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Books.Change.Lives.Copyright?2023byLilyChu
Coverandinternaldesign?2023bySourcebooks
CoverartbyLeniKaufman
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Cataloging-in-PublicationDataisonfilewiththeLibraryofCongress.Contents
FrontCover
TitlePage
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
BackCoverForNyla
AlwaysandforeverOne
Whenmyphoneflashesanotification,I’mprimedtobeirritatedbeforeIevenseewhatitis.It’sbeenabusymorning,andmyeyesaresodrymyeyelidssticktogetherwhenIdragmygazeawayfromthemonitor.
Phoebeb-day,themessagereads.
Iautomaticallyclearthescreenanddosomerapidblinkingtorehydratemyeyeballs.Myoldersisterhasdoneafinejobofagingwithoutacongratulatorynotefrommeforthepastfewyears,andthere’snoreasontobreakthetradition.
I’mnotevensurewhatI’dwrite.Wishingyouajoyfuldayfreeofannoyingremindersyouhaveasisterdoesn’thavemuchofaHallmarkringtoit.Happybirthday!Hopeyouhaveagreattimenottellingmeanythingaboutyourlifeasusualmightwork.
Idebateremovingtheeventfrommycalendaraltogether,butanothernotificationpopsuptotellmethere’sanewemailfromDad.Focusonyourgoalsforsuccessdeclaresthesubjectline,asifthisisgroundbreakinginformation.Inthetext,beforetheURL,he’swrittenhisusualinspirationalmessage:Sawthisandthoughtofyou.Nowisthetimetoworkonmakingpartner.Don’tletlifedistractyou.
Idon’tbotherclickingthelinkbecauseit’sfromtheHarvardBusinessReviewandI’moutoffreearticlesforthemonth.Also,I’vereadenoughofthesetoknowit’sprobablysomebanal,common-sensedictumaboutprioritizingtasksormatchinggoalstooutcomeswritteninthatI’mtoobusytoreadfullsentenceslistformatthatbusinesspeopleeatup.
Inmycase,successhasonlyonemetric—howfastIcanmakepartneratYesterlyandHavings,thelawfirmwhereI’mcurrentlyanassociate.That’snottosayI’mnotambitious.Theonlypersonwhowantsmetomakepartnermorethanmydadisme.
Ican’trememberwhenhelastemailedtoseehowIwasdoingapartfromwork.Isupposeitdoesn’tmatter.Wedon’thavethatkindofrelationshipanyway
IputmyphonebackinmypurseandamdeepintothememoI’mwritingforMeredith,thepartnerI’vebeentryingtogetasmymentor,whenaknockcomesatmydoor.RichardHavings,oneofthemanagingpartnersandthegreat-grandsonoftheoriginalHavingsofYesterlyandHavings,ushersinatallwoman.“Ariadne,thisisBrittanyCabot,who’sjoiningustoday.”
Althoughalittleresentfulatbeingdisturbed,Istandandputoutmyhand,wiltingonlyslightlyundertheblazingonslaughtofBrittany’ssmile.“Goodtomeetyou,”Isay.
“Ariadne,I’dlikeyoutoshowBrittanytheropes.Itrustyoutogetherupandrunning.”RichardbestowsawarmglanceonBrittany,whobeamsbackathim.“Wewereluckytostealherfromheroldfirm.”
“Ofcourse.”ShowingBrittanyaroundisworththeextrahourorsoI’llhavetoputintonight.Richardisverybigonculturefit,soIdomybesttobepositiveandcourteousnomatterwhattheask.
Richardnodsonceheseeswe’replayingniceandleavesmealonewithBrittany.Shewearsacamelsheathdresswithamatchingblazer,andIcan’ttellhowmuchofherfaceiscontourorherrealfeatures.“Happytobehere,”shesays.“Nihao!”
Nowaythisishappening.Istruggletokeepupthesmile.“Idon’tspeakChinese.”
“Sorry.Imeankonnichiwa!”
Thisconversationisnotgettingofftothebeststart.“I’mCanadian.”
Herbrowfurrows,butit’snotoutofshame.I’veknownherforthirtyseconds,andIcantellBrittanydoesn’texperienceshamebecausetheworld’sneverfounditnecessarytomakeherfeelbadaboutanythingatanytime.“Butyournameisonthedoor,anditsaysHooey.”
“It’sHui,”Icorrect.“Rhymeswithsway.”
“Areyousure?”
“Prettysure.”Iresistaddingapassive-aggressivemispronunciationofBrittany.IalsodecidetomentallyspellitasBryttaniefromthatpointonformyownpersonalsatisfaction.
“Huh.”Sheglancesoutthewindowovermyshoulder.“Canyoushowmewheretogetafewthings?Iknowwheremyofficeis.”
Normally,oneoftheassistantswoulddothis,butRichardhaschargedmewiththistask,soIlockmycomputerandleadheronthetour.Wehaven’tmadeittwometersdownthehallbeforeMeredithcomesaroundthecorner.Hersandy-blondhairhasbeenfreshlyblownout,andhermakeupisperfectlyapplied.ThenudepumpsandnavyskirtsuitscreamGetoutofmywayorI’llcutyouincorporate.I’veneverseenhersmileinameeting.
Iwanttobelikethat.Invulnerable.Unchallengeable.
“Brittany,hello.Suchapleasuretohaveyouwithus.Letmeshowyouaround,andwe’llgoforcoffeetotalkabouttheclientImentioned.”
EveryinvitationI’vesentMeredithforcoffeehasbeenrejectedormovedatthelastminute.
Hereyesflickovertome.“Ariadne,Ineedthatmemo.”
“Bye.”Brittany/Bryttaniegivesmealittlefingerwave.Dismissed,Iwatchthemheaddownthehalllaughingeasilywitheachother.
Ireturntomyofficetodosometrianglebreathing—threecountstobreathein,holdforthree,threecountstobreatheout,repeatedthreetimes—andinstantlytrashanybenefitthismindfulnessexercisemighthavehadbygooglingmynewcolleague-slash-competition.Shegraduatedafterme,andofcourse,hermotherisfriendswithMeredithandsomeoftheotherpartners.
Ishouldn’tbepissedaboutthissincemostoftheoffice,includingmyself,gotinthroughcontactsandnetworking—inmycase,DadwenttolawschoolwithRichard.However,Iamawomanofcontradiction,andthistidbithasmeinafuryofinjusticethatIneedtoforcedownbeforeIturnbacktomyfiles.
TheBrittanysoftheworldmightstartonerunghigher,butI’mwithDadinbelievingthatperformanceistheultimatedifferentiator.Ionlyneedtoworkharder.
It’salmostelevenbythetimeIgethome.Brittanycamebyseveraltimestoaskmetime-wastingquestionsthatawomanwithadegreefromoneofthecountry’stoplawschoolsshouldhavebeenabletofigureoutonherown,likethelocationofthewell-markedwashrooms.I’dhavefeltmoregeneroushadshenotstartedeveryinterruptionbycallingmeAdrienne
Itoeoffmyhighheelsandsetthembythedoorbeforelayingmypurseonthesidetable.MoreworkwaitsintheblacklaptopbagItugoffmyshoulder.IfI’mlucky,I’llgettobedbeforetwo.
Iclosemyeyestoenjoythepeaceoftheapartmentandrubmyface,sorefromsmilingpolitelyallday.Theplaceisemptysincemyroommate,Hana,whoworksasadiversityconsultant,isawayonaworktrip.Thisoneisatleastamonth,andrightnowthesilenceisexactlywhatIneedtodecompress.YawningandrollingmyachingshouldersasIunbuttonmynavyblazer,Ipassamansleepingonthecouchandcrossthroughthekitchen.
Twostepsintomybedroom,Istop,listlesssynapsesfiringabelatedalert.Ipassedamansleepingonthecouch.
Aman.Onmycouch.
IcreepbackintothekitchentocheckthatIwasn’thallucinating.Thereisdefinitelyamanthere.Myheartpole-vaultsintomythroatasIrockbackandforth,unabletoseeanythingbutthestranger.Ipridemyselfonalwaysknowingwhattodo,butthishasmefloored.DoIcallthepolice?Goontheattack?Hideintherefrigerator?BeforeIdecide,heopenshiseyestopeeratmethroughamopofbleachedplatinumhair,andIstopbreathing.Mybrainhasfocusedonasingleandtotallyuselessthought,whichishowangryMom’sgoingtobewhentheparamedicsfindmedeadwithraggedyunderwear.I’mgoingtodieinmyperiodundiesbecauseIdidn’thavetimeforlaundry.
Thenheuncoilsfromthecouchandstands.
Mylizardbrain:Fight,notflight.Youcantakehim.
Myneo-mammalianbrain:No,youcan’t.Lookathim.
Thatpartisn’taproblem;Ican’tstoplookingathimbecauseI’mtoofrozentoevenblink.He’sslenderandtallerthanmewithsmoothlinesofpuremuscleonhisneckandarms,dressedinablacksweaterthreadedwithred.
Lizardbrain:Whoa
Neo-mammalianbrain:Whoa
Allbrainfunctions:Whoawhoawhoa.
Whoeverthisguyis,he’sstrikingenoughthatmyhormonesregisteritdespitemypanic.
Heclearshisthroat.“Hello.”Hetakestwostepsinmydirection,litheandconfidentasadancer…oraserialkillerhominginonhisprey.
Thisbreaksmyparalysis,andIscrambleforaknife.“Stayback.”Ittakesmetwotriestochokethewordsoutofmydrythroat.Atleastthecounterformsaprotectivewallbetweenus.
Hiseyeswiden,andheraiseshishandslikehe’sunderarrest.“I’mJihoon.Jihoon?”Herepeatshisnameurgently,asifit’sacharmtoprotectagainstthesharpsteelinmyhand.
“Idon’tcare.”Igriptheknifeandliftithigher.ThesurgingadrenalinemakesmyheartpoundsohardthatIwheeze,butIhaveaweapon,andI’lluseit.
Ialsohaveaphone,andifIcancalmdown,Icanusethat,too.Withouttakingmyeyesofftheguy,whohasnottakenhiseyesoffme,Ipullitoutofmypockettocallforhelp.Asmythumbgoesfortheninein911becauseIcan’trememberhowtogettotheemergencySOSscreen—I’minacrisis,whydidtheymakeitsohard—thephonebleatsoutthetoneI’veassignedtoHana’stexts,adiscordantlycheerfuldah-DAH-DAH
Notnow,Hana.Yetdespitebeinginaveryscaryposition,Icheckthescreenimmediately.IfIdiebecauseI’mdistracted,thefaultlieswithtechnologyanditsridiculouslyaddictivealgorithms.
Hana:MycuzJihooncomingovertostayforabit.Leftmykeyforhim.Sorry,forgottomentionit.
Likeachameleon,Ikeeponeeyedowntoscanthemessageagainwhiletheotherswivelsuptotheguy.Sheforgottomentionit.ForgottomentionI’dbecominghometoastrangemaninmylivingroom.
IfIlivethroughthis,she’sdead.
Idragbotheyesupfromthephone.Theguyhasn’tmoved.
“What’dyousayyournameis?”Idemand.
“Jihoon.”Itcomesoutasanalmostimploringwhisper.“ChoiJihoon.”
“You’reHana’scousin.”
“FromSeoul.”Hisshoulderssag.“Iapologize.Ididn’tmeantofrightenyouorintrude.I’llgo.Icanstayinahotel.”
Hisexpressionisforlorn,butI’mimmune,havingexperiencedHana’sfrequentlydeployednuclear-gradepuppy-dogeyes.AlthoughI’m99percentsureheiswhohesays,it’snotthe100percentIrequireinthishigh-stresssituation.Oranysituation,frankly,becauseIonlyeverproceedafterachievingtotalcertainty.
“Putyourpassportonthecoffeetable,thengointothebathroomandclosethedoor.”IneedtotalktoHana,andIwanthimatasafedistancewhileI’moccupied.
“Isthisreallynecessary?”heasks,eyeingtheknife.WhenIwiggleit,hesighsandbendsdowntoablackleatherbagsittingonthefloor.Afterhetossesabookletonthetable,heinchestowardthebathroomwithoutturninghisback.Wemaintainsteadyeyecontact,andtheclickofthedoorwhenhethrowsthelocksoundslikeagunshot.
IfthisguyreallyisHana’scousin,hemustbesincerelyregrettingherofferofaplacetocrash.
IputtheknifeonthecounterwithinclosereachandcallHana.
“Hey,Ari.”Hana’sbreezyvoicesingsoutofthephone.“Goodtiming!I’mpickingupmybag.IsJihoonthereyet?”
“Thereisastrangemanhere,absolutelyyes.”IkeepwatchonthebathroomdoorincasethepresumedJihoonHulk-smashesoutofitandedgeovertograbthepassport.
“Iknow,I’msorry.Imeanttotellyouearlier,butworkwasamess,andIwaslatetotheairport.”Hanadoesnotsoundatallcontrite.“ThenIforgotuntilIarrivedinVancouver.”
Forgot.It’sthenewf-word.
“Younevermentionedhim.”
“I’msureIdid.Idon’tknow.Howmanytimesdoyoutalkaboutyourcousins?”
“Iwouldifoneofthemweregoingtobestayinghere,”Isay.
There’sanincreaseinbackgroundsoundasifshe’slefttheterminaltogetacab.“Iknowyoudon’tlikesurprises,butitcameupkindofquick.”
IopenthepassportandthankGodthenameisromanizedsoIcanreadit.ChoiJihoon.Picturechecksout,thoughhemustbetheonlypersononearthtolookgoodinagovernmentIDphoto.Ialmostswearit’sPhotoshopped.
“Sayhislastname.”Itdidn’tsoundlikeChoi
“He’dsayitChwey.Looksthesameasmine,butwesayitlikewhitepeople.Chooy.”Shedrawsitoutwithexaggeration.
Anothermysterysolved.I’mnow99.9percentsurebutrequireonemorecheck.“Describehim.”
“Umm.”Icanhearherthinking.“He’smycousin,soKorean,obviously.Tallerthanme,aboutfiveten.Unbelievablysuperstylish.Acoupleyearsyoungerthanus.”
Hispassportconfirmsthatmakeshimtwenty-eight.It’sinappropriatetoaskforajudgmentonthequalityofhislooks,butHanasuppliesitunsolicited.“Everyonesayshe’sgood-looking.”
Isnapthepassportshutanddropitonthetable.“Whydoyouknowthat?”
“Eommaneverfailstopointouthowhandsomeheiswhenhisnamecomesup.ThenshetellsmeIneedtogroommyeyebrowsbetter.Also,yousawhim.”
Idid,andthat’sdefinitelytheguyIbanishedtothebathroom.Isagagainstthecounter.“Ithoughthewasamurdererandpulledaknifeonhim.”
“Didyouhurthim?”sheaskswithalarm.
“No.”
“Good.I’msurehehashealthinsurance,butstabbingisareallyunfriendlywelcome,cross-culturally.Ari,I’msorrytospringthisonyou,buthe’sfamilyandinabind.”
Ican’tthrowHana’scousinout,soI’mresignedtoJihoon’svisit.“Howlongisheherefor?”
“Notsure.He’squiet,”sheadds.
Thiswillbeachange,sinceHanahaswhatIthinkofasabigpersonality.“What’ssourgentthatheneededtojumponaflighttoToronto?”
Sheheavesaweightysigh.“It’sabreakup.Aroughone.”
Thisisbadnews.Idon’twanttobemean,butIhaveaheavyworkload.Havingastrangermopearounddrinkingmerlotfromthebottleandstalkinghisex’ssocialmediawhilelisteningtomaudlinballadsisnotgoingtobegreatformyproductivity.
Anewdreadrises.“Willyourmomcomebytovisithim?”Hana’seternalstruggletobuildboundarieswithhermotherhasyettoresultinanytangiblesuccess.Ifsheknowsthere’sawoundedChoibirdinhervicinity,Icankissapeacefulhomelifegoodbye.
Shesnorts.“God,no.Jihoon’skeepingitasecret.Nooneknowshe’sherebutme,sodon’tpostanyphotosofhimonyoursocialmedia.YouknowshechecksittoseewhatI’mdoing.”
“AsifIwould.”Shedidsayhe’dbequiet.“Hecanstay.”
Hanasqueals.“I’llmakeituptoyou,Ipromise.”
BeforeIcananswer,sheblowsakissintothephonewithanobnoxiousmwahsoundanddisconnects.
Iputthephoneonthecounterandtheknifebackinthewoodenblock.Afterquicklyrebuttoningmyblazer,Igodownthehallandknockonthebathroomdoor.“Ah.Jihoon?”
“Areyouarmed?”Nowthatmyfearhasabated,Inoticehehasadeep,raspyvoicewithoutmuchofaKoreanaccent.
“IputtheknifedownafterHanavouchedforyou.”
Thedoorswingsinward,andJihoon,whohasskippedbacktothefarwalltomaximizethedistancebetweenus,inspectsmecautiously.IcanspotthefamilysimilaritytoHana.Bothhavethesamesharpcurveundertheeyethatdipsdowntoastrongjawlineandpointedchin.Underthatflawlessbonestructure,helooksabsolutelybeat.Darkcirclesringhiseyes,andthecornersofhismoutharetight.
“I’mAriadne,”IsaywiththeprofessionalsmileIactivateforworkandmostsocialinteractions.It’senoughtosay,Iamfriendlyandmeanyounoharm,butnotsowelcomingastoinviteanythingfurther.
“Ariadne.”Hecomesforwardandsaysmynamecarefully,pronouncingallthesyllablessoitsoundslikemusic.“ChoiJihoon.”Hebowsslightly.There’sanuncomfortablesilenceuntilhesays,“AmIallowedout?”
“Right.”Istepaway.“I’llshowyouHana’sroom.”
Hedragsovertwooftheworld’slargestsuitcasesandclosesthebedroomdooraftergivingmeapolitesmile.Excellent,Idon’thavetonavigateanyawkwardconversationandcanfocusonthememoduetomorrow.Theheadachethat’sbeenlurkingalldaystartstotakeover.Ipulloutmylaptopcase,butI’mtoodistractedtowork.InsteadIpouraglassofwaterandbidasilentandmournfulfarewelltotheserenesolitudeIhadplanned.Astrangerinmyspacemeansbeingsocialandfriendlyinsteadofrelaxingwithunbrushedteethandrippedleggings.I’llhavetobe“on”allthetime,insteadofonlyatwork.It’sexhaustingtothinkabout,butIagreedandthat’sit.I’mstuck.
IfinishthewaterandsendHanaaquicktextoutliningallthewayssheowesme.Then,unabletodelayitanylonger,IputJihoonoutofmymindandopenmylaptop.Two
Ihaveanunvaryingmorningroutinethatinvolvesasinglehittothesnoozebutton,amentalreviewofwhat’scominginmyday,somedeepbreathingtocopewithit,andastruggletorollmyselfoutofbed.Today,myritualisinterruptedbyatext.
Alex:Favortime.
AlexWilliamsisthepublicrelationsvicepresidentforHyphenRecords,andthismessagebodesillforme.Istareatthescreenwithblearyeyesandtrytoforcemyselfbackintoaworkheadspacedespiteonlygettingfourhoursofsleep.Ifail.
Me:No
Thephonerings,andIpickitupwhilekickingoffmyduvet.“Noisacompletesentence,Alex.Alsoit’ssixinthemorning.”
“Nochoice.You’reLuxe’slawyer.SinceHyphenisLuxe’sclient,togetherwehaveaproblem.Itechnicallycalledthisafavortobenice,butit’snot.Inessaidtocallyoudirect.”
ThemostexhaustingyetfascinatingofmyclientsisLuxe,aluxuryconciergefirmcateringtotherich,famous,andsupremelydickish.Luxecansourceanyconsumergoodorexperienceforthosewhocanpay,fromexclusivedinnerstocarriagerideswithwhitehorsesdyedmintgreentoseeinganacrobaticArgentinianclowntroupeperforminapark.It’sownedbyInes,anunflappablewomanwhogoesbyonename,likeMadonnaorCher.InesistheonlywomanI’vemetwhocangetawaywiththatkindofpersonalstatement,becauseshehasahugepresencethatfillseveryspacesheenters.
“Didoneofyourman-childrockstarsscrewup?”Ileaveouttheagain
“Hey,it’slikewe’vedonethisbefore.”
“Givemethedetails.”It’sasIexpected.AbandwithmorefamethanbraintrashedasnootyrestaurantafterLuxewrangledthemaprivatechef’snight.SinceLuxeorganizedtheevent,it’stheirjobtotaketheleadinworkingwithHyphen’sPRandlegalteamstosoothetherestaurantandgetitallsweptundertherug.AsLuxe’slawyer,thishasnowbecomemyjob.
Thisisn’tasweirdasLuxe’sproblemssometimesget—theirclientscanbeatoxiccombinationofimperiallydemandingandoblivioustosocialnorms—butit’saggravatingtohavetodragabunchofentitledjackassesoutoftheholetheydugforthemselves.OnethingI’velearnedworkingwithLuxeisthatcelebritiesaretheglitterofhumanity:prettytolookat,uselessexceptatparties,andanutterpaintocleanupafter.
Coffee.IneedcoffeetodealwithAlex’sproblemsthisearly.Iputonarobe,collecttheoutfitIsetoutlastnight,andopenmybedroomdoor,thinkingthroughwhatI’llneedfromhim.
“Alex,dowehavethe—whatthehell?”Thephonegoesflyingasmyfootcatchesonsomethinginthemiddleofthefloor.Ilandungracefullyonmyhandsandknees,straddlingawarmlumpthatmanagestobesimultaneouslyhardandsoft.
It’sJihoon,andhemoansinpainashestrugglesbeneathme.
“Holyshit!”IplantbothhandsonhischestbutaccidentallyslammyelbowintothecornerofachairbeforeIcanlevermyselfoffhim.“Ow.”Icollapse,andJihoon’swarmarmswraparoundme,nodoubttoprotecthimselffromfurtherinjury.
Alex’sconcernedsquawkssoundfromunderthecouch.“Ari,areyouokay?DoIneedtocallthecops?”
IrolloffJihoontopawformyphone.“Alex,Itrippedovermynewroommate.Givemeasecond.”
“Callmeback.”FewthingsfazeAlexafteradecadeinthemusicindustry.
AfterIhangup,IturnbacktoJihoon.“I’msorryforfallingonyou,butwhatwereyoudoing?”Myentirearmhasanastyshiverynumbness.Jihoonsitsup,rubbinghisribswithagrimace,andmybrainshortsoutbecausehe’sonlywearingapairoflow-slungblackpants.Idon’tevenknowwheretofocusmygazeasitmovesfromtheindentbetweenhisimpressivepectoralmusclestothecurveofhisshouldersbeforedippingdowntothemany,manyrowsofabsleadingtoamoldedV.Ididn’teventhinkmenhadthatoutsideofunderwearads,andI’mnotreadytodealwiththisknowledgesoearlyinthemorning.
“Iwasmeditating.”
“Onthefloor?”Whileshirtless,butthatseemslikeadetailpertinentonlytome,soIdon’tsayitoutloud.
“Ifellasleep.”HetwiststoexaminetheredmarkwhereIkickedhim.Itrynottogawkandalmostsucceeduntilthestylizedblacktigertattoothatwrapsaroundhisbodycomesintoview,stretchingdownfromhissidetocrosshislowerback.IhavenochoicebuttogiveittheaestheticappreciationitdeservesbecausethetigerripplesonJihoon’smusclesashemoves.It’sart,really.
Thenit’sbacktobusinessbecauseIshouldbegettingthedetailsonAlex’sdipshitrockstarsinsteadofoglingHana’scousin.I’mnotevenintotattoos.
Igivemyarmatestbend,andJihoonturnstomeinconcern.“Areyouhurt?”HereachesouttocheckmyelbowasIsuddenlyrealizemyrobehasfallenopentorevealmyveryskimpytanktop.I’malsosittingbackonmyheels,andmypajamashortsare…well,they’reshort.
Hefreezes,andwesitthereeyeingeachotherforwhatseemslikeforeveruntilwejointlycometooursenses.
“I’msorry!”Hisvoiceisalmostasqueakashecrosseshisarmsoverhischest.
“Myfault!”Isnatchmyrobeclosedandscrambletomyfeet.I’mnowmaximallyalertandcanskipthecoffee,soItrynottoletmyshortsrideupmyassasIbendtogropearoundformydroppedclothes.BehindmeisaflurryofactivityasJihoontakesofftohisroom
WonderingifdailyshirtlessfloormeditationisoneofJihoon’sbreakupcopingmechanisms—andhowIfeelaboutthat—Iheadintothebathroom.Iflipontheswitchandsurveythecounterindisbelief.Overnightit’sbeenturnedintoaSephora.
Ineedtolookgroomedforwork,soIhaveastandardcollectionofcosmeticsthatsitinadrawer,tidilyoutofsight.Jihoonclearlylikestoseeallhisoptions,becausehisskin-careassemblageoverflowsthecounter.Idon’tevenrecognizemostoftheproducts,whicharepresentedinstarkpackagingthatmakestheserumsandcreamslooklikeseriouspharmaceuticals.Longcylindersofwhiteandsilverstandinagroupnexttosleekblacktubsofvariousmasks.MosthaveKoreanlabels,buttheonesinEnglishwouldn’tbeoutofplaceinachemistryclass.Hyaluronicacid.Peptides.Niacinamide.
Nowonderhelookssogood.Ipeerintothemirror,notingthebagsundermyeyesandthefrecklesdottingmyfacefromyearsofsunexposurethankstomyparents’1990sdisdainforanyUV-blockingproduct.AmIgrowingahaironmychin?
It’sonlyacathair.That’sonebeautycrisisaverted,althoughwedon’thaveacat,sowhereitcamefromisanotherquestion.Acoldshowerhelpssettleme,andafterIanswerafewemailsfromAlexbetweenfittingmyhairintoitsusualbunandspacklingonmyworkface,I’mreadytogo.
Jihoonisinthekitchen.Webothpullupshort.Nowthatmyadrenalglandsarenotpumpingmybodywithfearhormones,Icantakebetterstockofhim.
Evenlikethis,puffyfromsleepandtravel,hairatousledbird’snest,andwearingahugegreenhoodiethatreachesmidthigh,he’salmostsurreallyattractive.Hehasmonolideyeslikeminebutmuchbigger,andasHanahadindicated,hiseyebrowsareatestamenttometiculousgrooming.Hislowerlipisalmostpouty,it’ssofull.Icouldonlyhopetoachievelipslikethatthroughcosmeticsurgeryorpainstakinghoursinfrontofamirrorwithproductsdesignedtoplump,sculpt,andhighlight.Hisfeatureslooklargeonhissmallishtriangularface,whichwouldlookincredibleinphotographs,thesameasHana.Eveninreallife,Iwanttokeepwatchinghim.
Helooksdownatthesink,andIrealizemyopenstaringisrudeashell.
“Hi,”Isay,tryingtoactcasualandasifwehaven’talreadyseeneachotherhalfnaked.AtleastI’minthearmorofmyworkclothes.Icanhandleanythingdressedlikethis,eventhoughHanasometimescallsitmycorporate-androidlook.
“Goodmorning,Ariadne.”Hisvoiceissolow,Ialmostcan’thearhim.Hanasaidhewasquiet,andithitsmethathemightbeshy.
“YoucancallmeAri.”IsummonupthepowerofthestructuredblazertocoverthefactthatIdon’tknowwhattosaytohimeither.“Areyoufindingeverythingyouneed?”Isoundlikeaflightattendant.
“Yes,thankyou.”Hesoundslikeamantalkingtoaflightattendant.
“Good.”Iwanttobepolite,butheshouldknowIwon’tbearoundalot.“I’mgoingtobelateatwork,buthelpyourselftoanythinginthekitchen.Ifyoudon’tfeellikecooking,Icantellyouafewgoodplacestoeataroundhere.”
“I’dlikethat.”Helooksrelievedtobeleftonhisown,andItrynottotakeitpersonally,sinceit’swhatIwantaswell.
Thelureofbeingabletogiveavisitortipstoenjoytheneighborhoodoutweighsthethreatofrunninglate.Afterall,IwasupatsixtodealwithAlex’sproblem.Icangetintotheofficeat7:45insteadof7:39.I’llstillbethefirstin.
Igrabapadandsketchoutaquickwalkingmap,notingrestaurantsinthearea,wherethesubwaystopis,andmyfavoritelocalhangouts.Ilovedoingtravelitinerariesforpeople.IevenhaveaspecialnotebookwhereIloginterestingplaces.It’ssillybecauseI’verarelylefttheprovince,butit’stheperfectescapefrom…I’mnotsurefromwhat.It’sawaste,sincetimeismoneywhenyouworkwithbillablehours,butsometimesdreamingaboutthoseurbanspicemarketsorwhite-cappedbluewatersiswhatgetsmethroughtheday.
Isnatchthethoughtsofallthoseappealingplacesandrollthemupintoatidypackagebeforetuckingthemaway.Thosethingsexistforlater,iflaterevercomes.
“Here’smynumber.”Ijotitdownasanafterthought.“Youshouldgivemeyoursaswell.”
Igivehimmyphone,andhepausesforanalmostinsultinglylongtimebeforeputtinginhisnumber.ThenhetakesthemapIholdoutandaimsapolitesmileatmyfeet.“Thankyou,”hesays.
Inodathimbeforegoingoutthedoor.Myattentionhasalreadynarrowedinontheday’sconcerns,noneofwhichhavetodowithtiger-tattooedmenorscenicvistas.Soit’sannoyingthatIkeepthinkingofboththosethingsinsteadofpreparingformyclientmeeting.Ishakemyheadandreturnmyattentiontomyscreen.Nouse—I’mdistractedbymyscreensaver,acityscapeofBuenosAires.
IshouldhavereadDad’sarticleaboutkeepingfocusafterall.Three
Wednesday,7:13a.m.
Livingwithmynewroommateislikelivingwithaghost.Iassumehisjetlagcauseshimtowakeatoddhours,becauseIrarelyseehim,althoughIsensetracesofhisexistence.Wheneverweseeeachother,cautionemanatesoffhimlikehe’swearinganelectricfencejacket.He’swatchful,takingmymeasure,andIwouldbelyingifIdidn’tfindthisirritatinginmyownhouse,wherehe’savisitor.
Thursday,7:58a.m.
ThreecupsoframenfellonmyheadwhenIopenedthecupboardforagingforcoffeethismorning.ItextJihoonwhenIgettowork.
Me:Youlikeramen.
Jihoon:Yes.RamyeonisaKoreanfoodgroup.
Me:I’mnotafan,particuflarlywhenitfallsonme.Canyouputthemawayproperly?
Jihoon:I’msorry.
HeaddsaGIFofasadcatforemphasis.Itmakesmesmile,butonlyabitbecausehowhardisittoputramenawaysoitdoesn’tfallout?It’sshelf-stableinmultipleways.Iponderpossibleresponsesandsendbackacatwithanoodlecuponitshead.Amusing,butalso—don’tletnoodlesdroponme.
Friday,10:10a.m.
IrubmyneckasIturnawayfrommycomputer,wonderingwhattotacklenext.Workisahydraoftaskstobecompleted.Themomentaprojectclosesortheemailissent,anothersevenpopupthequeue,readytotakeitsplace.EvenifIdidmiraculouslyfinisheverything,therewouldbethatnaggingsensationIshouldbedoingmore.
BeforeIcandecide,thephonerings.It’sAlexwithgoodnews:HyphenRecordsisexpandingandwantstobringmeonretainer.
Icheerupbecausebringinginnewworklooksverygoodindeed,evenifarecordlabelisn’tashigh-profileassomeofYesterlyandHavings’smoreblue-chipaccounts.ThenheaskswhatIknowaboutK-pop.
“K-pop?”Idrawablankbutthinkfast.“It’spopmusic.FromKorea.”
Thesilenceontheotherendisenoughformetoknowmyanswerwassorelylacking.FinallyAlexsays,“HyphenworkswithoneofthebigKoreanentertainmentcompaniestodistributetheirartistsinNorthAmerica.”
“I’llstudyup,”Ipromise.I’velearnedaboutglassinstallationandcatfood(nottogether)forotherclients.IcanwatchsomemusicvideosforHyphen.
“NewlightEntertainment’sbiggestbandisStarLune,”hesays.“Mightwanttostartwiththem.I’llsendyouaplaylistandsomefactsheetsabouttheindustry.”
WechatforabitlongerbeforeIsaygoodbye.ReflectedinmymonitoristhebigsmileI’dneverwearoutsidemycloseddoor.Hyphenwantsme.Notoneofthepartners.Me.RichardassuresmeI’llgetputonthebiggerclientsifIkeepprovingmyself.
“What’sgotyousohappy?”Brittanydidn’tbothertoknockbeforeopeningmydoor.
Mysmilefallsoffasifit’sbeenpowerwashed.“Nothing,”Isay.
“Sure.Well,Meredithtoldmetotellyounottobotherwiththethingsheassignedyou.”
“Whatthingexactly?”
Brittanyshrugs,alreadyshuttingthedoor.“Shesaidyou’dknow.”
Idon’t,andnowI’lllookignorantforasking.
That’snotmeprovingmyself.
Saturday,2:30p.m.
Hana:Jihoonsaysyou’renotathome.It’sSaturday.
Me:Hesnitchedonme?
Hana:Iaskedhim.
Me:I’mattheofficefinishingupsomestuff.
Hana:You’vegottobekidding.
Me:Didyoutextmetonagaboutwork?
Hana:That’smysecondarypurpose.IwantedtoseeifyouwerebeingnicetoJihoon
Me:Youknowwhenamangoesonarampageandalltheneighborssayhowshockedtheyarebecausehewasaquietguywhokepttohimself?
Hana:Hoonieisnotaserialkiller.
Me:Thatcouldbewhyhehadtoleavehomesofast.Policewereclosingin.
Hana:LikeITOLDYOUhetakesawhiletofeelsafewithpeopleandisgoingthrougharoughtime.Doesn’tliketotalkabouthimself.
Me:Yousurehe’srelatedtoyou?
Hana:Funny.He’shadsomebadexperiencesmeetingpeople,sohe’sabitcautious.Helikesprivacy.It’snotyou.
Ah,theclassicit’snotyou.Itseemsalittlebitmewhentheguyshiesawaywhenwepassinthehall.Idon’twanttotakeontheemotionallaborofhavingtocoaxJihoonoutofhisshell.Whyisitmyjobtogethimtalking?
Becauseyou’rethehost.Infact,I’mtheTripleCrownwinnerofmakingitmyresponsibility:I’mthehost,I’molder,andit’smyapartment.Imakeafaceatthewallbeforesubmittingtotheinevitable.
Me:I’lltrytotry.
Hana:That’smygirl.Gottogo.
Sunday,1:36p.m.
Me:HeyJihoon,checkingtoseehowyou’resettlingin.Findingeverything?Jetlagbetter?
Iaddinahappyfaceemojiforgoodmeasure.
Sunday,5:09p.m.
NoanswerfromJihoon.Fine,noteveryonecheckstheirtextsfrequently.
Sunday,6:32p.m.
NoanswerfromJihoon.Ifrownattheblankphonescreen.It’snotlikehehasalottodo.It’ssimplecourtesytotextback,especiallywhenyourhostcontactsyou.What’swiththisguy?
Sunday,7:56p.m.
Ican’ttellifhe’sinhisroom.HecouldbedeadforallIknow.TenminutesandI’llgoknock.
Sunday,8:05p.m.
Jihoon:I’mfine,thankyou.
Itcameexactlynineminutesintomywaitingperiod,asifhe’dtimedit.Igotalluptightfornothing.WhywasIevenworried?He’sanadultandcantakecareofhimself.Isendbackanotherhappyfacebecause,unlikeJihoon,Iknowit’spolitetoreplypromptly.
Hedoesn’twanttotalktomeanymorethanIwanttotalktohim.TheproblemisIkindofdowanttotalktohimbecauseit’sweirdtohavetosidestephimallthetime.OrIwanthimtowanttotalktomesoIdon’thavetogooutthereandmakethefirstmoveandriskrejection.IsittoomuchtoasktheguyfreeloadingatmyplacetobefriendlyaswellashotsoIcanliveinpeace?
Ilookatthephone.Iguessitis.
Monday,9:10a.m.
IrereadRichard’sreplytomyHyphennews.
Goodwork,theemailsays.IknowIcantrustyouwithourmostunconventionalclients.
I’vegottwowinshere:goodworkandtrust.Thenwehaveunconventional.That’saproblem,sinceRichardisnotamanwhoappreciatesanydeviationfromthenorm.Hewon’tevenwearatansuit.Onlyblack,gray,ornavy,andthefanciesthistiegetsisdiagonalstripes.Forhim,agoodclientisanestablishedone,likeanoilcompany,whereeveryonearoundthetablelookslikehim.ItoccurstomethatgettingHyphenmighthavepotentiallydamagedmyreputation.WhatifIpigeonholemyselfassomeonewhocanonlyhandlequirkyclients?
No,I’mreadingtoomuchintoanemailthatprobablytookRichardtwentysecondstowrite.I’llstickwiththeplantoshowwhatIcandowithclientslikeLuxeandHyphen.I’lldosowell,Richardwillfast-trackmetopartner.Beaconsmithismybrassring,ahigh-statusclientliketheonesthatfillthedocketsofothersinthefirm,andHyphenwillhelpgetmethere.
Monday,10:38a.m.
AnotheremailfromDadaboutbringinganentrepreneurialspirittothecorporateoffice.He’sadded:Startjoiningmeetingsevenifyouaren’tinvited.Showsresourcefulness.
Orastunninglackofjudgment,butthere’snopointintellinghimthat.He’llsayIneedmoreconfidence.Iemailback:Thanks,Dad!Greattip.
Inthehall,Brittanycallsouttosomeonethatshe’sonherwaybuttogoaheadandstartthemeetingwhileshegetsacoffeesuperquick.
Idon’tbothertoreadtheattachedarticle.
Tuesday,12:48p.m.
Jihoon:Whereisthebleach?
Me:Underthebathroomsink.
Ittakesthreeminutesuntilcuriositygetsthebetterofme.
Me:Why?
Jihoon:Ineedtocleanthehairdye.
Me:Thewhat?
Jihoon:Youknowthattileinyourshower?
Me:Yes,it’swhite.
Jihoon:ItwaswhiteandIpromiseitwillbewhiteagainsoon.
Me:Sendmeaphoto.
Jihoon:…
Jihoon:Bestnot.
Me:Jihoon.
Twentyminuteslater:
Jihoon:WheredoIbuymorebleach?
ThistimeIsendthatcatGIF.It’scrying.
Tuesday,5:31p.m.
Brittanypokesherheadinmydoorwithoutknocking.“Youcomingfordrinks?”
Ittakesmeaminutetogetmyheadoutofmywork.“What?”
“Drinks.Areyoucoming?”
Noonementioneddrinkstome.I’mtempted,butMeredithhasassignedmetwomoretasks,andI’mgettingstressedthinkingaboutit.“Maybenexttime.”
Brittanypouts.“Oh,boo.Everyonewillbethere.”
Thattemptsmeevenmorebecausedrinksarealwaysagoodwaytoconnect.Thensheadds,“It’stocelebratemejoiningthefirm!It’ssosweetofMeredithtohaveplannedit.”
Screwthat,then.Imaskmyannoyancewithmyusualsmile.“Sosweet,”Isay
Shewavesatmewiththetipsofhermanicuredfingersinatoodlesgestureandleaves.
Later,Idon’tbothertolookupfrommyfileswhenIheartherestofthegroupheadforthebar.
Tuesday,10:26p.m.
WhenIgethome,Jihoonislyingonthefloor,whichseemstobehishappyplace.Heunwindstostand,andIseehe’sabout80percentverymuscledleg,emphasizedbyhistightjeans.Hisoversizegrayshirtrevealspartofhisshoulder.Hanaisright,he’sgotstyleandnotonlyinhowhedresses.It’sthewayheholdshimself.Hishairisastarkblueblack,andIresistrunningtothebathroomtocheckhiscleaningjob.
“Yourhairlooksnice,”Isaypolitely.
Herunshishandthroughandtiltshisheadtotheside.“Doesit?”
Well,whenhelooksatmelikethat,itdoes.BeforeIcananswer,hegivesabriefnodanddisappearsbackintohisroom.Iwatchhimgo,astrangeacheinmychestthatIcan’tquiteidentify.
I’mprobablyhungry.
Thursday,9:15a.m.
Me:Itrippedoveryourshoesthismorning.Therearealotofthem.
Jihoon:[photoofasuitcasefilledwithsmallclothbags]Iliketobereadyforanyoccasion.
Me:ThoseareSHOES?Whyaretheyinsingle-servingbags?
Jihoon:Youdon’tshovePradasintoasuitcasewithoutprotection.
Me:Prada.
Jihoon:You’veheardofPrada?Youhave.
Me:OMG,I’veheardofPrada.It’sthatIdon’tcareaboutPrada.
Jihoon:Youareamonster.Look.[photoofbrownshoe].
Hemusthavesentthewrongimage.
Me:It’sashoe.It’sbrown.IsthatPrada?
Jihoon:[GIFofhorrifiedcat]Levlin.Hand-stitchedwithcopperawls.Ittakesacobblerweekstomake.Yearsofexpertise.It’snotonlyashoe,it’simaginationmadereal.
Me:Icangetapairofshoesfor$20thatwillkeepmyfeetoffthegrosssidewalkthesameway.
Jihoon:Irepeat,amonster.
Me:Amonsterwhodoesn’twanttotripovershoesinthehallway.
Jihoon:Fair.Admitthatshoeisaworkofartthough.
Me:No.
Jihoon:It’sok.Iforgiveyou.
Thenextimageisofthatgoofycat,onepawraisedinbenevolentbenediction.Ilaugh.Atleasthe’slessawkwardontext.
Thursday,2:01p.m.
IlookthroughthestreakedwindowatthetrafficsittingidlyonBayStreetandvisualizethecornerofficewhereI’llbeworkinginafewyears.Iknowtheexactoneonthefifty-fourthfloor,completewithleatherfurnitureanddarkwood.AtnightI’llstandinfrontofthefloor-to-ceilingwindowsasthelightsofcarsmaketheroadslooklikestreamsofliquidgold.I’llhaveexactlywhatIwantandwhatmyparentswantforme.Afterall,I’mAri,theyoungerbutdependableandambitioussister,notPhoebe,theflightydropout.
Willyoubehappy?ThatsnippylittlevoicesoundslikePhoebe,whowassogoodatgettingundermyskinthatIcanhearherevenaftershe’sbeenAWOLfrommylifeforyears
Shutup,disembodiedPhoebevoice.
Isqueezemyeyesharderandtrytoignoreit,butattimeslikethis,weigheddownwithawearinessthat’snotfromphysicalexertion,Iwonderifthatvoiceisontosomething,ifthere’smoreouttherethanwhatI’vesetmysightson.
Thesearen’tproductivethoughts.Thesewon’thelpmereachmygoals.Ipushthemawayandgetbacktowork.
Thursday,8:29p.m.
WhenIgethome,Jihoonisinthelivingroomsittingonthecouchsurroundedbyhalf-emptychipbags.Inhishandisatallboy.Hislaptopisopenonthecoffeetable,andhepauseshisshowtosmileatme.It’ssmall,butthisisthefirsttrulypositiveexpressionI’veseensincehearrived.Itlooksgoodonhim.
“Hi,Ari.”
Idebatesayinghiandthengoingstraightintothekitchentoavoidconversation,butthat’srude.Also,Iwantsomeofthechips.“Hey.”Ipokethroughthebags.“Youdidn’tgethickorysticks.Thoseareaclassic.”
Hegroansandputsahandoverhisstomach,hisblackshirtcoveredwithcrumbs.“Iwantedtoexplorenewflavorswedon’thaveathome.Itmighthavebeenamistake.Helpyourself.”
Igrabthebagofcheesygarlicbreadchipsandtryone.ThenImakeafaceandgoforthesriracharuffled.Thosearebetter.Meanwhile,Jihoongoestothekitchenandcomesbackwithmorebeerandtwoglasses.HepoursmeaglassasIglanceathisscreen,whichshowsahandsomemaninawide-brimmedhatandablackjacket.
“Whatareyouwatching?”Iask.
“MyfavoriteK-drama.”Hehesitates.“Doyouwanttowatch?”
Notreally,butI’mtoolazytogotomyroom.Inodwithmymouthfullofjalape?ochips.
HeadjuststhesettingstoincludeEnglishsubtitles.I’mlostwithinminutesbutdon’tbotherpesteringJihoonwithquestions.It’spleasantenoughtonibbleonthegrosschipsandwatchstunningmeninturtlenecksweatersbickerwitheachother.
