in his arm, his stocky legs glaring pink below cargo shorts as they carried him forward. Chuck had not effectively used his garage’s gym. His belly pushed forward the kangaroo pocket of his gray sweatshirt bearing the emblem of his son’s university. Noticing an unfamiliar face, his bronze mustache bowed upward.

“Lori, did you schedule work done on the house?” he joked.

“Chuck, this is Helen’s boyfriend!”

“Joaquin,” introduced the faux beau.

Chuck rolled the ham onto the island counter before shaking Joaquin’s hand.

“Did I hear ‘boyfriend’?” called a voice. Helen turned to see her cousin come in. The college freshman with wind tousled hair was dutifully helping their grandfather navigate to the island.

“Yep! This is Joaquin! My new boyfriend,” Helen declared.

“Nice to meet ya.” He heartily shook the uncle’s hand.

“Helen’s picked up a man’s man! Never thought you’d attract the type with your art museums and all,” Chuck guffawed.

Helen narrowed her eyes.

“I never thought you’d snag anyone!” gibed Chuck’s son.

Helen forced a smile and gritted her teeth. “Joaquin, this is my cousin, Grayson.”

“Oh, actually, it’s Gray now.”

“Just ‘Gray’?” Helen asked.

“Yeah, another guy in my core group is also named Grayson. He’s got seniority so he claimed the full name.”

Their grandfather moved toward the seating, his flannel shirt swallowing his slight frame. Joaquin pulled out a stool to offer his elder.

“Thank you,” the old man creaked, patting Joaquin’s hand with a withered palm.

“And this is Grandpa Roy,” said Helen, meeting Joaquin’s gaze.

“A pleasure, Sir.” Joaquin lightly grasped Roy’s hand in a shake.

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman? Helen, you’ve got my approval already.”

Helen giggled. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

Roy smiled back with watery blue eyes. His soft hair was just a shade darker than Lori’s veneers. His dry, wrinkled skin a touch lighter than Chuck’s legs. He looked susceptible to combusting under a strong sun.

“Our home es su casa, Joaquin!” Chuck bellowed, procuring a platter of grapes from the fridge.

“Thank you, Chuck,” said Joaquin, helping himself to a grape.

Gray gave Lady a few pats before taking a plain butter cookie. He hopped onto a stool next to Helen. “So when’s everyone else coming?”

“Should be soon,” said Lori, checking her phone.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

“That must be my parents!” Helen peeped. She left the kitchen island.

Joaquin hesitated, unsure whether to accompany her or not. Ultimately he followed. Helen pulled open the heavy front door to meet her father. Underneath a faded baseball cap, his eyes immediately lit up upon sight of his daughter.

“Helen! You’re already here!” Roger patted her shoulder.

The pat wasn’t enough and Helen leaned in for a half-hug, skirting around the suitcase in his hand. The stubble around his jowls scratched her cheek as she brushed past to land her face against his nylon jacket. “Hey, Dad!”

Behind her father was her mother. She trudged along up the path, carrying bags of gifts and food. Also clutched in her hand was a thick paperback thriller. Books were always her fallback whenever she was shunted from conversations. No matter how short the Haliday get-together, Iseul was always prepared.

“Hi, Ma!” Helen greeted.

Iseul smiled back at her daughter. As she reached the front step, Helen met her face-to-face. Eyebrows painted to a condescending arch. Heavy eyeliner circling her lids. A sour plum hue coating her lips. This was the war paint she chose to face the Halidays this year.

“Let’s get inside, already! It’s cold out here,” Iseul said. Roger and Helen chuckled, helping her with her load.

Once in the foyer, they dropped the luggage onto the floor, though Iseul kept hold of her remaining bags. Helen’s eyes darted to find Joaquin standing in wait by the hall entrance. She waved him over.

“Ma, Dad, this is Joaquin.”

Roger grabbed Joaquin’s hand in a hearty shake. “That’s a good grip you got there!”

“Thank you, Sir!” They continued to shake.

“Ah, call me Roger.” Still they did not break apart. He met Joaquin’s eyes beneath the brim of his hat. “You’ve got the hands of a working man!”

Helen patted her father’s arm. “All right, Dad. I’m the one dating him, not you.”

Roger retracted his hand and cleared his throat. “Right, sorry! Don’t mind me. I just think a handshake can tell a lot about a person.”

Iseul clicked her tongue and moved past them with bags in tow. “Nice to meet you, Joaquin. I’ll shake your hand later after I put these down! Don’t just let them be in the way in front of the door!”

Following her orders, the group carried everything to the formal dining room where Tom helped arrange it all in the least obtrusive configuration possible. Following an introduction, Iseul then shook Joaquin’s hand in a fleeting gesture before taking out a heavy dish from one of the bags. She brought it to the kitchen.

After perfunctory greetings, Iseul stood by as Lori made room in the fridge for the dish. Helen, Joaquin, and Roger hovered around the island.

“What, no kimchi this year, Iseul?” snorted Chuck.

“I thought I’d try making a casserole this time,” uttered Iseul through a forced smile. It was a thinly veiled jest and Chuck’s jab pierced through.

“Aww, I was hoping you’d bring some japchae,” sighed Gray.

Iseul grinned and patted her nephew’s shoulder. “You can come visit our place anytime for japchae.”

“Call me up when you do!” Tom chirped as he entered the kitchen to refill his tea.

Fulfilling its duty, the spacious kitchen island gleamed boastfully in the center of a crowd. The polished surface mirrored the various faces above, doubling the company in a deep white pool. Ever an observer, Helen quietly took the lively conversation in.

Her uncle and aunt were always the biggest talkers. Nothing short of a broken jaw would keep them from filling in the spaces between dialogues. Joaquin provided decent repartee aided by Tom, Gray, and her father. They appeared to be taking to him. So far, so good, Helen thought. Helen’s eyes swept to her mother. She had cracked open her paperback.