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You grew up in an alright home.
Your parents argued, a lot, but back then you were too young to really understand it. All you knew was that sometimes you couldn't get the things that you wanted because "money" was short, or however it was explained to you back then. They got divorced eventually, no surprise there. Neither really gave you a solid reason, but you knew it was because your Mom didn't like your Dad anymore. You knew because of all the curses she'd spit under her breath about him when she thought you weren't close enough to hear, or how she'd cry over bills at the kitchen table late at night.
When Dad moved out, the apartment felt different. It felt emptier, but also strangely lighter. Dad wasn't there. He wasn't there to make dumb jokes, he wasn't there to make silly faces, he wasn't there to tuck you in at night. He wasn't there to do dad things. Three became two, and the arguments stopped. No more yelling, no more cursing, no more putting a pillow over your head and pretending you didn't hear it all. Mom still cries, but not as much, not as heavily.
Mom got a new boyfriend, he's nice, and has money. Luckily she still lets you see your Dad despite the new man in the house, you're not sure how you'd feel if she made you call the new guy 'dad'. Probably upset, but you don't want to think about that. Spending time with Dad is great. It's like when he still lived at home, but without all the house rules. You even got to see Grandma more. Sometimes he's late, sometimes he's really late, and sometimes he doesn't show up. Dad apologizes a lot, a lotta lot. He's sorry about a lot of things, and promises it won't happen again. You start to believe him less and less each time, but that's okay. You still forgive him, because he's your Dad, and you love him.
Mom's husband moves you guys to America. It's exciting, but scary at the same time. You're not that great at English, well you're fine at it, but all the anxiety of speaking a different language makes you tongue tied. You wish you could talk to Dad about it, you knew he struggled with something similar. He was always open like that, with his feelings and stuff, made sure you knew you could always go to him with anything. You just wish he'd pick up the phone more.
You're pissed. You and Dad made plans, important plans. He was supposed to be here. Today. You two had everything figured out! The days, the money, the trip, the activities, down to the last detail. There wasn't a single moment when you two weren't supposed to be making memories. He was supposed to be here, but he's not. He left you sitting on the front porch of your house all day. He left you waiting. Again. You were so excited too. You're starting to understand why Mom left him.
You called, and called, and called, and left text message after text message, and even emails, because your Dad is old and still emails people. At first it was to yell at him, yell at him because you're so pissed at him. Then it was for an explanation, because you're still mad but you want a reason, a good one. After all your pillow cases are stained from late night crying sessions, you called just to hear his voice. You're a little worried, your Mom keeps giving you this look. Dad never answers. A long time passes, life moves on, you haven't heard from him, and fuck it. You're done. He wants to disappear on you? Good for him. He can disappear, forever, because you're done. You're done waiting for him.
Six months. Six months of complete silence, and there's a man at your door. You don't know him. He says he knows your Dad. Knew him. The strange man gives you a box of bloody clothes and a shit ton of money. You don't even realize that second part until later. You immediately squirrel it away. The exchange answers exactly one question and gives you a million more. You have so many questions, so many, but out of the two who have the answers. One fucked off back to Korea before you could get a name, or even a number, and the other is....
You're still angry, beyond anger even, but there's no one to be mad at anymore