Wefinishtheepisode,andJihoonglancesoveratme.“Another?”
Inod.“Andapizza?”Chipsaren’tapropermeal.
Helightsup.“CanwegetonewithGorgonzola?”
“Iknowtheperfectplace.”
Wewatchanotherepisodeuntilthepizzacomes,andwedrinkmorebeeranddon’ttalkaboutmuchatallexceptforconfusingplotpoints.It’skindofaperfectnight,cozyandunexpectedlycomfortable.
ImakeamentalnotetoapologizetoHanaforcallinghercousinaserialkiller.
Friday,3:13p.m.
YukowavesmeintoLuxe’sopenspaceoffice,whichissharedbyherandInes.Inesisonthephonedealingwiththepersonalassistantofanactorinsistingonadressadesignhousehaspromisedtosomeoneapparentlylowerinthefamehierarchy.Hervoiceissoothingandcalm,butsheshootsaglareatYuko,whoispretendingtogagbehindherdesk.Yukostopsandwavesmeovertowhisperinmyear.
“RememberthattravelitineraryyoudidformewhenIwenttoSicily?”
“Sure.Itwasfun.”IincludedacateredpicnicattheZingaroNatureReserve,whichtheyloved.
“Myfriend’sgoingtoSingapore,andIwaswonderingifyoucandooneforher.”
Igetarushofpleasure.Planningtripsismyjoy,soothingmydetail-orientedandresults-drivensoulandprovidingsomeoftheadventureIdon’thave.“Absolutely.”
Yukogivesmeafewmoredetailsaboutwhatherfriendlikes,andItakenotesinmytravelnotebook.IglanceuptoseeYuko’sscreensaverisanAsianguyposinginfrontofabluestarwithafullmoonpeekingbehindit.“StarLune,”Isay,recognizingthelogo.I’dcheckedthematerialAlexhadsentmebeforedecidingtogomoreindepthlater.Idon’tstartwithHyphenforanothermonth,soIhavetime.
“That’sX,”shesays.“Don’ttellmeAriadneHui,straitlacedlawyer,isaStarry?”
“Awhat?”
Shemakesaface.“Iknewitwastoogoodtobetrue.StarryisStarLune’sfandomname.Howdoyouknowthem?”
“Aclient.”
Yukopretendstoswoon.“IfyougettomeetStarLuneandyoudon’tbringme,I’llkillyou.Iwatchalotofcrimeshows.They’llneverfindyourbody.”
Irollmyeyes.“You’revegan.”
“Veganscaninflictviolenceonthedeserving.”
“Whydoyoulikethemsomuch?”Iaskcuriously.Yuko’sinherthirties.EvenwhenIwasyounger,Ineverhadpostersofthelatestheartthrobsonmywall.
Sheraisesherhandandbeginstickingoffherfingers.“Talented.Hot.Good-hearted.Funny.Performancegods.Lyricsthatmakemecryanddanceatthesametime.”Shepausesandstrokesthemanonthescreenwithfondfingers.“DidIsaygorgeous?”
“Yousaidhot.”
Shesighs.“Sohot.”
Ilookbackatthescreensaver.Xisindeedattractive,butpopstarsaren’tmything.
InescallsmeawayfromYuko.“IhaveaprojectI’dlikeyoutoconsider,”shesaysbywayofhello.“Itinvolvestravel.”
“Howmuch?”I’mintrigued.Idon’tgoanywherebecauseIdon’tliketakingvacationtimeatYesterlyandHavings.Idon’twantanyonequestioningmycommitment.
Ithinkaboutit,though.Alot.
“I’mplanningtobranchouttomoregroupluxurytravel.”
I’minstantlytransportedfromInes’sofficetoacandlelitdinneronablack-sandAegeanbeach.IhadaphotoofitonthevisionboardIkeptforafewmonthsuntilIputitawaybecauseitbummedmeout.“Thatsoundsfascinating.”
“Ineedsomeoneonthegroundinplacesthatdobetterwithface-to-facenegotiations.”
Myheartinflatesforamoment.“Icandothat.”
“Iknowyoucan.”Ines’ssmileislikesunshine.“Thisiscriticalworkthatrequiresrelationshipbuilding.IwantyoutojoinLuxepermanently.”
Instantdeflation.
Swallowingmydisappointment,Ishakemyhead.“Ican’t.”DadwasbraggingabouthowsoonI’dmakepartnerrightafterRichardhiredme,andIonlyneedafewmoreyears.I’msoclose.
Inesissilentforamoment.“Thinkaboutit?You’remyfirstchoice.”
Idon’thesitate.“Sure.”
Iwon’t,though,andithurtsabittosay.I’vecommittedtoYesterlyandHavingsforthelonghaul.Ican’tmissmychancehere,notafterallI’veputin.
Itwouldhavebeenfun,though.Four
MySaturdaysfollowastandardroutine:callmyparents,work,andclean.Idobestwhenmylifeispredictable.Hanascoffsatitforbeingboring,butshe’stheonewho’salwayscomplainingabouthowmuchmoneyshespendsbuyinglunchbecausesheforgottomakeit.
Routineisgood,especiallynow,whenI’mdoingmybesttonotthinkaboutInes’sjoboffer.It’stantalizing.Travel.WorkingwithYukoandIneswouldmeananofficewherepeopletalktomeoratleastsmile.They’dlaughatmyjokes.
Imightevenmakejokes.
Don’tletthosethoughtstakeroot.Likeivyinawall,ifthosedoubtsgrow,they’llboreintomyplans,flakingofflittlebitshereandthereuntilthere’snothingleft.
IcheckJihoon’sroomtomakesurehe’soutbeforehuntingthroughmyplaylistfortheperfectsongtomotivatemefortheday.“ParadiseCity”blaresintothequietapartmentsecondslater.
That’sthestuff.IstartslowbutamsoonscreamsingingmyfrustrationsintoawoodenspoonsnatchedoffthecounterasIfillthekettleandpopitonthestovetoboil,full-onAxlRose-ingitwithhighkicksaroundthekitchenbeforestandingwithmylegsapartandleaningbacktosquawkmywayintothechorus,onehandjabbingupward.Mybaggypajamasflaparoundme,andforthefirsttimeallweek,thetensionleavesmymuscles.I’minthemiddleofchannelingSlashwithmyspoon-cum-air-guitarasIbegthecuponthecountertotakemehome,yeah-yeah,whenIattemptacomplicatedjumpturnandnearlyknockoverJihoon,whoisstandingbehindme.
Aweekandahalfago,hescaredtheshitofmewhenIdiscoveredhimsleepingonthecouch.Thatwasnothingcomparedtomyreactionnow.ThespoongoesflyingasItripandfallonmyassinthemiddleofthekitchen,mybraidwhippingupsotheelasticatthebottomhitsmeintheface.
“Oww.”Icovermyeye.“Whatthehellareyoudoing,sneakinguponmelikethat?”
“Icalledyourname,butyoucouldn’thearme.”Jihoon’seyesarewideundertheballcaphe’swearingsolow,youcanbarelymakeouthisfeatures.He’sbeenrunning,andwhereIwouldbearedandsweatymess,hemerelyglistenscharmingly.“Wereyou,ah,singing?”Hestumblesoverthelastword,asifheknowstechnicallythat’swhatIwasattemptingbutfeelsit’snotanappropriatefit.
“No.”IsilenceAxlandCo.
“Itwas…”ItwouldbeamusingtowatchhimstruggleforaninoffensivewaytodescribemyyowlingifIweren’tabouttomeltfromembarrassment.“Interesting,”heoffersfinally.
I’mlookingatthefloorinsheerhumiliationbutcatchhisexpressionoutofthecornerofmyeye.Hisshouldersareshakingwiththeeffortofnotlaughing.
“OhmyGod.”Igroan.“Goahead.I’mterrible.Iknowit.Hana’smommadehergetoffthephonewhenIwassingingintheshowerbecauseithurtherears.”
Heexplodeswithlaughter.Ididn’trealizehowtensehewasuntilhisshouldersdropandhisfaceopens.Hewaskeepingironcontrolaroundmeallthistime,butnowhe’slaughingsohard,heendsupleaningoverwithhisforeheadonthecounter.“No,no,”hegaspsintothegranite.“Musicisaboutpassion.You’repassionate.”
Ican’tkeepastraightface.Anditishilarious.Eventuallywebothstoplaughingandwipeoureyes.
“Ireallyamkindofmortifiedyousawthat,”Iadmit.
“I’msorryIlaughed.Ishouldn’thave.Thatwasmean.Youaren’tthatbad.”
“Don’tlie.”
“You’reuntrained,that’sall.Musicisanartandacraft.”Hegrins.“AndAxlRoseishardtoimitate.”
Heheadsofftotheshower,andIcontinuemakingcoffee,feelinglighternowthatJihoonisactingmorelikearegularperson.Ilingeroverthedregsinmycupandstareoutthewindowasthewaterrunsinthebathroom,thoughtsflitteringlikemothsthroughmymind.Onebyonetheygetzappeduntilonlythebiggestandstrongestoneremains,itspalewingsmadeofemailsandmemos.Idon’twanttowork.Idon’twanttodomyusualSaturdaythings.Instead,I’mfilledwiththeunusualdesiretodo…nothing.No,notnothing.Anythingbutopeningmylaptop.
Igetupquickly.That’snottheattitudeIneedrightnow,soIsettledownatthetablewithmywork.Jihooncomesoutlookingathisphone.He’sdressedinblackjeansandalooseblackT-shirtwithbarefeetandshower-damphair
“Whatisthis?”Heshowsmethescreen,whichhasatextIsenthimlastnight.Ihadn’tbeenabletogettosleepandwasdoingsometravelresearchtorelaxwhenIthoughtaboutwhatJihooncoulddotocheckoutthecity.
“Hanamentionedyoudon’tlikecrowds,”Isay.“IsentyouafewplacesaroundTorontothatshouldbequietifyouwantedtoexplore.”
“Becauseyou’reworkingandwantmeoutoftheapartment?”hesays,hismouthquirkingupattheside.
“No!Ofcoursenot.”Well,yes,butI’mhorrifiedtobesotransparent.Idon’twanthimgone,butit’sfairtosayIwasalsonotlookingforwardtoJihoonbeinghomewhenIwastryingtowork.Quietthoughheis,Jihoonhasadistractingpresence.
“It’snotaproblem,Ari.Ishouldgetsomeair.”
Hedoesn’tsayanythingashescrollsthroughthemessage,andInearlywhackmyselfforintruding.“They’reonlysuggestions,”Itellhim,tryingnottofeeldefensive.“Ididn’tmeantointerfere.”
Jihoonshakeshishead,thesmallsmilegrowing.“Thiswaskind.Thankyou.”
Thewayhelooksatmeisstrange,andIcan’treadhisexpression.It’salmostwistful,butwhywouldhegetemotionaloverspotsIliketovisit?It’stheleastIcando.Hana’svoicewhispersthattheleastIcoulddowouldbetokeeptheguycompanyforanhour,butIcan’t.IalreadyfeelsobehindatworkthatmyheartraceswhenIlookatmylaptop.
Jihoonleaves,andthehushoftheapartmentdescendsaroundme.Whenmytimergoesofftoindicateit’stimetotakeabreak,Ipulloutmyphonetocallmyparents.
“Hi,Dad,”Isaywhenhepicksup.
“Ariadne,goodtohearfromyou.How’swork?”
Iglanceatthefilesspreadacrossthetable,duediligenceforaclientwhoneverremembersmyname.“Good,Iguess.”
“Workhard.Here’syourmother.”Hehandsoverthephone,andIcheckthetime.Eightsecondsworthofconversation—that’sabouttheusual.
Momscoldshiminthebackground.“Youcanatleastspeaktoyourowndaughter.”
“Ineedtofinishthegarage.”Hisvoicefadesashewalksaway.
“Hi,Mom,”Isaywhenshecomeson.
“Hi,sweetie.”
Wetalkabouthowthesquirrelsaredigginguphertomatoplants.Thenshesays,“Yoursistercalledmetheotherday.”
“Phoebe?”AsifIhaveanothersister
“She’sbackinCanada,livinginMontreal.”
Ilaugh.“Likethat’lllast.”
“Ari.”Mom’svoiceholdsawarningthatIignore.
“She’llgetboredandleaveafteramonth.Weallknowit.”
Shetsksatme.“Iwishyoutwogotalongbetter.Youcouldcallher.”
“Wegetalongfineasweare.Plus,Phoebedidn’tbothertogivemehernewnumber.Ihopeyoutoldherthesamethingasyou’retellingme.”
Mom’ssilent,andIknowshedidn’t.ItrubsmethewrongwaywhensheactsasifI’mtheonewhoshouldbedoingalltheworktobeagoodsister.
“Youtwoaresoalike,”Momsays.
Asalways,speakingofPhoebesourstheconversation,andIwanttogetoffthephoneassoonaspossiblewithoutMomgettingupset.“Whatelseareyoudoingtoday?”Iaskinmybestneutralvoice.
Threeminuteslater,Idisconnectandjumpupfrommychair.Phoebe’sbackinthecountry,butit’sgotnothingtodowithme.MontrealisthesameasherlivinginSanDiego,orChiangMai,orMexicoCity.Shedidn’tthinkaboutmefromthoseplacesorfromalltheotherplacesshe’sbeensincesheleft.Iwasthirteenwhenshedroppedoutofschoolandtookoff.Onedayshewasinmylife,andthenext,shewasdoingmoreinterestingthingsthanwhateverherboringlittlesistercouldoffer.
Expellingmybreathtoohardforittobeasigh,Isetmytimerformynextworkingsession.Ihavethingstodo,importanttasks,andthinkingaboutPhoebeisn’toneofthem.Five
WorkismoreannoyingthanusualonMonday.WhenIleave,IgulpintheairuntilIfeeldizzy.It’snotfreshsincethisisBayStreet,butit’sbetterthantheoffice.Inthemiddleofmybreathing,Hanatextsmeoneword:People.
That’sallsheneedstosay.Hana’sjobasacorporatediversityconsultantmeanstalkingtopeopleaboutwhyit’snotcooltoberacist,sexist,ableisthomophobesandaskingiftheycouldpleasenotbelikethat.Herworktripsareapoisonouscombinationofphysicallyandpsychologicallyexhausting.
Me:Youok?
Hana:Worksucks.Thehotelairconisarctic.EommasaysI’meatingtoomuchfastfoodbecauseIpostedapictureofamatchalatte.
I’mnotsurprised,becauseHana’smomisapieceofwork.TryingtogetHanatoseehowshelooksunfilteredbyhermother’sconstantnegativecomments—allprovidedundertheguiseofbeinghelpfulorbeingforHana’sowngood—isanongoing,eternallyheartbreakingbattle.
Igritmyteethandtextback:Yourfoodisyourbusiness.
Hana:Iknow.
Wemessageaboutthingswehateforabitlonger,andthenIheadhome.Jihoon’salreadyinhisroom.Idon’twanttoknockonhisdoor,butIwishhe’dbeeninthelivingroomsoIcouldfeellessalone.Isitonmybed,mindbothemptyandbuzzing.Iwanttodosomething,anything,butIalsowanttodonothing.Inertiawinsout.
Myphonerings,andIglanceatit.It’sMom,andIdeclinethecall.Idon’twanttotalkaboutPhoebe,andthat’stheonlyreasonshe’dbecallingatthistime.
Thephoneringsaminutelater.Momagain.
Mypalmstingle.Shenevercallstwicelikethat.Ipickup.“Mom?”
There’saquickgaspingnoise.“Ari?Sweetie?”
Itmustbebad.“Mom,iseverythingokay?”
“He’ssafe,that’swhatyouneedtoknow.Idon’twantyoutoworry.Doyouhearme?”
Ihearthewords,butit’shardtounderstand,asifmybrainissiftingouteverysecondsyllable,leavingmewithabrokenmessage.Everythinggoesveryslow.
“Mom?What’sgoingon?IsitDad?”Istumbleoverthewords.
“He’satthehospital.We’reatthehospital.”
“Mom!”
“He’sokay.It’sfine.”Isshereassuringherselforme?Thefirstisscarier.“Hehadaheartattack,sweetie.Theambulancecame,andhe’sgoingtobefine,Ipromise.”
“Whathospital?”
“Youdon’tneedtocome.Theysaidhe’llbeoutinacoupledays.Hedoesn’tneedsurgery.”
“Isaidwhathospital.”
Shesighsandtellsme,thenshesays,“Icalledyoursister.”
ItakeamomenttoabsorbmyragethatshecalledPhoebebeforeshecalledme.Now’snotthetime.“Okay.”
Wehangup,andIwatchmyhandsshake.Dadhadaheartattack.Hecouldhavedied.WhatifMomhadn’tbeentheretocallanambulance?Whatifhe’dbeenalone?
Idon’tevennoticeI’vemovedtothelivingroomandamstandinginthemiddleoftheflooruntilJihooncracksopenhisdoor.
He’sinfrontofmeimmediately,handswarmonmyshoulders.“Ari,what’swrong?”
IopenmymouthtotellhimthatnothinghappenedandI’mfine,butinsteadItellthetruth.“Mydad’ssick.Hehadaheartattack.He’sinthehospital.”
HestepsinandtucksmyheadunderhischinasIsniffle.I’mnotcryingcrying,butIcan’tseemtocontrolthespeedofmybreathorthetearsleakingfrommyeyes.JihoonwhisperssoftlyinKoreanashishandsstrokedownmyarms.Hewalksustothecouchandurgesmetositbesidehimwithoutlettingmywristgo.
Thecomfortofhistouchwarswithmyshameatcryinginfrontofarelativestranger.Ichokeoutalaughtotrytosavesomedignity.“SorryIgotyourshirtallgross.”
IexpectJihoontotaketheoutI’mofferingandmakeajokethatwillbethefirststepinextricatinghimself,butheonlylooksatme.“Isyourfathersafe?”
“Yes.”Mybreathislightanduneven.
“Yourmother.She’ssafe?”
“Yes,withDadatthehospital.”Ifeelalittlestronger.Inthismoment,they’rebothsafe,andIclingtothat.
Hehumsanacknowledgmentandsitswithmesilently,notlooseninghishold,asIalternatebetweenstaringmindlesslyattheredlinesthreadingthroughthefloorrugandthinkingthroughwhatIneedtodo.
FinallyIpullbackandwipemyface.“Ineedtogotothehospital.”
Henodsandreleasesme.
Althoughmythoughtsaredartingaround,mybodysitsunmovingonthecouch.Keys.Ineedmykeysandmywallet.ShouldIchange?Callacab.No,drive.Acabisbetter.WhatdoIneedtobring?ID?It’sallsodraining.IfeelIneedtomoveslowly,almostgingerly,likesomethinginmewillbreakifIrush,butI’mfilledwithacontraryneedtohurry.
Jihoon’sdarkeyesaretrainedonme.“Ari?Whatdoyouneed?”
“Nothing,thanks.”Myreplyisautomatic.
Hedoesn’ttakethisescapeeither.“TellmesoIcanhelp.”
WhatIwant,whatIneed.Iwantthisnottobehappening,butthat’snotonthetable.IwantJihoontopinchmeandtellmeit’sadream.
Iwanttonotbealone,butIcan’taskhimformorethanhe’sdoing.That’snotfairtoaguywho’sspentmostofhistimebeingveryclearhewantsnothingtodowithme.
“I’mhere,Ari.”Thistimeherunshishanduptomyelbow.Icrushacushionundermyotherhandandavoidhiseyes.Myneedforcompanyisbiggerthanmydiscomfortataskingforhelp.
“Uh.Willyoucomewithme?Tothehospital?”
There’samomentofsilence,andIstartapologizing,embarrassedforshowingweakness.WhatwasIthinking?Icandothisbymyself.I’musedtohandlingthingsonmyown.“Sorry,Ishouldn’thaveasked.It’sapain.I’llbefine.”Igetup,andhestandswithme.
“Ofcourse,I’llcomewithyou,”hesays,hisvoicesoft.“Iwantedtoofferbutdidn’twanttomakeyoufeelpressure.Where’syourbag?I’llgetit.”
Inthecab,Jihoonkeepsholdofmewithalighttouchonmyhandthatgroundsme.AtextcomesfromHana,filledwithhugsandhearts.IglanceoveratJihoon.“DidyoutextHana?”
“Yes.Shewantedtocall,butIaskedhernottobecauseyoumightbebusy.”
“Oh.”Ilookathimoutofthecornerofmyeye.It’snicetohavesomeonewatchingoutforme.“Thanks.”
Wetraveltherestofthewayinsilenceandthennavigatetotheemergencyroom.It’scrowded,andthepeopleontheirphonesortalkinginlowvoicescreateanatmosphereheavywithtensionandresignation.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifHospitalWaitingRoomisoneofthefeaturedtorturesofHell,andtheywouldn’tevenhavetochangetheseating.IfindMomstaringatawallnearthevendingmachines.Underthestronglight,herfaceisdrawnandhaggard,thebagsunderhereyesmoreprominent.Thegraystreaksinhershortblackhairlookthickerthanbefore,andforthefirsttimeinmylife,Iunderstandshe’sgettingolderandthatonedayherheartwillalso…
No.No.I’mnotthinkingthat.
Hergazeshiftsoverwhenweapproach.“Hi,sweetie.”Shelookspastme,andIstepasidesoshecanseeJihoon.
“ThisisJihoon,Hana’scousin.He’svisitingandcamewithme.”
JihoonbowsasIleanoverandgiveheranawkwardhugwithmyrightarm.“How’sDad?”
“Resting.He’sinasharedroom,soIlefttogivehisroommatesomeprivacywiththedoctor.Didyoursistercallyou?”
Itakeadeepbreath.Phoebeagain.“No.”
“Itoldherto.”
“WecantalkaboutPhoebelater.WhencanIseeDad?”
“It’shisownfault,”shesnaps,eyesfixedonthevendingmachine.“Hewasworkingtoohard.Itoldhim,let’stakeabreak.Wehaven’tgoneonholidaytogetherinyears.Whyworktoonlyworkmore?”Mom’svoiceisrising,andtheolderwomanbesidehernodsinsympathy.
“Mom,Idon’tthink…”
“Forwhat?”Sheshakesherhead.“Sowhenyoudieyoucangetheansweredemailatmidnightonyourtombstone?”
“Howdidithappen?”Idon’twanttotalkaboutDad’sworkethic.Jihoontouchesmyarm,murmursaboutcoffee,anddisappears.
“Hementionedheavinessinhischestintheafternoonbutsaiditwasfine.Hewaitedfivehours!Thenhecollapsedafterdinner.Allsweaty.”
“Howlongisheherefor?”Iask,tryingtokeepherfocused.Ireadsomewherethatgettingpeopletothinkaboutnumbersorfactscancalmthemdown.“Acoupledays?”
“Theythinkso.”Herphonealarmsounds,andMomstandssoquickly,shealmoststumbles.“Wecanseehimnow.”
IfeelbadI’vealreadyaskedsomuchofJihoonbybringinghimhere,soItexthimthathecangohomeifhewants.Hereplieswithaheartemoji,whichisasweetifinconclusiveanswer.
Thehospitalcorridorisbrightwiththatlightthatcomesdownthroughthetopsofyoureyesinajaggedandheadache-inducingline.InDad’sroomhuddlesacrowdofpeoplechattingaroundthemaninthefirstbed,whohastheprivacycurtainsthrownopenwide.Theygreetuswithdisconcertinglycheerfulsmiles,andImanageatersenodinreply.
MomslidesopenthecurtainsaroundDad’sbed,theslitheryrattleofthemetalringsmakingmyshouldersinchup.Sheonlywidensthemenoughforustosqueezeinbeforeclosingthemfirmlybehindus.Herarmrestsagainstmineforamomentbeforeshestepsaway.
Dad’sasleep.It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’veseenhimwithhiseyesclosed.He’sinoneofthosebluecottonhospitalgownswithanIVburiedinhisarmandwirescomingoutfromhischest.
“Didtheygivehimpainmedication?”IwhispertoMom.Iwanttoclingtoherhand,butshehasherarmscrossedinfrontofher.Ittakesallmyenergytokeepthetearsoutofmyeyesandcollectedinatightballinmythroatwheretheycan’tescape.
“He’sonalotofmeds.They’remonitoringhim.”
It’screepytostandandwatchwhileDad’sasleep.Hisblackhair,streakedwithgrayinthesameplacesasMom’s,looksdullagainsttheharshbleachedwhiteofthepillowcase.Icouldsitdownandholdhishand,butthatfeelsunnatural.Wedon’ttouchveryoften.Ican’trememberthelasttimehehuggedme.
IlookatthelinesontheheartmonitoranddesperatelywishIcouldpulloutmyphonetohavesomethingtodothatisn’tthis.Besideus,theroommate’sfamilybidshimaboisterousgoodbyeastheyfileout.“You’llneedtoleavesoon,”Momtellsme,eyesnotmovingfromDad’shands.“Itoldyoutherewasnoreasontocome.”
“Iwantedto.”
Shereachesouttogivemealittlesidehug,andIburrowintoit.I’mthirtyyearsoldandneedmymommy.“I’mgoinghomesoon,too.Phoebewillbeheretomorrow.”
“What?”
“She’stakingthemorningtrainfromMontrealandstayingwithafriend.”
Idon’tanswer.ThelasttimemyoldersisterwasinToronto,wehadafightthatendedinhertellingmeIwasarepressedchildwhoneededtogrowup.Thenshestormedoutofthecaféwherewe’dmetforcoffee.
Whatinfuriatedmewasthatshe’dleftbeforeIsaidwhatIthoughtofher.No,thatIdidn’tgetachancetotellherIneverthinkabouther.That’swhatIwouldhavesaid.That’swhatIwasgoingtotextherbeforeIdecideditwasn’tworththeeffort.
“Shemissesyou,”Momsays.
Iglareather.“Idon’tneedyoutotrytofixthingslikea1950smom,thanks.We’readults.”
Shedoesn’tanswer,andwewatchDadsleepuntilthenursecomestosayvisitinghoursareendingsoon.Islowlygotohissideofthebedandgivehimasqueezeonthearm.Hedoesn’tmove,andMomushersmeout.
Westandinthecorridorforamoment.“I’llkeepyouupdated,”Momsays.
“I’llcometomorrow.”
“We’llseewhathappensafterthetestresults,okay,sweetie?”
“Mom.”
“IpromiseI’llkeepyouupdated.”Shegivesmeahug.ThisonehasthereassuranceIcrave,butshe’salsocapturedmyarmsclosetomysidessoIcan’treturnit.It’soverasquickasithappens,andshestepsawayfromme.“Gohomeandgetsomesleep.”
ShewavesmedownthehallassheretreatsintoDad’sroom.Idon’tlookbackasImakemywaytothewaitingroom.
MyheartthumpswithrelieftoseeJihoonsittingtherewithhiscappulleddownandafacemaskon.Ididn’tknowhowmuchIwantedhimtowait.Hejumpsupwhenheseesme.
“Home?”heasks.
Inod.
“Wanttotalk?”
Ishakemyhead.
“Thenlet’sgo.”Hewrapsanarmaroundmyshoulders,onlyforamoment,butIfeeltheabsencewhenhemovesawaySix
Whenwegethome,JihoonwavesmeawaywhenIreachformywalletandpaysthecabdriver.Iidlywatchagroupofdude-brosbarreldownthesidewalk,slappingeachotheronthebackfornoapparentreason.Dadissafe,soIshouldn’tbeworried,butit’snotlikeIcanschedulemyanxiety.
Jihoonwalksaroundthebackofthecabtojoinme,butIdon’twanttogoin.Thethoughtofbeingcoopedupintheapartmentisunbearable.“I’llbeupsoon,”Isay.“I’mgoingforawalk.”
Heglancesupthenow-emptystreet.“MayIcome?”heasks,pullinghismaskdownslightly.
“It’sgettinglate.”It’salmostten.
“Idon’tmind,andI’vespentaweeklazingaround.”Hetouchesmyarmsolightly,Ibarelyfeelit.“I’dliketojoinifyouwantcompany.”
I’mreadytosaynooutofhabit,butherocksbackonhisheelsasifnervousaboutgettingrejected.Itwouldbegoodtohavecompany,andJihoonhasacomfortingquality,presentbutnotintrusive.“Sure.”
Weheaddownasmallsidestreet.EachsteplessensmyfearaboutDadabitmore.Momsaidhe’sfine,andshewouldn’tlie.Besideme,Jihoonrespectsmysilenceandstrollsalonglookingcuriouslyatthehouseswepass.HepausesatonedecoratedwithdiscoballsalongthefrontporchandturnswhenIpointatthecarparkedoutfrontinthestreet,anoldChevythat’sbeenbedazzledtowithinaninchofitslife.Thesteeringwheelislinedwithfakefur,andasmallhulagirlbobblefiguresitsonthedash.“Idon’tknowifthesewouldbefunornightmareneighbors,”hesaysthoughtfully.
Wedecideagainstpeekingintothefrontwindowandmoveon,slowlycreatingastoryaboutthehouseanditsoccupants.Bythetimewe’vewalkedtwomoreblocks,it’sstretchedtoincorporateahiddenentrancetoanundergroundcavern,spaceships,andatacotruck,andaswetrytoone-upeachother,Jihoonrelaxesfurther.WhenIstoptocreateanelaboratesketch,usingastickandsomedirt,ofthealienswholiveinthespacetacotruck,helaughsloudenoughtostartleanearbycat.
“Youraliensarehideous,”hesayswithasmilethatcrinklesthecornersofhiseyesandilluminateshiswholeface.“Here,givemethestick.”
“Yoursareworse,”Iinformhimwhenhe’sdone.
Hefrowns.“Theyreallyare.Iblamethestick.Itwasn’tsharpenough.”
Ihaven’tlaughedlikethisinawhile,andit’stingedwithguiltthatI’menjoyingmyselfwhileDad’sinthehospital.Shouldn’tIbelurkinginadarkbedroom,feelingmorose?
Jihoonglancesdownatme.We’reunderastreetlight,andtheshadowsplayonhisface,highlightingthegeometricplanesandcornersofhisfeatures.“Ari?”Evenhistoneseemsdifferent,almostsofter.
Itakeastepbutstopattheslightpullonmysleeve.Allhismovementsaregentleandprecise.“What?”Iask.
“Somethingisbotheringyou.”
“Well,myDad’sinthehospital,”Isnap.Ican’thelpit.Thebestdefenseisagoodoffensewhenitcomestofeelings.
“Iknow.I’msorry.”Hedoesn’tlifthisgaze,andItwistarounduncomfortablyuntilit’sclearwearen’tmovinguntilIspillsomething.
“Beingouthereisnice,”Isayfinally,staringattheskytoavoidlookingathim.Thestreetlightsblockanystarsthatmightbeout.
“That’sgood.Youneedtodistractyourself.”
Isnort.“No,that’sthepoint.Isn’titwrongtobehavingfunwhenhe’ssick?”
“Youfeelguilty.”
“Iguess.”
“Whatdoyouthinkyoushouldbedoinginsteadofthis?”
Threedarkpinespartiallyobscurethegateinfrontofthehouseacrossthestreet.“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“Sittingaroundbeingsadinsolidarity?”
“Wouldthatpleaseyourfather?”
Thismakesmelaugh.“OnlyifI’malsoworking.Otherwisehe’dconsideritawickedwasteoftimewhenIshouldbetryingtogetpromoted.”
Istartwalkingagain,notwantingtoelaborate.Normalpeoplewouldletitgoatthis,understandingthatit’sasensitivetopic.
Jihoondoesn’t.“Hewantsyoutosucceed.”
“That’sonewayoflookingatit.”IgetthefeelingthatIcoulddrapemyselfinagiganticredflagtowarnJihoonoffbuthe’dignoreittogetthebottomofsomethinghefoundimportant.
Weturnleftandintoasmallpark.I’dnevergotherealoneatnight,butwithJihoon,Ifeelsafeenoughtocrossthrough.Wewalkalongthewell-litpathtowhereitbranchesintoasmallstandofbirchtrees.Ipauseattheforkforamomentbeforedecidingtogostraight.
“Myparentswantthesamething,”hesaysfinally.“Formetobeasuccess.YouknowmymotherandHana’saresisters?”
“Idid.Aretheysimilar?”
Hemakesanoncommittalnoise,whichItakeasatacitagreement.“IgrewupinBusanbutwantedtodoanartstrainingprograminSeoulwhenIwasateenager.Myparentswereagainstit.TheywantedmetostayinschoolsoIcouldgetastablegovernmentjobthatwouldlastmywholelife.”
“YouliveinSeoul,soIassumeyouignoredthem?”
Jihoonkicksasmallpebbleoutoftheway.“WhenIleft,therewasmuchdrama.Mymotherrefusedtospeaktomeforayear.MyfathertoldmehowdisappointedhewasinmychoiceeverytimeIcalledhome.”
“Youstuckwithit,though.”
“Idid.”Jihoontakesoffhishatandrunshishandthroughhishair.“Itwashard,butIknewwhatIwanted.ImadesomefriendsandbegantolearnwhatIneededtoknow.”
“Howdoyourparentsfeelnow?”
Helaughs.“Imadeacareerformyself,butmyfieldhashighturnover.TheystillthinkIshouldhavetakenagovernmentjob.”
Thismakesmelaugh,too.“Parents.”
“Youcan’tdoanythingforyourfathernow.Youhavenothingtofeelguiltyfor.”
“YetIdo.”It’saboutelevennow,andthewarmnightcombinedwithoursolitudemakesmemoreopenthanIwouldnormallybe.
Jihoontouchesourshoulderstogether.“Heartsarestrangethings.Theyneverdowhatyouwish.Nevertaketheeasypath.”
“No.Let’scutthemoutassacrificestothegodofdoingtherightthing.”
Hewrinkleshisnose.“I’dtaketheheartanditstwistsandturnsoverfeelingnothing,though.Wouldn’tyou?”
Ithinkofmyrolemodel,Meredith,whowouldratherdiethanexpressanemotion.BeforeIneedtoanswer,weemergeontoabusystreetandgetcrowdedtothesideaswepassgroupsoflaughingpeoplebarhopping.
Weheadeast,butI’mdistractedbymycompanion,whohasstartedwalkingwithhisfacepointedattheground.AllIcanseeisthebrimofhishat.Hishandsarestuffedintohispockets,animpressivefeatgivenhowtighthispantsare,andhisshouldersarepulledinwardasifhe’stryingtolooksmaller.It’showI’dexpectsomeoneinawitnessprotectionprogramtonavigatetheworld.
“Everythingokay?”Iask.
“What?”Heswivelshisheadupandpromptlywalksintoafencethatpartlyblocksthesidewalk.Idomybestnottolaugh,buthisexpressionashewarilyeyestheareaformoreobstaclesispriceless.
“Youlookalittleanxious.”
Thismakeshimlookmoreanxious.“I’mfine.”
“Sure.”Wekeepwalking—menormally,himnot.IwonderifHana’sbeencompletelyhonestabouthissuddendeparturefromSeoul.Maybeitwasn’tabreakupbutsomethingmoreexcitinglikerunningfromthemobwithrowsofdiamondsandcocainesewnintohisveryfittedjeans.
Clearlypreposterous,Ari.
But…hedidarrivesuddenly.Verysuddenly.
“TheotherdayIlearnedthestrangestthing.There’samobstermuseuminLasVegas.”Iwatchhimcarefully,buthedoesn’treacttothewordmobster
“Thereis?”
“Ibettheremightbeoneforjopoksomewhere.Orthetriadsoryakuza.TheMafia.”IdangleeveryorganizedcrimenameIknowlikecandy.
Nochangeofexpressionexceptslightinterestashestopsatawindowdisplayofartisanalcheeses.Thenhegivesmeaconspiratoriallook.“DidyouknowthatonemanrulesSeoul’sunderworld?Theysayhe’stooyoungtomanageit,buthehasthecityunderhisthumb.Hedisappearedrecently.Thecityisinturmoilbecauseallthegangsareturningoneachother.”
“What?”Istareathim.
“He’ssaidtobeaswittyasheisbrilliant.Well-dressed.Charminglyhandsome,especiallywithblackhair.”
“Veryfunny.”
Ifeelmyselfgored,butthenhegivesmeanexaggeratedlywickedwink,exactlyasasleazyrichsonwouldgivebeforeclimbingintoaLambo,anditmakesmelaugh.Helookspleasedwithhimself.“I’monlyamanwhoneededachange.”
Hesniffstheairaswepassaburritofoodtruck.“Hungry?”Iask,tochangethetopic.“Ilikethisplace.”
He’sreadingthemenu.“Chanamasalaburritos?Chickenwingburritos.”
“Ipromisethey’regood.”
“Icecreamburritos.”Jihoonlookssuspicious.“Really?”
“They’rebetterwhenyou’redrunk,”Iadmit.“Evensober,youwon’tregretit,crossmyheartandhopetodie.”
Hiseyebrowsrise.“Dramaticforaburrito.Youorderforus.Ilikesurprises.”
Ishudder.Ihatesurprises.
Iordertwoburritostoshare:thetofuandthepasta.Wetakethesilver-wrappedrollstoabenchonthecorner.Thestreetlightisbroken,makingitfeeldimandintimate,withthepeoplewalkingbyonthesidewalkbecomingperformersinashowwe’rewatching.
MyconversationdefaultstoCanadianStandardBasics:OccupationQuery.“Hanadidn’tmentionwhatyoudoforaliving.”
Hehesitates.“I’mintheentertainmentindustry.”
“Ah,that’swhatyoumeantaboutyourparentswantingamorestablefield.”
Henodsasheinspectsthepastaburrito.It’spackedwithcheeseravioliandminivegetarianmeatballsinsugothat’sbeencoveredwithparmesanbeforebeingrolledinaspinachtortilla.“It’scompetitive.”
“Entertainment.DoyouworkinK-dramas?”
Hetakesabite,thenanother.“It’sgood,”hesaysinshock.“Dramasaren’tyourthing?Youlikedtheonewewatched.”
“Hanalovesthem,butgenerallyIfindthemtoomelodramatic.”
Jihoonraiseshiseyebrows.“ThisfromthewomanwhothoughtIwasamobster.”
“Ineversaidthat,butinmydefense,youwearamaskandhateverywhere.WhatshouldIthink?”
“ThatIvaluegoodsunprotection,”hesayswithaseriousexpression.
“It’snight.”
“Theyalsokeepmewarm.”
“Inthesummer?”
Heclearshisthroat.“BacktoyourdislikeofK-dramas.”
“Idon’thavealotoftime,andtheepisodesaremovielength.Isthatwhatyouworkon?”
Heshakeshishead.“I’mamusicproducerandasongwriter.”
Interesting.“AnysongsI’dknow?”
Jihoonglancesaway.“HowwelldoyouknowK-pop?”
Ifrown.“Notatall,butIneedtolearnmoreforaclient.Haveyouheardofabandcalled—”Ifalterforamoment,tryingtoremember.“Starry?”
ThetofuburritohasawasabimayothatIforgottowarnhimaboutuntilhebitesin,sniffs,andgetsglassy-eyed.Hesaidhelikedsurprises,butIassumethatdoesn’tincludeahorseradish-basedchemicalburninhisnasalpassages.Ipasshimanapkin.“Sorry,Ishouldhavetoldyouaboutthewasabi.”
Afterrecovering,Jihoonsays,“Thebandyou’rethinkingaboutisStarLune.”
“That’stheone.Ihearthey’repopular.Doyoulikethem?”
Hepauses.“YouneverheardofStarLune?”
“Theycameupforwork,butIdon’tlistentomuchmusicingeneral.”
Hiseyebrowsshootup.“Youdon’tlistentomusicorwatchshows?”
“Ido,butnotalot.Idobetterwhenit’squiet.”Oneoftheassistantsattheofficealwayshasamurderpodcastplaying,andIhavenoideahowsheconcentrates.
Heshakeshishead.“Whataboutgraphicnovels?Webtoons?”
“No.”
“Videogames?”
“Please.”
“Podcasts?”
“BBCWorldService.”
“Movies?”
“Onlyifit’sactionforthespecialeffects.Idon’tpaytwentybucksfordialogue.”
“Books?”Hesoundsfrantic.
Iglareathim.“Yes,Iread.”
Jihooncloseshiseyeswithrelief.“Ithoughtwewouldhavetostopbeingfriends.”
It’schurlishtopointoutthatwe’veknowneachotherabouttendaysandarehardlydeepintofriendterritory,soIdon’t.
“Iworkalot,”Iexcusemyself.“Allthatmediatakestime.AnhourofTVanightandgamesonyourphoneandamovieontheweekend?Let’ssaythatcomestosixteenhoursaweek.”Iworkthenumbers.“Thirty-foursoliddaysayearofcasualcontentconsumption.That’stimeanentertainmentcompanycontrolsinsteadofme.”
We’redoneeating,sowegatherupourtrash.“Youdon’tgetjoyfromstories?”Jihoonsaysaswestartwalkingagain.
“AllI’msayingisthere’salotofmindlessstuffdesignedtogetyouhookedsotheycansellmore.”
“Musicandartalsobringmeaningandhelppeopledefinetheirhumanity.”
AthinlinenowdividesJihoon’sdarkeyes.Ibelatedlyrememberhemakeshislivinginentertainment.“Idon’tmeantheworkyoudoisuseless,”Ihastentoassurehim.
“Thankyou!”Hegivesmeaslightbow.“Verygenerous.”
Isigh.“Ideservedthat.”
Tomyrelief,helaughs.“Youhaven’tfoundtherightthingtotouchyourheartyet,Ari.”
Againwithmyname.Ididn’tthinkIneededvalidationthismuch,buteverytimehe’ssaidittonight,Ihadawarmsenseofbeingseen.It’saftermidnightnow,butneitherofussuggestsgoinghome.It’slikehe’sfinallydecidedI’msafeenoughtoatleasthaveacivilconversationwith.Morethancivil,even.Friendly.
BeingwithJihooniseasy,andwestartchattingaboutnothingandeverythingasthetopicscomeup.Wepassabobastoreandtalkaboutourfavoritebubbleteaflavors(rosemilkforme,lycheegreenteaforhim).Avetclinicbringsupthequestionofthebestanimalsforpets(cats,unanimous).Aconveniencestorestartsusonthebestsnacks,whichquicklyturnsintoadebateoverwhichcountryhasthebestselection,KoreaorCanada.IhaveasureadvantagewithCoffeeCrispchocolatebars,butJihoonmakesastrongargumentforKkokkalcorncornsnacks.
Jihoonisreallylistening,eventhoughthere’snothingspecialaboutwhatwe’resaying.Hanaisamazing,butshehasahabitoflapsingintoherownheadsometimesandnotpayingattention.Ialsowouldn’trankopenandeasycommunicationamongmyownfamily’svirtues.JihoonlooksatmeasIspeakandthenasksfollow-upquestionsinsteadofusingwhateverIsaytolaunchintohisownstory.
Whenwehitthesubjectofroommates(oneforbothofus),Isay,“ImetHanainuniversity.How’dyoumeetyours?”
“Throughwork,”Jihoonsays.“It’sstrangetobewithouthim.We’reatthesamecompany.”
“Youdon’tfinditnicetobealone?”IloveHanabutrelishhavingtheplacetomyself.Ordid,untilshesprungaguestonme.
Hekicksatasmallrock.“It’sboring.We’vebeentogetherforyears,soIfeelbetterwhenhe’saround.Myotherfriendsaswell.”
Wow,weareverydifferentpeople.“WhydidyoucometoToronto,then?”Iask.
Hisfaceclouds.“TheyunderstoodIneededsomespaceaway.”
IwanttoaskmorebecauseIcantellthere’sahellofastorybehindthisepicbreakup.IalsoknowIwon’tbeabletorespondwiththesensitivitythecircumstances,andHana,woulddemand,soIbackoffwithawimpy,“Makessense.”
Jihooncastsmeadoubtfulglance,asifwaitingforpryingquestions,buthecatchesmemid-yawn.“It’slate,”hesays.“Youhaveworktomorrow.”
Ido,andafierceirritationovertakesme.IhaveworktomorrowandthenextdayandthenextandeverydayuntilIdie.
Heseesmyexpression.“Youdon’twanttogotowork?”
“Doesn’tmatterifIdoornot,”Isay,turningthecornerthatwilltakeushome.
“Itdoes.”
Ipullmyhairovermyshoulder.“I’malawyer.Ihavetoworkinanoffice.That’showitis,soitdoesn’tmatterhowIfeelaboutit.”
“Lawiswhatyoudo,Ari.It’snotwhoyouare.”
Hedrawsclosetomewhilewewalk,andourhandsbrushasIconsiderhiswords.It’sanicesentimentouthere,wrappedupinthedarkwithnoonearound,butJihooniswrong.Inthemorning,Iwillbethesameoldme,doingthesameoldthingbecauseIworksomuchatmyjobthatit’sbecomebothwhatIdoandwhoIam.
Iguessthat’skindofsad.
Butthat’showitis.Seven
It’sclearJihoonhassuccessfullyhurdledoverbothhislingeringjetlagandanyreservationsaboutme.
Iknowhe’sfullyadjustedtoeasterndaylighttimewhenIhearhimsingingashegetsupatsixinthemorning.It’snot“ParadiseCity,”andI’mcertainhe’sonkey.Oronpitch.Whateveryoucallit.
Iknowhe’sadjustedtomewhenhepopshisheadinmyroomandasksifIwantbreakfastatshortlyaftersixinthemorning.
I’mburiedundermyduvet,enjoyingmyusualsevenminutesofsnooze,butIjerkuprightwhenIhearhisvoiceatmydoor.Shovingmysleepmaskontopofmyheadandknowingmyhairmustbewilddespiteitsnightbraid,Istareathiminshock.NotevenHana,ourfriendshiprestingonasoundfoundationofyearsofgoodwill,woulddarecomeintomyroomthisearly.
Jihoonstandsthereinalooseblackshirtandfittedgraysweatpants—andthosethingsarethedevil’sgarmentleadingpeopletosin—lookingatmeasifthisisnormal.
Thealarmgoesoff,andIsilenceitwithaviciousmotion.“What?”Isnap.
ThoughIsoundcrabby,hetakesitinstride.“Breakfast.Whatwouldyoulike?I’magoodcook.”
“No.Nothing.”Irubmyface.“Idon’teatbreakfast.”
Hefrowns.“It’sthemostimportantmealoftheday.”
What,isheonhirefromCanada’sFoodGuide?“I’mfine.”
“Notevencereal?”Hepauses.“Wehavelots.”
“God,no.”I’mnotawakeenoughtobepoliteortodealwiththethoughtofeatingwhateverrepulsivesugarbombhe’sintothismorning.Hemusthaveboughtoutthecerealaislejudgingfromthenumberofbrightlycoloredboxesinthekitchen.
“I’llgetyoucoffee,then.”HeducksoutbeforeIcanreply.
It’sclearHanafibbed.Despitehisinitialreticence,ChoiJihooninhisnaturalstateisaChoiand,assuch,notthetypetokeepquietlytohimselfoncehe’scomfortable.
He’sinthekitchenassessinghiscollectionofcerealswhenI’mreadytoleaveforwork.Hissmilegiveshimafunny,impishlook,buthiseyesareshadowed,anditfadesalmostassoonasitappears.Hemightbeactingmorenatural,butit’sclearwhateverhe’sbeenthroughhastakenatoll.
“Wecanwatchamovietonight,”hesays.“Ifyouhavetime.”
Ithinkitover.Itsoundsrelaxing.DareIsay…fun?ToobadIhaveaheavydaytoday.
“I’llbehomelate.”Iknowtheregretmakesmyvoiceharsherthanusualbutdon’tknowhowtostopit.
“Iunderstand.”Hiseyesdroptothefloor.“Bye,Ari.”
IopenmymouthtosaysomethingthatwillsoftentherejectionandlethimknowthatIappreciatedhiscompanylastnight,butI’mnotsurehowtophraseitwithoutsoundinggracelessorputtingmyfootindeeper.Areprievecomeswiththedingofmyphone,soInodathimandescape,theemailscomingthroughmakingiteasiertofeigndistraction
WhenIgettowork,ItextJihoontheaddressofacaféIlike,hopingtomakepartialamends.Wegottobedlate,Itellmyself.He’llneedthecaffeine.
Myconcentrationatwork,alreadybeingtestedthankstofatigue,isnothelpedbyconstantlycheckingmyphoneforupdatesfromMom,whichcomethroughasifbeingsqueezedthroughadropper.Dadisawakeandfeelingbetter.They’rerunningtests.He’sbeingmovedtoanewroom.Phoebemissedhertrainandwillcatchalaterone.
ExactlywhatI’dexpectfromher.
I’mabouttodomynextemailtriagewhenatextcomesfromJihoon,aphotoofacinnamon-fleckedcappuccinofromthecaféI’dmentioned.
Jihoon:IwasgoingtobringacroissanthomeforyoubutitlookedsogoodIateit.
Awaveofpleasuretinglesmyskin.
Me:Probablyforthebest.Squishingcroissantsthatperfectisacrime.
Jihoon:Doyoucomehereoften?
Me:That’stheworstpick-uplineever.Tellmeyouneveruseit.
Thatcouldbeontheedgeoftooflirty.MypulsequickensasIwaitforhisreplyevenasItellmyselfit’sonlyajoke,soarebuffwouldn’tbearealrejection.
Jihoon:Ineverusepick-uplines.
Me:Confident.
Thisisdefinitelyflirty.
Jihoon:Exceptthisone.Ready?
Me:Probablynot.
Jihoon:IfIcouldrearrangethealphabetI’dputUandItogether.
Irunthroughsixdifferentresponsesthatcouldeithernipthisinthebudorseewhereitgoes.Isettleonmydefault,whichisalittlebitchybutteasing.Flirtsults,Hanacallsthem.
Me:That’shorrible.Didyougoogleworstpick-uplineever?
Jihoon:No.Isearchedbadpick-uplinesnotworst.
I’mlaughingatmyphonewhenitdingsagain.
Jihoon:Haveagoodday,Ari.Itwasnicetobewithyoulastnight.Ihopeyourfatheriswell.
WhenIgettothehospitallaterthatevening,Ipauseinfrontofthegiftstore.It’sfilledwithlittlevolunteer-knitbootiesandsaccharineget-well-sooncards(nosympathyones,Inoticewithmorbidinterest),andIholdaninternaldebateoverwhethertogetagift.Flowersareano-go,sincebothmyparentsthinkthey’reawasteofmoney.Chocolatemightnotbethebestforamanrecoveringfromaheartattack.Booksaresafe,butasIlingerinfrontofthedisplayofbooksonhowtoleadabetterlife,inspirationalautobiographies,andaselectionofromanceandthrillers,I’mstruckbytherealizationIdon’tknowwhatmyownfatherwouldlike.
Forgetit.IheaduptoDad’sroomempty-handedandfindhimasleepwhenIarrive.Momisbythebedfillingacupofwater.Phoebeloungesinapaddedplasticchair.
Shereactsfirst.“Hey,sis.Longtime.”
Ibitebackmygutresponse,whichisacheapvariationonwhosefaultisthat?“Hi,Phoebe.Howwasthetrip?”
Icongratulatemyselfonmyneutraltone.Ididn’tevenpointouthowshemissedthetraintovisitherownfather,whobarelycheateddeathtwenty-fourhoursago.
“Notbad.Imetawomanwhoplayscelloinarockband.Sheinvitedmetohernextshow.”
“Onlyyou,”saysMomfondly.
OnlyPhoebe,that’sforsure.“How’sDad?”Iask,gettingtheconversationbacktotheprioritytopic.
“Good,”Momsays.“He’llbebackhometomorrowifallgoeswell.”
“He’llneedtotakeiteasy,”saysPhoebe.“MaybestarttakingthoseZumbaclasseswithyou,Mom.”
Iwanttoarguewithher,butIcan’t.She’sright,hewillhavetochangehislifestyle,butIdon’twanttoadmitit.
Phoebestandsupandstretches,causingherlacekimono-stylerobe—whichI’mfairlysureisanegligee—tofalloffhertattooedshoulder.Herstylehasalwaysbeeneclectic,andnexttoher,mytidy,work-appropriatesuitfeelsbeigeeventhoughit’snavy.Herbleachedbrassyhairwithinch-longblackrootsiscutinachoppyshagthatreacheshershouldersandhighlightshereyes.They’rethesamelongandnarrowshapeasmineandhavebeenaccentuatedwithlinerthatextendsthemtohertemples.
Accordingtoscience,ittakesfoursecondsforsilencetobecomeawkward,andIcounttoelevenbeforeMom,usedtobeingthepeacemaker,interveneswithadetailedrundownofwhat’sgoingonwithDad.Itrytolisten,butI’mdistractedbylookingathimonthebed.Atleastifhewereawake,he’dbemorealert,butnowhisfaceissallowandsagging,andhishairisagreasymess.Dadisalwaysveryputtogether.Hetucksinhisshirtsonweekendsandthrowsoutanysockwithoutamatch.It’salmosttransgressivetoseehimsoweak,andafaintsenseofshamerisesinme,likeI’mseeingsomethingIshouldn’torthathewouldn’twantmetowitness.Phoebemovesclosetotouchmyarm.Ishakeitoff,andshebacksawaywithherhandupandrollinghereyes.
WhenMom’sdone,Iaskacoupleofquestions,andPhoebeheavesadramaticsigh.“LayoffMom.She’sdoingwhatshecan.”
Idon’tevenlookather.“Iwasonlyasking.”
“Girls.”Inthepast,Mom’svoiceheldaslightpleadingtonewhenevershewantedustogetalong.Nottoday.She’sfirmasshepointsafingerinturnatbothofus.“Enough.”
Wesit—or,inmycase,stand—inanobstinatesilence,neitherofuswillingtolosebybeingthefirsttotalk.Thislastsuntilanursecomesin.
“Howarewedoing?”shegreetsus.
Momglancesatthedoor,andweobeyherwordlessordertovacatetheroom.Ileadtheway,Phoebe’sbootheelsclickingbehindme.
“Whydotheyalwayshavethisspottedfloorinhospitals?”Phoebesays,tappingherfootaswestandinthehall.“Whatevenisthis?Linoleum?Tile?”
Sinceshewasthefirstonetospeak,Itakethatasthewinitisandanswerherinkind.It’seasiertotalkaboutinanethingslikehospitalflooringthanwhyshe’shere.“It’sprobablyvinyl.Easytocleanandslipresistant.”
Phoebegrimaces.“Ofcourseyou’dknowthat.”
“Therewasacasestudyinlawschoolthatinvolvedflooring.”
“Right.”Phoebestyle,shegivesthesingleword,thatonesyllable,amockingintonationthatsayssomuchmore.There’snopointconfrontingheraboutitbecauseshe’llhidebehindherusualdefense.
That’snotwhatIsaid,Ari.
Youdidn’thaveto.Iknowwhatyoumeant.
Ididn’tmeananything.You’rebeingparanoid
Thesilencegetstobetoomuch,andIcrackfirst.“WhendidyoumovetoMontreal?”
“Afewmonthsago.IwantedtoimprovemyFrench,capisce?”
“That’sItalian.”
Shegivesmealong-sufferinglook.“Damn.GuessI’vegotworktodo.”
Againstmywill,Isnort.Phoebe’ssuperpoweristhatshecanmakemelaughwiththesilliestcommentsbasedonyearsofin-jokes.Itdrivesmewildthatshecontinuestoknowmesowellthisstillworks.
Shelookssatisfied,asifshe’sscoredapointbymakingmereact,butIletitgo.“HowlongareyoustayinginToronto?”Iask.
PhoebepointsherthumbbackoverhershouldertowardDad’sbed.“Guesswe’llsee.”
WestandandwatchaharriednursebustledownthehallbeforePhoebesays,“Younevercalledme.”
“What?”Ishouldn’tbesurprisedthatshejumpedrightintoit.Phoebegoesafterwhatshewantswiththetenacityofabulldogandtheimpulsivityofachild.
“AfterIsawyoulastandwehadthatfight.Youdidn’tcall.”
“Youwanttodothishere?Now?”
Hereyebrowslift.“Whenelse?”
“Itwasobviouslyyourresponsibilitytocallsinceyouweretheonewhowalkedout,”Ipointout.“Notme.”
Shebitesherlip.“Youcouldhaveemailed.”
“Wow,socouldyou,ifyouweren’tsuchanimmatureasshole.”
Amanpassingbywithhistoddlerglaresatme.Wewaituntiltheypass,asfrozenasthestatuegameweusedtoplayaskidsexceptforthedeepflushIfeeltravelingupmyneckfromembarrassingmyselfinpublic.
“Me?”shefinallysays.“Me,immature.That’srich.”
“Right.Likeyou’renottheonealwaysrunningawayandexpectingmetochaseafteryou.”
Phoebehuffsandstaresattheceiling.“Yeah,becausethat’stotallywhatyoudo.”
“It’swhatyouwantmetodo.”
Hereyessnapdowntome.“Youdon’tknowjackaboutwhatIwant.”
Thenursecomesoutandsmiles,obliviousoruncaringofthetensionwovenbetweenus.“Youcangoinnow,”shesays.“He’sawake.”
Phoebethanksherinasugaryvoice.IdomybestnottoshoulderPhoebeoutofthewayasIgoin,eventhoughIwanttoslapher.I’mnotviolentasarule,butPhoebebringsoutmyworstself.Herbootsthumpbehindme,andwhenIlookthroughthecurtain,DadisproppedupandfrowningathishandsasMomsitsbesidehimtappingonherphone.
“Ariadne.”Hisvoicesoundsalittlerough.Helookspastmetowheremysisterhaspulledthecurtainopentorevealherself.“Phoebe.Whatareyoubothdoinghere?”
WhenIturn,Iseethegobsmackedexpressiononmysister’sface.Despiteourfightinthehall,weshareaglanceofunderstanding.DadbeingDad.
“Youhadaheartattack,”Phoebesaysslowly.“Ofcoursewe’dcome.”
“I’mfine,”hesayswithadismissivewave.“I’llbegoodasnewinacoupledays.”
“That’snotreallyhowarecoveryworks,”Phoebesays.BothMomandIshootheralook,andforonceshepaysattentiontothesocialcueandlightensherwholeattitude.“Imean,sure,Dad!That’sgreatnews.”
“Canyoupouritonanythicker?”Imutter.
“Shutup,”shemutters.
Dadpullslightlyatoneofthewires.“Allunnecessary.Doctorsalwaysplayittoosafe.”
“Martin,Ican’tbelieveyou.”Ifpossible,Mom’sarmsfoldtighteroverherchest.“Thisisawake-upcall.”
“I’mfine.”
“Thisisnotfine.”
“Soolin.”Weallknowthatvoice,whichistheonethatalwaysendstheconversation.There’snopointinarguingwithDadwhenhe’sinthismood.Mom’slipspleat,butshekeepsquietandbusiesherselfmovingaroundtheitemsonthesidetable.
Dadturnshisheadtolookatme.“Ariadne,how’swork?”
“Great,butMomsaidyouneedto…”
Heholdsupahand,thenstaresatitasifsurprisedit’spincushionedwithIVneedles.“Icantakecareofmyself,”hesays.“Youneedtoworryaboutyou.”
“Right.”Ifeelflattened.“Ibroughtinanewclient.”Thatwillmakehimhappy.
“Good.”Hiseyesflutterabitbeforeopening.“I’vetoldyouyourhairistoolong.Shorterismoreprofessional.”
“Okay,Dad.”Thehaircommentisabiannualritual.
Theroomeventuallysettlesintosilence,theoppositeofthefamilylastnight,whohuddledcloseandtalkedoveroneother,connectingwithsofttouches.It’sbeenyearssincewewerealltogether,andevenwhenwewerearealfamily,werespectedeachother’sphysicalspace.Ialwaysthoughtthatwasthebestwaytoexist.ThenIrememberhowJihoontouchedmeonthearmortheshoulderasiftoreassuremethathewasthereandIwasn’talone.Inthisroom,myfamilyiscloseenoughtotouch,butsomehowthey’retoodistantformetoeventrytoreachout.
“Timetoletyourfathergetsomerest,”Momsays,rubbingherhandsonherpants.“We’llbehometomorroworthenextday,soI’lltellyouwhenwegetsettled.”
PhoebegivesDadahug,andIwatchashisarmscomeupbutthendropbackdowntothebedbeforeheraisesthemagaintogingerlytaphershoulders.Iwavefromtheendofthebedandmakemyescape.
“Wanttoshareacab?”Phoebetrundleshersuitcasebesideme.“Myfriend’splaceisinyourdirection.”
“Sure.”
Idon’twanttotalk,andluckily,Idon’thavetobecausewe’dhavetoshouttobeheardoverthephonecallthedriveristakingonspeaker.Itaketherespitegratefullyasweheadbackintothecity.WhenweturnsouthontoJaneStreet,Phoebewavesherphoneatme.“Ishouldgiveyoumynumber,incasesomethinghappens.”
I’mleaningagainstthebackoftheseat,lettingthestreetlightsshinethroughmyclosedeyelids.“Fine.”EvenbeforeIfinishtheword,myphonebuzzeswithatextfromPhoebe.
Hi,itsays.
Iexperiencetotaldisbelief.Shehadn’tlostmynumber.Shejust…didn’twanttocontactme.Theknowledgethatshecouldn’tevenbebotheredtotypeAinhercontactslisttobringupmynamesitslikearockinmystomach,butit’snotunexpected.Evenifshehadlostit,shecouldhaveaskedMomoremailed,butthatwouldtakeeffort,andthat’snotherstyle.There’snopointinbringingitup.I’mtootiredtohaveanotherfight,whichiswhatwillhappenifIdo.
WeturnontoBloorStreet.“Thisisme,”shesays.“Tellmethefinalfare,andI’lltransferyouthemoney.”
“Nevermind.”Idon’tturnfromthewindow.
“Thanks.”Thecabpullsover,andshehesitates.“Look.Ah,weshouldgettogether.Foradrinkorcoffee.”
WhenIlookather,sheseemsuncharacteristicallyunsureofherself.Shemustwantsomethingfromme,butIdon’twanttothinkaboutwhatitcouldbebecauseI’vehadenoughPhoebefortoday.Itaketheeasywayout.“Yeah,okay.Textme.”
There,theballisinhercourt,andIhaveafeelingit’llbouncethereforawhile.Shenods,andIhearthethudofthetrunkasshecollectsherbagandleaves.
“Whereto,lady?”Thecabdriverleansbacktolookatme.
“Waitasec.”IwatchPhoebe,shadowedbythelightcomingthroughthebaywindow,assheyankshersuitcaseupthecrookedfrontsteps.Thedooropenstoshowawomanwithahighponytail.Shelaughsasshebringsmysisterintoaclosehugandthenpullsherintothehouse.NeitherofthemlooksovertowhereIwaitinthedarkcab.
Itellthedrivermyaddressandheadhome.Eight
Onmywayuptotheapartment,IpushawaythoughtsofPhoebeandthinkaboutwhattoeat.Accordingtomyweeklymealplan,tonightischickpeabowls.Healthyandnutritious.IpreppedthequinoaonSundaythewayIalwaysdo.Suddenlymychestfeelshollow,butIdon’tknowwhy.Chickpeasaregood,andasatreat,Igotorganicforanextratwodollarsacan.Ilikehavingthesamethingeveryweek.StreamliningmylifemeansIcanfocusonwhat’simportant.
Jihoonislyingonthecouchstaringatapenhe’sholdingbutsitsupwhenIcomein.Ihadn’tknownhowbadlyI’dwantedhimtobehomeuntilIsawhim.Ithrowmyselfinthechairoppositehim,thengetbackuptoputmypursewhereitbelongs.Hewatchesmebeforerisingwithagracefulmotionandfetchingtwoglassesandabottleofwine.
“HowdidyouknowIwantedthis?”IaskasItakemyglass.
Heputsdownthebottle.“Idid,too.How’syourfather?”
IfillhiminandfeelasurgeofreliefwhenIfinishthestoryofPhoebeandthevisit.Isurvivedbutdon’twanttolingeronit.“Whatdidyoudotodayafterthecafé?”
Jihoonupdatesmeonhisdayasthoughitdidn’thappenuntilhetellssomeoneaboutit.There’snodetailtoorandomforhimtoleaveout,andeventhoughIshouldfinditaggravating,Idon’t.Iclosemyeyesashedescribesthetwodogshesawplayingintheparknearahighstonewall.Hehasaneyeforsmalldetailsthatmakeascenecometolife:theredcollaranddustypawsontheblackdog,andthedry,crumpledleafstuckinthefurofthegrayone.
ThenIopenmyeyestoadeliciousaromawaftingoverfromthekitchenandablanketoverme.
OhmyGod,IfellasleepwhenJihoonwastalking.That’stherudestthingIcouldhavedone,evenifthelowraspofhisvoicecouldbesoldasstressrelieftherapy.HeshouldrunanASMRchannel.
Itumbleoffthecouch,yelpingasmykneesthumponthefloor,andJihooncallsfromwherehe’sstandingatthekitchencounter,“Ari,areyouawake?”
“Sorry,sorry.”Igettomyfeet,rubbingthepinsandneedlesoutofmyarm.“Ihavenoexcuseforthat.”
“You’vehadanexhaustingtime.”Hedoesn’tseemtotakemynapasacommentaryonhowinterestingIfoundhisconversation.“IthappenstomyfriendsandIoften.Areyouhungry?”
“Very.”Thisisawelcomeescapefrommychickpeas.WhenIstumbleintothekitchen,potsarebubbling,andhishandsmoveconfidentlytogiveoneastirandanotherashake.Icheckthetime.I’vesleptforanhour.
“Good,becauseImadetoomuch.”Hebrusheshishairback,anditimmediatelyfallsintohiseyesagain.“I’musedtocookingforfive.”
“Ithoughtyouonlyhadoneroommate.”
Hepauses.“Ourfriendsareoveralot.”
Hespinsaroundandgrabsabottleofredwine,givingapanaliberalsplashbeforepouringmoreintoaglassandhandingittome.Itakeitandgointomyroomtochangesomyworkclotheswon’tsmellofcooking.Iunravelmyhairfromitsbunbeforegivingmyscalpaquickmassagewithmyfingertips.IhaveaheadachefromlyingonitasIslept,andhavingitloosesometimeshelps.
Backinthekitchen,IperchonachairtowatchJihoonworkbecauseit’ssoothingtohavehimcookforme.NeitherHananorIarecreativegourmets,sinceIstriveforefficiencyandsheforconvenience,butJihoonseemstotakerealpleasureasheslicesandstirs.
Jihoon’shandhaltsoverthesaltshaker.“Yourhair.”
Iglancedownandrunmyhandthroughtocheckitover.Itfeelsfine,noknotsorkinks.“Whataboutit?”
Hiseyesfollowtowheretheendsfallatmywaist.“I’veneverseenitloosebefore.”
Ipullitbehindmyshoulders.“Ineedtowearitupforwork,soit’sbecomeahabit.”Myhaircontravenesoneoftheoffice’smanyunspokenrules:ThouShallNotStandOutinThineAppearance.It’soneI’malreadypushingbybeingvisiblyAsian,andIdon’tliketoaddtoitbyhavingmyhairondisplay.OneofthepartnersreferredtoitasmygeishalookwhenIworeitdownataholidayparty.
“Ithaswavesasdarkasthememoryofanightriver.”
Jihoonthrowsoffthecomplimentcasually,likeit’snobigdeal,andgrabstheshaker.AtleastIthinkit’sacompliment.I’veneverhadamansaysomethinglikethattomebefore.“Thankyou?”
Hesmilesandchecksthericecooker.It’saboringCanadianonesinceIrefusedtogettheexpensiveimportedversionthatchirped,“Yourriceisdone!”inKorean.Hanahadpoutedforthreedays.Isipthewinetocovermyconfusionashespoonsriceintoasizzlingpan.
Myphonerings,andIglanceatit.“Work.”
Idealwithalast-minuteupdateononeofmydue-diligenceprojects.It’slateforacall,andalthoughIdomybesttobeprofessional,whenIendit,myjawachesfromtryingtokeepmyvoicecalm.Oneofmylawprofstoldustokeeptheexpressionwewantedinourvoiceoncalls,andit’sharderthanitsounds.
JihoonglancesatmewhenI’mdone.“Yousounddifferentatwork.”
“Yeah?”Inibbleonachive.“Thatdoesn’tsoundgood.”
“Harder,almost.Severe.”
Irollmyheadovertolookathim.“Makessense.Ineedtobethosethingssopeopledon’ttakeadvantageofme.Canyouimagineasoftlawyer?PeoplewouldthinkI’mapushover.”
“Allthetime?”
Irubmytemples.“Itdependsonwhatpeopleexpectfromme.Withothers,Ineedtobepeppier.Morekeenandpositive.”
Hetiltshishead.“You’renotlikeeitherofthoseathome.”
“Imean,Icanbe,ifyouprefer,”Isaystiffly.IfeellikeI’vebeencaughtoutinsomething.
“Ilikethatyou’relikethiswithme.Itseemsmoreliketherealyou.”
Iwanttoscoffathimbecausehe’sknownme,what,days?Buthe’salittleright.IalwaysfeellikeI’mplayingaroleinmyjob.“Iguessitis,”Isay.
Hesmilesattherice.“Good.IlikethisAri.”
Idon’tknowwhattosay—culturaldifferencesmeanIcan’ttellifhe’sonlybeingpolite—soIwatchJihoonarrangethefoodwithdelicatefingersandanexpressionofintenseconcentration.Heevensnippedchivesforagarnish.Iwouldneverbotherdoingthat,butitlooksasprettyasitsmellsdelicious.Japchaesharesspaceonthetablewithbraisedtofu,friedrice,andsalad.
“Nomeat,”hesays.“Hanasaysyou’revegetarian.”
“Youcheckedwithher?”Igrabchopsticksanddigintotheglassnoodles.
Jihoontiltshisheadtotheside,thenfetcheskimchifromHana’sinexhaustiblestore,whichhecutswithscissorsbeforeplatingit.“Ofcourse.Iwantedtoknowwhatyou’dlikebutdidn’twanttowakeyouup.”
Ican’tbelievehe’sreal.Whodoesthat?
“You’reafantasticcook.”I’vebeentoobusyeatingtohaveproperlycongratulatedthechef.“Whydoyoueatsomuchinstantramenwhenyoucancooklikethis?”
“Idon’tliketocookonlyformyself.”Againhebiteshislip.“Eatingtogetherisgood.Imissedthisfromhome.”
SinceI’mnowonmysecondglassofwine,IdecidethisisasgoodanopeningasI’mgoingtoget.“HanasaidyouleftSeoulbecauseofabreakup.Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
Jihoonsnapshischopsticksonsomekimchiandexaminesitbeforeloweringitslowlytohisplate.“Thebreakup.”
“They’rehard,”Isay.I’mtrying,butI’mnotthebestattalkingaboutrelationshipsandwishHanawereheretopilottheconversation.She’sasolidINFPontheMyers-Briggs,anEnneagramType-2Pisces.Orsoshetellsme,becausethosethingsarebull.Shesaysthat’sexactlywhatanINTJ,Type-8Aquariuswouldthink.“Breakups.”
“Yes.”Hesipshisownwine,frowningasifdecidingwhattosay.“We’dbeentogetheralongtime,andIwasn’tsurewhoIwasoutsideofit.IcameheretothinkaboutwhatIwantedandwhetherpeoplewouldacceptmeforwhatIhavetoofferonmyown.”
Despitehiswords,thelonginginhisvoiceissoclearthatIwonderifhe’snotcompletelydonewithhispartner.Iwouldn’tjudge,eventhoughpartofmeisalmostjealousofthispersonwhohassomuchofhisattention.Evenafterthebrieftimewe’veknowneachother,Ifeelthepowerofhisfocus.WhenJihoon’slistening,it’slikehe’sentirelyinthemomentandthatmomentisallaboutyou.
I’veonlyknownhimfortwoweeks,butthatmuchattentivenessisaddictive.
“Youcouldn’tsortitoutbackhome?”Iask.
Hisnodissodecisivethathishairflopsoverhisforeheadlikealivingthing.“Ineededtogetawayandclearmyhead.IfIwerethere,Iwouldgetdrawnbackin.Howcanyouexploreyourselfsurroundedbyallthesamethingsthathavedeterminedwhoyou’vebeenforsolong?”
Idon’tbotherwithalotofself-reflection,butIseewherehe’scomingfrom.“I’veneverleftthecountry,soIwouldn’tknow.”
Hetiltshisheadtotheside.“Youdon’tliketotravel?”
“Neverhadthechance,butI’dloveto.”Ipokeatsomebeansproutsonmyplate.“Iplantripsalot,forfun.”
“Ah.”Jihoondoesn’tsayanythingelse,butI’mleftwithanuncomfortablefeelingthatIsaidmorethanthewords.“Thatsoundsrelaxing.”
Itis,butIlookaway,self-consciousaboutmyprivateobsession.“Oh,youknow.”
“Idon’t,”hesays.“Tellme.”
Ideflect.“It’snothing,onlysomethingtolookforwardto.Likelookingatthemenubeforeyougototherestaurant.”
“Anticipation.”
Morevicariousliving,sincenoneofthesetripsareforme.“Howaboutyou?”
“Mytripsareusuallyforwork,soIdon’tseemuchbesidesthehotelroomandwhereI’mworking.Someonedoesallthescheduling.”
That’salmostworsethannotgoingatall.WebotheatsilentlyuntilJihoonpauses,holdinghisglassmidair.
“Let’splanatrip,”hesays.“Ouridealtrip.”
Itcouldbethewineandtheintimate,warmfeelingofeatingwithJihoonthatcausesmyfirstquestiontobe“Whereto?”insteadofwhywouldwedothat?
Hegrinsandpusheshimselfbackfromthetable.“Anywhere.Everywhere.Wecouldtakeanaround-the-worldcruise.OrfindasmallvillageintheAlpsandfeedgoatsforamonth.”
“Didyouknowgoatscanclimbtrees?”Ithinkaboutit.“I’min.”
Weclearoffthetableaswenarrowdownourlocation.“Relaxingoractive?”Iask.
“Movingrelaxesme.Iliketowalk.”Hebringsthewineandglassestothelivingroomandcomesbacktoclearthewaterjug.“Busyorquiet?”
IconsiderthisasIwipethetabledown.“Both?I’dliketoexperienceabigcity,butIalsowantsolitude.Idon’twantpeoplearoundmeallthetime.”
“Iwantthat,too,”hesays.“IlikebeingwithpeopleIknow,butIgetnervouswhenstrangersgetclosetome.”
Wegointothelivingroom,andhehandsovermyglass.Ourfingersbrushslightly,andIalmostjerkbackwiththeelectricalshockthatflashesthroughme.Hemusthavebeenshufflingonthecarpet.
“Doyouneedtospeakthelanguagewhereverwego?”Iask.
Heshakeshishead.“I’mfinelookingconfuseduntilsomeonehelps.”
“YourEnglishisgreat,”Isay.“DidyoulearnfromHana?”
“IwenttoaninternationalschoolandthenpracticedonherandafriendfromVancouver.Doyouspeak…”Hehesitates,lookingatmyhairandface.“Anyotherlanguages?”Tohiscredit,hedoesn’tstartnamingAsianlanguagesatrandom.
“No.MymomspeaksenoughCantonesetoorderdimsum,andDadonlyspeaksEnglish,noChineseatall.”
Heleansbackonthecushions,jawlineondisplay.Inaway,IwishhewerethesamedistantJihoonofthelastfewdaysbecauseIcantellthiswarmerversionisgoingtobedifficulttolivewith.
Livewithwithoutdroolingover,Ishouldclarify.
Wehammeroutafewmoredetails.Neitherofusneedsluxurybutdorequireregularshowers.ShoppingisimportantforJihoonandnotforme.Iwanttohitsomemajorlandmarks,andhe’shappylookingatthemonline.Neitherofuslikesstandinginlines.
“I’mnotusedtothem,”hesays.
“What,therearen’tlinesinSeoul?”
Heglancesathisglass.“NotattheplacesIgo.”
“Okay,Mr.FancyMusicProducer.We’llavoidplaceswhereyouneedtoqueuelikethecommonfolk.”
Jihoongoesred.“Doyouhaveanyideasonwherewecango?”
“Ido.”Mytravelnotebookisinmybagbythedoor,andIgoovertocheckitwithoutbringingitbacktothelivingroom.Noonehaseverreadit.EvenHanathinksit’sonlyajournal.
AsIflipthepages,hecalls,“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Nothing.”Istuffthenotebookbackintomybagandgoback.“Ihaveaplace.”
Helooksatmesuspiciously.“Whataren’tyoutellingme?”
“HowdoyouknowI’mhidinganything?”Iputonaninjuredtone.
Jihoongesturestowardmybagnearthedoor.“Ari.You’renotsubtle.”
IknowwhenI’mdefeated,butwhenIlookathisface,Idecidetotrusthim.“Ikeepatravelnotebook.It’swhereIjotdownnotesofinterestingplaces.”
Hedoesn’tlaughlikeIfear,onlynods.“Itmakessensetohaveaplaceforyourideas.Ihavenotebooksformymusic,butIkeeplosingthem.”
“Youcansetupaspecialemailaccounttosendyourselfnotes.Myfrienddiditforherkidandsendsphotosandmessagessotheycanreadthemwhenthey’reolder,likeadigitaljournaloftheirchildhood.”
Hebrightens.“Ilovethatidea.Whereareyouthinkingwouldbegoodforourtrip?”
Ihesitate.IcanfindwhatIneedonline,butmynotebookhastheperfectroutealreadymappedout.Jihooncatchesmyeyeandsmilesatme.Hehasn’tletmedownyet.Imakeupmymindandfetchmynotebook.
Sittingbackbesidehim,Iflipthroughthepages.Thebookitselfisnothingspecial,aplaingrid-patternedA5Leuchtturm1917withacanaryyellowcover.Ilikeallmytravelnotebookstohavethesamelook,andIhavefilledoneswithblue,green,andpurplecoversonmyshelf.Thereisn’tmuchofarhymeorreasontothenoteseither,likebeingorganizedbycontinentorcountry,orhotelsandattractions.It’sahodgepodgeofideasandinformationthatstrikemyfancygleanedfromconversations,socialmedia,andnewsstories.
JihoonlooksoverwithinterestbutstayssilentuntilIfindthepageIwant.Itakeadeepbreathandpassoverthebook.“Here.TheCaminodeSantiago.”
Hetakesitcarefully.It’satwo-pagespreadfeaturingaroughmapofsouthernFrance,Spain,andeasternPortugal.I’vemarkedmypreferredpilgrimagepathacrossnorthernSpainanddownsouth.
Ifigurehe’llglanceatitandgiveitback,butinsteadheexaminesthepathbeforereadingthenotesabouthostels,sights,andpackingtipsthatcrowdthecornersofthepages.“MayIlookthroughtherestofthenotebook?”heasks.
“Why?”
Helooksatme.“Thisisfascinating.Iwanttoknowwhatotherplaceshavecaughtyourattention.”
Inforapenny,right?I’vealreadycomethisfar,soInod.Partofmeishappytobeabletoshareit.Therearesomanyenthrallingplacesintheworldandtotalktosomeoneabouttheonesthatinterestmeis…well,it’sfun.
Jihoontakeshistimeworkingthroughthepages.Therearen’tmany,sinceIonlystartedthisoneacouplemonthsago.Hepointstooneoftheentries.“Wecanseetheworld’soldestham?”
“AttheIsleofWightMuseum.Theyalsohavetheoldestpeanut.”
“Let’slogthatforalatertrip.”Heturnsthepage.“Ah,I’vebeenhere!”
“AtlantisBooksinSantorini?”
Henods.“It’sverytwistyandcrowdedinside,butyoucanbuyabooktoreadontheoutdoorpatio.Thetownhasoneofthebestsunsetsintheworld.”
Isigh,andJihoonleansinsoourshoulderstouch.“You’llgooneday,”heassuresme.“PerhapsweshouldgotoGreeceforourgetawayinstead?”
I’mtornbeforeIrememberthisisallmake-believe.We’renotgoinganywhere.“Let’ssticktotheCamino.”
“It’sperfect,”hesays.“Walkingandquiet.”
“YoucanshopinSeville.OrwecanflyintoParis.”
“ThenwecangouptheEiffelTower,”hesays.“I’veneverbeentothetop,onlysawitfromthehotel.”
Ilookatmynotes.“Thebesttimestogoarespringandfall.”
“Fall,”hesayswithcertainty.“It’smyfavoriteseason.”
“Mine,too.”Icheckmyphone.“IsaywedothreedaysinParisandthengetatrainsouth.Wecanhaveabustakeourbagsaheadeachnightsowedon’thavetocarryallourclothesaswewalk.”
Hefrowns.“Doesn’tthatnegatethepointofapilgrimagewalk?”
“Doyouwanttocarryahugebagfortwentykilometerseachday?”
Jihoonweighstheactualityagainstthepurityoftheexperience.“No.”
Ishutmynotebookandleanbackagainstthecouch.“Iwishwecoulddothisnow.”
“Wecan,”hesays.“IjumpedonaplanetoToronto.IcangetonanothertoParis.”
“Ican’tgotoParis.Ihavework.”
“Thenlet’sdothisnextyear.Fornow,wecangosomewherethatdoesn’tinvolvecrossinganocean,”hesays.
“Weshould,”Isay.I’mnotsurewhathemeans,butI’mtentativelyopentotheidea.
“I’mnotevensurewhatIliketodoanymore.I’vebeentoobusywithwork.”Hetossesthepillowaside.“Books.DoIlikestoriesorfacts?AmIamanwhoenjoyspuzzles?Graphicdesign?Horseracing?”
“Can’thelpyouthere.”Igrabtheglassesandrefillthem.ThenIpause.“Wait,Ican.”
Heswirlshisglass.“Doyouhaveaflowchart?”
Iignorethat.“Areyoufreethisweekend?”
“I’llhavetocheckmycalendarsincethezeropeopleIknowinthecityareallbeggingforsometime.”
“Declineallzero.We’llhaveaWhoIsJihoonDaywhileyou’reinToronto.”
Heliftshisperfecteyebrows.“Thatsoundsliketheworstnameforanationalholiday.”
“Well,wehaveCanadaDay.Notverycreative.”
“WehaveHangulDay,whenwecelebratethecreationofouralphabet.”
Ipause.“That’sprettycool,tobehonest.Areyouin?”
“I’mnotsurehowIcanresist.”
It’snotuntilI’malmostasleepthatatextcomesin.It’sanitineraryfornextyear’sCaminowalkfromJihoon,withallthedetailswediscussed,completewithflightavailabilitiestoParisfromTorontoandSeoul.It’sinmycalendar,hismessageends,withalinktoameetingrequestfortodaynextyear.
He’scalleditJihoonandAri’sSuperAwesomeGetaway.Iaccepttherequest.Minetoo,Itype.
ThenIlieinbedandlookatthescreen.Wecanhaveafundayexploringwhilehe’shere,butobviouslythisbigtripwillneverhappen.Jihoon’sonlyhereforafewweeks,whichisnodoubtwhyIfeelsofreewithhim.He’ssafebecausenothingcanhappen.OurSuperAwesomeGetawayissafeaswell,adreamIcanplanforandanticipatewithoutworryingabouttakingtimeoffworkorgettingsunburnorblisters.Itwillbealwaysunrealizedandperfect.
Iclickthemaplinkhe’sincludedandtracemyfingerfromSalamancatoMerida.PerhapsonedayI’lldothatwalk,andifIdo,IwonderifI’llrememberJihoon.Orifhe’llrememberme.
Itwouldhavebeenfuntodotogether,though.Nine
InsteadofpreparingforWhoIsJihoonDay,Isitonthebalconystaringatthetopsoftrees,selfishlywonderingwhatIwouldplanforaWhoIsAriDay.Hiking?Scavengerhunt?Thebeach?Ipause.HaveIeverlikedswimmingoronlythoughtIshould?Infact,mostofmythoughtsendupboomerangingbacktoonequestion:whetherIlikethethingsIthoughtIdid.
Suchasmyjob.
Igrabmytravelnotebookandflipthroughthepages.InIstanbul,Icouldhaggleforsaffroninthespicebazaar.InBelize,gocavetubingthroughaMayanarchaeologicalsite.VisitTanzaniaandclimbKilimanjaro.Theworldofferssomanyoptions,andyetIonlywritethemdownasIsithereinTorontowithstressandajobIworkedyearstogetinanofficethatmakesmefeellikehalfthepersonIcouldbe.
WhotherestofthatpersonI’mmissingis,Idon’tknow.
Movementfrominsidetheapartmentcatchesmyeye.Jihoonseesme,waves,andcomesouttosayhello.
“You’llbelateforwork,”hesaysasheleansoverthebalcony,noseburiedinhisarmsandunrivaledasscurvedoutashestretcheshishamstrings.He’sinshortsandsmellslikethesyntheticcoconutofhissunscreen,whichmeanshe’sabouttogoforhisusualeighty-kilometerorwhateverrunasthehealthypersonheis.
Icheckthetime.Jihoon’sright;Iwillbelateforwork.Ihaulmyselfoutofmyseat.“Dutycalls,”Isay.“Whatareyoudoingtoday?”
Hedoesn’tanswer,soIdon’tpresshim.I’veseentheopennotebooksaroundthehouse,filledwithcrossed-outlinesanddoodlesandsuspecthe’ssufferingfromwriter’sblock,ifthat’ssomethingmusicproducersget.
Hmm,artisticblock.Anideasparksforwhatwecando.
WhenSaturdaymorningfinallycomesaround,Ifirstcallmyparents.Dad’shome,andbothPhoebeandIhavemadeseparatetripstothehouse.MommadeitclearIwouldn’tbewelcomethisweekendbecauseshehadenoughonherplatetryingtogethimtorelaxinsteadofdoinghisusualweekendtasks.
Nosurprise,Phoebehasn’tbotheredcallingme.
“Areyoureadytogo?”IcalltoJihoon.I’vesublimatedmydiscomfortatskippingmynormalSaturdaythingsintoorganizinganoutingwiththeprecisionofamilitarycampaign.“Todaywehelpyoufindyourself.”
“AslongasIcanspendthedaywithyou,Ari.That’sallIneed.”HeglancesupasIfixmyhair.“Willyouleaveitdown?”
Ipeerathim,bothmyarmsbackandbehindmyhead.“Why?”
“Itswingswhenyoumove.It’spretty.”
IhidemyflushingfacebehindmyelbowbecauseIliketheideaoflookingpretty,andthatmakesmefeellikesomesortofanti-feministthrowback.“Iusuallyhaveittiedbackforwork.”
Hegivesmeasweetsmile.“Whateveryou’remostcomfortablewith.”
Ituckatieinmypocketjustincasebutshakemyhairsoittumblestomywaist.Iinstantlyfeelmorelikemyselfwiththecomfortingweightofitdistributedratherthanalwaystuggingatonespotonthebackofmyneck.
Jihoonreachesoutasiftotouchitbutthenblinksandducksaway.“What’sfirst?”heasks.
I’mstaringatthoselongfingers,wonderingwhatthey’dfeelliketangledinmyhair.“What?”
“Ourday.What’sfirst?”
Isnapoutofit.NowisnotthetimetobefantasizingaboutJihoon,althoughgivenhisbreakup,livinginKorea,andbeingmycurrentroommate,I’mnotsurewhentherighttimeis.
Backtobusiness.
Icheckoverouritineraryfortoday.IhadYukohelpmewithsomeofthedetails,andshewaseffusiveinherpraiseofmyplan.“Damn,you’regoodatthis.CanIusethese?”sheasked,flippingthroughsomeofmydiscardedideas.“Itwouldtotallysuitsomeofourclientswhentheyneedtokeeppeopleentertained.”
“Goahead,”Itoldher.Itwasonlyasillythingforfunanyway.
Fiveminuteslater,we’rereadytogo.Jihoonwatchesmepullonmyshoeswithanairofpolitedisapproval,andIcheckhisfeet.He’swearingapairofspotlesssneakers.
“AnotherpairofPradas?”
Helooksappalled.“TheseareBalenciaga.Balenciaga!”
Teasinghimistooeasy,soIlayoffandturnawaysohecan’thearmelaugh
“Ah,Ari.”Herollshiseyes.“OnedayI’llbuyyouapairofshoessocute,youcan’thelpbutadorethem.”
Ineverfeltanyparticularwayaboutmyname,butwhenJihoonsaysit,it’slikeacaress.Istuffmywalletinmybag.“Idon’tneedshoes.”
“Youcanhavewantsaswellasneeds.”AsI’mabouttodissolveintoapuddleatthelowpurrofhisvoice,hestraightens.“Let’sgo.”
Wegetonthesubway,andJihoonwatchespeoplefromunderthelowbrimofhishatasifhe’sbeenstrandedinspaceandstarvedforhumaninteraction.MeanwhileIwatchhim.Jihoon’sface—well,hiseyes,whichareallIcanseeoverhismask—issoexpressive,Icanreadalmosteverythoughtthatpassesthrough.
I’m100percentconfidentiftherewereeveramanunabletooutrightlie,it’sJihoon.It’snicetobewithsomeonelikethat.
Isitback,therattleofthesubwayaroundme,andrelax.
Thefirststopisabookstore,andJihoonpeerscuriouslythroughthewindow.“Usedbooks?”heasks.
“Notjustanyusedbooks,”Icorrect.“ThisplacehasthemostrandomselectionI’veseen.”Infrontofusisanassortmentofbooksthatarevisuallyunifiedandtopicallychaotic.Ahand-drawnguidetomushroomsofNorthAmericaisbesideanexplanationoffencingstrategies.Atreatiseonhowtobeacompetentsecretarysitsabovethem.
IusherJihooninandlethimlookaroundforafewminutes,pickingbooksupcuriously,beforewalkingover.“We’regoingtoplayagametoday.Ateachplace,thewinnergetsapoint.”
Heperksup.“I’mcompetitive,”hewarnsme.
“IoncerefusedtotalktoHanaforhoursbecauseshegotapackageinthemailbeforeIdid.”
Jihoonnods,understandinghowseriousthisis.“I’mready.”
Itakeoutmynotepadfrommybagwithaflourish.It’smoreforthedrama,becausethegame’sprettysimple.“Roundone.Theperfectbook.”Ilookup.Thecashierisstaringatherphone,totallyuninterestedinus,soIcontinue,“Wehavetwominutestofindthemostinspirationalbook.”
Helooksaround,handsonhiships.“Incoverdesignortopic?”
“Entirepackage,andinspirationalisbroadlydefined.Winnerdecidedbymutualconsent.”
“Themostinspirationalbook.”Helooksdownatme.“Whythat?”
“Youseemfrustratedwithwhateveryou’reworkingon.”Iflipthroughthepagesofmynotebook,notwantingtomeethiseyesbecause,asusual,whatseemedlikeagoodideaatfirstnowseemslacedwithpotentialdrama.“Ididn’treadanyofyournotes,”Iadd.
“Youcan’t,”hepointsout.“They’reinKorean.Youdon’tknowKorean.”
“Therewasthat,too.”Iputthenotebookinmybag.“Ithoughtitwouldbegoodtofindabooktomotivateyou.”
Iavoidlookingathimasthesilencegrows.Icompletelymisjudgedhim,andmysoulcollapsesdownintoablackholeofshame.Passionscanbedifficultcreatures,Isuppose.Ineverhadone.MakingitinerariesforfantasytripsI’llnevergoondoesn’tcountbecauseit’snotserious.I’mabouttoaskifweshouldleaveintheleastdefensivewayIcanmusterwhenhespeaks.
“Youareobservant,Ari.Andright.Ihavebeenhavingtrouble.Musicusedtoflow,andnowthere’snothingbutawateryflatness.Nothingtogrip.”Hetiltshisheadtothesideandrubsthebackofhisneck,contemplatingtheshelvesbeforehesmilesatme.“ItfeelsbettersinceI’vebeenherebutnotasitshouldbe.Ilikethisidea.”
Emboldened,Iraisemyeyebrows.“Doyouacceptthechallenge?”
“DoIhaveachoice?”
“Sure,ifyouwanttobeaquitter.”
Hiseyesnarrow.“Setthetimer,Ari.”
Weseparateasthenumberscountdown,eachofusretreatingtoadifferentpartofthestore.Ilookata1970stomeonpicklingbeforeturningtoabookonroadmaintenance.Neitherseemsparticularlyinspiringtoasongwriter,soIpulloutanother.BreadSculpturesforFunandProfit.There’saphotoofatoastygoldenbrownmermaidonashell,raisinsdecoratingherthroatinanediblenecklaceandalmondscoveringherlikeabra.
Iputthatinthemaybepile.
Acrossthestore,Jihoonreadsthroughthetitlesontheshelves.Ifeelapangofguilt.IassumedhisEnglishwasasgoodwhenreadingasitisspeaking,andIhopeIdidn’tembarrasshim.Ishouldhaveasked;Hanaisalwaystellingmetousemywords.
Hecatchesmyeye,andmykneesgetsweaty.Aswe’vegottentoknoweachother,Jihoonhasbecomeevenmoreattractive.Ithinkhe’sstartingtostandclosertomewhenwetalkortouchmemore,butI’mnotsureifit’swishfulthinking.Occasionally,whenhelaughsorlooksatmeacertainway,Iwonderwhathe’ddoifIcagedhimagainstawallandkissedhim.Ihavethatfeelingrightnow,andasifI’msomehowbroadcastingmythoughtsacrossthestore,Jihoon’seyesgetbigger.
Theydriftdowntomymouth.OrsoIthink.
DefinitelyIwish.
MyphonesoftlybeepsouttheJamesBondthemesong,whichHanasetasajoke,andwebothstepawayfromtheshelves.SinceI’vebeenbusymentallyundressingJihooninsteadofpayingattention,Igrababookwithoutlookingandhopeforthebest.
Jihooncomesover,wavinghisbooktriumphantly.“Iwin,”hedeclares.
“Notsofast.”Ilookdownatthebookinmyhand,TheaterInteriorsforYou!“Prosceniumarchesareverystimulating.”
“Really,Ari?”
I’mreadytodefendmyterriblechoice.“Theatersmeanplaysandplaysareart.”Noliethere.Beforesheleft,HanaandIsawOperationOblivionwithSamYaoandWeiFangli.Ithadbeenstellar,evenforaPhilistinelikeme.Thechemistrybetweenthetwohadbeenoffthecharts.
“Itdoesn’tmatter.I’mconfident.”Heshowsmehisbook,which,incredibly,iscalledInspirationalExercisesforMentalandPhysicalStrength
Ican’tevenbemadathowbadhe’strouncedme.“Unbelievable.”
“Iknow.”Hepagesthrough.“ItsaysIshoulddictatemyideastoawillinghelperasIdoahandstandtotakeadvantageofthebloodflowingtomyhead.”
“Awillinghelper?”
“Areyouvolunteering?”Jihoontouchesafingertomybarearm,andtomyhorror,Icomeoutingoosebumps.
Idomybesttoedgeawaywithoutlookingobvioussohedoesn’tnotice.“I’llconsiderit.”Pleasedwithhowsteadymyvoiceis,Itakehimtothebackofthestore,whereacheeryturquoisevendingmachinesits,andhandhimatoonie.“Putitin.”
“Abookvendingmachine?”
“Thinkofitasanideagenerator.”
Bemused,heslotsinthecoin,thenreachesdownafterthesoftthumpindicateshisprizehasbeendispensed.
Weunwrapthebrownpaperandlookatthebook,whichiscalledHannah,theStoryofaGirl
Igawkatit.“You’veriggedthisstore.”
“Youcouldbeontosomethingwiththisgame,Ari.”Hiseyescrinkleashesmiles.“I’mkeepingitforHana.”
Hepaysforthefirstbook,andItakebothpurchasesandpackthemintomytote.“I’mwinning,”hesayscomplacentlyand,frankly,unnecessarily.
Itrynottobesore.TodayisaboutJihoon.“Fornow.”
Hegrins.“We’llsee.”Ten
IorganizedacaranddrivertodaythroughLuxe,andGregor,whohadnowfinishedwithanearlierjob,iswaitingtotakeustothenextdestination.WegreeteachotherasIintroduceJihoonandputmytoteontheseatbetweenus.I’veknownGregorsinceasmallincidentinvolvinganotheroneofLuxe’sclientslastyear,andwegetalongwell.
Jihoonpullsoffthemaskandrubsbehindhisears.“You’veputsomuchworkintothis.”
“Ilikeddoingitforyou.”IglanceoutthewindowatthepeoplepassingbyonBloorStreet.It’salwaysbusyinthisstretch,withpeoplegrabbingcoffeeorbuyingmangoesandflowersatthecornerstores.
Gregordrivesustotheweekendfarmersmarketthatisournextdestination.Thesummerharvestisondisplayunderthehighwarehouseceiling,andJihoonwalksbetweentablesofcornonthecobandrusticbasketsofbeautifulfrostedplums.Ibuyhimagoatcheeseandroastedbutternutsquashpaniniandtakehimtoapicnicbenchbytheponds.
Idrinkmyciderashelooksaround.“Whatisthisplace?”heasks.
“Reclaimedindustrialspace.Theyusedtomakebrickshere,sowe’resittingintheoldquarry.”
Wecheckoutthepondwhenwe’redone,apicturesqueviewofoverlappingwaterlilies.Aripplecatchesmyeye,andIpointatit.“Asnappingturtle!”
Twothingshappenatthesametime.Jihoonturns,andmyoutstretchedhandhitshimsquareinthechest.Hefallsback,armsshootingoutashetriestoregainhisbalance.
He’sgoingtofallintothewater.Iamsuchabadhost.ThisiswhyIneverhaveguests.
Thenhedoesthiswildsuperherotwistandsortofleapsbackontotheboardwalk.Ican’tevendescribeit.It’slikeagymnasticsmove.He’salittlewobbly,andIgrabhisshirtandhaulhimawayfromtheedge.
Badmove,Ari,becausenowhishandscomearoundmywaist,andhestepsintome.Icanfeelthewarmthofhisbodyagainstmine.Ihaven’tbeenthisclosetoamanforayear,letaloneamanlikeJihoon.He’ssodifferentfromtheonesIusuallymeet,whomightaswellbespitoutfromthesamefactory.TheyalllikecraftbeerandJetSkiingatthecottagewithguystheymetinuniversity,whoarealllikethem.
Myfacetiltsupandhisdown,andhishandslipslowertotightenonmyhip.
“Daddy,look,aturtle!”Thesquealofasmallchild,incombinationwiththeappearanceofmanyothersmallchildrenflankedbyfrazzled,coffee-clutchingadults,breaksmyreverie.Istepback,carefully,butJihoonfollowsme.
“Ari,”hesays,watchingmeintently.
Ishiverwhenhesaysmynamelikethat.Beforehecancontinue,akidNaruto-runsdowntheboardwalkwithherarmsextendedbehindher,chanting,“Birthday,it’smybirthday.”It’sanarchy,andItaketheopportunitytodisengage
I’mfairlysure,likeinthehigh-90spercentsure,thatJihoonwasgoingtokissme,orhewouldhave,haditnotbeenforthemaskhewearseverywhere.Ineedtothinkitthroughbecause,wow,Iwantthat,too.Ialsohavetobecertain.Flirtingisfunandfantasizingisfantastic,butkissingisawholedifferentlevel.Itchangesthings.Exactlyhowdoneishewithhisex?
“Thegame,”IsaywiththeleastamountofdesperationIcanmanage.Therewasnogameforthisstop,butIneedamomenttocorralmythoughtsintotheirusualtightorder.
“Right.”Nowhemovesaway,andIhavetorestrainmyselffromclosingthedistancebetweenus.Besmart,Ari.Considertheconsequences.
Ithinkfast.“Thepointgoestothefirstonetoseeawateranimal.Frog,fish,heron,duck,orturtle.Startonthecountofthree.Eyescloseduntilwecountdown.”Iwaituntilheobedientlysqueezeshiseyesshut.He’ssocute.Iwanttokisshimtenderlyandromanticallyandthenwrestlehimtotheground.
“One,”Isay.
“Dul,”saysJihoon.
“Three.”Webothopenoureyesandstartscanning.Jihoonbendstogazedeepintothemurkydepths,andIdomybesttonotcheckhimoutandriskmyinappropriaterubberneckingbeingreflectedinthewater.It’salosingbattlebecausehe’srightinfrontofme,blackjeansclingingtoeverycurve.
IyankmyeyesbacktothewaterasmyheartrateslowsfromthedualshockofnearlysendingJihoonintothepondandthenhavinghimpressedagainstme.Jihoon,apparentlyengrossedbythesearchforfauna,seemsunperturbedbytheincident,soIfollowsuit,pushingthemessofthoughtstotheside.Nothingcanhappen,nothingshouldhappen,soIneedtoconcentrateonbeingagoodhost.
Toobadthewayhefeltagainstme,andthewayhelookedatme,issomethingIcan’teasilyforget.
Iseemovementontheshore.It’saduck.Couldbeamallard,mightbeacanvasback,butI’mnobiologist,andthosearealsotheonlyduckspeciesIknow.“Duck,”Isaywithgreatpleasure.
Heswivelstolook.“Youwin.”
Jihoon’ssuchagracefulloser,IfeelbadaboutmytriumphovergainingaworthlesspointinameaninglessgameIcreated.“We’retied.”
Imakeatallymarknexttomynameinmynotebookandtrynottolookathim.He’sstandingclose,closerthanheneedstobe,andwatchingmewiththosebigbrowneyes.Anorchestralsongshouldbeplayinginthebackgroundasamontageofuslaughingslidesinoverourfaces.
Thinkfirst.
Istepback.“Readyforthenextplace?”
“Leadtheway.”
GregordrivesustoGraffitiAlley,adingy,stinkybacklanewaythatrunsparalleltoQueenStreetWest.Puddlesofrainbow-fleckedwaterfillinthecracksofthebrokenasphaltandreflectthemagicalmuralsthatcoverwalls,doors,andgarages.IhandJihoonaspecialmobilephoneandthenewearbudsthatYukoleftinthecarforme.Ioweherbig.“Audiotour.”
Hetakesmyhandandpressesoneofthebudsintomypalm.“We’llexperienceittogether.”
Welingerinthatdirty,fantasticallanelisteningtoawomannarratethestoriesbehindthegraffiti:thetags,themotifs,theartists.Somehavealreadydisappeared,paintedoverbynewideas.Besideme,pressedclosebecauseoftheearbuds,Jihoonhasablissfulexpression,andheoccasionallyhumstohimselfandtypesnotesintohisphone.He’sutterlylostintheexperience,andIhavethatsweetfeelingofgettingitperfectlyright.MyworkatYesterlyandHavingsisintellectuallysatisfying,butthat’saboutasgoodasitgets.Noneofmycolleagueseverseemcontentedbywhattheydobecauseit’smoreaboutwinningforthewin’ssake.Thisisabout—andImentallysquintatthis—beinghappy.IgetalittleofwhatJihoonwastryingtosaytheotherdayaboutartandmeaning.
“Readyforthefinalpointinthegame?”Iaskwhenthetourends.“It’saneasyone.”
“Iam.”Hetakesouthisearbudandwaits.
“Findthepaintingthatbestrepresentsyourlife.Twominutesonthetimer.”
Helooksaround.“Therearesomany.”
“Ifyou’dliketoforfeit,I’lltakethefinalpointforthewin.”Ipullmyhairaroundtothefrontofmyshoulder.
Hestiffens.“Hana,dul,set,let’sgo.”
Afterthirtyseconds,I’mcursingmyself.Thisistoorevealing,toovulnerable.Iseeaschooloffishwithonegoingtheoppositedirection,butthat’sPhoebe,notme.Imoveontoacubistlandscapeofatreeonahillandconsideritbeforedecidingthat,althoughIdon’tknowwhatitmeans,it’snotme.Whenthetimergoesoff,I’mstandinginfrontofapurplesilhouetteoftwolittlegirlsinshortdressesholdinghandsandlookingatahighwall.IfPhoebeandIhadbeencloserinage,wouldourrelationshipbedifferent?WouldwehavebeenabletoconfideineachothertobuildsomethingthatcouldhaveevolvedpastoursharedDNA?
“Ready?”Jihooncalls.
Iturnquicklyawayfromtheimage.There’snopointwonderingaboutwhat-ifswhenwehavetherelationshipwehave.
“Yes.”IlookaroundandpointatthetreeIsawearlier.“That’smine.I’mthetree,andIlikeoverseeingeverything.”That’sasaferesponse.
HelooksatmeasifheknowsI’mhidingsomething,thenstepsaside.Behindhimisadoor,arealone,andit’sbeenpaintedwithtwodoors,eachofwhichopentotwomore,andsoonuntilthedoorsarethesizeofdimes.It’shypnotic.
“Why?”Iask.
Jihoonstandsinfrontoftheimage,tracingthethinredoutlineofonedoorwithhisfingers.“Everytimewegothroughonedoorinlife,there’stwomoreclosedonestochoosefrom.”
“Whatifyouchoosethewrongdoor?Doyougoback?”
Hedoesn’tlookaway.“No.Youkeepgoingandhopethenextoneistherightone.”
Theairisrawinawaythatmakesmejumpy.Whenmylastboyfriendbrokeupwithme,hesaidIhadtheemotionalintelligenceofaneggplant—Iparaphrasebutalsocouldn’targuewiththesentiment.I’moutofmydepthhere,likethere’ssomethingIdon’tunderstandandsayingthewrongthingwilltarnishwhateveritis.
Iclearmythroatanddecidetoleaveitratherthanriskgoingdeeper.“Youwin,”Isay.It’snotevenaquestion
Hegivesmeadeepbow.“Youwereaworthyadversary,butIhumblyacceptmytriumph.”
Atleasthe’sanamusingwinner.“Dessert?”Iask.
Hegivesthealleyafinallookandnods.Wegetbackinthecar,andIkeepuparunningcommentaryaswedrive.Wepassarestaurantwithanold-schooldinersign.“Hanahadacrushononeoftheserversatthatplace.”
“Didanythinghappen?”
“Hanaspilledadrinkonhimandthenknockedaplateoffriesonthefloorbecauseshewasnervous.Sheneverevengothisname,andwedidn’tgoback.”
Helooksouttherearwindowattherestaurant.“Whydidshelikehim?”
“Whydoesanyonelikeanyone?Pheromones.Goodhair.Howtheirmouthtiltswhentheysmile.”Likehisdoes,butIsteadfastlyavoidlookingathim.
“Youbelieveinloveatfirstsight?”
Ilaugh.“Hanawasn’tinlovewiththatguy.Ifshewere,shewouldhavestayedandmadethebestofit.”
“Ibelieveinit.”Jihoonsoundsintense.
Ibrushoffaredthreadstucktomyshirt.“ThenIhopeyoufindthem.”Ikeepmyvoicelight,butI’muncomfortablewiththeconversation.Jihoon’sagoodperson.Iwanthimtobehappy,butthethoughtofhimfallinginlovewithsomeonemakesmeunjustifiablyupset.It’slikewe’vebuiltastrangelittleworld,thetwoofus.I’veevenstartedcominghomeearlierfromworktoseehim,andeverytimeIopenthedoorandhe’sthere,myheartgivesahappyhopthat’snotintheslightestdiminishedbyknowinghe’sonlyhereforalimitedtime.Infact,thatmightmakethiseasier.It’slikeoursummerfling.I’mSandyandhe’sDanny.Sortof.Icouldneverpulloffthoseskintightsatinpants
SoonwearriveatUni-Land,ahole-in-the-wallstoreinaquietsidestreet.
Ileanoverthefrontseat.“Gregor?Youin?”
Hestaresoutthewindshield.“Ms.Hui,youshouldn’ttemptmewhileI’mworking.”
“Youknowit’sAri,becauseMs.Huiismymother.Youloveicecream.Greenteaorbirthdaycake?”
Helaughsandbowstotheinevitable.“Birthdaycake.Extrasprinkles.”
“Berightback.”
Jihoonfollowsmeout,eyebrowsloweredasheconsidersthenarrowstreet.“Weeathere?”Iunderstandhisconcernbecauseit’snotthemostprepossessingofvistas.
“There.”Totheleftisasmall,curtaineddoorandbehindthat,fantasy.Wewalkintoagumballofanicecreamstore,swirlsofpinkandmintgreenpunctuatedwithdarkblueunicornheadsdisplayedonthewalls.Ifoundthistaiyakiplaceonacitystrollandhadbeeninstantlyenchanted.IhopeJihoonlikesit.
Hedoes,andIsmileashesleepwalkstowardthedisplayofcones,whicharefilledpastriesshapedlikefishinsteadoftheusualregularorwaffle.“Yougofirst,”hesays,eyesflickeringfromoneoptiontothenext.
IorderforGregorandgetacustard-filledgreenteaicecreamformyself.Jihoonpondersbeforeorderingtheunicornspecial,amulticoloredextravaganzacompletewithlittlepastel-pinkmochiearsandagoldenhorn.
Oncewegetourorders,Ipointmychintothefarwall,wheretwowomenposewithpursedlipsandthrust-backhipstotakeshotsoftheiricecream.“Photowall,”Isay.“Wanttotakeoneforyoursocialmedia?”
“No.”ThebriskresponseissounliketheusualcalmJihoonthatittakesmeaback.Notingmyreaction,helooksatmefromundertheloweredbrimofhishat.“I’mtakingabreakbecauseofmyaunt.”
“Ofcourse.”HanawouldkillmeifIlethermomfindoutJihoon’shere.Atleastoneofusremembered.
Backinthecar,hepullsoffhismask.Allthreeofuseatinblissandthentrytomopupthestickinesswithnapkinsthatshredoncontact.Gregorstartsthecar,mutteringunderhisbreathwhenhispalmssticktothesteeringwheel.
Igiveupandrunmyhandsdownmypants,leavingpaperfluffalongmythighs.“Didyouhavefuntoday?”
“Youmustbeexcellentatyourjob,”hesaysseriously.“Youknowhowtopleasureme.”
IknowthatEnglishishisfourthlanguage—hementionedhealsospeaksJapaneseandMandarin—buthisphrasingmakesthebloodrushtomyface.“Someluckyguesses.”
“No.”Heshakeshishead.“Youtookaconversationwehadandmatcheditwithyourknowledgeofthecitytomakesomethingperfect.Youpayattentiontodetails.”
“Ifeelbadfornotspendingmoretimewithyou,”Iadmit.Takethat,Hana.Icanbeagoodhost.
Hesmiles.“Thankyouforabeautifulday.Icouldforgetmyworries.”
Ilookathimcuriously.“Didithelpyou,though?”
Jihoonturnstome,andIlosemybreathwhenhelooksintomyeyes.“Itdid.Itwasinspiring.”Thenhelooksoutthewindow,leavingmetoconcentrateonhisjawline,which,nojoke,iscastingashadow.Iwanttorunmyhandalongit.
Ohno.No.It’sbeenalongtime,butIknowthisfeeling.It’sacrush.IhaveacrushonJihoon.
Damn.ElevenTopfivereasonsImightpossiblyhaveapotentialthingforJihoon.
Thatface.
Thatbody.
Don’tbeshallow.He’ssweet.
Authentic.
Sensitive,goodlistener,greatcook.Technicallythisbringsthelisttoseven.
TopfivereasonsIshouldnothaveacrushonJihoon
Areyoutwelve?Adultshaverelationships,notcrushes.
Work.#makingpartner
HelivesinKorea.
Hana’scousin.(Betterstarthisone.Mightbereasonnumberone.)
Don’tbethereboundfromhisbreakup.(Couldbenumberone.OrlivinginKoreaisnumberone.It’sathree-waytiebecausethoseareallsolidreasons.)
JihoonisoutwhenIwakeuponMonday,andIexperienceadipofdissatisfaction.I’musedtohismorningroutine—coffee,chatter,andfillingmeinonwhat’sgoingonintheKoreannewscycle—andit’sirritatingtoshiftbacktomyusualhabitofmovingstraighttoworkemails.
Ifliponthenewstofillthespaceupwithsomesound.Wars,tradedeals.Sadness,negativity.SomeAsiansingerissupposedlymissing,butit’snotthoughttobefoulplay.SamYao’snewactionmovietrailerisout.Iturnitbackoffbecauseit’stimetogetgoing.
Atwork,ItaketwoTylenolsanddrinksomewatertogetridofmyeternalheadache,thenstayuntilthelightsstarttopowerdownallovertheoffice.WhenIfinallyleave,it’stoadarkrainychillthatslidesthroughmywoolblazer.
Thephoneringsonthestreetcar,andIanswerwithoutlooking.“Hello.”
“Hi,Ari.”
It’sPhoebe,andIseriouslyconsiderlyingandsayingI’mabouttogointothesubwaytobuysometime.TheonlyreasonIdon’tisthatitmeansI’llhavetodealwithitlaterwhenIhaveevenlessenergy.“What’swrong?”Iask.
“Whosaidanythinghadtobewrong?”Hervoiceistight.
“Phoebe,Ihaven’thadthebestday.”Theunspokenorderisthere:tellmewhatyouwantbecauseIamfarfrombeinginthemoodtodealwithyou.
Shesniffs.“Momwantsyoutocomefordinnertomorrow.”
“Whyareyoucallingmeandnother?”Iglareatthephone,wonderingifthisisMom’swayoftryingtogetustoreconcile.
“MomisbusytryingtogetDadtoeatacarrottokick-starthishearthealthandhidinghislaptopsohecan’twork.”
Phoebe’sdeliveryissodryandherwordsringsotrue,Ican’thelpit.Ilaugh.“I’mbusywithwork.”
“So?”
“So…”Istop.ToobusytoseetheDadImighthavelost?“Nothing.I’llbethere.”I’llhavetoworkevenlongertonightifIhavetowastethreehoursatmyparents’house,butthere’snothingtobedoneaboutit.
Waste.Irollthataround.Idon’tlikethatitwasthefirstwordthatcametomindwhenIthoughtofspendingtimewithmyfamily.
Igrabsomeflowersatthecornerstoretocheermyselfupandheadupstairs,whereJihoonisonthephone.Hisbackistome,sohedoesn’thearthedooropenormeputtingawaymythings.
Healsodoesn’thearmebecauselovely,kindJihoonisinarage.Istopwithoneshoeoff.I’veneverheardhisvoicesoloudorharsh.Hisshouldersarehunchedforwardashepacesandspeaksfaster.Thenhestopsandlistens,onehandagainstthewallandhisheadbowed,thephonepressedtohisear.
Shit,thishasbigexenergyalloverit,andI’mtornbetweentiptoeingtomyroomorstandingtherelikeacreepyeavesdropperbecausehe’stalkingtosomeonewhocanclearlygeneratealotofpassion,andIwanttoknowmore.
Whenhehangsup,heslapshishandagainstthewall.
“Everythingokay?”Iaskfromthedoor.
Hespinsaround.“You’rehome.Didyouhearthat?”Hiseyesarehuge.
“Yes,butmyKoreanislessthanstellar.”Idecidetoask.“Wereyoutalkingtoyourex?”
Heshoveshisphoneinhispocket.“That’sprivate.”
Ofcourseitis,butI’malreadykeyedupfromworkandPhoebe,andnowhe’smademefeellikeIoverstepped,soI’mreadytofight.“Hey,sorryIasked.”
“Itwasadifficultconversationwithsomeonebackhome.”Hesoundsconciliatory,butmypassive-aggressivemodehasbeenactivated.
“LikeIsaid,sorryIasked.”
“Ari.It’snothingtodowithyou.Youhavenorighttobeangrywithme.”Hismouthisathinline.Ishouldde-escalatethis.Ishouldbeagoodhost.Ishouldgivehimthespacetohavehisfeelings.
However,Ican’tevendothatwhenI’mhavingagoodday,letalonewhenmysensitivityreservoirhasbeendrainedtoanaridpit.“Whatever.”
Herubshiseyes.“Pleasedon’tbelikethis.”
“I’mtheproblem?”
“CanInotgetsomeprivacy?”hesnaps.“Amomenttomyself?”
Inafight,I’vealwaysbeenfairlygoodatknowingwhentostopbeforeI’vecrossedtheline.PhoebeistheonlyonewithwhomIneverpaidattentiontothatborder.Withher,Ididn’ttiptoeoverit,IstrutthroughlikeIwascomingdownarunway.ItnevermatteredbecausePhoebewouldalreadyhaveleapfroggedoverandbewaitingformetoturnaround.
Idon’tsayanythingtoJihoon.
Idon’thaveto,becausemyeyesdriftaroundtheapartment—myapartment—andhegetsthehintthathe’stheoneintruding.
“Forgetit.”Hesnatchesuphishat,jamsonhisslides,andisoutthedoor
IcallHanaaboutthreesecondslater.
“Hey,hey.”She’sonvideoinherhotelroomandwrappedinarobe.“What’swrong?”
“Iwanttoseehowyouare.”
“No,that’satext.Thisisaphonecall.”
True.Thehierarchyofcommunicationdoesputphonecallabovetext,whichrankshigherthansocialmediapost.Godforbidyoushowupatsomeone’sdoorunannounced.That’sfordeathsonlyorMrs.Choidoingadrive-byroomcheckdisguisedasafooddrop.
“Ihaveaproblem,andIneedadvice.”
“IsitJihoonrelated?”
“Youknow,notallmyissuesareaboutyourcousin,”Isay,insulted.
“Sorry.What’sitabout,then?”
Ihesitate.“Okay,it’saboutJihoon.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Icheckthetime.“It’sonlysixinVancouver.Whyareyouinarobe?”
“BecauseIhatehumanity,soIputonmyfailurerobetocallitaday.”
“Ihatehumanity,too.”
“Good.”Shemovesovertoachairnearthewindow.“WhataboutJihoon?”
“Yougofirst.”
“Mom.”
“Whathappenednow?”Iask.
“Theusual.WhatamIeating.Whysomuchofit.WhyamItravelingforworkinsteadofsettlingdown.WhenamIvisitingnext.WhydidIleavehomeinthefirstplace.”
It’snosurprisethatMamaChoihasconductedboundaryoverstepsnumber1,043,431through1,043,435becausethewomancanbedifficult.ShebelievestheKorean—atleastBusan—wayofdoingthingsissuperiortoallculturesatalltimesinallareasofcompetition,particularlywhenmeasuredagainsttheChineseandabsolutelyagainsttheJapanese.WhenshebroughtovergimbapandIcalleditKoreansushi,Mrs.Choicalledmeanignorantchildbeforedeconstructingarolltoexplainindetailhowitdiffered(andwasbetter)withregardtoflavor,texture,andcomposition.WhenItoldherIcouldn’teattheham,sherefusedtobelieveitandheldittomymouthuntilHanagrabbeditaway.
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutitnow,”Hanasays.“Tellmeofyourhatreds.”
Itcomesoutinarush.AlltheminorworkirritationsIcan’tseemtoshakeoff.ThefightwithJihoon.Phoebe.SeeingBrittanymeetingwithbothMeredithandRichardinthebigconferenceroom
“That’salot,”Hanasaysfinally.
“Thanks.Yourturnagain.”
“Don’tyouwanttotalkaboutwhathappened?Howyoufeel?”
Imakeawardinggestureatthephone.“YouknowhowIfeelaboutfeelings.”
“YouknowhowIfeelabouttalkingaboutfeelings.”
Shelovestalkingaboutfeelings.“Guesswe’reatanimpasse.”
“Holdon.”Sheleavesthephoneonthetable,soInowhaveagreatviewoftheceiling,andIhearthemuffledsoundofherthankingthepizzadeliveryperson.
Whenshecomesback,Hanaalreadyhasaslicehangingfromhermouthlikeabackwardtongue.Timetodiverther.“Whataboutyourday?”Iask.
“Goodtry.”Thewordsaremuffled,andshetakesthesliceoutofhermouth.
“YouwereplanningtogoforawalkaroundStanleyPark,”Isay.“There’sareasonyou’reholedupinyourhotelbesidesyourmom.”Thepizzamakesmehungry,soIgoovertothekitchen.LookslikeJihoonwasinthemiddleofcookingbecausethere’saslicedonionandthericeisout.Idon’thavetheenergytocook,soIgrabsomebreadandstuffitinmymouth.
HanacracksopenaDietCoke.“Aguyarguedwithmethatsexismdidn’texist.Infact,menaretheoneswhoarediscriminatedagainstthesedays.”
“Didhecitehissource?”
Shegetsanothersliceofpizza.“Yeah.Itwastheinternetandhispersonalexperienceasthefatherofadaughter.”
“Can’targuethose.”
“Thenhetoldmethatbeingtoldtosmilewashelpfulbecausewomenlookprettierwhenthey’rehappy.”
Nowwe’rebothlaughing,eventhoughit’snotatallfunnydespitebeingpainfullyhilarious.ThenHanasighs.“Theworstofitisthat,honesttoGod,onehundredpercent,hedidn’tgetit.Heinsistedhedidn’tneedtobetherebecause,andIquote,he‘wasaniceguy.’”
Nothingtosaythere.Sheeatsmorepizza,andIeatmorestalebread.“Don’tworryaboutJihoon,”sheadds.“Hecantakecareofhimself.”
“Ifeelbad.”
“Didyoushareafeeling?”Shemakesexaggeratedprayerhandsoverthepizzabox.
“Shutup.”
Hanalooksdown.“He’sgotsomestuffgoingon,buthetoldmehe’sgoingtotalktoyouaboutit.Heneedstime.”
Ilaughuncomfortably.“Imean,hedoesn’towemeanything.We’renotinarelationship.”
Shelookshorrified.“Eww.Withmycousin?”Hereyesnarrow.“Ari.”
“What?”Ibusymyselfinthefridge.
“Whywouldyouevensaythat?Isitsomethingonthetable?Isitevenintheroomwherethetableislocated?”
“Ofcoursenot.Don’tworry.”
Shegivesmealonglook.“Okay.”
“Ineedtogetbacktowork,”Isay,deployingmygo-toexcusetogetoutofanything.
“Idon’tknowwhyyouwanttomakepartneratYuckerlyandJerklingssobad,”Hanagrumbles,brushingcrumbsoffherrobe.“Youdon’tlikeanyonethere.Youdon’thaveasingleworkfriend.Theydon’ttreatyouwell.”
“Workisforworking,”Isay.“It’sthebestfirminthecity,whichmeansthebestlawyersinthecountryworkthere.”
“You’respendingyourlifeonsomethingyoudon’tlike.It’sawaste.”
“Itsuitsme,”Isay.
“Youhaven’tgivenyourselfachancetosuitanythingelse.”
Imakeafaceather,andshegetsthehintthatIdon’twanttotalkaboutmycareerchoicesrightnow—orever.I’vemadeupmymindonthecorrectpathforme,andyoudon’tgettothefinishlinebytakingdetours.
ShemanagestogetoffthephonebeforeIcanpressherabouthermother,andIpassthetablewhereJihoon’snotepadsitsopenandfilledwithscribbles.Ichangeoutofmyworkclothesandcomebackoutdressedforcozinessinsweatpants,myhairinalooseknot.It’slatebutIhaven’thaddinnerandIshouldcook.Instead,Itakeabottleofwineandgooutonthebalcony.
ThesoundsofthecityriseasIpropmyfeetontherailandleanbackinmychair.Ihaveamemoduetomorrow,butinsteadIpulloutmytravelnotebookandflipthroughthepages.AlltheseplacesI’veneverseen.ItoldmyselfI’dgolater,butlaterneverseemstoarrive.Itossthenotebookaway,frustratedwithmyselfinawayI’veneverfeltbefore.
Behindme,thedoortotheapartmentclicksshut,announcingJihoon’sreturn.Twelve
Theappropriatethingwouldbetogetupandapologize.
InsteadIsitanddrinkmywineandpretendIdon’tknowhe’shomedespitebeingveryawareofeachmovementhemakes.There’stheslighttapofhisphoneasheplacesitonthecounter.Thestickingnoiseofthefridgedoorandthecreakofacabinet.
ThenalongsilencewhereIimaginehimstandinginthemiddleofthelivingroom.Itrytoactnormal,butmyhandfeelsalmostnumb,andmyarmjerksunsteadilywhenIliftmyglass.
Apologize.
Itdoesn’tmakeyouweaktosayyouwereoverreactingwhenyouwereinfactoverreacting.
Hisstepscometowardthedoor.
Iputtheglassdownwithmoreforcethannecessaryandtwistaround.
“I’msorry.”
WebothblinkateachotherbecauseJihoonhasn’tevenechoedmyapology—hesaiditatthesametime.He’satthebalconydoor,armscrossedoverhischestsohecangriphiselbows.
“Iwasinabadmood,andItookitoutonyou,”Isay,speakingtohisleftarmpitbecauseIdon’twanttolookinhiseyes.“Itwasn’tcoolformetomakeyoufeelunwelcome.”Itakeabreath.“I’mgladyou’rehere.Ilikebeingwithyou.”
Thatwashonestyinaction.Hanawouldbeproud,butIfeelabitnauseous.Thiscommunicationthingsucks.
“Ishouldn’thavesnappedatyou,”hesays.“Iwasupsetbythatcallfromhome.”
“Igetit.”Ipointatthebottle.“Drink?”
“Please.”Hefetchesaglassandsitsnexttome.Sometensionremainsbutit’sbearable.
“Itwasmywork,”hesays.“Onthephone.”
Inod,tryingtohidemyrelief.Workproblemsarebetterthanhearingabouthisbustedrelationship.
“I’vealwaysknownwhatIwanted,”hesays.“Frommylife,Imean.Ihadagoal,andIworkedhard.”
“Igetthat,”Isay.
“Ilovemostofmylife.I’mlucky,soluckytobeabletodowhatIdo.”
“Okay.”
“Iwantmore,though.Ifeeltrappedbymyluck.It’slikebeingsuccessfulhasputmeinacage.”Heburieshisheadinhishands,andwhenhespeaksagain,hisvoiceismuffled.“I’mungrateful.”
“Hey.”Ireachoutandgrabhishandstopullthemawayfromhisface.“Whatyoufeel,that’svalid.”
“What?”Helooksatme,eyesreddened
“Theywantyoutokeepmakingthesamemagichappeninthesamewaysoyoudon’tmesswithagoodthing,butitfeelslikeyou’rerepeatingyourself.”
“That’sit,”hesays,eyesontheground.“Iworryaboutgoingagainstthem,butIwanttogrow.”
“Changeisscary,”Isay.“Canyouleaveforanewjob?”
JihoonisshakinghisheadevenbeforeIfinish.“Ilovemyteamandleavingwouldputthematadisadvantage.”
“That’stough,”Isay.“Howaboutmakingsmallchangesyoucanbuildon?Itmightbeeasierforyou,too.”
“Itried.”Herubshisface.“Thebossestoldmetostop,moreorless.”
“Messingwiththeformula.”
Hesmilesathisglass.“Yeah.”
“Theoppositethingishappeningwithme,”Isay.“Youknowthechangeyouwant.IalwaysthoughtIknewwhatIwantedatwork.NowIdon’t.”
“Youwanttomakepartner,”hesays.“That’syourgoal.”
“Iguess.”
“It’snotanymore?”
“Idon’tknowhowIfeel.IneverusedtohavedoubtsaboutwhatIdid.”Ilookathim.“Didyou?”
“NotuntilIgotwhatIwanted.ThenIdidn’tknowifIhadbeenwantingtherightthings.”
“Meneither,”Isay.
“I’veneversaidthattoanyone,”hemuses.“Notevenmyfriends.Idon’tknowifI’veeversaiditoutloudeventomyself.Itfeltgood.”
Ifrown.“Really?BecauseIhateit.”
“Why?”
“Iliketohaveaplan,”Isay.“ToknowwhatI’mdoing.NowI’mnotsure.Idon’tdowellwithambiguity.”
“No,”hesays.“I’veseenyourto-dolists.”
HewaitsuntilI’mdonelaughing,thenhesays,“Youboughtflowers.”
IttakesmeamomenttorememberthebouquetIleftonthetable.“Gotthematthestoretocheeruptheplace.”
“Onelookslikeatigerflower,”hesays.“Mybirthflower.”
“Yourwhat?”
“Athome,eachdayisassociatedwithaflower.That’smine.Whenwereyouborn?”HechecksonlinewhenItellhim.“Primrose,”hereadsfromhisphoneafteramoment.“Itmeansloveliness.Howaccurate.”
NormallyI’dshrugacommentlikethatofforlaugh,buthiscomplimentfeelssogenuinethatitmakesmewarm.
“Weshouldeat,”Isay.
Webothstandandreachforthewineatthesametime,bangingourheadstogetherlikeaThreeStoogessketch.Insteadofgrabbinghisownhead,Jihoonreachesforme,hisfacecreasedwithconcern.
“I’mfine,”Isayashisfingerstouchmyhead.“You?”
Hedoesn’tanswer.Instead,hishandmovesovermyhair,whichhasfallenoutofitsknot.“Yourhairisdown.”Herunshisfingersthroughit,hiseyesonmine.“Youonlywearitdownathome,orwithme.”
“Ilikeitbetterthisway,”Isay,hopinghedoesn’tnoticemyshakyvoice.Istepbackintotheshadows.“Doyouwantsomeramen?”Itisn’tmyfavorite,butit’sfastandeasy.Plus,thankstoJihoonstockpilingit,wehavealot.
“What?”Hiseyesgohugeashismouthdropsopen.
“Ramen.Fordinner?”
“Toeat.Ramentoeat,youmean.”Jihoonstartslaughing,butIdon’tknowwhat’sfunny,andhewon’ttellme.Heshakeshisheadandblinksbeforehesmilesatme.“Anothertime.Todaywecancooktogether.”
Heleadsthewaytothekitchen,andalthoughthemomentislost,allIcanthinkaboutishishandonmyhairandhiseyesonmine.
Iwantmore.
Afterdinner,Jihoonliesonthecouchwithhisnotebookproppedonhisknees.It’swarmintheroom,andhe’sshedhissweatertoloungeinaV-neckedshirtwithshortsleeveswideenoughtoshowhalfhischestifheraiseshisarm.Heseemscompletelyunawareofhowhotthisis,andIbeatbacktheurgetohavehimreachupandpassmethingsfromhighplaces.
IcurlonthechairwithabookI’vebeenmeaningtoreadforages,butasusualIhavetroubleconcentrating.Myeyesareonthepage,butmyminddriftsawayfromthegrittybutdelicatecoming-of-agestory.InsteadIthinkaboutPhoebe,ofallpeople.Weusedtoreadinthelibraryduringsummerafternoons,whentheheatmadetimefeelslowandendless.Ithoughtthosedayswouldlastforever,andnowlookatus.Barelytalking.Estrangedanduncaring.Ortooscaredtocare,whichmightbeevensadder.
Uncomfortablewiththesethoughts,Itossthebookawayandlieonthechairwithmyheadononearmandmylegsontheother.Jihoonhasunbuckledhiswatchandisstaringatitwithintentfocusashetwirlsitinacircle.
“That’sanicewatch,”Isay.It’sgotamodern1960slook,withlittlelinesinsteadofnumbersonthewhitefaceandabrownleatherband.
“It’smyfavorite,”hesaysidly.“Amasterpieceofcraftwork.ThisisthewatchthatmadetheSwisswatchindustrycryformercyaftertheytriedtochangetherulesontheJapanese.”
“What,that?”
“Yes,this.”Herollsitbetweenhisfingers.“Iboughtittoremindmyselfthatimprovementisiterativeandconstantandtheworkisuptoyou.”
Itakethewatch,stillwarmfromhiswrist,whenheholdsitouttome.It’saclassicwatchdesignanddoesn’tlookspecialtome.
“Themagicisunderneath,becauseworkhappensunderthesurface,”hesays.“TheJapanesekeptimprovingthemechanicsuntilitlookedlikeitmightwinaveryprestigiousSwisscompetition.YoucanimaginehowtheywouldhavetakenaJapanesefirmwinning.”
“Whathappened?”
Hebucklesthewatchbackon.“Theyclosedthecompetitionand,whentheyreopenedit,changedtherulessoonlyEuropeanscouldenter.”
“That’ssounfair!”
“Very.”Jihoongivesthewatchalovingpat.“Butwhoweretherealwinnersintheend?”
Ilookathisnotebook.“Isthatwhatyou’reworkingon?Asongaboutwatches?”Thismightbenosy,butItoldhimaboutmynotebook.I’mowedasecret.
“Asongthatmightbeaboutwatches.Orsomethingelse.”Hisfrowndeepenstocoverhisforeheadinlines.“It’snotgoingwell.”
Ishimmyaroundtoseehimbetter.“Howdoyouevenwriteasong?”
Herubsthebackofhisneck.“I’vebeenaskingmyselftheexactsamequestion.”
Itossapillowathim.“Seriously.Doyoustartwiththewords?”
“Sometimes.Usuallyamelody.Occasionallyanideaorafeeling.”
“Whatdoyouhavesofar?”
Hesitsupandsmilesatme.“Wouldyouliketowriteasong,Ari?”
ThatmakesmelaughasIstretchmylegs.“I’mnotcreative.”
“We’reallcreative,”hesays.“Everysinglepersonis,butsomehavebeendiscouraged.Giveitatry.Helpapoor,lostsongwriter.”
Whynot?“Whatareyoustuckon?”
Jihoontossesthenotebookasidetopacetheroom.“Therewasanothermuralinthatalley,besideoneofaflower.Itwasaclockpaintedinacage.AndIthinkofthis.”
Hehumsapartofasongtome,andevenwithoutwords,Ihaveasenseoflonginganddesire.“Thatsoundslikethesingerwantssomething.”
“Theydo.”Jihoonlookspleasedbeforehetapsthesideofhisnosewithhispen.“Thequestioniswhattheywant.”
Ipointatthewatch.“Theywanttime.”
Hegazesathiswatch.“Time,”hemuses.
“Watchesbreaktimeup,”Isay,thinkingofmybillablehours.“Theactofmeasuringmakesusthinkdifferentlyaboutit.”
Jihoon’sheadisbentoverhisnotebookashewrites.“Keeptalking.Please.”
SoIdo,aboutnotmuchandeverything.AndJihoonlistensandwrites,andagainIhavethatsenseofbeingnotonlylistenedtobutheard.
“DoIgetasongwritingcredit?”IaskwhenItakeasipofwater.
Jihoonlooksatmewithwideandshiningeyes,hissmilehuge.“I’llgiveyouanythingyouwant,Ari.”
Anythingcouldbeinteresting.Irestrainmyselffromlookingdowntowherehisshirthasriddenuptoshowtheedgesofthattigertattooandinsteadwishhimagoodnightandleavehimonthecouchwritingaway.
AsIgotobed,IwonderwhatthesongwillsoundlikeandifI’lleverhearit.Thirteen
Jihoontextsmeshortthoughtsandphotosofwhathe’sdoing.He’sastream-of-consciousnesskindofguy,soIgetrandomsnippetsofwhatheoverhearsonthestreetandhisobservationswatchingpeopletrytofixabrokengateinthepark.They’rethebrightspotsofmyday,andslowlyIstartdoingthesame.Weendupinlong,free-flowingasynchronousconversationsthatserveasasatisfyingdigitalreminderthatotherpeopleexistandthere’slifeoutsidethehallowed,darkwood-paneledhallsofYesterlyandHavings.
Becauseworkseemsabitoff.
Alotoff.
Atfirst,Ithoughtitwasme.Myheadusedtobeabout90percentdedicatedtoworkand8percentthinkingaboutHanaandmyfamily.Theremaining2percentwenttogroomingandotherhumantasks.JihoonandmydadandPhoebehavebargedintoclaimmorethantheirallottedshare.Workhaslostout.
Iglanceatthetime.I’mdueforameetingwithRichard.FormalmeetingswithRichardareusuallygoodnews,andthismustfinallybeaboutBeaconsmith.Iknowit.Ithastobe.I’veworkedhard,harderthananyoneelseatmylevel.DefinitelyharderthanBrittany.BeingaddedtoabignamelikeBeaconsmithisadeclarationofhowmuchthefirmvaluesyou.I’mready.
IarriveatRichard’sofficeattheexactmeetingtime,andhisassistantnodsmeinwithoutlookingupfromherscreen.Richardisfinishingaphonecall,andhepointsmetooneoftheleatherseatsinfrontofhisdesk.Ismoothmyskirtovermyknees,notebookbalancedonmylapasIcrossmyankles.Inevergointoameetingwithoutsomethingtowriteon.
Richardhangsupandsmilesatme.“Howareyou,Ariadne?”
“Good,thanks.”
“How’sMarty?”
RichardistheonlyoneI’veheardcallmydadMarty.I’mnotsureDadwouldlikemetospreadthestoryofhisheartattack,soIsay,“Doingwell.”
“Goodman.”Herestshishandsonhisdesk.“Ihavesomenewsforyoutoday.”
Thisisit.Myheartratepicksup,butImakesuretostaycalm,atleastoutwardly.“Yes?”
“You’llbepleased,especiallyinlightofyourworkwithHyphenRecords.Amostunusualclientforus.Ah,Brittany.Hereyouare.”
What’sshedoinghere?Brittanyslidesintotheseatbesideme.“SorryI’mlate.Meredithwastellingmeaboutthechangesthemarinaisdoingnearthecottage.”
Hewavesthisawayasifhehadn’ttoldmemultipletimesabouttheimportanceofpunctuality.“Iknowhowbusyyouare.Icalledyoubothinbecausewe’remakingafewchanges.”Hedoesn’twaitforareply.“Ariadne,you’vedemonstratedarealskillwithoursmallerclients.I’veheardgoodthingsfromLuxeaboutyourdedicationandprofessionalism.”
I’mholdingmybreathasIwaitforhimtocontinue.Thisisgood,reallygood.
“We’regoingtocapitalizeonthat.Effectivetoday,you’llnowalsoberesponsiblefortheQueen’sBride,whichwasoneofBrittany’sclients.”
“Thewhat?”Isay.
Brittanygivesafakefrownyface.“Lucky.They’reaspa,sofun.”
Aspa?He’sgivingmeaspa?
“ThisfreesupBrittanytotakeonworkwithBeaconsmith.”Hesmilesather.“Anexcellentlearningopportunityforyou.”
“Ilookforwardtoit,”shesays.
“I’vetoldMeredithandtherestoftheteamtobringyouintomeetingsstartingtoday,”hesays.“Iknowyou’lldowell.HavetheQueen’sBridesentovertoAriadne.”
Iknowthesmilehasremainedonmyfacebecauseithurtsmycheeks.IneedtokeepupapositiveattitudeinfrontofRichard,butI’movercomebytheunfairness.Insteadofmeimpressingthebigwigs,Brittany’sgoingtobetheoneintheroomwiththedecision-makers.I’vebeenherelonger.Iputinmorehours.Ididthework.IdeservedBeaconsmith.
Helooksatbothofus.“That’sitfornow.”
IdropmynotebookontheflooraccidentallyonpurposetogivemeanexcusetostaybehindasBrittanybreezesoutthedoortoafriendlyfarewellfromRichard’sassistant.
WhenIlookup,Richardisalreadytypingaway.HestopswhenherealizesIhaven’tleft.“Somethingyouneed,Ariadne?”
“I’mgladtohavethenewaccount,”Isay,decidingtoleadwithapositive.MenlikeRicharddon’tliketobechallenged.SinceIspendmostofmyworkdayaroundmenlikeRichard,evenwhenthey’rewomen,I’velearnedhowtospeakwiththemostmarshmallowofwordswhennecessary.
“Good,”hesays,eyesgoingbacktothescreen.“Iknowyou’llbringyourusualhardworktoit.”
“I’dliketotalkaboutwhenIcanjointheBeaconsmithteamoronelikeit,”Isay.“Thechancetolearnwouldbeveryusefulforme.”
Hiswateryblueeyesrestonme.“It’snaturalyou’dthinkthat,”hesays.“Ifyouproveyourselfwiththeseclients,you’llbeinagoodplace.”
IwanttopointoutthatIalreadyhavebeenprovingmyself,butIsay,“Isthereanareainparticularyouwanttoseesomegrowthfromme?”
Richardholdsuphishand.“You’reagoodlawyer,otherwiseyouwouldn’thavetheworkyoudo.Theseplacementsaresometimesaboutfit.Welookforthelawyerswhoaresuitablefortheteam.”
ItakeadeepbreathasshallowasIcansoRichardcan’tseetheriseofmychest.YesterlyandHavingsisacoldplace,notonlysomencanweartheirblazerseverydayofthegoddamnyearbutemotionallyfrigid.Inormallydon’tmindbecausethatsuitsme.Todayit’slandingharder,andI’mnotsurewhat’schanged.
“Thanks,”Isay.
“Thankyou,Ariadne.”
Ihaveback-to-backmeetingstherestoftheday,whichmeansbythetimeIleave,I’mnumbtowhathappenedbutalsoangry.Suitablefortheteam,hesaid.Nothingaboutmyworkordedicationbutthatephemeralandinarguablequalityoffit.IknowwhatthatmeansandalsothatIhavenodefense.BrittanyandIhavesimilarqualifications,sowhatisitthatmakesherfitandnotme?Coulditbethatsheresemblesallthepartnersandmostofthelawyers,althoughthesupportstaffisasdiverseasthebrochuresatauniversityjobfair?I’mtrappedintosilence,though.Richardwouldbeangrieraboutanyinsinuationofbeingthoughtracistthanhewouldabouttheactualracistshithe’spulling.TocomplainwouldbetopaintatargetonmybackandgoagainstthecheerfulandobligingreputationI’vebeentryingtobuild.
AtextcomesfromPhoebe,remindingmeaboutdinner,asifI’mtheirresponsibleone.Idon’tevenbothertoreply,andIfeelmymooddropanothereightpercentagepoints.IlookatmyphoneandtextamessagetoJihoon.
Me:I’mgoingtomyparents’fordinner.Wanttocome?
Jihoon:Theywon’tmind?
Me:Ofcoursenot.
Eveniftheydid,rightnowhiscompanionshipismoreformethanthem.Ideserveitaftertoday.Plus,Jihoon’spresencewillforcePhoebetobeonherbest—oratleastbetter—behavior.
Jihoon:Thankyou.Iwouldlovetomeetyourfamily.
Me:I’llbehomesoon.
KnowingJihooniscomingmakesmelookforwardtothisdinner.Ilikehavinghimnear,withhiscrookedsmileandthewayhethrowshisheadbackwhenhelaughs.Ilikehowhelooksattheworld,sodifferentthanIdo.Hegivesmeabreakfrommyself.
TheprofessionalsmileIputonasIleavetheofficeisalittlewarmerbecauseI’mthinkingaboutJihoon.Itdoesn’tmatter.Idon’tseeanyoneasImakemyescape.Fourteen
“What’swiththepresents?”Ipointtotheboxofchocolatesandflowershe’scarryingaswewalktothecar.
“I’mgoingtothehomeofyourparents,”hesays.“It’spolite.”
“Theywon’tcare.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“Ido.”
We’requietforabitaswegetinandIstartthecar.FinallyJihoonleansover.“You’rethinkingsohard,Icanhearyou,”hesays.“Whatgoingon?”
“Nothing.Workstuff,butit’snotabigdeal.”
“Ari.Youhelpedmewithmyworkissues.Tellme.I’mhereifyouwanttotalk.”
Tomyshame,tearsprickatthebackofmyeyes.Idon’twanttotalk,butifIdon’t,I’llexplode.That’snotagoodmindsetbeforegoingintoafamilydinner.Igivein.“They’regivingmelessimportantclients.Iknowtheyare.”
“Whathappened?”
IkeeptothefactsasItellhimaboutBeaconsmithandtheQueen’sBride,andhehumsalongtoshowhe’slistening.“I’mnotsurewhattodo,”Isayattheend.
“Doyouwantmetolistenorgiveadvice?”
“Howareyousogoodatthis?”HemakesmefeellikeIliveinacaveandthrowsticksasmyprimarycommunicationmethod.
“Mycompanyhastherapistscomeinandtrainusinconflictresolution,”hesays.“Youcan’tcreatetogetherwithoutbeingabletotalk.”
Ithinkaboutit.“Advice,then.”
“Youneedtodecidewhatyouwantoutofthis,”hesays.“DoyouwanttotakeBeaconsmithfromBrittany?DoyoutrulycareabouttheQueen’sBride?”
“TheQueen’sBridemightbemoreinteresting,butthere’smoretoit.”
“Richardisnotvaluingyourcontributions.”
“That,too.”Istopataredandglanceover.Hemotionsformetokeeptalking.“Iexpectedit,youknow?I’membarrassedthatImisjudgedit.LikeIwasafinalistforanawardandwaitingtohearmynamebutherswascalled.”
“Iunderstand.”
Onlytwowordsandhedoesn’taddonanyuselessreassurance.Justsympathy.Ifeelhereallydoesgetit,andthat’senoughtomakemetakeadeepbreath.“Ifeelbetter,”Iadmit.“Thanks.”
Hesmiles.“I’mgladyoutrustedme.”
We’reinourownthoughtsfortherestoftheride,butit’sacomfortablesilence.Therushhourtrafficeases,andwemakegoodtimetomyparents’house,astandardsuburbanbungalowwithayardedgedbyahighwoodenfenceandtwocarsinthedriveway.Wegetout,andJihoonstopstofluffuptheflowerblossoms.He’sfrowning,andItouchhisarm.
Hetakesmyhandandlacesourfingerstogetherasheleansagainstme.I’mtakenabackbythisshowofvulnerabilityandtheintimacyofhishandinmine.
“Theywon’tbite,”Iassurehim.Igivehishandasqueezeforgoodmeasure
“Iwantedtocomewithyou,butIgetnervousbeforeImeetnewpeople,”hesays.“Thatthey’reyourparentsmakesitworse.”
Emotionalopennessisn’treallymywheelhouse,sothere’snowayIcanmeethimhalfwayonthis,butIgiveitashot.
“Ifeelthesameway,”Isay.“Once,whenIhadtomeetmyex-boyfriend’sfamily,Ichickenedoutandhidintheirgarden.Theygrewcorn,soIthoughttheycouldn’tseeme.”
“Couldthey?”
Inod.“Theywereallwatchingmefromthewindowandlaughing.Wedidn’tlastlongafterthat.WhatI’mtryingtosayis,nomatterwhat,youcan’tdoasbadasme.”
“Areyoutryingtomakemefeelbetter?”Hetiltshisheadtotheside.
“Ifit’sworking.”
Helaughsandpullsmyhanduptogiveitakiss.“Oddly,itis.”
“Good.”Ileadhimtowardthedooranddomybesttonotthinkaboutthepressofhislipsonmyskin.
Weuntangleourselvestoknock,butJihoonretreatsahalfstepbehindme.BeforeIcansayanythingencouraging,thedooropens.
“Ariadne,howwasthetraffic?”Dadlooksbetterthanhedid,butthere’saslacknessaroundhisfaceIdon’trememberfrombefore.OrperhapsI’monlynoticingitnow.HeglancespastmetoJihoon.
“Trafficwasfine.Dad,thisisChoiJihoon.He’sHana’scousinfromSeoul.”
“Jihoon,nicetomeetyou.”Dadgiveshimasmallsmilebeforeextendinghishand.
Jihoonbowsandshakeshishand,thenpassesoverthechocolateandflowers.“Mr.Hui,I’mgladtoseeyou’rebetter,”hesays.
Dadlooksconfused,andIdomybestnottonudgeJihoonintosilence.“Jihooncamewithmetothehospital,”Iexplain.
“Ah.”Dadstepsasidetoletusin.“Theymadeitoutworsethanitwas.CallmeMartin.”
Jihoonopenshismouth,andIinterruptbeforehecansaysomethinganyonenormalwouldfindcaringandpoliteandDadwouldfindpainfullypersonal.“IsMomcooking?”Iask.
Thehouseisquietbecausemyparentsneverhavebackgroundnoiselikemusicortalkradioorthetelevision.MomcomesoutofthekitchenandwaveshellotoJihoon.“Goodtoseeyouagain,”shesays.“I’mfinishingdinner,butgorelaxwithPhoebe.Martinwillhelpme.”
“Coming,Soolin.”Dadnodsatme.“Youheardyourmother.Talktoyoursister.”
Phoebe’snotinthelivingroom,butshepopsherbleachedheadaroundthecornerasecondlater.“Hey.”ShewavesatJihoon.“I’mPhoebe.ThanksforbringingAritoseeDadinthehospital.Sheprobablywouldn’thavelefttheofficeotherwise.Wine?”
“Iwasdonewithworkfortheday,andyoucouldn’tevenbebotheredtogettherighttrain,”Isay,myvoicealreadytight.“Nowineforme,I’mdriving.Jihoon?”
“Thankyou.”Hesmilesasifunawareofthestrainintheroom,althoughIcanfeelhimtense.
Phoebemanifestsabottleandtwoglasseslikeamagician,andIcheckthelabel.“Wheredidthiscomefrom?”Myparentsarenotthekindtohaveawinecabinet,especiallysinceMomgoesmaroonafterhalfaglassofchardonnay.ThankGodthatgeneticgiftskippedmeover.
“Ibroughtit,ofcourse.ThishouseisdrierthantheAtacama.”PhoebegivesJihoonaglassandcheckshimoverwhenhesitsbesidemeonthecouch.“Hana’scousin,huh?Iseeit.When’sshebackfromVancouver?”
Sheremembered.Thisisapleasantconversation.It’sgoingpleasantly.Myshouldersdropdownacentimeter.“Anotherweekorso.”
“Iusedtolivethere.Itwasgorgeousbuthadtoomuchrain.”Sheshudders.
Ididn’tknowshe’dlivedthere.Theysiptheirwine,andPhoebefidgets.“CanIputontheTVorsomemusic?”sheasks.“Inthebackground.”
“God,yes.”Ididn’trealizehowheavysilencecouldbeuntilImovedawayfromhome.Noiseisasociallubricant,likealcohol,pets,orextroverts.
Afterabriefstruggle,sheconnectsherphonetothescreenandstartsrunningaplaylist.“Hopeyoudon’tmindpopmusic,”shesays.“It’sbeenahellofayear,andthealgorithmdecidedIneededtolistentotheuppestoftheupbeat.”
ThescreeneruptsintobluelightbeforesettlingonfivestunningAsianmenstaringseductivelyatthecamera.
“K-pop,Pheebs?Really?”TheoldnicknamecomesoutbeforeIcanthink,butPhoebedoesn’tseemtonotice.
“Theplaylistpickedit,butIbetit’scatchy,”Phoebesays.
“It’sdesignedtobe.”
“Isthereanythingyoucan’tbejudgyabout?”Phoebelookshonestlyinterested,likethisisaquestionofgreatimportancetoher.
“I’mnotjudgy.”
“Sureyou’renot.”
Themusicisfamiliar.“Wereyouplayingthistheotherday?”IturntoJihoon.InstantlyIfeelterribleaboutsubjectinghimtomyargumentwithPhoebeandwhatIsaidaboutthemusic,whichishisjob,Ari,youbonehead
He’stuckedhimselfintothecornerofthecouchandisstaringatthescreenwithblankeyesasifdisassociating.“It’sStarLune,”hesays.“Thesongiscalled‘Candor.’”
“Hey,that’sthebandIaskedyouabout.”It’sfamiliarbecauseit’sonAlex’splaylist.IcanconsiderthisresearchformynewrolewithHyphen.
Phoebelooksatthescreen.“Thatblue-hairedsingerlooksabitlikeyou,fromwhatIcansee.”Themenallhaveextremelyartisticmakeupthatactsalmostlikeamask,completewithfacialgems.
Igiveheralook,andsherollshereyes.“ObviouslyIdon’tmeanthatinanallAsianslookthesameway,”shesays,wavingherhandatherface.
“Igetthatsometimes,”Jihoonsaysbeforehedrinksdownhalfhisglassandhiccups.
“Greatsmokyeye,”PhoebeandIsayatthesametime.Westickourfistsoutateachotherwithoutlooking.“Jinx,”wesayinunison,andIgetaflashofwarmmemory.Thatwasoneofthebestfeelings:afleetingmomentofsomeonegettingyouperfectly,liketwowavescominginsync.
Theystartdancingagain,andIwhistle.“Didyouseetheoneontheright?”Iexclaim.“Blackhair.”
“Doyouseehowhemovesthosehips?”asksPhoebe.
It’shardtomiss.There’samomentofsilencewhenIwonderifit’sappropriatehostbehaviortobegawkingatavideoofhotmeninfrontofmyguest—alsoanattractiveman,don’tgetmewrong.Astheperformercompletesanillegallyhotbodyroll,Phoebesays,“God,didhevacuumsealthosepantsonhisthighs?”SheturnstoJihoon.“Doyouknowhisname?”
Hismouthisathinline.“TheycallhimKay.He’sknownforhisdancing.”
Phoebedoesn’tanswerbecausewe’rebusyadmiringKayflashhisabs,whichhavestylisticflamespaintedacrosstheleanmuscle.AlthoughKaytheDancerishot,myeyesaredrawntotheblue-hairedsinger.It’ssomethingabouthowhemoves,andyeah.
Thatguyisunreal.
“Notsobad,huh?”Phoebeelbowsme.
Igivein.“Istandcorrected.”
Thesongfinishesandgoesinto“MyFavoriteThings”fromTheSoundofMusicbecause,ofcoursePhoebe’splaylistwouldbeasunpredictableassheis.MysisterproceedstobombardJihoonwithquestions.Whatdoeshedoallday?Howlongishestaying?Hewiltsabitunderthecross-examinationbutmanagestoanswertohersatisfaction.Thencomesthenextvolley.Doeshelivewithroommatesoronhisown?Hashedonehismilitaryservice?Whatdoeshelove?
ThisisthefirstquestionthatJihoonbalksat.“Love?”
Phoebeisintentasshealwaysiswhendiggingpastwhatsheseesasthebourgeoisbullshitofsmalltalktogettotherealperson.“You’reonadesertedisland.What’sthethingyou’ddoeventhoughnooneisthere?”
Jihoon’sgazegoeshazy,asifhe’slookingatthewhitesandandpalmtrees.Imaginarydesertedislandsarealwaystropicalbecausenoone’sgoingtopretendtobeonsomecoldrockinBaffinBayevenasamentalexercise.“Music,”hesaysfinally.“Iwouldwritemusic.”
“Doyoudothatnow?”sheasks.
Henods.“Iworkforanentertainmentcompany.”
“Doyoulikeit?”
“Ido,”hesaysquietly.“Mostly.”
PhoeberegardshimwiththatlookIalwaysshiedawayfromasachild,theonethatwenttoodeep.Iwasgreedyaboutmysecrets,andPhoebewasneveronetoleavewellenoughalone.
Mompokesherheadaroundthedoor.“Dinner,kids.”
Ijumpupwithalacrity,draggingJihoonwithmetowashourhandsbeforeweeat.“Sorryaboutthat,”Isay.“It’showsheis.”
“Willtherebemore?”heasksweakly.
“Almostcertainly.”
“Ishouldhaveprepared,likeforschoolexams.”JihoongamelystraightenshisshoulderstoreadyhisanswersforPhoebe’sdinnerround.
ButPhoebegiveshimtimetodigintotheplaingrilledchicken(tofuforme)andsteamedvegetablesthatDadviewswithdejection.AtleastMomhasachivecreamsaucefortherestofus.TheconversationinEnglishmightbeabitfastforJihoon,becausehe’squietandhiseyesmovequicklyfrompersontoperson,checkingtheirfacesastheyspeak,butitcouldalsobeshellshockfromPhoebe’sbarrageofquestions.
“How’stheoffice?”asksDadashepassesmetherice.
“It’sfine.”
“Thisisthetimeinyourlifetobeworkingforyourgoals.”
“Yeah,Godforbidyoushouldenjoyyourself,”saysPhoebedryly.
“Youcanenjoyyourselfafteryouputinthework.”Dadlaysdownhisfork.
“Martin,there’sahappymedium.”MomglaresathimbeforeputtingonasmileforJihoon.“Morerice?”
HerattemptstoshifttheconversationgounheededasDadturnstoJihoon.“WealwaysknewAriwouldbealawyer,”hesays.“Sameasherfather.”
“I’msureshe’sanexcellentlawyer,”JihoonsaysdiplomaticallyasheacceptsarefillofwinefromPhoebe.
“WeweregoingtobeHuiandHui,untilshedecidedagainstfamilylaw.Brokeherdad’sheart.”
Itrytosmile.“Dad,yousaidyou’dbehappyaslongasIwentintolaw.”
“Right,right.”Hepointshisforkatme.“IknewinmybonesAriadnewouldbetheonetodoit.”
“BecauseI’msuchascrewup,right,Dad?”Phoebe’svoiceistight.
“Ididn’tsaythat,Phoebe.”Dadstaresatheracrossthetable.“However,youcan’tdenyitwouldhavebeenhardforyoutobealawyerafteryoudroppedout.”
“Ineverwantedtobealawyer,notlikethegoldenchildhere.Youwantedthatforme.”
Mymotherturnstoourguest.“Jihoon,youdidn’ttelluswhatyoudo.”
Thepoorguy.Theconversationgoesfromthere,MomandIdoingourbesttoavoiddrawingattentiontothefactthatPhoebeandDadrefusetotalktoeachotherfortherestofthemeal.It’snotasbadassomeoftheHuifamilydinners,butthat’saboutthebestIcansay.Iwishwe’dstayedathomeeatingtakeout.IwishI’ddonethisalone.
Anhourlater,we’rebackinthecarwithcontainersofleftovers.Phoebehadalreadyleftwithasmallwaveandsmallersmilethatdidn’treachpastherlips.Ileanbackagainsttheropeofmyhairandquicklyunbraiditforcomfort.“Sorryaboutthedrama.IshouldgetyouaT-shirtthatsaysyousurvivedtheHuis.”
Tomyastonishment,hewearsahugesmile.“Thankyou.”
“Forsubjectingyoutotheverbaltennisgamethatwassupposedtobedinner?”Icovermyeyeswithmyhands.Whycouldn’tmyusuallyrepressedfamilyhavestiff-upper-lippeditfortwohours?
“Ari.”Heleansoverandtugsmyhandsdown.Islumpbackontheseat,gustingmybreathout.“Yourfamilyiscopingwithwhathappened.I’mgratefultheyopenedtheirhometome.”
Iside-eyehim.“Noonesaysstufflikethat.”
“It’strue.”Herunshisthumbsalongmyhands,whichhehasn’treleased,causingmyheartratetohitch.
He’sgoingtokissme.Iknowhe’sgoingtokissme.Icanseehiseyesflutterfrommyhandstomylipsandthen,ohmy,histonguetoucheshislowerlip
Thestressoftheeveningevaporates.Iwantthis,sobad.IleaninenoughtoencouragebutnottoofarincasehepullsbackandIneedtopretendthisdidn’thappen,likefakefixingmyhairafterIwaveatsomeonewavingatthepersonbehindme.
Hecomescloserandmyheartthumps.
Iwait,butinsteadofakiss,hedragshishandupmyarmtomyshoulderandtrailshisfingeralongthebareskinabovemycollar.Hiseyesdroptotracethepathdownmythroatashishandmovestomyhairanddriftsslowlyacrossmyback.He’sactinglikehehasallthetimeintheworld,andIwonderwhathewoulddoifImovedtoclaimhimfirst.InsteadIwait,enduringthissweetestoftorturestoseewhathedoes.
Itseemslikeforever.Thenhislipspressagainstmine.Fifteen
Thismustbemyrewardforgettingthroughtheevening.Afterthatfirstsoftbrushofhislips,Jihoonpullsbackandrubshisthumbovermycheek.
“Ari?”
“Getbackhere.”NowthatIknowwe’reonthesamepage,I’mmoreconfidentaboutgoingforwhatIwant,whichishishandsonmeandmineonhim.IalsoknowI’vewanteditsinceIwatchedhimcookmedinnerthatfirsttime.
Jihoonlaughsandmeetsmehalfway.Wemakeoutliketeenagersinmyparents’driveway,Jihoon’shandsrunningdownmyloosehairashepullsmecloser,bothofustryingtoavoidgettinglethallygoredbythegearshift.
Exceptthisisnothinglikebeingateenager,becauseJihoonknowsexactlyhowtotouchmeuntilallIcanthinkaboutishim.Idimlyrecallmydecisiontonotgetintoodeep,butthatwasbasedonincompleteinformation—namelyhowgoodakisserheisandhowperfecthistouchfeels.Mynewknowledgehasforcedanextremeandsatisfyingcoursecorrection.
Ileanbackinandtakemytimeashismouthlingersonmine.Hishandcomesdowntorestagainstmyhipandhetriestopullmecloserinapossessivemovethat’sstymiedbytheconsole.Heleavesagentlekissonmylowerlip,anotheronthecornerofmymouth,thensitsback,smiles,andtouchesmyface.“Ididn’tnoticemuchaboutdinnerbecausekissingyouwasallIcouldthinkabout.”
Istartthecarwithshakinghands,eagertogetgoingbeforeIdraghimintothebackseat.“Thatwoulddefinitelyhavechangedthedirectionoftheconversationoverdessert.”
BecausethisisJihoon,LordofFeelings,hewantstotalkasIdrive,whereIwouldliketosilentlyrelivethemoment.However,Ialsowanttoknowwhatthismeansandwhatitmeanstohim.IthasthebonusofkeepingmefromthinkingabouttheropesaroundmychesttightenedbyPhoebeandDad.
“I’vethoughtaboutkissingyousincethedayyoupulledaknifeonme,”hesaysthoughtfully.“AfterIcalmeddownandrealizedIwasn’tgoingtodie.”
Forthatlong?Iglanceovertofindhimlookingatmewiththatsmallsmilethatseemssoprivate,alookforthetwoofus.Hecontinues,“PerhapsIshouldn’thavebecauseI’mleavingsoon.”
Igivetheroadaheadofmeaneutralnod.Thisistrueenough,althoughI’ddoitagaininaheartbeat.
“You’vebecomeallIcanthinkabout.Yourlips.Yourhair.”Here,hereachesoverandwrapsalockaroundhisfingerbeforereleasingit.“HowmuchIliketobewithyouandtalkwithyou.”
“Okay,”Isay.Thesearenicethingstohear,butit’sdifficultformetoreturnthemorevenacloseproxy.Insteadofwords,Ireachoverandtouchhishand.Hebringsminetohislipsandkissesmypalm,chinslightlystubblyandgivingmeshivers.ItakemyhandbacksoIcanfocusontheroad.
“Idon’tknowwhatcanhappen,Ari.”Hedoesn’tsounddefeatedorupset.Merelystatingafact.
Imullthisover.“Areyouusuallyimpulsive?”
AsIcheckmyrearviewmirrortochangelanes,hecurlsbackintothecarseat.“Idon’tknow.”
“Youareoryouaren’t,”Isay.“It’slikebeingatalkerorlistener.YoucametoCanadaonawhim,ifthathelpsyoudecide.”
“Perhapsit’sthewrongquestion.Ipreferthisratherthanimpulsiveornot.”HespeaksinKoreanbeforetranslating.“Itmeanstolivewithyourheart.”
Livewithyourheart.“Followyourpassion,youmean?”
Jihoontwistsinhisseattolookatme.“Yes,butmore.”Hethinks.“Everythinginvolvesyourheadandyourheart.Whatyoushoulddoandwhatyouwanttodo.Sometimestheyarealigned.Oftentheyarenot.”
“Whenthere’snoconflict,there’snodecisiontomake.”
“Yes.Tolivewithyourheartmeansthatwhentherearechoicestobemade,youmaketheonethatthrillsyourheart,notplacatesyourmind.Impulsivitydoesn’tcomeintoitbecauseeitherit’stherightdecisionornot.Howquicklyyoumakeitisirrelevant.”
Iwaitforthelighttoturn.“Isthataspirationalorinpracticeforyou?”
Hehumsafewbeatstothesongontheradioasheconsidersthis.“Aspirational,usually.”HeshrugssofatalisticallyIcanfeelit.“Aguideratherthanacommand.Lifeislifeandit’sunpredictable.Howaboutyou?”
LivingwithyourheartisexactlywhatIdon’tdo.“Thinkingwithyourhead,”Isay.
“Doesitmakeyouhappy?”
IfeelmyheadandhearthavebeenondivergentpathsforawhileandI’veonlyjustnoticed.“Notsure.”
We’requietforabit,listeningtotheradio.“DidyourparentsbothcomefromChina?”heasksasifhe’sbeenthinkingaboutit.
“No,mymom’sparentsimmigratedherefromMalaysiabeforeshewasborn,andmydad’sfamilyhasbeeninCanadasincethelate1800s.”
It’saquestionIgetalot.PeopleseemtoforgetAsianimmigrantshavebeenmakinghomeshereforgenerations.Someofmyteachershadbeenopenlyastonishedthatneitherofmyparentshadanaccent,likesomehowitwasasmuchapartoftheAsianphenotypeasblackhair.
“Yourfather’sfamilycamefromChina?”
“TheycamefromsouthernChinatoworkontheCanadianPacificRailway.Dadsayswe’redescendedfromoneofthreebrothers.Theothertwodiedduringtheconstruction.”Likehundredsofothers.Irememberinschooltheteacherbarelypausingonthatpageinthehistorytextbook.“Myancestormarriedamerchant’sdaughter,Iwastold.”
“Yourcountryhasmuchimmigration,”hesays.“Somanydifferentpeople.”
“WelookChinese,buttheclosestPhoebeandIgottoChineseculturegrowingupwasgoingtoChinatownfordimsumandgettingredenvelopesforLunarNewYear.”Alwayswithtenbucks,nomatterhowoldwewere.
“Wegotsebaedon,”hesays.“MyfavoritetimeofyearwhenIwasyoung.”
Isigh.“It’sweird.IlookChinesebutI’mCanadian.”It’sfrustratingtoexplainthisbecauseIamobviouslyChinese,ethnically,andatthesametime,I’mnot.OramI?Whatdoesthatevenmean?WhydoIevenassumethattobeCanadianmeansyoucan’tbeChineseatall,thatonlyaBrittanyoraRichardcanwearthatmantle?IcanhearHana’svoiceintoning,Internalizedracism,duh
Jihoonthinksaboutthisforabit.“Youareexpectedtobesomeoneyou’renotbecauseofhowyoulook.”
“Peoplesometimeshavetroublewhenyourfacedoesn’tmatchyourculture,”Isay.“TheycometomewithideasofhowIshouldbe,whatIshouldeatandlikeandthink.IfmygrandparentswerefromFrance,noonewouldexpectmetogoaroundwearingaberetorcometomeforbaguetterecommendations.”
HenodsasIkeepgoing.
“Iwasraisedhere.Apartfrommyappearance,there’snothingthatconnectsmetoChina.”
Hetouchesmyarm.“Yougettochoosewhoyouare,Ari.Nooneelse.”
Irelentabit.“ItsoundslikeIhatebeingChinese.Idon’t.IlovebeingwhoIam.Ionlywishotherpeoplecouldacceptmeformeandnotmakeupapersonbasedonmyappearance.”
“Thattakestime,andmanypeoplewouldprefertheeaseofsuperficialjudgment,”hesays.
“Iknow.”Anadaboutmufflerscomesontheradio,andIturnthechannelwithoutthinking.“Hey,it’sthatsongweheardbeforedinner.”
There’snoanswer,soIglanceovertoseeJihoonstaringatthedashboardasifit’sgoingtosproutsnakes.“‘Candor,’”hesays.Hesquintsatthedial.“ThisisaCanadianradiostation?Broadcastradio?”
Icheckthestation.“Yeah,theyplayalotofpop.FirsttimeI’veheardK-pop,though.”
“No,”hesayssoftly.Hewearsabigsmile,Iassumefromhearingasongfromhomeontheradio.“It’snotusual.”
“What’sitabout?”Iaskwhenthesongends.Iwasn’tpayingfullattentiontotheEnglishpartofthelyrics.Ihazardaguess.“Love?”
Helaughs.“Mostsongsare,aren’tthey?Thisisaboutaloveofhonesty,toseewhat’sinfrontofyouwithcleareyesuncloudedbywhatyouwishtosee.”
Ifrown.“Really?Itsoundssopeppy.Dancy.”
Icanfeelhimturnhisfacetowardme.“Therecanbeseriouslyricstoupbeatmusic,”hesays.“Youexpectedittobe‘baby,mylifeisnothingwithoutyourloveboomboomyah’becauseit’saK-popband?”
“No.”Ispeakwithsomeauthoritybecause,despiteJihoon’simpromptusongwritingtutorial,Ihaven’tthoughtdeeplyaboutwhatK-popsongswouldbeaboutinthefirstplace.AlthoughI’velistenedtoAlex’splaylist,mostofthelyricsareinKorean,soIhavenoideawhatthesongsareabout.MynextstepisdoingsomeresearchintothisStarLune,butIhavetimebeforeIstartwithHyphen.I’mabouttoaskJihoonmoreabouttheindustry,butherunshishanddownmythigh,givingmeshivers.There’stimeenoughforworkquestionslater.
Trafficislight,andwearrivehomequickly.I’mbothpleasedandanxiousaboutthis.Akissinthecarisonething,butIdon’tknowwhat’sgoingtohappennext.Mydoubtsdisappearwhenhegathersmecloseintheelevatorandlooksatmewithhiseyeshalf-closedandlipsredandparted,aseverelysultryexpressionthatmakesmythighssqueezetogether.
Livewithyourheart,hesaid.Easiersaidthandone,butforonceI’mgoingtoworkwithitandworryabouttheconsequencesinthemorning.Theelevatordingsandwepullback.
Inearlydropthekeytryingtoopenthedoor.Jihoonpushesmyhairasidetonuzzleatmyneck,onehandonmywaistandtheotheronthedoorframebymyhead,andwefallintothelamp-litroom.Histouchmakesitfeellikehe’severywhere,anditoverwhelmsmeinthebestway.Wetakeaquickbreaktokickoffourshoes,andthenIleadhimovertothecouch.It’sagoodintermediaryplacebecausecouchessayI’mintothiswithouttheimplicitexpectationsofthebedroom.
“Thisokay?”Iaskhim,sittingdownandgivinghishandalittlepull.
“Veryokay.”HerunshisfingersthroughmyhairuntilIbringhimclose.
WhenIwaskissingmylastboyfriend,mymindwasusuallyhalfonhimandhalfonwork.Thatdoesn’thappenwithJihoon.Histouchfillsmythoughts,butitdoesn’tfeelstrangeorawkward.Itcomesinwavesofsensation,hishandonmyskinandminerunningthroughhishair,softdespitetheblackdye.
Ipushhimbackuntilhe’slyingonthecouchandbendoverhim,myhairfallingarounduslikeatent,hidingusawayfromtheworld.HepullsmedownsoIcanmouthkissesalongthatstunningjawline.Themusclesinhisnecktenseasheturnshisheadtogivememoreaccesstohisthroat,andhemakesaneedysoundthatmakesmedizzy.
I’msointohimthatIdon’tregistertheclickinthelockuntilHana’svoiceringsoutajaunty,“I’mhomeearly!”Sixteen
I’veknownHanaChoifortenyears.
She’smybestfriendandprobablythemostimportantpersoninmylife.Sheknowsmebetterthananyone.We’veweatheredafullspectrumofemotionalcrisesincludingbreakupsandworksetbacksandhermotherandmysister.
Iwouldtrustherwithmylife.
RightnowIcouldalsohappilyshootheroutofacannon.Inmypanic,IpushawayfromJihoon,whorollsoffthecouchwithshockingspeedandintothechairbesidemeinasinglefluidmotion.BeforeIcanreacttohischeetah-likereflexes,he’sgothisphoneout,pretendingtobescrolling.HeghostsmeawinkasIrapidlysmoothmyhairdown.
Luckily,Hanaistoobusywranglingherbagstonotice.Jihoonjumpsuptohelp,andIheadtothekitchenandcasuallyshovemyfaceintothefridgetocoolmystubble-burnedcheeks.
OnceHana’sluggageisin,shebeamsatme.“Iwantedtosurpriseyou!Mylasttrainingmodulewaspostponed,soI’mbackaweekearlytospendsometimewithmyfavoritecousin.”Withasqueal,shegrabsJihooninahug.“HasAribeentreatingyouwell?How’syourdad,Ari?”
Jihooncastsmeadolefullookoverhershoulder.NowthatHana’shere,whatevercouldhavehappenedistemporarilyconsignedtothedumpster.TheystarttalkingasIheatsomeofMom’sleftoversforHana.
ShehasthenextfewdaysoffworktobeJihoon’stourguide.Itrynottobejealous.Afterall,it’snotlikeIcouldtakeoffworktospendthattimewithhim.
“Iknowmecomingbackmessesupyourplantostayhere,”shesaystoJihoonasshedigsintothefood.“Goodnews,though.There’saguydownthehallwhodoesanAirbnb.It’sconvenientandwaymoreprivatethanahotel.”
Thishaspotential.WhenIglanceover,IseeJihoonwigglinghiseyebrowsatmeandhavetocovermylaughwithacough.
WeagreeHanawillsleepwithmeandJihoonwillkeepherroomfortonight.HefollowsmetothekitchenwiththeemptyglassesandwaitsuntilHana’sbackisturnedtodipandgivemealightning-fastkissonthecheek,nearthecornerofmymouth.“Youdon’twantHananunatoknow?”hewhispersinmyear.
“Notyet.”She’llgivemethethirddegreeaboutmyintentionsandwhatI’mthinking.I’mnotreadyforthat.
“Whateveryouwant,Ari.”Hetouchesourforeheadstogetherandsqueezesmywristbeforewegobacktothelivingroomtoexchangepolitegood-nights.Histouchwasfeatherlight,buttheimprintofhisfingersstaysonmyskinasIgotomyroom.
Hanafollowsmetobed.
“Whatatrip.”Sheyawns.“ThanksagainforlookingafterJihoon.”
“Itwasnoproblem.”Ikeepmytoneneutral.
Hanacollapsesbackonthebed.“Howwasdinneratyourparents’?WasPhoebethere?”
Istretchthetightnessfrommyneck.“Itwasamess.DadandPhoebefoughtrightinfrontofJihoon.”
Hereyebrowsriseslightly.“Youbroughthimtodinner?”
Thelookshe’sgivingmakesmealittlesquirrelly.“Youtoldmetobeagoodhost.”
“It’sthatyouneverdothat,”Hanasays.“IttooksixyearsbeforeIhaddinnerwithyourfolks.”
“Well,begratefulyouweren’ttheretonightbecausePhoebequizzedthepoorguy.”
Hanabitestheconversationalshiftbait.“Areyougoingtoseeher?”
“Isawhertonight.”
“Youknowthat’snotwhatImean,”Hanasaysgently.
“What’sthepoint?”Iopenadrawerwithenoughforcethatitnearlycomesoutintomyhands.“She’stheonewhosaidshewouldcalltomeetup.Newsflash,shehasn’t.”
“Haveyoutoldherhowthatmakesyoufeel?”
“Ifeelfineaboutit.”Isnatchoutapairofcleanpajamas,neatlyfoldedintoflatsquares.
Hanaexhales.“Idon’tknowwhattosaywhenyougetlikethis,butIknowyoudon’tlikehowthingsarewithher.”
“Idon’tlikelotsofthings,”Isay.“Likethewaterthatcomesoutwhenyoudon’tshakethemustardenough.”
Shefrowns.“Yeah,buttheliquidthatpoolsonthetopoftheyogurtisworse.”
“Debatable.Mypointislife’snotaboutlikingeverythingthathappens.Sometimesyoudealwithit,andthat’senough.Youpourouttheyogurtwater.Youwipeoffthesoggybun.”
“Thisisadifferentlevelthanawethotdog.”Hanatucksherarmsunderherhead.“Phoebe’syouronlysister.”
Idon’tanswerbecauseit’slate,andI’mtired.AsIstandintheshower,Hana’swordscomeback,andIstickmyfaceunderthewatersotherushingsoundfillsmyears.Shedoesn’tunderstandhowunreliablePhoebeis.Howcanyoutrustsomeonewholeavesforsomethingbetter,nomatterhowmuchyouwantthemtostay?Loveisn’tenoughsometimes.
Istickmytongueoutatthewallandfinishup.NothingwithPhoebehaschangedsincesheleft,andIdon’tanticipatethatshiftingnow.Igobacktomyroomandgetintobed,Hanaalreadycurledupandasleep.
SleepcomesslowlyasmythoughtsoscillatebetweenJihoonandPhoebe.
Theearlymorningfindsmeonthebalconyenjoyingthelastcoolbreathsuntilduskfalls.Thedayisalreadycollectingathickhumiditythatcoatsyourskinandlungsuntilyourbodyfeelsalmostsaturated.Ihaven’tyetdonnedtheprisonofmynylonsandamhappyinlooseshortsandnobrawhileIsketchoutadayforHanaandJihoontoenjoy.
It’sself-indulgenttotakethetimetodothiswhenIshouldberuthlesslytriagingmyemails,butmypendoodlesoverapageinmytravelnotepad.Ihaveadigitalplanneraswell—IfoundonecalledEppythat’sgreatfordayorganizingandhasthevacationplanningmoduleofmydreams—butIalwaysstartwithpenandpaper.Ipropmyfeetupagainstthebalconywallandthink.Thereareconsiderationswhendoinganitinerary:energy,goals,andexternalfactors.
Ontheenergyfront:Jihoonwillbefine,butHanawillbetiredfromhertrip.Alow-keydayisbest.
Goals:It’sbeenawhilesincetheysaweachother,sothey’llwanttotalkandreconnect.Don’tplanactivitiesthatrequirealotoffocusornoise.
Externalfactors:It’sgoingtobeatypicalTorontoAugustday,withdisgustinghumidity,strongsun,andalmost40°Ctemperatures.They’llneedcoolnessandshade.It’salsohightouristseason,andJihoondislikescrowds.NoTorontoIslandsorbigmuseums,althoughthesmalleronesmightwork.
Igointograbarefillofcoffee.OneofHana’shot-pinkmulesliesonitssidebythedoorbesideJihoon’sexpensiveItalianorpossiblyJapaneseluxurybrandleathersneakers.
Instantly,Iknowhowtheirdaylooks.
IcheckafewthingsonlineandbookatablefortheirlunchbeforeIshootatexttoYuko,whopromisestoworkhercontactsforme.IsendHanaanemailwithinstructions—sincebothsheandJihoonareloversofsurprise,Imakethemvagueandprovidescavengerhunt–stylecluesthatareeasytopuzzleout.
Hanacomesoutwearingasheetmask.“Younotgoingtowork?”Shesoundssurprised.
“Iwantedtodosomethingfirst.”
Shenodsandadjuststhemaskaroundhereyesbeforestaringvacantlyattherailinginfrontofus.
“HowwasVancouver,really?”Iask.Hanalovesherwork,butthelongtripscandrainher.
Sherubsherhandonherknee.“Discouraging.It’slikebattlinguphill,youknow?Igotanemailtellingmemyanti-racistseminarwasracist.”
“How?”
Shepullsoutherphoneandreadsfromit.“‘IwasdisappointedtoseetheamountoftimegiventoAsiansoverotherdisadvantagedgroups,whenit’sobviousAsiansbenefitmostfromthesystemandsufferlittlefromdiscrimination.IinviteyoutositwiththeideathathavingaChinesewomaninchargeofthetraininginsertedunnecessarybiasintowhatmighthavebeenathought-provokingseminar.Afterall,alliessuchasmyselfareworkingonlisteningandlearninginordertoholdspaceforthosewhotrulyrequireourhelpandunderstanding.’”
Iwanttopunchthewall,andthroughthewall,thisdipshit,onHana’sbehalf.“Iassumeyou’retheChinesewoman?”
“AllAsiansareChinesetoLadyWokeness.”Sheshutshereyesanddropsthephoneonherlap.“Shekeptinterruptingme,too.”
“You’redoinggoodwork,”Iencourageher.“Important.Youmightnotseeadifferencerightaway,butovertimeyouwill.”
“Iguess,”shesayswithoutenthusiasm.“Itsuckstoseealltheexcusespeoplewillgivetoavoidthinkingtheyshouldeverhavetochange.Thatwomancan’tevenseehowshe’scontributingtotheproblem.”
Ireachoverandgivehershoulderasqueeze.“Takesometimetorelax,”Isay.“Youputalotintoyourwork,butyoucan’tburnout.”
Sheoffersatinysmiletothesky.“Toolate.”
Igetthehinttoleavewhenshecloseshereyes.I’mdefinitelygoingtobelatebutcan’tbringmyselftocareasIcheckthroughtheirdayoncemoretomakesureit’sperfect,especiallynow,knowinghowbeatHanais.Iwanttogiveheratleastafewhourstoenjoyherself.
MyeffortisvalidatedwhenbothHanaandJihoonsendmemessagesthatrunfromhappyemojistophotosofwheretheyarethroughouttheday.Firstistheirprivatedocent-guidedtouroftheBataShoeMuseum,withHanaposinginfrontofagiganticsneaker,thenlunchatalittleplacewiththebestcapresesaladintown.EachmessagegivesmeasatisfactionthatI’mnotfindingintoday’sbriskemailsandboringmeetings.AsIcheckmyphoneforthethirty-sixthtimeinthelasthour,anotificationdropsdown.
Phoebe:Hey
Islowlytipthephonebackonthetableandregarditlikeatarantula.Phoebeisreachingouttome.Why?
Youcanfigureitoutbyansweringthetext,genius.
Idon’twanttobecauseIamavengefulandsmall-mindedhuman.Idon’tneedtofullyanalyzetheswirloffeelingsinmygutrightnowbecauseit’senoughformetoknowthatifIpickupthatphone,Ilosetheupperhand.MyrefrainformostofmylifehasbeenthatifPhoebewantstotalk,it’suptohertomakethemove,familydeserterthatsheis.
Nowshe’scallingmybluff.
Ilookoutthewindow,wishinglifecouldbestraightforward.Iwantmysister,butIwanttokeepthisanger.It’sfamiliarandprotective.
Shemightnotwantanythingfromyou.ShemightbetellingyoutopickupapackofhotdogsforDad.No,theheartattack.Tofudogs.
Thenitsinksin.IcouldhavelostDad.Ididn’tandIwaslucky.Nowmyonlysisterhassentmeasingletextthatsayshey,andallIcandoisangst.
Ipickupthephone.What’sup?Itextback.
Wantedtoknowifyouwerefreetonight.Quickdrink?Ifoundacoolplacenearus.
Ipushawaymyinstantno.ItmightbegoodforustomeeteventhoughI’msuspiciousaboutthetiming.Solittleadvancewarningmightmeanshegotstoodupandshe’sbottom-feedingforsomeonetogooutwith.
Inearlysmackmyself.Phoebemightnotbeagreatsister,butshe’smysister.Ineedtohaveabetterattitude.
Sure.Ideleteit.Tooneedy.
Fine.Nope,toopassive-aggressive.
Soundsgood.That’stheGoldilocksofreplies,positivebutnotdesperate.Itakeofftheperiodtoavoidpeskypunctuationissuesandsendit.
Phoebe:9pmokordoyouneedmoretimeatwork?
Ieyethephonewithsuspicion,asthisisnotthePhoebeIknow.ThatPhoebewouldmockmeforgivingthemanmyyouthandfreetime.Idecidetotakeitatfacevalue.Thatworks,Ireply.
Seeyouthen.Shetextsmetheaddress.Seventeen
Thedaydragson,andit’shardtofocuswhenI’mthinkingaboutmydatewithPhoebe.TheonlybrightspotisaninvitationtomeettheteamatHyphenintwoweeks.Alexhastoldmeenoughtoknowthatthey’reacasualgroup,sothat’ssomethingtolookforwardto.AtleastHanaandJihoonarehavingfunastheyhavebobaattheparkundertheperfectoaktree.
I’mnotjealous.I’mnot.Life’sabouttrade-offs,andIdidn’tchooseonewhereIhavelazyweekdaysbecauseIwantthatcorneroffice.Theonewiththeleatherandtheview,theroomfilledwithexpensivefurnitureandawards.
Theonefilledwithmorelonelinessandpressure.
MymindisamesswhenIfinallygotomeetPhoebe.Thedoorhandleisoddinmyhand,andIlooktwicebeforeIrealizeit’sabronzecastofthearmfromarecordplayer.
Longplay.LPs.Iopenthedoortoatinyroom.Vinylrecordscoverthewalls,andinthecenterisarectangularbarthatopenstoabackroomblockedofffrompatrons.Thebarsurfaceiscoveredwithrecordplayers.
“Hi,sis.”Phoebewavesfromherseat.She’sdressedsimplybutaccessorizedsowellthatIfeelalmostaggressivelyunexciting.MysisteriscomfortableinherskinandherclothesinawaythatI,camouflagedtoblendinwiththerestofthecorporatedronesatYesterlyandHavings,amnot.“Isn’tthisplacecute?”
There’sacouplesharingheadphonesontheothersideofthebarandafewlonerslostintheirprivatemusic.Ismileather,genuinelyenchanted.Thiswackyhole-in-the-wallhasagreatfeel.“Ilikeit.”
“Iknewyouwould.Drink?”
Ilookatthemenu,gladthedrinksandthebarprovidetalkingpointsuntilalcoholtakestheedgeoff.“HowdoyougetadrinkcalledNoWeddingsandFourFuneralsfromthreefruitliqueurs,soda,andgrapefruitjuice?”
“Yougoingtotryit?”Sheflipsoverthemenu.
Thatthingisahangoverinaglass.I’mexhaustedandshouldhaveaPerrier.Instead,Inodasmyusualdistasteofsweetdrinksgetspushedasidebycuriosity.“Yeah.”
“I’llgettheCatonaColdBrickWall.”Shesmilesandglancesuptothebartender,who’slingeringinthedoortothebackroom.“IthasChartreuse.Thequeenofliqueurs.”
WeorderandIlookaround.“It’scoolyoucanlistentorecords.”
Shepullsoveracoupleofalbumsandasetofearphonesthataresplitsoeachpersongetsaside.“It’snotgreatforstereosound,buthereyougo.Theysanitizeeverythingbetweencustomers.”
Thebartendercomesbackwithourdrinksinafewminutes.Mineisapasteldreamcompletewithswirlsofsmokebeggingtobepostedonlinewithapithyhashtag.Phoebe’sisapoisonousgreenwithasingleicecubeshapedlikeacat’sheadfloatinginit.
Wetapglasses,sip,andsilentlyswap.Shetriesmineandwrinkleshernose.“Fruity.”
“Herbal,”ImanagetosayabouthersasItrytowipethetasteoffmytonguebyrubbingitagainsttheroofofmymouth.It’slikemeltedcoughdrops—thegrosskind.
Drinkratingscomplete,PhoebeputsonPJHarvey.IconsideranddiscardseveraltopicsofconversationbeforeIsettleon,“YourplaceinMontrealsoundsnice.”That’sneutral,sinceIdidn’ttackonathanksalotfortellingmeyoumoved.PhoebeleftwhenIwasthirteenandshewastwenty,andit’spossibleourrelationshipwastaintedbecauseofalltheegoandagonyofmyearlyteens.
“It’sfun.I’minagoodneighborhood,andit’sclosetotheadagencywhereIwork.”
“Youworkinanoffice?”I’msurprised.Thisdoesn’tmatchmyperceptionofPhoebe.
“WhenIneed.Idofreelancewebdesign,soIcanusuallydothatfromanywhere.”
Istareather.“Sincewhen?”
Phoebepauseswithherdrinkhalfwaytohermouth,andthroughthecurveoftheglass,themeltingcat’sfaceismalevolent.“Afewyearsago.IdabbledandfoundIlikedit,soIdidsomeonlinecourses.”
“Ithoughtyouworkedasabarista,”Isay.
“Idid.Ipickupshiftsatafriend’splaceforfunwhenIfeellikeit.”
Ihidemyconfusioninmydrink.Phoebeseemscontentwithhermix-and-matchlife,butIdon’tunderstandhow.“DidyouseeMomandDadtoday?”
Sherollshereyes.“You’dthinkrapinihadbeenputonthisplanetsolelytotortureDad.HewasmadbecauseMomwon’tlethimbacktoworkmorethanaregularworkday.”
That’slikeDad.“Rememberwhenhebroughthisfilestomyswimminglessonstopickusupandthewindblewthemintothepool?”
“Hejumpedinafterthemfullydressedandheldthemoverhisheadliketrophiesaseveryonecheered.”
Wegrinateachother.Whenweweregrowingup,wespentmostofourfreetimetogethersinceshewatchedmeafterschoolwhenMomandDadwereworking.There’ssecurityinthesememories,andPhoebeistheonlypersontosharetheseexperienceswithme.
Weorderasecondroundofdrinks.IblowcautiontothewindandorderaLittleTroubleinBigChina,apartyofgreenteaandSortilège,aliqueurmadeofwhiskeyandmaplesyrup.PhoebedecidesonKissoftheTitans,withouzo,bananasoda,andmint.
“How’sHana’scousin?”sheasked.“Hewasacutie.”
“OutwithHana.Shecamebackyesterday.”
“Yeah?Havingadventures?”
InodandtellheraboutthedayIplannedforthem.Thebartendercomespartwaythroughmymonologuetoputdownmydrink,completewithadragonpapercutoutandunfurledgreentealeavesatthebottom.Phoebe’shasmostofamintplantstickingoutthetop.Wesipandtradeagain.
“Bananasoda’snotasbadasIthoughtitwouldbe,”Isay.
“Thisisamazing.”ShestealsanothersipofminebeforeIgrabitback.
SheexchangesthealbumfortheSupremes,andwesitinanot-uncomfortablesilence.Isneaklooksatherbetweensips,butPhoebeisfocusedonthedisplayofrecords.
Imissyou.
Iwanttosayit.
InsteadIsay,“Howlongareyoustaying?”
“Notsure.”Sheglancesoveroutofeyessosimilartominethatit’sunnerving,likelookinginaslightlydistortedmirrororanalternatetimeline.“AslongasIneed.I’minnohurry.”
“Don’tyouneedtogetbacktowork?”
“IcanworkfromhereaslongasIwant.”Sheswillshalfherdrinkandgrimaces.TheSupremesinformuswecan’thurrylove.“Itdoesn’tmatteranyway,Ari.There’smoretolifethanwork.”
“Yeah,butyou’llleaveanyway.Youalwaysdo.”
HereyeswidenasItaponthecounter,myearspounding.WhatthehelldidIsay?I’veavoidedtalkingaboutourpastforyears.There’snoneedtobringitup.What’sdoneisdone.
“That’snotfair.”
“Forgetit.”
“No,Ari.Iwanttotalk.Icalledyoutotalk.WhathappenedwithDadmademerealizeIdon’twanttokeepleavingthingslikethiswithyou.”
Shedoesn’tholdmyhandordoanythingsappybecause,asdifferentasweare,we’vebothbeenraisedbyMartinHui,emotionalstatueparexcellence,andSusan(Soolin)Hui,anonlyslightlymoreemotionalbeing.
“Okay,”Isay.
“That’sit?”
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit.It’sfine.”
“It’snot.”
Ifeeltrapped.“Whatdoyouevenwantfromme?YoutookoffwhenIwasakid.Younevercall.Neveremail.Nowyouwantsomespecialsisterbadgebecauseyouapologizedforwalkingoutonmeagain?”
“Ofcoursenot.”Sheglaresatme.
“Sorry.Mymistake.”Ilookatthetime.“Ishouldgo.I’vegotaheadacheandworktomorrow.”
“Comeon,Ari.Mylifeisn’tonlyaboutyou.”
“You’vemadethatabundantlyclear.”Idigaroundinmybagandslamsomemoneyonthetable.“Seeyoulater.”
“Don’tbelikethat.Let’stalk.”
“Aboutwhat?”
Shelooksdownatherhands.That’salltheanswerIneed.IfIstayandwetalk,thenIhavetodredgeupyearsofpainthatI’veverysuccessfullytuckeddeepdowninside.
Ifpartofmewantstostay,well,that’sthepartthatalwaysgetshurt.Thepartthatneedstobeprotected.
SoIleave.
Hanaisinbed,inherownroom,whenIgethomeafterawalkthatleftmebothcalmerandmoreconfused.Idon’tknowwhatIwantfromPhoebe,andI’mtootiredtothinkaboutit.
I’mbrushingmyteethwhenatextcomesin.
Jihoon:Imissyou.
IrinsebeforeIreply:DidyouhavefunwithHana?
Jihoon:IloveHana.Iwishyouhadcomewithustoenjoythedayyouplanned.
Me:Work.
Jihoon:Doyouwanttocomeover?
Me:Toyourplace?
Jihoon:Yes.
Momentoftruth.IfIgooverthere,theimplicationofwhatwillhappenisclear.IwillsleepwithJihoonorataminimumgettothebasethat’safterkissingbutbeforesex.
Whateverunitoftimeisfasterthanananosecondiswhatittakesmetodecide.
Me:Yes.
WorryingaboutexplainingtoHanathatI’mhookingupwithherbelovedcousinwhoisleavingthecountrysoonisajobforlater.IsliponsomeclothesandgrabacondomsoI’mpreparedforanydecision.IreconsiderandgrabonemorecondombeforeIcollectmykeys,feelingabitlikeI’msneakingout.Well,IguessIam.MyheartracesasIpullthedooropenslowenoughtopreventanygiveawaysqueaksorcreaks.
ThenallmyplanninggetsshottohellasIslamthedoorshutwithascream.Becausetwomendressedinblackandwearingbaseballcapsandfacemasksarestandinginchesinfrontofme,handsoutstretched.Eighteen
Hanastumblesoutofherroomclutchingtheprotectionbatshekeepsbyherbed.“What?Whatisit?”sheyells.Thensheblinks.“Whyareyoudressedandgoingoutatthistimeofnight?”
Apoliteknockcomesatthedoor,andIbackupasHanamovesforward,batattheready.“Therearetwomenoutside,”Iwhisper.
“Who?”
“Idon’tknow!Ididn’task.Whywouldanymenbethere?JihoonisintheMob,isn’the?”
Hanadropsthebatandscramblestograbit.“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?OfcourseJihoonisn’tintheMob.”
Ibarelylisten.“IbethisgoonnameisHoneyThighsChoi.”
“HisnameisnotHoneyThighs.”
“HoonieThighs,then.”
Beforeshecananswer,wehearanotherdooropendownthehallandaseriesofshockedexclamations.Hanadropsthebat.“Jihoon’stalkingtothem,”shereports,handcuppedoverherear.“They’reKorean.”
“What,likethatexcludesthemfrombeingassassins?”
“Asifassassinsaregoingtocomeforyou,”shescoffs.“Whybotherwhentheycanwaitforyourjobtokillyouinstead?”
“Notthetime,Hana,seriously.”
There’samumbleofvoicesfromthehall,andsheglueshereartothedoor,eyeswidening.“Jihoon’sfriendshavecometovisit.”
“FromtheMob.Nowonderhewearsamaskeverywhere.”
“IsweartoGod,Idon’tunderstandhowyoucanfunctionasalawyersometimes.Theyarefriends,notgoonsorhoodlumsorbosses.IknowbecauseImettheminSeoul.”Shemarchestothedoor,batinhand,andopensit.Nowthatmypanichasreceded,Iseethetwomenhaveluggagethatdonotincludeguncases.Hanagreetsthem,andtheyalllookoveratmethroughtheopendoor.ThenewcomersbowandIwave.Atme,Jihoonmouths,I’msorry
It’sclearmybootycallhasbeenindefinitelypostponed.
Aneighbor’sdooropensdownthehall,andJihoonsnapsathisfriendsasheshovestheminsideourapartment.Foursecondslater,we’reallstandinginmylivingroomsurroundedbytumbledluggageandunease.
ThetwonewguysareglaringatJihoon.Jihoonislookingatthefloor,faceadullred.Hana’seyesflickerbetweenallthree,hermouthathinline.
Thenthere’sme,feelinglikeacompleteoutsider.
Hanafinallysensesmysilententreatytopleasedosomething.“Howaboutsomeintroductions?”shesayspointedlytoJihoon.
“Yes,sorry.Ari,thesearefriendsfromhomewhoarehereforaveryshortandunexpectedvisit.”Heshootsthemalook,butthetallerguysimplyfoldshisarmsoverhischestandshakeshishead.
ItturnsoutthetallguyisKitae,orKit,andmustbeoldersinceJihooncallshimhyeong.TheotherguyisDaehyun.Theypullofftheirfacemasks,andweshakehands,andwow,whatdotheyputinthewaterinSeoul?Evenafterathirteen-hourflight,bothofthemarebeautiful,withthekindofcleareyesandglowingskinIcanonlydreamabout
AtJihoon’shelplessexpression,Hanaobviouslydecidesit’suptohertorestoreorder.“I’msureyouthreehavealottocatchupon,sowhydon’tyoucomeoverfordinnertomorrow?”Sheushersthemoutbeforeanyofthemencansayawordthencomesbackinandshutsthedoor
“Youcanmeetthembetterlater,”Hanasaysasshebalancesthebatagainstthewall.“Caretotellmewhereyouweregoing?”
“Outforawalk.Whoaretheyexactly?”
“FriendsofJihoon’s.Youweregoingoutforawalkat”—hereshegivesherwristanexaggeratedlook,marredsomewhatbythefactthatshe’snotwearingawatch—“midnight?”
“Yes.”Ibrazenitout.
“Right.”Shetakesadeepbreath.“Farbeitfrommetointerferewithyougettingsome,becauseit’sbeenahellofadryspell,butisJihoonthebestidea?”
Icrossmyarms.“Whosaysit’sJihoon?”
“SawyouguysmakingoutwhenIcamehomefrommyworktrip.Iwasgoingtobepoliteandnotsayanything.”
“Oh.”Ibitemylip.“Ididn’tmeanforittohappen.Thisisyourfault.Youdidn’tgivemewarning.Youshouldhaveknownhavingamanlikethataroundmeallthetimewouldbedangerous.”
Shesqueezeshereyesshut.“Please,he’smycousin.”
“I’monlyhuman.”
“Thisisn’tlikeyou,Ari.Iftherewereaposterforplayingitsafe,itwouldfeatureyouwaggingyourfingerbackandforth.”
It’strueenough,andthatbothersmeinawayithasn’tbefore.“Ithoughtaboutit,andlook.Livingtogetherforthreeweeksistheequivalentofahundredfive-hourdates.Attwodatesaweek,that’slikeknowingeachotherforalmostayear.”
“Thatisn’tevenclosetobeingcorrect.”
“AllI’msayingisthatlivingtogetherspedupthecomfortlevelinthegetting-to-know-youprocess.”Iglanceaway.“Ilikehim.”
“Becareful,okay?”Hervoicegentles.“He’sgoingthroughalot,andI’mnotsureifyouwanttogetinvolvedwithamanwho’sleavingthecountry.”
“He’snotleavingrightaway.”
“Ithinkyoutwoshouldtalkaboutthatsoon.”Shetakesherhandoffmyshoulder.“KitandDaehyunarehere.”
“Whywouldthemysterymenmatter?Whyaretheyhereanyway?”
“Worktrip,theysaid.”
“Whatkindofworktrip?Don’ttheyworkforthesameentertainmentagency?Whyaren’ttheyinahotel?”
Thebatfallsagain,andHanabendsovertograbit.“Notsure,”shesaystothefloor,hervoicemuffled.“They’reonabudget?”
I’llfindoutmoretomorrow.Iftonight’sinteractionisanyindicationofwhatthatwillbelike,itsoundslikeadinneratmyfamily’s,filledwithsilentresentmentandloudexpectations.I’llfeelrightathome.
Wegobacktoourrooms,andatextfromJihoonappears.
Jihoon:Thisisn’tthenightIwanted.
Me:It’sokandalsoHanaknowsIwasgoingtoyourplace.
Jihoon:Sorry.
Me:Idon’tmind.
Jihoon:Meneither.Goodnight,Ari.
Hesendsmeaselfieofhimblowingakiss,anditmakesmesmilebeforeIturnoffthelight.Bestnottodwellonwhatcouldhavebeenandgotosleep.IfIneedtobehomefordinnertomorrow,I’llneedtogetintotheofficeextraearly.
HanagreetsmewhenIgetinfromadayofbeingbusilyboredandimmediatelygrabsthebottlessheaskedmetopickupattheliquorstore.“Sojuaswellaswine.That’ssweetofyou,eventhoughIhateit.Atleastyougotpeach.”
“Iwasn’treadyfortheyogurt-flavoredone.”
IlightoneofHana’smanyscentedcandles—CabinSweaterHoliday,amellowblendofsmokywoodandpretension—beforeIgetchangedandfetchglassesfordrinks.Aknockcomesatthedoor,andwhenHanaletsthemenin,myeyesgostraighttoJihoon.Hehasn’ttextedmeallday,andhelooksexhausted.Allofthemdo.Theymusthavebeenuplatetalking,plusjetlag.
Jihoonhandsmeaboxofstrawberrymochiasheredoestheintroductions.Ishakehandsandtrynottostare.Daehyunisdressedinbaggycargopantsandaflannelshirtwithabeanielowoverhisears.Kitisinblackjeansandablackcardiganoverawhiteshirt.Bothliveuptomypreviousimpressionofbeingimpossiblygorgeous.
Hana’susualsocialgracemeanswenavigatethefirstminutesofconversationwithouttoomuchtrouble.ItturnsouttheyneededtocomeforurgentbusinesswithacollaboratingartistanddecidedtostaywithJihoon,buthe’dgiventhemtheoldapartmentnumber.They’dwantedtosurprisehimsohadn’ttextedandwereverysorryforfrighteningme.Daehyunnurseshisdrink,andKit,Jihoon,andHanaalltaketurnsmurmuringtranslationstohim.
It’swhenthefoodarrivesthatIfinallydecidethestrangeatmosphereisn’tmereadingintothings.I’mnotanunintelligentwoman.Igraduatedinthetop5percentofmylawclass.Igotmydriver’slicenseonmyfirsttry,eventhoughtheexaminertriedtotrickmeataright-turn-onlyintersection.IunderstoodtheplottoInceptionwithoutresortingtoWikipedia.
SoIcanseethereareunresolvedissuesswirlingaround.IsJihoonpissedthey’rehere?Thatthey’restayingwithhim?Myegowantstothinkhe’smadbecausetheirarrivalinterferedwithwhatmighthavebeenaveryentertainingnight,butIreluctantlyletthatgo.Hecanprobablycopewithnotgettinglaid.
Whateveritsroot,thetensionebbsandflowsthroughouttheevening.Jihoonsitsbesidemeatdinner,andafterwegobacktothelivingroom,Igrabmyglassandcrackthesojuopen.“No,no,”Kitadmonishesme.“Neverpourforyourself.Youwaitforsomeonetofillitforyou.”
Myhandfreezesonthebottle,andIglanceatHanaandJihoonforconfirmation.Sheshrugs,whileJihoonnodsenthusiasticallyashetakesthebottlefromme.“Whatifnoonenotices?”Iask.
Kitlooksslightlyscandalized.“Peopleshouldnoticebecauseit’spoliteandtheyareawareofwhat’shappeningaroundthem,butifnot,youpoursomeoneelseadrink,andtheywillpouryouone.”
“Eveniftheydon’twantadrink?”Iask.Thatseemsrudeandthewholeritualweirdlyroundabout.Buttheyallseemcontent,andIknowthatI’mtheoddonehere.
“Eventhen.”Jihoonpoursusalladrink.
Idrink,thensnifftheemptyglassinnauseousrecognition.“ThistasteslikeeverydrinkImadeinuniversity,”Isay.“Sweetmixerandvodka.”
Jihoonisalreadypouringthesecondround.“Isthatgoodorbad?”
“Inmyexperience,it’susuallybad,thenbetter,thengreat.Thenverybad.”Icanfeelmybunfallingapart,soItakeitdownandshakemyhairout.
“Youcanalsosaygeonbaewhenyoudrink.It’slikecheers…”Kit’svoicefalterswhenJihoonreachesouttoplaywithalockofmyhairthat’stumbledintohislap.ThenKit’seyesnarrow.Jihoonstaresserenelyback.
There’sabeatofdeadsilencebeforeHanachecksthetime.“Damn,it’sgettinglate.”
Westandinthehallwayatourfrontdoorasweconducttheusualfarewellsandthank-yous.Jihoonducksbackinaftertheothersheadtowardhisdoorandpullsmeclosebeforepressingahardkissonmymouth.He’sgonebeforeIcanreact.
Hanarubsherface.“Dude.Infrontofme?”
“Sorry,”Imumble.
Wegoinandstartclearingdishes.“Yourhairlookedgoodtonight,”Hanasays.“Plusyourassisgreatinthosejeans.”
“Thanks.”Igrabafewglassesandputtheminthedishwasher.“What’sgoingon?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“IknowyouthinkI’moblivious,butifevenIcouldcatchhowthey’reacting,itmustbeabigdeal.AretheymadatJihoon?Ishemadatthem?”
Hanafinishesherwine.“AllIknowiswhenHooniecamehere,theywerelefthangingatwork.They’repeeved.”
“Heseemslikealoyalguy,though.Thatbreakupmusthavebeenimpressive.”He’snevertalkedaboutit,andIpullbackeverytimeIwanttoask.There’snopoint.He’sonlyhereforawhilelonger,afterall,andthenwhateverwehavewillbenothingbutamemory.
Hanarinsestheglassunderthetap.“Peoplemakestrangedecisionswhenthey’reattheirend.”Shelooksatmewithoutherusualsmile,andI’mtheonetolookaway.
Thatnightbeforebed,atextcomesfromJihoon:CanIseeyoutomorrow?
Me:Afterwork?
Jihoon:Please.I’dliketobealonewithyou.
HowcanIsaynotothat?Igotosleepwithabigsmile.Nineteen
ThephoneringsasI’msullenlyluggingmyheavyworkbagoffthesubway.It’sJihoon.Odd,he’sbetterontext.
“Whereareyou?”Hisvoiceisurgent.
“Hello,Ididhaveaniceday.Thankyouforasking.”
“Ari,thisisserious.Whereareyou?”
Iswingmybagtomyothershoulder.“I’minthealleynearthesubway.What’sup?Doyouneedsomethingfromthestore?”
“Whatdoyousee?”
“Why?”
“Please.”
Isigh.“Thealley.There’sasquirrel.WhatamIsupposedtosee?Twosquirrels?”
Myphonebeepsanotification,followedbyafewmore.There’snocellreceptiononthesubway,sothesemustbeallthemessagesthatcameinwhileIwasintransit.There’smorethanusual.Nodoubtanothermeaninglessworkcrisis
Jihoondoesn’tlaugh,andawaveofapprehensionflowsthroughme.HisworrymustbecatchingbecauseIswearIhearshoutingfromthenextstreet.There’saburstofKoreanfromJihoon’ssideashetalkstosomeone.Hecomesbackontheline.“Iwantyoutodomeafavor.”
“What?”Thissoundssuspicious,butIbetithassomethingtodowithhisvisitors.
JihoonspeaksasIcomeoutofthealley,butIinterrupthimandstopdeadasItakeinthescene.“What’sgoingonhere?”
“Ari…”
Italkrightoverhim.“OhmyGod,theremusthavebeenamurderorbombthreatorsomething.”
Infrontofmeischaos.Newstrucks,reporters,andvideographerslinethesidewalk,crowdingpeoplewithcellphonesheldattheready.Whateverhappenedmusthavebeenterrible,butalso,shouldn’ttheyallberunningtheotherway?
“Ari!”Jihoon’sshoutgetsmyattention.“Youhavetolistentome.Gobacktothesubwayexit.There’sasilvercarthere.Getin.”
“You’vegottobekidding.”Istandonthesidewalkwatchingthescene.“Whathappened?Howdidyouknowthiswasgoingon?”
Agroupofyoungwomenjostlemeastheypass.“Ican’tbelievehewasherethewholetime,”onesays.“Inmyowndamncity,andIhadnoidea.Wemighthavepassedhimonthestreet.”
“Noway,”saysherfriend.“I’dknowMininasecond.I’vegotMin-dar.”
“Jihoon?”Myeyesfollowthemupthestreet,wheretheyjointhethrongofpeople.
“Trynottosaymyname.OurfansfoundoutIwasstayinginyourbuilding.Myteamisworkingonit.”
“Don’tsayyourname?Yourteam?Whatthehelldoyouhaveateamfor?”Myphonebeeps,andthistimeIcheck.It’sfromHana.IMSOSORRY.“Whosefans?”
ItapmyreplyasJihoonmutterssomethinginKorean.
Me:Aboutwhat
Hana:ThatIdidn’ttellyouaboutJihoon.Listentohim.
Idon’tlikethisandgobacktothecall.“Whatisgoingon?”
Jihoonclearshisthroat.“ThereareafewthingsImeanttotellyou.”
“Afewthings?”Iputhimonspeakerphonetoscrollmysocialmedia.“Holdon.”#JihoonFound,#StarLune,and#MinTorontoaretrending.Worldwide.Iclickononeandchecktheposts.
MininToronto?
Nothelpful.Igotothenext.
Jihooninmyownbackyard@_starlune_whatyouplaying?#Mincognito
StarLune,thatK-popband?Theonewiththevideowewatchedtogether?Ipromptlytakehimoffspeaker.
“Ari,youcan’tgohome.Ineedyoutogoandgetinthecar.”Hisraspyvoiceislowandcoaxing,andIheadback,toostunnedtoargue.
“You’reinaboybandanddidn’tthinkthiswassomethingtomention?”
“I’msorry.”
“I’lltakethatasayes.Wait.”Ilowermyvoice,suddenlyconsciousofwhyhetoldmenottosayhisname.“Kit?Daehyun?”
“They’remembersofStarLune.”
“Okay.”Iwatchanothergroupofpeople—notonlywomenandnotonlyyoung—rushbyme.“Thisiscool.Iamgoodwiththis.”Ican’tbelieveHana.Whatthehellwasshethinking,hidingthisfromme?Notonlythat,butkeepingmeinthedarkwhensheknewIwasintohim?TheangerisawhiteflashthatburststhroughtoencompassnotonlyHanabutJihoon,theinstigatorofallthis.
Ispeedwalkthroughthealley,bagbouncingagainstmylegwiththesamerhythmasmyheartbanginginmychest.Myhandsaresoweak,Ikeeplosingmygriponthephone.
Iturnthecorner,andaspromised,there’sthesilvercar.ThetintedwindowlowerstorevealAlexWilliamswavingatme.“Hello,Ms.IHateRockStars.Lookatusnow.”
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?”Igetin.
Hesobersupquicklywhenheseesmyface.“Sorry,Ariadne.”
IputJihoononspeakerandturnbacktoAlex.“Whyareyouhere?”
“Asyouknow,I’mtheheadofPRforHyphen.”
IwaitformoreinformationasJihoonconductsamysteriouswhisperedconversationonhisendoftheline.
Alexfinallyobliges.“AsStarLune’sNorthAmericandistributionarm,thismakesmethemanonthesceneandthisbeautifulmessmyproblemforthetimebeing.We’recontrollingthesituation.”
Thecarslamstoastopasthedrivertriestoavoidaclutchofpeoplerunningdownthesidewalk.“Lookslikeyou’redoingabang-upjob,”Isay.
Alexlooksupfromhisphone.“Bethankfulyournamedidn’tleak,”hesays.“Thisisnothingcomparedtowhatitcouldhavebeen.”
“Ari.”Jihoon’svoicecomesthroughthephone,nearlymakingmedropit.“Alexisgoingtobringyoutoasafeplace.I’mherewaiting.”
“I’llspeaktoyoulater,”Isnapintothephone.ThenIputitonsilenttodosomeonlinesearchingformyownanswers.Besideme,Alexopenshismouthbutshutsitwhenheseesmyglare.Idon’twanttotalktohimrightnowandhearwhateverspinhe’sgoingtoputonthis.Iwanttheunbiasedandaccurateinformationprofferedbyrandomstrangersontheinternetwithzeroinsiderknowledge.
“Wecantalkwhenyou’redone,”hesayseasily.
IbarelyhearhimasIgawkatmyphone.KitisStarLune’sleaderandmaindancer,andDaehyunisthemainrapper.They’reknownprofessionallyasKayandDeeDee.Jihoon?Stagename:Min.Roles:visualandmainvocalist.I’mnotevensurewhatvisualmeans.IgetoffsocialmediaanddoasearchforJihoon.Thefirsthit,anEnglish-languageKoreangossipsite,tellsmewhatIneedtoknow.
K-POPIDOLINHIDING?
RumorscontinuetosurroundthewhereaboutsofStarLune’svocalistMin,whohasn’tbeenseeninmorethantwoweeksNewlight,StarLune’sentertainmentcompany,hasrefusedtocommentonthehugelypopularsinger,sayingonlythatmembersarebusypreparingfortheirnextcomeback.Asourceclosetothebandsaysthequintetisexhaustedaftertheirlastworldtour,whichsoldoutvenuesglobally.
ThestoryappearstohavebeenanavenuetoshowcaseavarietyofJihoonGIFsthatIscrollthroughwithincreasingdisbelief.Theguylivinginmyapartmentinsweatpantsanddrinkingicedcoffeeisthesameonewithhistonguepeekingouttotouchhistintedlip?Theonethrustinghisleather-cladhipsatthecamera,handgrippinghisinnerthighwithhisheadthrownback?Thisfuckingguy?
“JihoonisinaK-popboyband,”Isay,testingthewordsoutloud.“HeisbasicallypartofaKoreanNSYNC.”
“ChoiJihoonisaperformerandsongwriterwithoneofthebiggestbandsonearth,”correctsAlex.“HeisknownasMin.”
“He’sfamous.”There’safeeddedicatedentirelytoJihoonwalkingstylishlythroughinternationalairports.“Acelebrity.”
“Famousisnottheword,”myescortsayswithwitheringdisbelief.“Theyoutsellmostartistsglobally.Youknowthat,right?”
“Ididnotknowthat.WhywouldIknowthat?”
Alexshiftshiswholebodytoeyeballme.“Becauseyoudon’tliveunderarock?”Atmyblanklook,hesighs,apparentlyrememberingthat,forallintentsandpurposes,whenitcomestoanythingoutsidework,Iliveunderaboulder.“Didn’tyoureadthebackgroundIgaveyou?”
“Iskimmedit.Idon’tevenofficiallystartwithHyphenforanothertwoweeks.Itwasonmylist!”
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’trecognizehimevenwithoutthat.”Alexshakeshishead.
“WhywouldI?WouldyourecognizethetopsingerfromNorway?Egypt?”
“IwouldiftheywereasfamousasStarLune,butwecandiscussthislater.Mr.Choiwasn’texaggeratingwhenhesaidyoucouldn’tgobacktoyourapartment,”hesays.
“Whynot?”
“They’vehadcrowdsatairportsthatweresobig,somefanswerenearlycrushedagainstthebarricades.Also,thepotentialdeaththreats.”
“Ibegyourpardon?”Iputthephonedowntolistenmoreclosely.
“Yeah,youdon’tgetafandomthathugewithouttherebeingsomepeoplewithissues,andthosepeoplewouldnotbehappytoknowMinofStarLunehasagirlfriend.”
Deaththreatsaretoomuchformetoabsorb,soIclingtowhatIcanhandle.“I’mnothisgirlfriend.He’smyroommate’scousin.Hana’scousin.”
Alexrollshiseyes.“Please,Isawhisfacewhenhewastalkingaboutyou.”
Thatgivesmeabitofarush,butnow’snotagoodmomenttosavorit.Itakeinabreathsodeep,Ireachacountofelevenontheexhale.“Look,Alex,thisisallverynewtome,soIneedyoutogoslow.Hana—myroommate—saidhercousinwasherebecauseofabreakup.Hecertainlyneverintroducedhimselfasamanwhoneedsasecuritydetailtogotothestore.”
AlexgetsthatPRfaceI’veseenhimpulloninmeetings.“I’mtakingyoutoMr.Choiinasecurelocation.Hecanexplainfurther.”
“OhmyGod.Work.Whatwillhappen?”Myfirmissopainfullytraditional,I’llnevergetaheadifthisgetsout.
“Rightnow,it’sallfine.Nooneknowsaboutyou.”Tomysurprise,heturnstoputhishandonmyarm.“IpromiseI’lldomybesttokeepyournameoutofthis.”
“Canyou?”
Hepokeshistongueinsidehischeekashethinksabouthowtophrasehisanswer.“Currentlyitlooksgood.”
“Noguarantees,though.”
Alexshrugs.“Therearenoguaranteesinthislife.StarLunefansarepassionate,butthevastmajorityarereasonablepeoplewhounderstandMr.Choideservesaprivatelife.”
Iconsiderthis.“Howdidheevenmanagetogetaroundthecitybeforebeingrecognizedtoday?”
“Masks,hats,andbeingAsianinaprettywhiteareaoftown.Nooneexpectedhimtobehere,andIassumehehadahugechunkofluck.”
“Thenitranout,”Isay.
WeturnupAvenueRoad.“Mr.Choiwasspottedatagrocerystorebyafanwhotookaphotoandfollowedhimbacktotheapartment.Normallythefanetiquetteistowaitforawhiletopostasightingtogiveanidolprivacy,butMr.Choi’sallegeddisappearancethrewthatoutthewindow.”
“That’showtheyknowwhereIlive.”
“Wherehewasstaying,sinceyouhaven’tbeenmentionedyet,”hecorrects.“Luckily,shecouldn’tgetin.Evenluckier,youandheneverleftthebuildingtogetherafterhewasidentified.”
“Thenthere’snoconnectionbetweenus.”
“Notatthemoment,butfansandmediawillcheckyourneighborhoodtofindoutwhereMr.Choihasbeen.Plusyourroommatehashislastname.”
“Atleastthey’rerelatedsoIwouldonlybethecousin’sroommate.”
Hegivesmealook.
“What?”Idemand.
“Ari,Ican’tbelieveI’msayingthis—andpleasetakeitinthemostprofessionalwaypossible—butpeoplewillneverthinkyouwereonlytheroommate.”
Ifrown.“Whynot?”
Hefidgetswithhisphone.“Jesus,lookinamirror.Youarenot…unattractive.”
Ifeeltheheatlightupmyface.“Alex!”
“Itwouldexplainhismysteriousdisappearance,especiallyifsomeone’sseenyoutogether.There’snowayfanswillbelieveit’scoincidencethataprettywomanhappenstolivewithhiscousinandtherewasnothingbetweenyou.Itwon’thappen.Youknowwhatpeoplearelike.AnidollikeMr.Choican’tevenbeseentalkingtoawomanwithoutdatingrumors.”Heshakeshishead.“Heteronormativeaswellasintrusive.”
Icovermyface.“Thisisnothappening.”
“Ohno,itverymuchis.I’msorrytohavetolayitoutlikethat,butyouknowmyjob.Ilookattheperception.Opticscanbemorepowerfulthanreality,andI’mdoingwhat’sbestforallofyou.”Helookssad.“It’samess,Ari.Arealmess.”
“Where’sHana?Thoseothertwo,KitandDaehyun?”
“AllsecureandwithMr.Choi.”
HisphoneringsasIwatchamanpassusonhisbike.Jihoonwasn’tavoidinganexbutescapinghislifeasaninternationalcelebrity.Why?Beingwaitedonhandandfootwastoomuch?Hewastiredofgettingfawnedoverforbreathing?Iputmyheadinmyhandsasamemoryhitsme.Theworkproblems.Ithoughthe’dbeentalkingabouteverydayofficedrama,buthewastalkingaboutStarLune.Hemighthaveevenwrittenthesongweheardinthecar,andIhadnoidea.
MymindisalazySusanrotatingthroughJihoonisaliar,Hanaisaliar,andthatperennialfavorite,whattheactualfuck.IgobacktomyGooglesearchandcomeacrossanimageofJihoonstruttingdownastagerunway,tinyagainstthetiersoffansinthebackground.
It’stoomuch.Ithrowmyphoneonthecarfloor.AlexdoesmethefavorofpretendingnottonoticewhenIbendtopickitupaminutelater.
ThenIstartscrollingagain.Twenty
“You.”IpointatHana.“We’regoingtohavewordslater.”
Shegrimacesandsinksintoherchair.
KitandDaehyun—sorry,KayandDeeDee—sitonthecouchlookingbetweenmeandJihoonandtheirphonesinaneerilysynchronizedmovement,likecatstrackingalasertoy.Iignorethem.
Jihoonopenshismouth.“You,”Isay.“Yourturnisnow.”Iglarearoundtheroom.“Inprivate.”
Alexwordlesslypointstoacloseddoor.Hisexpressioniseasytodecipher:Youpoorbastard.JihoonreadsitaswellasIdo,andhisfacesquinchesupinawayIwouldhavefoundcharminganhouragobutamnowtooangrytoacknowledge.Iblowthroughthedoorwithoutwaiting.Jihoonfollowsandshutsthedoorcarefullybehindhim,blockingitasifworriedI’lltrytoescape.Nofearofthatbecausenoone’sleavinguntilIgetthefullstory.
“Youevenliedaboutyourname,Min.”
Hestaresatthefloor.“Technicallynot,asMinismystagename.”
“Youknowwhat?YoucanhaveyourtechnicalitybecauseIhaveafinecollectionofyourotherliestochoosefrom.You’reasinger.Afamousone,accordingtoAlex.”
Helookstrappedbutnodsslowly.“Yes.AnidolwithStarLune.”
Idol.Itblowsmymindthat’sevenarealjobtitle,butprofessionalnomenclatureisnottheapexissueofmyproblempyramid.“KitandDaehyunaren’tbuddieshereonaworktrip.They’reyourworld-famouscelebritybandmates.”
Hestruggleswiththatforamomentbeforeadmittingdefeat.“Theyare.”
“Whatelsedidn’tyoutellme?”Isagagainstthedesk.“Youfedmesuchamonumentalpileofbull.Iguessyouwantedtoknowwhatitwasliketobearegularpersonforonce.Agoodjoke.”
“No!”HereachesoutbutfreezeswhenIleanback,shakingmyhead.“Never,Ari.IswearIwantedtotellyou.”
“Howconvenientnowthatyou’vebeencaught.”Itrytopullbackthebitternessinmyvoice,butIcan’t.
Jihoon—Min…whoeverthehellheis—passesahandoverhisface.“It’slikewhenyoudon’tknowsomeone’snameandthentoomuchtimepassestoask.”
“Thosearenotclosetobeingcomparableexperiences.Youcouldhavetoldmeatanytimeinthepastmonth.Youcouldhavetoldmeyesterday.”
“What,whileweweremakingcoffeeafterdinner?Just,‘Yah,Ari,thisslippedmymemory,butI’mactuallyanidol.Themeninthelivingroomaremembersofmyband.Passthesugar.’”
I’malreadyonanewthought,becauseunlikemyfocusedandlinearworkself,thisselfisleapingallovertheplace.“Howaboutwhenwewerewatchingthevideoyouwerein?”Igroan.“HowcouldIhavenotrecognizedyou?”
“Ihaveaverydifferentpresencewhenperforming,andwehadcreativestyling,”hesaysprimly.“AlsoyouweremostlylookingatKit.”
That’sundeniable,butIcan’tevengothererightnow.“Youliedtome.”
“Iknow.”Helooksmeintheeyes.“EverytimeItried,thewordschokedme.Iknewyouwouldbeangry.Iwantedtokeepyousafe,too.”
“Safe?”
Jihoonsitsdownonthechair,acalminggraytweedwoventhroughwithdelicateredthreads.“It’shardforidolstodate.Somefansgetupset,andit’sastruggletokeepapartner’sidentityprivate.There’salotofpressureandscrutinythatIwantedtoavoidforyou.”
Iglossoverthepartwhereheconsidereduseitherdatingorabouttodatebecausethat’sawholeotherconversation.“Itshouldbemychoicetomake.”
“No.”
MyeyelashestangletogetherwithhowhardIsquintathim.“Whatdidyousay?”
“Howcanyoumakeachoicenotknowingthefacts?”Herubsthebackofhisneck.“Icantellyouwhatit’slike,butthat’snothingcomparedtotheexperienceofalwaysbeingwatched.”
“You’reconflatingtellingmeandtellingtheworld,”Isnap.“It’snotlikeIwouldsayanything.”
Thesilencelastsabeattoolong.
“Whoa,”Ibreathe.“YouthoughtIwasgoingtoratyouout.That’swhyyouweresostandoffishwhenyouarrived.Ithoughtyouwereshy.”HowdenseamI?
“No,no!Hanatrustsyou,andIonlywantedtogettoknowyoufirst.AsJihoon,notMinofStarLune.”Helooksatmepiteously.“Iwasgoingtotellyoutonight,IswearIwas.”
“Nobleofyou.”I’mallowedtobesnippy.Ithurtsthatheplayedmeforafool,butHuisdon’tdofeelingstalk,andI’mnotabouttobreakthefamilytradition.Timetofocusoncold,hardplans.“What’sgoingtohappennow?”
Heseemsrelievedtogetontosolidfacts,whichisprobablyanindicationofhowstressedheis.“Newlighthasteamsmonitoringcoverage,”hesays.“Alexischeckingeveryplacewe’vebeentogetherinTorontoandhavingthemsignNDAs.”
ThiswillbepartofmyjobwhenIstartwithHyphen,buttheironydoesn’tmakemesmile.“Youdidn’tgetrecognizedforamonth.”
“Iwasverycareful,andnooneknewIwasawayfromSeoulatfirst.ItwasbadluckIknockedmyhatoffinthestore.”
Itickthroughourtimetogether.“Youshoppedwithacreditcard.”
“It’sissuedinanothername.”
Socloak-and-dagger.Agleefullysmall-mindedthoughtoccurstome.“Mrs.Choiwillknowyouwerehereanddidn’tgotoseeher.”
Hewinces.“Ican’tbelieveI’mnotevenconcernedaboutthat,althoughitwillcauseafamilyfussworthyofatelevisiondrama.”Hepauses.“Icanmakethisuptoyou,Ari.”
“Yeah?How?”Iwaitwhileheworksonaresponse,becauseofcoursehecan’t.I’mnotevensurewhyI’mheretalkingtohim.IshouldtellhimwherehecanstuffhisStarLuneandcutoffallcontact.
Igetupandlookoutthewindow.We’reinaluxurypenthousecondoonAvenueRoadthatAlexassuredmewasbetterforsecuritythanahotel.TothesouthisthecrystalarchitectureoftheRoyalOntarioMuseum,andIgetawaveofnostalgiasointense,italmostmakesmegasp.Ten-year-oldArionlyhadtoworryaboutspellingpterodactylcorrectlyonherworksheet.Shecouldn’tevenfathomtheshitthatwouldgodowntwentyyearslater.
Jihoonhasn’trepliedbeforeIspeakagain.“Wereyouplanningtoghostme?Gobacktoyourrockstarlifewithoutsayinganything?”
“No,never.”
Jihoonsoundssincere.“Whydidyoulieaboutanex?”
“HanasaidIwastoounhappytosimplyappearwithoutareason,anditseemedmostplausible.Thesentimentwascloseenough.”
“Iwantthefullstory.Allofit.”Iwanttobelievehim,buthonestly,he’snotgivingmealotofrunway.
Hesitsonthebedandcrumplestheduvetinhishand.“Idon’tknowwheretostart.”
“Trythebeginning.”
Jihoonreleasestheduvetandsmoothsthewrinklesoutwithapensiveexpression.“DoyouknowhowmanyhotelsI’vestayedin?”
“No.”
“Hundreds.Foralmostafullyear,welivedoutofhotels.I’minhotelsmorethanmyownroom.”
I’mnotsureifthisisleadingsomewhereorifI’mabouttogetaTripadvisorsummary.That’salotofhotels,buthotelsarerelaxingexceptforthosejacuzzitubsI’msurearenevercleanenougharoundthejets.
“I’vebeenwithStarLuneformorethanadecade,”hesays,frowningdownathishands.“Thebestyearsofmylife.I’malivewhenIwritesongsthatfanstreasure.Themembersaremyfamily.”
Iwait.
Jihoonplantshiselbowsonhiskneesandbendssohe’stalkingtothefloor.“It’shardtobeanidol.There’sfameandmoneyandperforming.There’salsonoprivacy.Ican’tbreathewithoutacamerainmyface.Wedointerviewsandconcertsandfansignings,andIdon’tevenknowwhatelse.EverydayIgetaschedule,andIobeyitlikearobot.”
“Whathappened?”
Helooksupatme.“OurlastshowwasSeoulOlympicStadium.Doyouknowit?”
Ishakemyhead.
Hesmilesathishands.“It’sadreamforidolbands.Itmeansyou’rebigenoughtoselloutastadiuminsteadofarenas.Almostfiftythousandpeopleeachshow.Itwasatriumph.”
“Youdon’tsoundlikeitwas.”
“Inearlycouldn’tgoonstageforthelastone.”Hewrinkleshisnoseandlooksoutthewindow,gazedark.“It’salwaysorganizedchaosbeforeaperformance.Everythinggetscheckedthree,fourtimes.Backupsonbackups.PlansBandCandDbecausethere’smillionsofdollarsonthelineforthosethreehoursofexpectedperfection.Hundredsofstaffmembersworkhardsothefiveofuscanshineforourfansthewaywewantto.”
“Whatdoyoumeanyoucouldn’tgoon?”
“Iforgotthewordstoourfirstsong.Iforgotourchoreo.Mymindwasablank.MyearpiecewasfeedingmegibberishbecauseIcouldn’tmakesenseofthesounds.Theshowwasstarting,andIdidn’tknowthewords.Iwasgoingtoforgeteverything.EverytimeItriedtoremember,theknowledgeseemedfurtheraway.Iwasgoingtofaileveryone.Thefans.Mymembers.”He’sspeakingfasternow,andI’malittlescared.
Imakemyselfblinkbecausemyeyesaresowide,they’redryingout.“Thenwhat?”
Jihoonjumpsupandleansagainstthewallbeforestartingtopacetheroomwithjerkysteps.“Kitsawmyface,andheknew.Hegrabbedme,hard,andhehitme.”
“Hewhat?”Thisisn’twhatIexpected.
Hetoucheshisrightcheekasifrelivingtheblow.“Heslappedmeandtoldmetogetittogether.Thenhemademebreathewithhim.Gavemeoxygen.Hetriedeverytechniquehecouldintwentysecondsasthecrowdscreamedfromtheotherside.”
Itakeadeepbreath,tenseevenfromhearingthis.“Diditwork?”
Jihoonlooksdistant,asifhewerebackonthatstage.“Ididtheshow,andnoonecomplained.Iwentbacktomyapartment,anditwascoldbecauseIwasmeanttobeinahoteltocelebratetheendofasuccessfultour.Icouldn’trememberasingleminute.Onthebestnightofmycareer,Isatonmyfloorandwonderedifitwasallworthit.AllthosecheersandIwasalone,knowingnoneofthatwasforJihoon.OnlyMin.”
Istayquietbecausealthoughmostofme—almostallofme—feelsintensepity,thenastyandvindictivepartthinks,Isn’tthiswhatyousignedupfor?Boo-hoo,it’ssohardatthetop.Peoplewouldkillforthat
“Someotherthingshappenedthen,andIhadenough.Wehadtwoweeksoff,andItoldtheothersIneededmoretime.Theycoveredformeaslongastheycould,untilthecompanyfoundoutIwasgoneandtheyhadtocomegetme.They’refurious.”
“Tellthemyouneedabreak.Whyallthesneakingaround?”
“Wehaveacomebacksoon.”
“Idon’tknowwhatthatis.”There’sacoininmypocket,andIabsentlytakeitouttospinonthetablebeforeIstarttofidgetwithit.
“Analbumrelease.Thatmeanspracticeseverydaytolearnthechoreography.Rehearsalsformusicshows.Interviewprepandphotoshoots.Peopleeverywhere.Cameras.”Hegivesawrysmile.“Theyoncefilmedmehavinganaponacouchforfiveminutes.Halfmyfaceiscoveredwithahoodie.Ithastwentymillionviews.”
“That’salot.”Howinvasive.Yetheallowedit,sopartofhimmustenjoyiteventhoughhe’sprotestingnow.
“Itmakesthefanshappy,andthat’sthemostimportantthingtous.”
“Youleft,though.”
“AllIcouldthinkaboutwaswhatifnexttimethere’sastageandIcan’tgetonit?WhatifIhadforgottenthewordsormessedupthechoreoduringtheshow?Whatifmysongsneverget…”Here,hefalters.“Itwasparalyzing.”
Icansympathizewiththisperformanceanxiety,evenifIexperienceitonamuchlesspubliclevel.
“ThenatextcamefromHana.”Heseesmyface.“Wetextalot.”
“Shenevereventoldmeyouexisted.”
Thecoingetsawayfromme,andherollsitback.“That’smyfault.Mycompany’sfault,buttheydidittokeepHana’sfamilysafe.”
“That’sforherandItotalkabout.”
Hecontinues,“Hanasaidshewasgoingoutoftown.Ididn’teventhink.IaskedifIcouldstayatherplaceandleftSeoul.”
“Withouttellinganyone.”
“ItoldthememberswhereIwouldbebutnotthecompany.Ineededtothink.”
Livingwithhisheartforsure.“Aboutwhat,exactly?”
“Mypath.”Hispinchedlipsandcurvedneckmakeitclearhedoesn’twanttotalkaboutit.That’sfine,becauseintheend,thewhyofhisarrivalisn’tthemostimportantpart.
Ileavethatalone.“Alexsaysyou’reoneofthebiggestbandsintheworld.You’relivingthedream.”
“Famewasn’tthedream.Musicwasthedream.Connectingwithpeople,makingthemfeelandthinkandbecomfortedorhappy.Nottherestofit.Inevertalktopeopleanymore.Italktofansorcrowds,andtheytalktoMin,notJihoon.”Hestaresoutthewindow.“Thefameiswhatyouputupwithforthegoodparts.Iknewtherewouldbesacrifices,butnotlikethis.”
Ishyawayandreturntothematterathand.“Soundslikeyou’renotsureofwhattodo.”
Hebitestheinsideofhislip.“It’shard.WhenKithyeongandDaehyuncame,Ifeltsoselfish.Thedecisionisn’tonlymine.ItaffectsallofStarLune.Iwasapoorteammember.”
“Thenyouhaven’tcometoadecisionevenafterbeingherealmostamonth.”
“IthoughtIhad,andnowI’mnotsure.”
“Notsure,”Irepeat.“Why?”
“IfIdon’tgoback,I’llleteveryonedown.”
“Ifyou’renotready,you’renotready.”
Helaughs,butit’saharshsoundthatI’mnotusedtohearingfromhim.“I’vebeentrainingforyears.IwillmakemyselfreadyandgetoveritbecauseIoweittothemembersandfans.Myfeelingsaresmallwhencomparedtoeveryoneelse.”
“That’snothowithastobe.”ThisismuchdifferentfromthetakecareofyourselffirstmentalityI’musedto.
Hegivesaresignedshrug.“Forme,itis.IsupposeIknewhowthiswouldend,Ari.IknewIwouldgoback,butIlikedtopretendtomyselfthatIcouldchangethings.”
Wheredoesthatleaveme?I’mnotreadytoaskit,notyet.
“What’snext,then?”Thecoinslipsoutofmyfingersanddropstotheground.Webothleaveit.
Helookssad.“Idon’tknow.Iwanttobewithyou,tocontinuewhatwewerestarting.”
“Right.”Istandandclapmyhandsbriskly.Ihadmeantthegeneralstateofaffairs,andIdon’twanttohavethisspecificrelationshiptalk,notwhileI’mworkingthroughthisnewinformation.“GetHanainhere.”
“Ari,I—”
“Hana,Isaid.”
Hislipsthin,butheleaveswithoutanotherword.Mostofmyfurygoeswithhim,andIhuddleintothechair.Iunderstandaboutnotbeingabletofindhiswaytotellingmethetruth,buttherearetoomanylayersofbetrayalformetoconsiderforgivinghimatthemoment.HeliedaboutwhohewasevenasIthoughtwehadaconnection.Idon’tknowifhewasusingmeorforwhat.He’sclearlyanincredibleliar—howcanItrustathinghesaysoreversaid?
Idon’tknowifIcan.ThathurtsmorethanIanticipated.Twenty-One
IfJihoon’streacheryishurtfulbutnowslightlyunderstandable,Hana’sisunfathomable.
Shesidlesin,eyesdowncast.“Hey.”It’sthesametoneyou’dusetoplacateabearasyoustepbetweenherandhercub.Hermobilefaceispaleandguilty—asitshouldbe,becausethatwasahellofatruthshehidfromme.
Isaynothingandshecrumbles.“I’msorry,”shemoans,coveringherface.“Ishouldhavetoldyou.”
“ThatyouwerecousinswithamanI’mtoldisoneofthemostfamoussingersintheworld?WhywouldIneedtoknowthat,eventhoughwetelleachothereverything?”
“Iknow,itlooksreallybad.”
“Looksbad?Itisbad,butit’snotlikeyouplantedhiminmyhousetoliveinhidingandletmewallowinmyignorancelikeafool.Wait,youdid.That’sexactlywhatyoudid.”
“Ididn’tknowyou’dfallforhim,”shesaysweakly.“Jihoon’snotyourtype.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?Superattractive,generous,sweetmencankeepwalking?”
“No,butyou’vealwaysdatedcorporatewhiteguys.”
“YouknowwhereIwork!There’snotalotofchoice.It’sproximity,notpreference.”Ishakemyhead.“WhatwouldyouhavedoneifIrecognizedhim?”
Shesnorts.“Please.Iknewthatwouldn’tbeaproblem.”
“Thisisnotrelevantrightnow.”Igetbackontrack.“Whatisrelevantisthefactyouthatdidn’ttellmewhohereallywas.”
“Woulditmatter?”
“Thathehasafandomofmillionsandtheinternationalmediawassearchingforhim?Yeah,thatwouldhavebeenagoodthingtoknow.”WouldIhavetreatedhimanydifferentifIknewhewasrichandfamousandwanted?Idon’twanttothinkaboutthisandretreatintomyjustifiablerage.
“See?”
Ishakemyhead.“You’remissingthepointhere.It’snotwhoheis.It’sthatyouliedtome.”IwanttotellherhowhurtIamthatshedidn’ttrustme,butIcan’tcomeoutandsaythat.Thewordsaretoohard,evenwithHana.There’sbeentoomuchtonightformetoexposeanyvulnerability.
“Icouldn’ttellyou.I’msorry.”Shedropsbackonthebedlikeananguishedstarfish.“It’sahugesecretinmyfamily.”
“Idon’tgetwhyyoubeingcousinsissuchabigdeal.HelivesinKorea.”
She’squietforamoment.“Theyhadasasaeng.Doyouknowwhattheyare?”
Ishakemyhead.
Hanabendsovertohugherlegsclose.“They’refans,butobsessedones.Stalkers.”
“Jihoonhadone?”
Shenodsandtucksherhairbehindherears.“Shestartedbyfollowinghimaroundairports.Sheeventuallybrokeintotheirdormandhandcuffedherselftohisbed.”
“Areyoukidding?”
“Nope.Itwasterrifying.StarLunehadrecentlydebuted,sotheyweren’teventhatbigyet.Jihoon’scompanysuggestedwekeepourrelationshipsecretsofanswouldn’tbotherus.”
“Ican’tbelieveyourmomwentalongwithit.”
“ObviouslyshewouldhavelovedtheattentionofbeingMin’saunt.ShechangedhermindwhenJihoontoldherwhatsomepeoplehaddonetoanidol’sfamilyinNewJersey.Theywouldn’tleavethemaloneandfollowedthekidstoschoolandtheparentstowork,takingphotos.Thenonedaytheybrokeintotakesouvenirsfromtheguy’schildhoodbedroom.”
“You’rekidding.”
“Itwasextremeandunusual,butithappened.MostStarrysaresupportiveandrespectful,butaveryrarenumberofpeoplegetobsessedinabadway.”
“That’sunbelievable.”
Hanapopsherheadupwithamischievousgrin.“EommanearlyhadananeurysmwhenStarLunemadeitbigandshecouldn’tbragtoherchurchgroup.EspeciallysinceMrs.Park’ssonkeptgettingpromotedathisfirm.”
Iwanttolaugh—IcanvisualizeMrs.Choi’simpotentfury—butIdon’twantHanatothinkshe’soffthehook.“That’sallwellandgood,butthisisme.Icankeepasecret.Ikeepsecretsforaliving.”
“Iknow,butit’sbeeningrainedinmethatwenevertalkaboutJihoonoutsidethefamily.”Shelooksdownandpicksathernails.Iautomaticallyswatherhandaway.“Thenheaskedmetoholdoffsohecouldtellyouhimself.”
“Apparentlyhewasgoingtotonight.”
Shesighs.“Hesaidyoumadehimfeelfreeandlikehimself.Hedidn’thavetopretendorworryaboutyouwantingMinandgettingJihoon.Hedidn’twanttogivethatup.”
Thatwarmsmebutnotenough.“Excepthewaspretendingthewholetime.Itwasallabouthimandhowhefelt.Whathewanted.Relationshipsarebuiltontrustandreciprocity,butIwasleftinthedark.”
Hanaplucksherlowerlipandlooksattheceiling.“Thebeginningofarelationshipisaperiodoflearning,”shereasons.“It’swhenyoufindouttheylikeraisinsintheirbuttertartsorirontheirunderwear.”
“First,whoironstheirunderwear?Second,thisishardlythesamelevelasfindingouttheyweardresssocksandboxersaroundthehouse.Althoughthat’sadealbreaker.”
“Right,right,”sheassuresme.“Iwouldhavetoldyouifhedidthat.”
“Goodtoknowyouwouldhavetoldmesomething.”
Sheflinches,butIdon’ttakepleasureintwistingtheknife.Ifeel…tired.
“I’mnottakingsides,”shesayssoftly.“Ionlywanttohelpyouunderstandwhyhedidit.”
Icirclebacktothemainissue,whichcomesdowntotwowords.“Helied.”
“Alieofomission,notcommission.HeneverdeniedhewasinStarLune.”
Thisisstretchingitsofaritrilesmeupagain.“WhywouldIaskhimthat?DoyouthinkIgoaroundassumingeveryoneisacelebrityinhiding?”Anotherthoughtoccurstome.“Youdon’tevenlikeK-pop.Youhardlyeverplayit.”
Sherollshereyes.“Right,I’mgoingagainstthetreatyeveryproudKoreansignsthatsayswecanonlylistentotrotandidolbands.”
“Sorry,”Imutter.
Hananudgesme.“Hey,atleastnowyoudon’thavetoworryaboutdealingwithanex,”shesays.“Sincetherewasn’tone.”
Igiveheralook.“Hugebonus.”
There’salongsilence.“Howdoyoufeelabouthimnow?”sheasks.
“Idon’tknow.”Igrabsomeofmyhairandstartbraidingandre-braiding.“Confused.IstheguyImetMinorJihoon?”
Shestands.“Onlyonewaytofindout.Gettoknowallofhim.”
“Easyforyoutosay.”DoIevenwanttodatearockstar?No,ofcoursenot.Ishoulddateanotherlawyer,asteadypersonwhounderstandsmeandwhoisn’tleavingthecountryindays.
“It’sickythatyou’reintomycousin.”Shegrins.“Whatever,halftheworldisaswell.”
Iflipheroff,andshesnickers.
“Givehimanotherchance,”shesays.
“Why?”
Shelooksatme.“Becauseyouwantto.”
MaybeIdo.Maybethat’senough.
Maybeitisn’t.
Alexsayshe’llsendstafftogetourbelongings,butIhatethethoughtofsomeonegoingthroughmyunderweardrawer.“I’mgoingshopping,andyou’repayingforit,”ItellAlex.
Herubshiseyesuntiltheyreddenandtearup.“Likethat’sthebiggestproblemI’vehadtoday.Makesureyoukeepthereceipts.Ican’tdealwithFinancegettingonmycaseontopofallthis.”
“Icancomewithyou,”Hanaoffers.
Iglareather.“Youcansithereandthinkaboutwhatyou’vedone.”
Shehunchesdown.“Okay.”
Oncesafeinsidemyroom,Isplashwateronmyfaceandsitonthebedtoenjoythesilence.I’mnotintherefiveminutesbeforeaknocksoundsatthedoor.
“Ari?”
It’sJihoon.Thematurethingtodowouldbetoopenthedoor,invitehimin,andhaveacivilfollow-updiscussion.
AsifIcandothat.Iwaituntilhe’sgone,thengrabmypurseandrundowntheemptyhallforthedoor.
ThecondoisclosetoYorkville,andIheadeasttotheshops.Sittinginacaféwindowisawomanwithdyedhairandabrilliant,carefreesmilethatremindsmeofPhoebe.Whatifpeoplefindoutmynameandgoaftermyfamily?WhatifthestresscausesDad’shearttofailagain?Myentirebodygoesshivery,andIstopdeadonthesidewalkandbitetheinsideofmycheek.Ishouldtellthemonthedownlow.OratleastPhoebe,tokeepaneyeonDad.
Trianglebreathing.Itakedeep,desperatebreathsrightthereasmutteringpeoplewalkaroundmewithimpatientsteps.WhatdoIdo?
IcomebacktoitlaterwhenI’mmoreincontrol,that’swhat.IforceonefootinfrontoftheotheruntilImoveonautopilot,duckingintomyusualstoresandgettingpajamas,underwear,andsomecasualclothes.It’sFriday,soIdon’tneedafreshoutfitforworktomorrow,butitmightbeafewdaysatthecondo.Igrabthreeshirtsandasuit.Alex’streat.
AsIcollectmynewbelongings,myusuallogicalityseepsback.I’mlettingthedoomsdayattitudeofAlexandtheothersaffectme.Nothingisgoingtohappen.NoonecaresthatsomesingerwasinTorontostayingwithhiscousin,andit’llbeanonstoryinaday.Everyoneisincrisisoverdriveandexaggeratingtheimportanceofwhat’shappeningbecausethey’restressed.
IheadovertotheManulifeCentre,whereIpickatadamptacoandscrollthroughmyphone.HanaknowsbetterthantotextmewhenI’mmad.ShemusthavetoldJihoon,becauseIhavenomessagesapartfromAlexaskingmetocomebyhisroomwhenIgetback.
ThenIputthephonedown.ThelackofmessagesfromJihooncouldbebecausehe’sdecidedwhatevermighthavehappenedbetweenusisn’tworththetrouble.
ThatIdon’tknowhowtofeelaboutanyofthismakesmeoverheatedinmyskin.IknowhowIwanttofeel—furious,betrayed,allthosejuicyandsatisfyinglyself-righteousemotions,butatthesametime…Ican’t,notcompletely.WouldIhavetoldme?Iwanttosayyes,butasJihoonpointedout,knowingyouneedtosaysomethingandgettingthewordsoutaretwoverydifferentbeasts
ThesameappliestoHana.Ipokeidlyatthedisintegratingtaco.Wemightbebestfriends,butthisisfamilywe’retalkingabout.Shecouldn’tpredictthefuture,andshewasn’twrongwhenshethoughtaguybroodingaroundthehousewouldn’tbemytype.ThisisJihoon’sfault,Idecide.Hehadtomessitallupbybeingsolikable.
“Ari?”
Iknowthatvoice.Iwhiparound.Twenty-Two
Phoebestandsbesideme,herheadtiltedtotheside.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”sheasks.
Igesturetomytaco,tryingtobenormal.I’dthoughtabouttextingherafewtimessinceIleftherattherecordbar,butIdidn’tknowwhattosay.“Eating.”
Sheeyesthemessonthetray.“Thatlooksunappetizing.”
Ishoveitaway.“Itis.”
“I’mpickingupsomeoverpricedsnacksasafarewellhostessgift.”SheshakesabrownshoppingbagatmesoIcanheartheclangofglassjars.
“Leavingalready?”Imeantosayitlikeanormalperson,butitcomesoutspiteful.
Tohercredit,Phoebedoesn’tbite.“No,Ifoundashort-termrental.Iliketohavemyownplace.Sameneighborhood.”Shewaitsforaminute,butI’msodrained,Ican’tthinkofagoodresponse.Hereyesnarrow.“Whathappened?”
“Nothing.”
“Stayhere.Watchmybag.”Shedumpsitonthechairbesidemeanddisappearstoacafé.Isortthroughherpurchasesinlistlesscuriosity.Phoebewasalwaysgoodatchoosinggifts—whenIwasakid,shegotmeastuffedcatIlovedsomuch,Ibroughtittouniversitywithme—andthisprovesit.She’sboughtaselectionoflovelysaucesandpastastomatch,aswellasalittlejarofwhatlookslikemarinatedcheese.Acrispyloafofciabattaiswrappedinbrownpaperandtiedwithtwine.Iwanttoeatitallbecausemytacohadn’tsatisfiedanythingbeyondbarephysicalsustenance.
“Here.”Sheputsamonstrouslypuffypastryinfrontofme,dustedwithglitterypowderedsugarandfilledwithgreenishcream.Ileandowntosniffandsneezeaftersnortinguptheicingsugar
Phoeberollshereyes.“It’sfood,notcocaine.”
“Shutup.Whatdidyouget?”
Shedisplaystwocroissantsproudly.
“Almondandcheese?”
Phoeberunsherhandthroughhershaggyhairbeforeshelayersthetwopastriestogetherandbitesin.Imakeaface.
“Almondandcheesemakeaclassiccombination,”shesayswithashowerofcrumbs.“Don’ttrytoderailme.There’ssomethinggoingon.Isitwork?”
“Weirdlynot.”
“ThatJihoonguy?”
Irunmyfingeraroundtheedgeofthecreampuffandlickitoff.Pistachio.“Whatmakesyousaythat?”
“Itlookedliketherewassomethingbetweenthetwoofyou,andyoutakeafterDad.”
“What’sthatmean,ItakeafterDad?”
Shepeelshercroissantlayersapart.“Doyouenjoythinkingabout,discussing,orinanyfundamentalwayacknowledgingfeelings?”
“Ihavefeelings.”
“Iknowyoudo.Wanttotalkaboutthem?”
“No.”Atmyresponse,Phoeberaiseshereyebrows,andIglareather.“Yousashayedoutofmylife,andsuddenlyyouhavearighttoknowmyinnermostthoughts?”
Sheflushesandlooksdown.“Sorry.”
Wesitinaheavysilence,bothofusstaringatthetable.Insidemyheadisasnarledyarnball.IwanttobemadatPhoebe.IwanttobemadatJihoonandHana.Icanevenseethatanger,atwisteddarkredstrandwoventhroughthisbigmess.
I’msotiredofbeingangry.I’mtiredofmysisternotbeinginmylife.TonighthasbatteredmedownenoughthatIdon’thavetheenergytoavoidthisconversationanymore.I’monarollwithawkwardtalksanyway,right?Mightaswellkeepgoing.
Ittakesmeafewtriestogetthewordsout.“Whydoyouneveremail?Callme?”
Phoebebreathesouthardenoughtosendhercrumbsflyingintomylap.“It’shard.”
“What’ssohardaboutpickingupthephone?”
Sheripsthecorneroffoneofhercroissants.“Youtellme.”
Iclampmylipsshut.
Phoebecontinues,“You’realwayssoupsetwithmewhenItry.Youmakeabigdealabouthowbusyyouareand…”Shepausesbeforegivingalittlewhat-the-hellshrug.“Ithurts,okay?IthurtsthatyouandDadinsistonthinkingI’msomescrewupbecauseIdon’twantwhatyouwant.”
“You’reolderthanme.”
Phoebeeyesmeinastonishment.“So?”
“YouleftwhenIwasthirteen!Momtoldmeyoudroppedout.Youdidn’teventellmeyourself.”
“Iwasonlytwenty.Iwasscared.Dadwassomad,youhavenoidea.Like,furious.HemadeitclearthatIwouldbeabadinfluence.”
Ittakesaminuteformetofindthewords.“Dadtoldyoutostayawayfromme?”
Shefrowns.“Notreally.”
“Thenkindof.”
“Hemadeitclearyouwereonadifferentpathinlife.Dad’sashort-term,narrowlyfocusedworkaholic,buthe’snotcruellikethat.ItwasmychoicebecauseIthoughtitwasbest.”
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’ttalktome.Me,thepersonthisaffectedmost.”Ialsocan’tbelievewe’rehavingthistalkinafoodcourt,butnowthatwe’vestartedthisdiscussion,Idon’tknowifIcanstop.Theredstringtightensenoughtosqueezetherestoftheballandforceoutmywords.
“Icouldn’t.”Phoebesoundssad.“BythetimeIrealizedhowdenseIwasbeing,youdidn’twanttotalk.Youwerealwaysatschoolorworking,andwewereatdifferentpointsinourlives.Itgotharderandharder.Wegrewtoofarapart.”
“Yeah.”She’sright.
“Imissedyou.”Hervoiceissoquiet,Ibarelyhearit.
Imissedyou,too.Agitated,Iwanttogetupandgo,thesamewayIdidatLongplay,thesamewayshedidwhenwehadcoffee.It’seasier,andIcanfocusonwhatI’vetoldmyselfmattersmost.Work,whichhasalwaysbeenstraightforward,withrulesIunderstand.Work,whichisusuallycontrollableandgenerallypredictable.
“Iwanttohaveasisteragain,”shesays.“Iwanttobeasister.”
Theredyarnsnapsunderthepressure,andthebreathIdrawinissojerky,ithurts.“Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
“Thenlet’snotforabit,atleastaboutthis.”Phoebepullsbackbutnotinabadway.
“Okay.”Itakethereprievegratefully.There’salottothinkthrough,andIcan’trightnow.Mymindhasn’tledmetothebestplaceslately,leavingmetentativeabouteverythingIthoughtwasacertainty.
“Wecantalkinsteadaboutwhyyou’reherewhenyou’dusuallybeintheoffice.”
I’mtootiredtolieandaboutthreeminutesawayfromcompletecollapse.“It’sJihoon.”
Shenods.“He’sgoingbacktoKoreaforStarLune?”
Mymouthdropsopen.Phoebewatchesmewithconcern.
“Howdidyouknowthat’swhohewas?”Iask.
“Afterwatchingthatvideoafewmoretimes,Ikindofgotintothem.DidsomeresearchandfoundoutMin’srealnameisChoiJihoon,andwithoutthemakeup,helookedlikethesameJihoonwhocametodinnerandwasspottedinyourneighborhoodtoday.”
Littleshockszingoverme.“Youdidn’tthinktotextme?”
“Idecidedyouwouldhavetoldmeifyouwantedmetoknow.”
“Ididn’tfindoutuntilacouplehoursago.”
Shelaughsbutstopswhensheseesmyface.“Oh,you’reserious.Thenatdinner…”
“IthoughthewasHana’scousinandnomore.”
“Dang.”Shepinchesherlip.“Whathappened?”
Ispillthewholesordidtale,andPhoebe’seyesdon’tleavemyface.AlongsilenceswirlsinthewakeofmywordsuntilshegropesaroundformyCokeandtakesasip.
“I’mnotsurewhattosay,”sheadmits.“What’syourplan?”
“You’relookingatit.”
“Eatinginafoodcourtforeverseemsunsustainable.”
“Notmuchcanhappensincehe’sgoingbacktoKorea.”
“Videocallsexist.Planesexist.”Sheseesmyexpression.“Canwegetsomeperspective?It’snotlikehe’sgoneofftosomeunknownlandwhileyoupineawaystandingonaboulderoverlookingtheocean.”
Allthosethingsmightexist,butIdon’tknowifJihoonwantsthem.ThistentativereconciliationwithPhoebeistoonewformetoadmitthis,soinsteadIsay,“He’sanidolinKorea,andI’malawyerinToronto.”
“PoorAri,”shesays,butthetoneiskind.“Ariwithherwholelifemappedoutsoperfectly.Neverhavingtotakeadetour.Alwaysknowingwherethenextstopis.Whatwillyoudonowthatthere’sanotherroadtotake?”
Iswingmyfootouttopokeherleg.“There’snootherpath.”
“Notifyoudon’tseeit.”Shegetsup.“I’mduetodropthisoff.Willyoubeokay?”
I’mbusyfrowningatthetable,soittakesthewordsaminutetoregister,butInod.“Ithinkso.”
“Youcancallme,Ari.Wheneveryouwant.”Shegrabsherbag.“I’mgoingtobehereawhile.”
“Thanks.Hey,canyoukeepthistoyourself?”Idon’twantthisstoryspreadtoourparentsbeforeI’mready.
“Willdo,capitaine.”Shegivesmearakishsalute.
Iwatchhergoandalmostseethethreaddraggingbehindher.Thistimetheballinmychestfeelsloose.Ifeelbetter,andalthoughthere’smoretobesaidbetweenus,Ionlyhavesomuchbrainspace,andthisJihoonthingistimesensitive.
Whatdoesitmeantobeanidol,anyway?It’sanentireworldthat’sunfamiliartome.Igathermytacoandcreampuffremainsintheirwrappingsandtossthemintothecompostbinwithanewfoundsenseofresolution.IneedtodosomeresearchtoknowexactlywhatI’mdealingwith.Anuninformeddecisionisatrashdecision,forallofJihoon’sheart-over-headpreaching.
ItextAlextomakesurehe’salonebecauseIdon’twanttotalktoHanaandJihoonuntilIgetmyselfsortedout.HeletsmeintohisproxycommandcenterwhenIarrive,hisexpressiontiredbutsatisfied.
“Here’swhereweare,”Alexsays,wavingmetothecognac-leatherEamesloungerashespinsonhisexecutivechair.“It’slookinggood.”
“Isthereahordeoutsidemyapartmentbuilding?”
“Yes.”
“That’sgood?”Weneedtosynchronizedefinitions.
“Sureis,becausethey’resingingandnotrioting.”Alexrollshisneckuntilhisvertebraepop.“It’ssupposedtorain,sothatwillhelpthinthecrowdovernight.”
“ThenIcangobackhome.”
“Aboutthat.”HisfacegetsaseriouslookthatmeansI’mnotgoingtolikewhateverhe’sabouttosay.“Notfortwoweeksatleast.Amonthisbetter.”
“You’vegottobekidding.”
Alexrubshisnose.“StarLunehassomedie-hardfanswhowillmakeconnectionsbetweenMr.Choiandtheyoung,attractiveAsianwomeninthebuilding.”
“Alex.Youtrulythoughtaboutthosewords,decidedtheyweretheexactonesyouwanted,andletthemleaveyourmouth?”
“Threeforthree.”He’sunrepentant.“Again,optics.Therearesomeviciousgossipblogslookingtomakeastoryoutofthis,trueornot.Peoplecanbenastyashell.”
Ican’tbelievethiswon’tdiedowninafewdays,soItellhimwhathewantstohear.“I’llthinkaboutit.Whataboutwork?”
I’dalreadybeenrole-playinghowtheconversationwithRichardcouldpossiblygo.
Richard,I’dsay.Iwanttogiveyouaheads-upthat…I’vebeenkindofdatingasinger,andifhislegionsoffansandthemediafindout,theymightstartcallingtheofficetogetinformationaboutme.
Thankyou,Ariadne,he’dreply.Howlovelyforyou.Whoisthissinger?
ThenI’llsendhimavideoofJihoonwithhisbluehair,dancingwhilehecastsscorchingglancesatthecamera,andohmyGod,whatamIthinking?Richard’sconservativewithbothbigandlittleCs.Hewenttoprivateschool.HisfamilyhasbeenrunningthingsandbeingconspicuouslyWASPysincebeforeCanadawasacountry.He’dconsiderthisascandalbeyondredemption.
“Sofar,sogood.Sinceyournameshaven’tleaked,yourjobandfamilyaresafe,”saysAlex.Myshoulderssagwithrelief.
“MysistermetJihoon,”Isay.“Myparents,too.”
“AsJihoon,afriendofyoursandacousinofHana?Nothingelse?”
“SinceIdidn’tknowtherewasanythingelse,yes.Phoebeguessed,though.”
“Canshekeepquiet?”
“Yes.”Wemayhavesomeissues,butItrustPhoebenottotellafterIaskedhernotto.
Alexstrokeshischin.“ThenI’llleaveitfornow.Idon’twanttocausemoreproblemsbyalertingthemiftheyhavenoidea.”
“Won’titbeonthenews?”
“Willitever!”HeturnsontheTVtothetwenty-four-hournewschannel,whichiscurrentlydiscussingashortageofhospitalbeds.“Theyhaveitasadevelopingstory.Sadly,it’saslownewsday.WhatIwouldn’tgiveforapoliticalgaffe.”
Thenextsegmentshowsmyapartmentbuilding,wherethenewsanchorstandswiththemillingcrowdofStarLunefans.“Ininternationalcelebritynews,itlookslikeTorontobecameahavenforKoreanpopstarMinofStarLune.Thegloballypopularsinger,whowaspurportedmissingfromhishomeinSeoulforweeks,wasphotographedinalocalgrocerystoreandhadapparentlybeenhidingoutinthiswest-endbuilding.”
Heturnsaround.“AreyouafanofStarLune?”heasksawomanholdingwhatlookslikeaflashlightwithablueheartstaratthetop.“AreyousurprisedoneofthebandmembersisinToronto?”
Shetossesherfuchsia-streakedhairandlooksecstatic.“Noway!Theboyshavealwayshadasoftspotforthecity,andI’mthrilledhewasabletocomehereandrelaxthewayhedeserves.Welovehim.Min,saranghaeyo!”ShemakesherfingersintoaVshapebyherfaceandblowsakissatthecamera.
“Doyouhaveafavoritesong?”
ThewomanstartsbobbingherheartstarflashlightwhilebeltingoutatuneIdon’trecognize.Thepeopleinthecrowdaroundherjoinin,afewdancingwithchoreographedmovesIassumeareassociatedwiththesong.Othersstartchantingandthereporterlaughs.“Thereyouhaveit,Kari!AhappygroupofStarLunefans.Thebandwaslasthereinthewinter,whentheysoldouttwonightsattheRogersCentreaspartoftheirworldtour.”
“Thisismessedup,”Imutter.
Alexturnsitoff.“Mr.Choiisthevisual,andhe’sverypopular.”
Irememberthatterm.“What’savisual?”RightnowAlexismyVirgil,guidingmethroughtheninecirclesofK-popculture.
“Thebest-lookingoneinthegroup.”
“They’reofficiallyrankedbytheirappearance?”Obviouslyiftherewereahotnesslist,Jihoonwouldbefirst,butwhatastrangething.
“It’snotarankingbutmorearoleintheband.”
Ilowermyhead,tryingtograspthis,ashecontinues,“OtherchannelshaveshownStarLune’sairportfootage,andthey’realwaysmasked,orit’sconcertfootage.It’shardtoseeMr.Choi’sface,soIdon’tthinkyourparentswillmaketheconnectioniftheyseeitonthenews.”
That’sarelief,althoughI’mmoreworriedaboutpeoplefindingoutaboutmyparentsthanthemfindingoutIbroughtanidoltodinner.“WhataboutJihoon?”
Alexlooksconfused.“Whatabouthim?”
Iswallowhardbecause,eventhoughIdidn’tanswerthedoorwhenheknocked,I’llbeunhappy(devastated)ifheleavesbeforewetalk.“Hasheleftforhomeyet?”
“No.”Alexpauses.“We’vebeentrying,butherefusestogountilheseesyou.”
“What?”
“Youheardme,andtheotherswon’tgowithouthim.”Alexcoughs.“Notgoingtoliehere,you’dbedoingmearealsolidifyoutalktohimsowecangetthemalloutofToronto.TheSeoulteamismuchbetterequippedtodealwiththis,plusoncehe’sgone,thisshoulddiedownquickly.”
“Tomorrow.”IknowIneedtotalktohimagain,butI’mdrainedandalsonotready.IwanttodomoreresearchintowhoheisfirstsoIcanbeprepared.
Alexfrowns.“Itwouldhelpmealot.Ican’tstresshowmuchitwillhelpifyoutalktohimassoonaspossible.Rightnow,forinstance.”
“Isaidtomorrow.Firstthing,Ipromise.”
IescapeAlex,draggingmyshoppingbagsintomyroomandnotingtheheavysecurityinthemainroomeventhoughwe’reinaprivatepenthousecondo.Jihoonwon’tleaveuntilwetalk,whichgoesfartowardmollifyingme.It’sabadsituation,andignoringJihoonandHanaandcuttingthembothoutofmylife—Ican’tforgiveoneandnottheotherforthesametransgression—isn’tareasonableanswer.Well,itmightbe,butit’snotaproductiveone,eventhoughthejuvenilepartofmewantstodoittomakeapoint.
ThesamewayIdidwithPhoebeforyearsandlookhowhappythatmademe.IshovethatthoughtawaylikeIdosomanyothers.It’sbetterthatway.Oreasier,atleastinthemoment.Twenty-Three
Aloneinmyroom,Itakestockofmysurroundings.It’sahomierversionofaneleganthotelroom,minusthebrandedpensandtipenvelopeandplusrealartonthewalls.ThefloorsaredeepoakandstrewnwithpatternedarearugsthathaveasilkenslidewhenIwalkoverthem.Afterhangingupmynewclothesinthecloset—whichcomeswithamirrorthatilluminatesdifferentlightsettingsdependingonwhetheryouwanttoknowwhatyoulooklikeindaylight,dimlight,orblacklight—Iheadfortheshower.
It’slikewashinginashowroom.Bothsinksareformedfromasingleblockofpalestonewithonlyaslightdipunderthefaucet.Tosomeoneusedtoamoreplebeianwhiteporcelainbasin,it’sunnervinginitsflatnessandlightningdrainagespeed.Afull-sizesetoftoiletriesfromAmorepacificlinesupagainstthetiledwallasifHyphenkeepsthisplacefullystockedandwaitingforVIPs.
Ianalyzetheshoweranditsmultitudeofjetsbeforecheckingthedigitalpadandtappingtheall-overclean,regularheatoption.Waterfliesinfromeverydirection,evenangledupfromthefloorhighenoughtohityourcalves.Thesteamismagicallyfannedawaybeforeitescapesthestall.Itakeashowerlongandhotenoughtoboilthedayoutofmyverybodyandbreatheinthesmellofmoneyviabodywashes.
They’veevengivenmetheoptionofroughorfluffyorganiccottontowels.
Afterathoroughslatheringwithafloral-scentedlotionsolightitabsorbsoncontact,Ipullonthenewpajamas,braidmyhair,andclamberintobedwithmylaptop.
I’minresearchmode,anditfeelsgood.I’mincontrolagain.
ThefirstthingIdiscoveristhatStarLunehasputoutanastoundingamountofcontent.Iclickthroughpagesofinterviews,vlogs,musicvideos,awardshowandconcertfootage,dancepractices,andrelaydances.Therearevarietyshowclips,includingonewherethey’reallperforminginunisonwhileinexplicablydressedininflatablevegetablecostumes.ThisIwatchforsheerentertainmentvalue,butit’snotsubtitled,andIhavenocluewhatthecontext,purpose,orpublicreactionis.ThiscouldbeanormalthingforK-popbandstodoorwackybeyondbelief.Jihoonisaturnip.Kitisaleek,orpossiblyanapacabbage.Therearethoughtpiecesabouttheirimpactandwhythey’rethebestormostterriblebandintheworld.
Thenthere’sthefancontent—podcastsandreactionvideosandfancams.Therearecompilationsandprofilesandthenmorevideosofbandmembers.TherearelisticlesandlyrictranslationsandGIFsgaloreandsomanyinsidejokes,Ican’teven.
Ihaveto.Itapmyfingersonmylaptopandponderhowtoprioritizethisinformationfirehose.ThefirstthingIshoulddoisknowalltheirnames.That’saneasysearchthatbringsmetoausefulstartervideo.
Twohourslater,myeyesareburningandmyheadisspinningbecauseIhaveconsumedalotofvideo.Thisisn’tonlyaworldI’vebeenunawareofbutanentireuniverse.Iputthelaptopaside—thefanhasbeenwhirringataconcerningvolumeforthepasttenminutes—andtrytocalmdown.
Alexandtheothersweren’texaggerating.Nowthatmyeyesareopen,Ican’tbelieveStarLuneexistedandIhadonlythebarestinkling.ThesmallsphereoflifeI’vebeencontentwithknowingisshamefulcomparedtowhatI’vemissed.ThedegreeoffameJihoonhasachievedismorethanIcancomprehend.AccordingtoaRollingStonearticle,he’soneofthemostfamousmenintheworld.Theirtopvideoshaveoverabillionviews.
Thesleepingvideohementionedisbothlegitanduptothirtymillionviews.Thirtymillionpeoplewantedtowatchhimtakeafreakingnap.Ortenmillionpeoplewatcheditthreetimesorthreemilliontentimeseach.AnywayIsliceit,alotofpeoplewerepersonallyinvestedinwatchingaguylietherewithhiseyesshut.
WhatbugsmemostisthatifIhadpaidmoreattentiontoAlex,Iwouldn’tcurrentlybetryingtosplashmywayoutofthispoolofignorance.IfIhaddonetheresearchrightawayinsteadofputtingitofftothelastminute,I’dhaverecognizedJihoonandhisbandofmerrymen.ThisiswhatIgetforworryingabouttheclientsIwantedinsteadoftheonesIhad.
Iopenthelaptopanddivebackintoavoidthinkingaboutthis.AvideoofJihoonsingingcomesup.Curious,Iclickit.
Jihoon—Min—isastonishing.There’snootherword.Theclipisfromaconcert,andhesingsasoloashedancesaloneonthestage.Whenhisdeepvoicegoesbreathy,ittracesalongmyskin.Hemoveswithsmootheffortlessnessthatmusttakeyearsofworktoachieve.
Ican’tdealwiththis.It’stimetocallinthebigguns.Igrabmyphone.Hanaisatmydoorinlessthanfiveminutes.
“Iremainverymadatyou,”IwarnasIletherin.
“Iknow.Icompletelydeserveit.”
“I’mwillingtotablethatfornowbecauseIneedhelp.”
“Understood.”Shenods.“Whathelp?”
Iwaveatthelaptop.“Jihoon.Min.Ihavenoideawhothisguyis.It’slikehe’stwoseparatepeople,andIdon’tknowwhichistherealone.”
“They’rethesame.Minisonlyhisstagepersona.”
Herphonelightsup,andshemakesaface.“Holdon.”
Iglanceoverandseewhoit’sfrom.“Ohno.”Ifthere’sonepersonwhowillbemoreupsetthanme,it’sMrs.Choi,whoiscurrentlyblowingupherdaughter’sphone.
Hanarollshershoulders.“It’sbeenarealparty.”
“She’smad?”
Inresponse,Hanashowsmeaboutthreescreensworthofatextblock.IcatchafewEnglishwords,andit’senoughtoseethat,asusual,Mrs.Choiispullingnopunches:lie,shame,embarrass,respect.
What’sleftofmyangerturnstosympathy.Hana’sneverhadaneasytimewithhermother,andforMrs.ChoitoresorttoberatingherovertextmeansHanamusthavereachedtheendofheralmostlimitlesspatienceandstartedtoignorehercalls.Shepushesthephoneawaywitharesolutegesture.“BacktoJihoon.”
“Doyouwanttotalkabout—”
“Jihoon.Yes.OnlyJihoon.”
“Fine,but—”
“Wearenotdoingthisrightnow.”
Icatchsightofherredeyes.Thekindthingistoletherbe.“Okay.”
Sheturnsaway,andIpretendnottoseeherdashthebackofherhandacrosshereyes.“Hisdualityconfusesyou.”
“They’retoodifferenttobethesameguy.”InavigatetoavideothatshowsJihoonwearingameshtopunderaleatherharnessashekneels,doingaviolenthipthrust.Thecurvesofhisthighsinskintightblackvinylpantsarehonest-to-Godcatchingthestagelightsashisfingerstraceuphisthroattohisface…Icough,feelingliketheroomsuddenlybecameverywarm.
“Thisisweirdtowatchwithyou,”Hanasays.
“Yeah,Igetthat.”Ican’tlookaway.
“Youneedtogettoknowhimwhenhe’sMinbutnotperforming,becausethat’sprettyintense.”Shefrownsatthewallbeforeherfaceclears.“Iknow!”
ShegrabsthelaptopandpullsupavideoofStarLunesittingcasuallyinjeansandhoodies,staringatavideoinsetonthescreen.
“What’sthis?”
Hanaskipsanad.“Reactionvideos.”
“Isawthose.There’slotsofscreaming.”
“No,thisisabandreaction.Thosewerefanvideos.”
“Theysitaroundwatchingtheirownmusicvideosandtapeit?”ItryforAmusedAvenueandenduptakingahardleftatSnideStreet,whereIputmyselfincruise.
“It’sathingtonotwatchthefinalcutuntilthey’retogether.Quitbeingignorant.”
“Hey!”
“AmIwrong?”
Isulkabitbeforeanswering.“No.”
Sheclicksplay.TherearenoEnglishsubtitles,butthetonesandexpressionsofabunchofguystakingthepissarefairlyuniversal.
“Idon’tseehowthishelps.”Myprotestishalf-heartedbecausethevideothey’rewatchingshowsJihoonwithablackvelvetblazer,noshirt,andathickchainaroundhisthroat.He’ssohot,theotherswhistleandwhackhimonthebackoftheheadashecovershisface.
“They’retellingJihoonhelookslikeasnack,”Hanatranslatesunnecessarily.
IwatchJihoonlaughingwithhisfriends,andIswear,it’sthemanIknow,thethoughtfulguywholikesshoesinexcessivequantitiesandtalkingaboutcerealbrandsandleavingnotebooksalloverthelivingroom.But…“Thisisfilmed,”Isay.“He’sputtingonanact.It’shisI’maregularguyact.”
Sheblowsoutherbreathinaslow,controlledwhistle.“You’reimpossible.Useyoureyes.ThisisJihoon.It’sthewayyou’rethesameArigoofingaroundathomeasyouaretheprofessionalAriadneintheoffice.Differentfacetsofthesameperson.”
ExceptJihoon’stransformationisfarmoreextreme,soextremeit’shardtotrust.Ipushthelaptopaway.“Idon’tknowwhattodo.”
ThisactivatesHana’slatentinnercounselor,andshesitscross-leggedonthebed,thebettertoexaminemewithacriticaleye.“Youneedtodefinewhatyouneedtodecide.Whatexactlyisityoudon’tknowwhattodo?ForgiveJihoon?Continuearelationshipwithhim?”
“Wedon’thavearelationship,”Ipointoutwithsomeacerbity.“Youcamehomeearly,andthenhisglobalfamegotintheway.”
“Doyouwantone?Youneedtoknowwhatyouwantbeforeyoucanmakeadecisiononanything.”
“WhatIwant?”
Hananodsemphatically,thenpullsherhairofffromwhereit’sstucktoherChapStick-coveredlips.“Basedonyourpriorities,values,andneeds.”Shelookslikeshe’sabouttolaunchintoalecture,soIholdupbothhandstopauseher.
“I’llthinkaboutit.”
“Whatyou’lldoisgettiedinknotstryingtoconvinceyourselfofadecisionthatwon’tmesswithyourpreciouscareerregardlessofwhetherit’stherightchoice.”
“Iwon’t.”Idefinitelywill.
Hanaleansoverandfishesaloonieoutofherpocketbeforehandingittome.“Headsortails,”shesays.
“AreyousuggestingIletaone-dollarcoindictatemylife?”
“Worksfordecidingbetweensushiandpizzafordinner,soit’llscale.”Shetapsthecoin.“Heads,younevertalktoJihoonorIagain.Tails,youacceptthatwebothscrewedupforvariousreasons,mostlybecausewearehuman,andyouforgiveus.”
“Thisisuseless.”
Shemakesatossingmotion,soIflipitupintheairbeforesnatchingthecoinandslappingitdownonthebackofmyhand.Webothleanover.
“Heads,”shesaysquietly.“Nevertalktousagain.”
Idropthecoin.“ObviouslyI’mnotgoingtodothat.”
“Thenstoppretendingit’sanoptionandmoveforward.”
ToughloveHanaistough.“EvenifIforgivehim,nothingcanhappenwithJihoon,”Isay.“HelivesinKorea.He’sleavingsoon.”
“Noneofthatisdifferentfromwhatitwastwodaysagowhenyouwerereadytogoovertohisplace.”
“He’sacelebrity.Idon’tlikecelebrities.”
“Torepeat,youweredoingfinebeforeyouknewthat,andit’snotlikehegotanewpersonalityinthelastsixhours.Alsoyoudon’tknowanycelebrities.”
“IworkwiththemthroughLuxe.”
“YouindirectlyworkwithsomethroughLuxe,”shecorrects.“YoualsoworkdirectlywithabunchofdouchebagsatDoperlyandTwittings,andyouseemtomanagethatwellenough.Whyaresomanyofthemnamedafterverbs,likeChaseorRob?”
“Don’tforgetSkip.”
“YoudonotworkwithaSkip.”Sheseesmyface.“Youdo.I’msosorry.”
“Thisisn’tme.”Itugatmyhair.“Iwanttomakepartner.Iwanttobethecity’stoplawyer.Iwantpeoplecomingtomeforwhatever’sthelegalequivalentofaTEDTalk.Idon’tchaserockstars.”
“Idol,”shesays.“Notrockstar.”
“What?”
“JihoonisaK-popidol,notsomegrayingoldmaninleggingsscrewingbarelylegalgroupiesinatourbus.He’sdisciplined,workshard,andtraineddailyforyearstogettowhereheis.”
“Thesamefeelingapplies.”
Shepuffsouthercheeks.“Look.You’recomingatthisfromthewrongangle.YoumethimasJihoon.That’swhoheis.Miniswhoheisonstage.It’shisperformanceside.”
“Heliedtome.”Notevenalittlelie,likesure,babe,thatdressispretty.Jihoon’slieblewthroughthestratosphere.
“Lastsummer,whenthatguyatthebaraskedforyournumber,youfakedanIrishaccentandsaidyouwereflyingbackhometoMooseJawthenextday.”
Iglareather.“IhardlythinkmegettingastrangeroffmybackisonparwithJihoon’sstory.Heplayedme.”
There.Itwasout.He’dplayedme—bothofthemdid—andIfeelfoolish.Imean,howobliviouscouldIbethatIdidn’trecognizehewaslyingtomyface?I’malawyer—agoodone—andIcouldn’tevenreadthatblatantafib.Whatdoesthatsayaboutme,aboutmyjudgment?Myperspicacity?
“Ari.”Hana’svoicesoftens.“It’sabigworld,andyoucan’tbeexpectedtoknoweverypartofit.Thequestionis,nowthatyouknow,whatareyougoingtodo?”
“Nothing.WhatcanIdo?”
“Forcryingoutloud.”Hana’smomentarysympathyevaporateswhenitbuttsagainsttheimmovableforcethatismyself-pity.“Willyoulistentoyourself?Youlikehim.Hadfunwithhim.Helikesyou.”Shepauses.“I’veneverseenyousoopenwithsomeone,Ari.It’slikeyou’veknowneachotherforages.Yeah,helivedinourplace,butyoutwoclicked.Eventually.”
Isigh,andthistimeIknowHanahearsitasthedefeatitis.“Idolikehim,butIfeelused.And…small.He’ssurroundedbybeautiful,famouswomenwhogethim.Whogetthatlifestyle.”
“Youarebeautiful,insideandout,soshutup.Plus,toJihoon,yougethim.”
“Notthepressureofthatlife.AlsotheyspeakKorean.”
“Koreanisnotsomealienlanguagewhereyouhavetoamputatealimbtocommunicate.Getagoddamnapp.”
Iignorethat.“Thedistanceisaproblem.We’rebothbusyatwork.”
“Thosearelegitimateconcerns,”Hanaallows.
“Idon’tknowwhattodo.”Ialwaysknowwhattodo.Idon’tactunlessIknowexactlywhattheoutcomewillbe.ThisissooutoftheboundsofwhatInormallyexperiencethatIdon’tevenhaveablueprintofhowtoreasonablyapproachit.
“Youdon’tneedtodoanythingbuttalktoJihoon,”Hanasays.
“Soundsbetterintheory,”Igrumble.
Hanaleansoverandgivesmeahug.“I’msorryIdidn’ttellyou.”
“Iknow.”I’mnotmadanymore,onlywornout.
“Jihoonisaswell.”
I’mdonethinkingaboutthistonight.There’saheadachelocalizedentirelyinmylefttemple.“I’llsleeponit.”
“Youdothat.”Sheleaves,andItuckintobed.
Theblack-outshadesonthewindowgivetheroomadeepdarknessthat’salmostliketheinsideofamovietheaterbeforeyoureyesadjust.ScenesplayofJihoonlaughingandplayingwithmyhair.Howcouldhenottellme?Whatelseishehiding?Hewassogoodatshowingmeonlythepartsofhimselfhechose,andthereIwaslikealoser,talkingtohimaboutrealthingsthatmatteredtome.Actualfeelingsaboutworkandmyfamily.Ithoughtitwasreal,butthetimewehadwasasauthenticasastageset.
Aheavydisappointmentseepsthroughmeatthelossofwhatcouldhavebeen.Iwishitcouldhavebeendifferent.Iwishhelivedhereandthathewaswhohesaidandthatwecouldhavetriedtobuildsomethingtogether.Ifhe’dbeenanormalguy,wecouldhavegonelong-distance.Wecouldhavekeptconnected.Butthere’sthatcrowdinfrontofmy
Iburymyfaceinthepillowandtrytothinkrationally.Thisrevealcouldbeforthebest.ItkeepsmytimewithJihoonshortandmostlysweet,andinafewdays,this’llbenothingbutamemory.I’llbefreeagaintoconcentrateonmycareer.
ExactlywhatIwant.Twenty-Four
EventhoughJihoonhasseenmestumblearoundwithtangledhairandeyespuffywithsleep,Itakemytimegettingreadyinthemorning.It’sforme,IassuremyselfasIfixmyhairsoitfallsloosebehindmyshouldersinwavesfrommynightbraid.NotbecauseIfeelintimidatednowthatIknowwhoheis.AriadneHuidoesnotgetintimidatedbypopculturecelebrities,evenifJihoonisonacompletelydifferentlevelthansomeseasonthreerealityTVreject.
However,AriadneHuidoesn’tusuallyrefertoherselfinthethirdperson,soitlookslikeallbetsareoff.
IdidanotherhourofresearchwhenIwokeatdawn,unabletosleepandshakenfromanightmareofmyofficesurroundedbytelevisioncameras.ThistimeIfocusedmoreonStarLunenewsandconcertfootage.Therearevideosofthebandarrivinganddepartingvariousplacessurroundedbybuffblack-cladsecurityguardsholdingbackcrowdsofscreamingfansclutchingcellphones.Halfthetime,Ican’teventellwhichoneisJihoon,sincethey’recoveredinmasksandsunglassesandhatsastheflashesstrobeoverthem.Theexperiencelooksbothphysicallyandmentallyunbearableandprovidesafreshunderstandingofhisfishbowllife.
It’stheconcertfootagethatastoundsme,though.Iwatchedstunnedasheperformedinstadiumsfortensofthousandsofpeople.Whatkindofpersoncandothat,holdsomanypeople’sunwaveringattentionforhoursonend?Hanacantalkallshewantsaboutpersonasandmultilayersofselforwhatever,butthefactremainsthatJihoonisoneman,andthatonemanhaspeoplefromaroundtheworldpantingforhimandwatchingvideosofhimnapping.Thatonemanhasenoughconfidence,enoughwell-earnedarrogance,tosteponastageandknowhecancontrolthecrowdwithasinglemovement.
Whatdoeshewantwithme?
LookslikeAriadneHuigetsalittleintimidatedbycelebritiesafterall.
Thismightbethelasttimewetalk,butIwanttoknoweverythingIshouldhaveknowninthefirstplace.Ifeelalmostcalm.Resolute.Nothingwillhappenbetweenusbecausewhatcanhappen?Iwasafooltothinkotherwise.Despitethisconviction,mymusclesaresotensemyteethchatterwhenIfinallysendthetextI’vebeensittingonforminutes.I’mreadytotalkifyou’refree.
Jihoon’satmydoorwithinthirtyseconds,butwhenIopenit,hestepsback,eyesflickeringovermyfaceasiftoreadthefutureoftheconversation.
“Hi,”Isay.
Thisencourageshimenoughtocomein,andIwavehimtothetablebythewindow.ThecurtainsareopentoshowBloorStreet,mutedgrayfromtheolderbuildingsstainedwithpollutionandthecloudymorning.Jihoon’swhiteshirtplaysupthetanofhisskinandrevealsthethicknessofhisneckandlittledivotsofhiscollarbones.Hishairispushedbackfromhisface,andtwosmallhoopsdecoratehisleftear,andonehangsfromhisright.Ihadn’trealizedhisearswerepierced.
Whenwe’rebothseated,Ilookhimintheeye.“Whatelsedidn’tyoutellme?”Bettertohavethegreatcleanserightnow.
“Nothing.”
“Doyouhaveagirlfriend?”
Hisheadjerksup.“No,ofcoursenot.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Noboyfriendeither.”
“AreKitandDaehyunmad?”
“Theyaredispleased.”
Thisseemslikeanunderstatementsincetheyhadtocomehalfwayacrosstheworldtohaulhisasshome,butIleaveitalone.“AreyougoingbacktoKorea?”
“Yes.”Hetugsononeofthesilverhoops.“Ihaveto.”
“Why?”
Jihoonwrinkleshisnoseashelooksoutthewindow.“Thecompanyisfurious.Ihavetofulfillmycontract.”Hepauses.“Ioweittomymembers.StarLuneisfivepeople,andnomatterwhatmypersonalfeelings,Ineedtoactintheirbestinterest.”
“Attheexpenseofyourown?”
Hegivesmeaconfusedlook.“Ican’tmakethedecisiontobreakupthebandbymyself,nomatterhowIfeel.Thatwouldbeselfish.”
“Youweregoingto.”
Hetuckshishandsintothesleevesofhisblacksweater.“Ihadafantasy,anditended.Likeallfantasies.”
Ikeepthequestionsgoing.“Whenareyouleaving?”
“Soon.Thiswasterribletiming.”Jihoonstaresattheground.“Iaddedtoeveryone’soverworkandthestresswealwaysgetwhenwe’rereleasingnewsongs.Iforcedthemtolieforme.”
“Right.”Hisself-flagellationismakingithardtostaymadathim.Wemightaswellendonafriendlynote.Istandfromthetableandstartpacingtogetridofthejumpyenergythat’splayingovermyskinanddrivingintomybones.“Whydidyouevenstartallthiswithme?”
Helayshisheadonthetablewithanaudiblethump.“Iwasn’tthinking,Ari.Ionlywantedyou—selfishagain.Ididn’tthinkofStarLuneorthefutureorevenyourfeelings,onlyofmyself.IfeltaconnectionwhenImetyouthatfirstday.Youseeme.Youtreatedmelikemyfamilydoes.”
“Theypullknivesoneachother?”
“Thatpart,no.”Hegrins,butitquicklyslipsaway.“Theydon’tactlikeI’mdifferentfromanyoneelse.I’mnotanidol,onlyJihoon,amanwhoworksasaperformerbutwhoalsonearlyburneddownthekitchenmakingnurungjiwhenhewasthirteen.Ifeelnormalwiththem,andwithyou.Calm.Safe.”
WhenIwokeup,IwassurewhatIwantedoratleastconfidentastowhatwouldhappen.We’dtalk,saygoodbye,andthenI’dbeleftwithmemories.WhenIturnandseeJihoonfrowningontheothersideoftheroom,it’sclearthatImightnothavebeenascertainasItoldmyself.Ilikebeingwithhim,too,andithurtstogivethatup.We’vebarelyknowneachotheramonth,buttheintimacyoflivinginthesameapartmenthasmademecomfortablewithhiminawayIdon’tusuallyfeel.Actually,inawayIneverfeel,notevenwithHana.HeliedandtheresidualofthathurtremainsbutbothHanaandJihoonhavemadeitcleartheyhadreasons.Imightnotfullyagree,butIunderstandenoughtoforgivethem.
“Peopledothingsformebecausetheyhavetoortheythinkitwillbenefitthem.”Jihoonrunshishandalongtheedgeofthetable.“Youneverdid.Atfirstyouseemedsohardandcold,likeyouareatwork,butyouractionswerekind.Generous.”
Pretendit’salegalnegotiation.You’reworkingforyourclient,Ms.A.Hui,andyourjobistogetallthedetailsandfigureoutthebestplanofaction.
“Ilikethingstobeorganized,”Isay.“Predictable.Thisistheoppositeofthat.”
Hecrossestheroomandreachesouttotouchmyjawline,lettinghisfingerstracedowntomythroat.Mypulsefluttersashepassesovermyskin.“Haveyouthoughtperhapsyoudon’tcraveroutineasmuchasyoutellyourself?”
Ipullaway.“Whatdoyouknowaboutpeopleanyway?”Helivestherarifiedlifeofapopstar.Heneverhastointeractwiththehoipolloi.
Jihoonlooksatmeindisbelief.“Istudypeople.Iwatchthem.DoyouthinkIwritesongsoutoftheblue?Iwatchpeopleliveandbleed,andIbleed,too.That’swhatpeoplewant,whattheyneedsotheydon’tfeelalone.”
“Isee.”
“No,Ari,becauseyoudon’tbleed—ever.Youdon’tknowyourselfatall.”
“Youdon’tknowmewellenoughtosaythat,”Isnap.
“Yetit’strue.”
Iopenmymouthtoargue…butIcan’t.
“Yousawme,therealme,beforeallthis”—hepointsaroundtheroom—“gotintheway.Iwantyoutokeepseeingmelikethat,notasMin.Canyou?”
Iexaminehim.Helookstiredandwornandpainfullygenuine.Rightnowhe’sJihoonandnotMin.Whataboutwhenheleavesthisroom?Whoishethen?
“Whatdoyouwantoutofthis?”IaskasIwalkbacktothetableandsit.“Us,whateverthatis.”
“ItwouldbebestifIgohomeandweforgetweevermet,”hesays,lookingmeintheeyes.
Myskintingles,thengoescold,becausethesearemyownthoughtsfromlastnight.“Iknow.”
“Doyouwantthat?”heasks.
“Doyou?”
“Iaskedfirst.”
“You’retheonewholikestotalkandwhocausedthismess.”
“Thenno.”BeforeIcanspeak,hecontinues,“Iwanttobewithyou,learnyou.We’renewtogether,butIseeapath.Idon’tknowhowitwillhappen,butthat’swhatIwant.”
“SodoI.”Irushthewordsoutwithoutthinking,buttheyfeelright.IletmyselfbelievethemevenasIwonderwhatthehellI’mdoing.Thisisn’twhatIhaddecided.Thisisn’taplanbasedonlogicandacoldassessmentofthefacts.
Livingwithmyheart,Iguess.Idon’tknowthatIlikeit.
“Nowwhat?”Iask.
Hestandsupandleansover,fingersslidingovermyfist.“Ikissyou,”hesaysseriously.“Thenwetalk.”
Iwriggleaway.“Firstwetalk.”
Nowhe’stheonetostartpacing.“IwantyoutocometoKoreawithme.”
“Whoa,tiger.”Iblink.“Rightnow?”
“Soon.Foravisit.Youcanmeettheothermembers,XinandSangjun—youwouldlikethem.Theywilllikeyou.WecouldexploreSeoul.”
Avacation.Ioncemadetravelplansforafriend’striptoKorea,yearningtobetheremyselfasIfollowedthecurvesoftheHanRiveronthemapwithmyfinger.It’senticing,but…Icometomysenses.“Alexsaysnooneknowsaboutmenow.IfIgotoKoreawithyou,thatgoesoutthewindow.Andyousaidyou’dbebusy.”
“Wewouldmakeitwork.Newlightwouldpreferwedidn’tdatebecauseofourimage,butIdon’thaveaformaldatingban.”
“Awhatnow?”
“Weweren’tallowedtodateastraineesorinthefirsttwoyearsafterourdebut,”hesayscasually,likethisisanormalactionforanemployertotake.“It’stohelpusfocusonourworkandavoidscandals.”
“Uh…”Ihonestlyhavenoresponsetothis.
“Sangjun,oneoftheotherbandmembers,wasdatingsomeoneforayear.Newlighttoldhimtokeepitsecretbutdidn’tforbidit.Aslongasthepublicdoesn’tfindout,it’snotaproblem.”
“Whatiftheydofindout?”
“Itcompromisesthatperson’ssafety,andsomefansdon’tlikeit,butwehavewaystokeepourprivacy.”Jihoonleansagainstthewall.“ThedistanceisanissuebecauseIcan’tstayhere.Wehaveacomeback,andthere’smuchpreparation.”
“Howlongwillthattake?”
Hebiteshislip.“Atleastanotherthreemonthsofpracticeandthenpromotion,plustheend-of-yearawardshows.There’salsoaspecialfanconcertinamonth.”
“Iguesswefigureouthowtotextaroundatimedifference,”Isay.I’vedecidedthisiswhatIwant,soI’mgoingtogoforit.
“Long-distance?Youwoulddothat?”
“Theredon’tseemtobeotheroptions,”Isay.“Let’stryit,andthenwecantalkvisits.”
Healreadyhashisphoneoutandistappingaway.Myownbuzzeswithacalendarinvite.“What’sthis?”Iask.
“ThedayafterourVIPconcert.Wehavefreetimethen,perhapsevenafewdays.”Hegrinsatme.“Seoulislovelyinthefall.”
Ipretendtoconsiderit.“IdohaveafewplacesIwantedtovisit.”
“I’msureyouwillplanthebestitinerary.”Heputshisphoneawayandcomesovertome.“Iwill,ofcourse,bepleasedtoaccompanyyou.”
“Iliketowalk,”Iwarnhim.Nowit’smyturntomovecloser,almostenoughtotouch.
Asmallsmileappearsonhisface,andhepullsmyhairovermyshouldertobaremyneck.Whenheleansdowntowhisperinmyear,hislipsbrushmyskin.“I’maware,”hesays,voicealmostapurr.“Iliketoshop.”
Hedoesn’tmovebackwhenIdriftahanduphischestandtiltmyheadsomyhairbrusheshisarm.“Icandosomeshoppingifwegotobookstores.”
Hishandcoversmine,claspingitagainsthisheart.“Youcan’treadKorean.”
Myotherhandcomesuparoundthebackofhisneck,andIpressmyfingerstohiswarmskin.Heshivers.“Doesn’tmatter.Ilikebookstores.AndIwanttoseethepinkmuhlygrass.”
“Iknowtheperfectspotforphotos.Deal.”Hedropsatinykissonmyface,rightbesidemyear,andpullsbacksowefaceeachother.“Nowthekissing,”hesaysagainstmymouth.Hishandsgripmyhipstopullmeclose.
“Holdon.”Iwiggleawayandacceptthecalendarinvite.“There,it’sofficial.”
“Good,”hesaysasheguidesmebackintohisembrace.“I’mgladwe’veresolvedthetravelplans.”
Idon’thavetimetoanswerbeforeheacts.Itdoesn’tmatter—nowisdefinitelytimeforthekissing.
I’mnotsureifit’sbecausethere’satimelimitbeforeheleaves,butIdon’tthinkI’veevergotteninbedfasterwithamaninmylife.Jihoonmurmursagainstmyneck,hisbreathwarm.Iputmyhandonhischestandammomentarilydistracted.
“Whyareyousosmooth?”Ileandowntocheck.Totallyhairless.
“Lasertreatment.”Hekissesmyshoulder,thenletshistonguetraceawanderingpath.“Easierthanshavingallthetime.”
“Howabout…”Ireachdown,andhegrabsmyhand.
“Howaboutyou’llfindthatoutsoonenough?”HepinsmyhanddownandticklesmeuntilI’mlaughingsohard,I’mbreathless,thenwatchesintentlyasmygigglestrailoffintolittlegaspsbeforeIpullhimdowntokissme.Hishandreleasesmineanddriftsdownmysideasheplantskissesalongmythroat
ThenhedipsmuchfartherdownuntilI’mbreathlessforaverydifferentreason,andthere’snothingelseinmymindbuthim.Twenty-Five
Twoverysatisfyinghourslater,Jihoon’sphonebuzzes,andherollsawayfromwherehe’scurledagainstme.Becauseanotherhumaninmyvicinityislookingattheirphone,Ihavenochoicebuttolookatmine.Ileanover,grimacingatthestiffnessinmylegs,andgrabitfromthesidetable.HiddenamongthenotificationsIsetlastnighttokeepinformedofStarLuneandMinposts—andtherearemany—isatextfromHana.It’saGIFofJihoondancing,featuringhipthrusts.
That’swherehegetsitfrom.Practice.Iapprove,feelinghismusclestenseandrelaxasIoutlinethegorgeouslydetailedtigertattooonhisbackwithmyfingers.Thattherearememesofthemancurrentlyinbedwithmeisasdisturbingasyou’dexpect.He’sapublicfigurewhoshareshislifewithahugeanddevotedfanbase.Aterribleandextremelyunwelcomefeelingrearsup,andalthoughit’snotoneIliketorecognize,it’seasyenoughtoidentify:inadequacy.
Jihoonleansoverandbrushesmyhairawaysohecankissmyshoulderbeforeheburieshisfaceinmyneck.Whenhespeaks,thewordsflutteragainstmybareskin.“Myflightisbookedfortonight.”
HavingfantasticsexwithJihoonrightbeforeheleavesindefinitelyforKoreaisnotgoinginmyBestDecisionsHallofFame,butIregretnothing.Ishakeofftheanxietyaboutwhatwillhappenaftertodaytolookatwhat’shappeningnow,inthemoment,oratleastinthenextfewhours.
“Wantmetocometotheairportwithyou?”Ishiver,andheglancesupattheair-conditioningventbeforetuggingthecoversuptomyneck.
“I’dlovethat.Noonewillseeyouinthecar.”Hekissesmeagain,thenbrushesthetipofhisnoseagainstmycheek.He’ssoaffectionate,Ican’tstandit,andItrynottothinkabouttheStarLunefamestuff.
Nothappening.ThequestionburstsoutbeforeIcanstopit.“Doyousleepwithyourfans?”
“Ari,never.”JihoonturnsovertogathermetighterintohisarmsbutpullsawaytogetoffmyhairafterIsqueal.Heretakeshisspotoncehegathersitupandtucksitaway.
“Really?”
“Noneofuswould.”Hekissesmytemple,thenrestshisforeheadagainstmycheekashishandstrokesalongmyside.“Itwouldbeahugecontroversy,ascandal.Toorisky,andtohavearelationshipwithaStarrywouldbestressful.Youwouldbeworriedaboutdisappointingthemoncetheyknewtherealyou,nottheidol.”
Hiscommentstriggeranotherthought.“Money.”
“Whataboutit?”Heghostslittlekissesalongmyarm.
“You’rerich.”
Moreunrepentantkisses.“Iam.”
Iyankmyarmbackandglareathim.“Thiswholetime,youcouldhavebeeneatinginfive-starrestaurants,butyoupretendedtobepoor.”
“Iwasn’tpretending,”hesays.“Ihavemoneynow.Foralongtime,wedidn’t.Astrainees,welivedinacrowdeddorm.Evenafterourdebut,weateramyeonandlivedintworoomsforthefiveofus.TheceilingleakedoverXin’sbedwhenitrained.”
“Really?”
“Hehadtosleepwithabucket.”Jihoonrollsontohisback,bringingmewithhimsoIlieonhischest.“Idollifedoesn’tlastlongeither.Mymoneyisinboringinvestments.”
Irecalloneofthevideosfrommyrabbitholelastnight.“Don’tyoucollectvintagewatches?”Oneofthemhadcostoverahalfamilliondollars.
“Thoseareinvestments.”Jihoonclaspshisarmsaroundmylowerbackandmovestheconversationon.“KithyeongandDaehyunwouldliketomeetyouproperlyatlunch,withnoliesbetweenyou.”
Mystomachgrowlsloudenoughtovibratebetweenus.Helaughs.“Hanawillcomeaswell.”
“I’dlikethat.”I’mcurioustotalktoKitandDaehyunnowthatIknowwhotheyare.IcantellhowimportanttheyaretoJihoon.Plus,theymightdishsomedirtonhisearlyyears.“WhataboutAlex?”
“Hesayshe’sbusy.”Hegrimaces.“CleaningupthemessImade.”
I’mdressedbeforeJihoonandgoouttothekitchentofetchsomecoffee.ThefridgeincorporatesNASA-leveltechnology,andIpokebuttonsuntilitdisgorgessomesphericalicefromaslotforJihoon’scup.
KitcomesinwhileI’mstruggling,andwelookateachother.Inowknowhe’sStarLune’sleaderaswellasJihoon’sbestfriend.Witheverythingoutintheopen,helooksmoretiredbutlesstense.
“Coffee?”Isaytoopenconversation.
HepassesmeacupthatItuckunderthemachine.“Iheardyourflightisbookedfortonight,”Isay.
“Itis.”Kit’seyesaretrainedontheslowlyfillingcup.
Igetenoughterseanswersfrommyjob,whereIactuallygetpaidtoputupwiththatshit.Idon’tneeditfromhim,soInodandstarttoleave.Hopefullyhe’llbeinamoretalkativemoodatlunch,butIcan’tworryaboutitnow.I’vegotenoughonmyplate.
“Ariadne.”Kitholdsupahandtostopme.“Canwetalk?”
“Aboutwhat?”IputJihoon’scuponthecounterandtakeasipofmyowncoffee.
Anunhappysmiletugsathismouth.“Jihoontoldmeyouweresmart,soyoumustknow.”
Iautomaticallygoontheoffensive.“Iassumeyouwanttoaskmepersonalquestionsaboutyourfriendinsteadofaskinghimdirectly.”
Underhisbreath,hemutters,“FirstSangjun,nowJihoon.”Heraiseshisvoice.“Weallwanttoquitsometimes.Itcanbeahardlife,butit’swhatwechosebecausetherewardsoutweighthesacrifices.”
Ilookathimcuriously.Hesoundsbitter.“Dothey?”Iask.“Foryouaswell?Allofyou?”
Themachinebeepsbutheignoresit.“Youhavenoideathedamageyou’lldotohimifyoudon’tletthisgo,”hesays.
Iglareathim,thenglancetowardthebedroomsandlowermyvoice.“Don’tyoumeandamagetoStarLune?”
“That,too,”hesays.“AlthoughJihoonwillbearthemostpressure.Hehasnotimeforarelationship.He’sabouttostartworkingeighteen-hourdays.Howdoyouseeyourselffittingin?Whatwillyoutakefromhimsohecanmakespaceforyou?”
Kithassomenerve.IputmycoffeeonthecounternexttoJihoon’sbecauseIcanfeelthetensionflowingdownmyarms,anindicatormyhandsareabouttostartshaking.Itampdownmyinstinctiveresponse,whichistotellKittotakealongjumpoffashortpier.He’stryingtoprotecthisfriend,Itellmyself.He’salsoprotectinghispreciousStarLuneandthemanymillionsitmakeshim,butthatperspectiveislesskind.
“YoushouldaskJihoonthat,”Isay.
“Jihoontriestodohisbestforeveryonearoundhim,whichmeanshegetsstuck,”Kitsaysslowly.
“Stuck.”
“IfIwanttogoleft,youwishtogoright,andhe’sinthemiddle,howcanhemakeeveryonehappy?”
Idecidetobedifficult.“Idon’twanttogoright.”
“Iknowyoudon’twanttogoright,”Kitsaysthroughgrittedteeth.“I’musingdirectionasametaphorforthemanyprioritiescompetingforhisverylimitedtime.”
“Yeah,Igetthat,thanks.Ialsoknowhe’sanadultwhocametoTorontobyhimself,stayedbecausehewantedto,andisleavingbecauseyou’remakinghim.Noneofithastodowithme,sodon’ttrytopaintmeassomeYokoOnostealingyourmanbecausethat’sbullshit,andyouknowit.”
“You’vebarelyknowneachotheramonth,”Kitsayswithdisgust.“Youthinkit’sworthJihoonriskinghiscareerforthat?Thedreamhe’sworkedforsincehewasateenager?”
LikeI’veworkedformine.Idon’treply.
“Doyouknowwhatthefanswilldoiftheyfindoutaboutyou?Youcankissyourprivacygoodbye.”Heeyesme.“Unlessthat’swhatyouwant.”
IpickupbothcoffeesandputHana’sadvicefordealingwithassholecommentsintoplay.“Wow,”Isay,holdinghisgaze.Forgoodmeasure,Ishakemyheadsadly,asifthinkingaboutwhatapitifulhumanheistosaysuchadisgustingthing.“Wow.”
ThenIleave.
BythetimeIgetbacktotheroom,IseethedownsidetoHana’sadvicebecauseI’mbrimmingwithsatisfyingone-linersIwishIcouldgobacktohurlatKit.Jihoonhasn’tcomeoutoftheshower,andIpacetheroombeforedecidingnottotellhim.I’msurehe’shadtodealwithMr.Interferenceonhisownandthatthemessagehereceivedwassimilar.
TheshowerturnsoffasYukocallsfromLuxe.“Iknowit’sSaturday,butareyoubusy?”
“Yes.”Thisisnottheproperprofessionalresponse,soItryagain.“Imean,what’sgoingon?”
“InesneedsyouinNiagara.We’vebeentryingtolandtheHotelXanaduasaclient.Shesetupalast-minutewinetourforsomeoftheirimportantguests,butlifesucks,sotheremightbesomeissues.She’dlikeyouonhandincaseofemergencies.”
Iglanceovermyshoulderatthemussed-upbed.“It’snotthebesttime.”Alsonotprofessional,butthistimeit’sworthit.
“Ari,I’msorry.Thisisabigdealforus,andwecan’triskascrewup.Ifyoucan’tgo,canyousuggestacolleaguewhocan?”
That’snotgoingtohappen;Ican’tletYesterlyandHavingsthinkIcan’thandlemyworkload,andthere’snooneItrust.“Icanleaveinafewminutes.”ThankGodAlexhadsomeonedrivemycaroverfrommyapartment.
“I’llsendyouthelocationandtellheryou’llbethere.”Yukohangsup.
Icheckaroundtheroomformylaptop,whichItuckintomybag.I’mreadytoleavebythetimeJihoonemergesfromhisshower.
Helooksmeover.“Whathappened?”
“Ineedtogotowork.”
“Now?”Hisfacefalls.
“I’mafraidso.”Itrytonotfeelguilty—thisiswork,afterall,andhe’sabouttoleaveforthesamereason.“It’sanemergency.”
“Canyougoafterlunch?”
Ishakemyhead,thankfultohaveanexcusetomisslunchwithKit.“I’msorry.Ishouldn’tbetoolate.”
“ThenI’llgivethistoyounow.”HehandsmealittleredboxwithCartierwritteningoldscriptacrossthetop.WhenIfalter,staring,heflipsthelidup.“Thisistoremindyoutomaketimeforwhatmatters.”Hesmiles.“Likeme.Us.”
TheloveliestwatchI’veeverseenisnestledaroundatinyblackpillow,thelittlediamondsaroundthefacesparklingunderthelightsfromthebathroom.
“Ican’t,”Isay.“Ican’ttakethis.”
“Idisagree.”Hetakesmyhandandwrapstheleatherbandaroundmywrist.Damnit.Nowthatit’son,allmyprotestsdie.It’sgorgeous.
Jihoonlookspleased.“Iknewthestylewouldbeperfectforyou.”
I’mfreakingoutalittle,butImanagetosay,“Thankyou.”
Heshowsmehisownwrist.Iraisemyeyebrows.“Wematch?”
“Ilikewhencouplesdressthesamebackhome,”hedefendshimself.Heduckshishead,almostshy,makingmelaughandtiltmyheadtocatchhiseye.
“Idon’tmindmatchingyou.”Ilineupourarmsandtakeaphoto.“Onlyforme,”Iassurehim.“Nottopostonline.”
“Itrustyou.”Hebeams,thenstrokesmywristwithhisthumb.“I’llmissbeingwithyoueveryday,Ari.”
Igouponmytiptoestoleaveakissonhisjaw,buthetwistsdowntokissmeproperly.Forthosefewseconds,IforgetaboutNiagaraandtheplanethatwilltakehimbackhomeinafewhours.KissingJihoonislikeenteringaretreatcreatedforthetwoofus.
He’sthefirsttopullbackthistime.“Don’tbelate,”hesays,droppingafinalkissonmyhead.
NowIfeellikeatrueheelforleavingforwork.“I’llbebacksoon.”
Hedoesn’ttrytostopme,andpartofmewondersifIwishhewould.ItextaquickapologytoHanabeforeheadingforNiagara,mymindamixofJihoonandwork.
MostlyJihoon.
Betterchangethattomostlywork.Workishereandnow,andJihoonwillbegonesoon.Workwon’t.Twenty-Six
IarriveinNiagaraninetyminuteslaterandhurriedlynavigatetoasmallboutiquewineryoffthepicturesqueparkwaythatfollowstheNiagaraRivertothewaterfalls.Ineswaitsunderatree,lookingasifshedoesn’thaveacareintheworld.Herpristinewhitesuitplaysupthedeepbrownofherskin.She’salwayssoputtogetherandoftenhasaperfectlyarrangedHermèsscarfatherneck.Today’sisaneye-catchingmixofpalepinkanddarkgreen.
“Ari,thankyou.”
Ismile,butatinypartofmethinks,IcouldbehavingoutrageoussexwithJihoonrightnow.Itampthatdownandfocusonthejob
Sheglancesatmywrist,wheremynewwatchcatchesthesun.“Cartier?”
“Itwasagift,”Isay.
Inesnodsinapproval.
“What?”Iask.
“Someonevaluesyouthewayyoudeservebevalued.It’sgoodtosee.”Shepointsmetohercar.“We’llgotogethersowecantalk.”
IcheckmyphoneasInesbriefsme.NothingfromJihoon,andItrynottoletitdisappointme.CrowdingmyphonearemorenotificationsaboutStarLune.Ishouldturnthemoff,butI’malsocuriousaboutwhatpeoplearesaying.Sofar,it’sstillshockandspeculationonwhyhe’sinTorontoandplaceswherepeoplearesuretheysawhim.NomentionofmeorHana,thankGod.
TherestoftheafternoonandearlyeveningisablurasIfollowInesbetweenwineriestosmoothoutdetails.MuchofwhatLuxedoesislast-minutetoaccommodatethewhimsoftheirclients,whoapparentlyhavethefuture-planningabilitiesofmarmosets.Everythingisperfect—theweatherisclearandwarm,thewineisready,andI’vesacrificedmylastdaywithJihoonforanoverpamperedsocialitetocomeenjoyitwithherparasiticposse.
TherealkickeristhatIdidn’tevenneedtodomuchbesideslookoversomecontractwordingthatIprobablycouldhavedonebyphone.Whydidn’tIpushbackharder?
Duringbreaks,IchecktheincreasingtrafficofStarLuneposts.Itwasabadideatosetthenotifications.Ishouldmutethem,butit’slikewatchingabuildingcollapse.Ican’tlookaway.AlthoughI’veacceptedJihoon—Min—andStarLuneareaphenomenon,Idon’tthinkIinternalizeditcompletelyuntilnow.Thesheervolumeofpoststramplesmyignoranceintotheground.Iputmyphoneaway,promisingtoonlycheckeveryhour.Everyhalfhour,Iamend,takingonemorepeek.
Whenwefinishatthefinalstop,it’salmostsix,andIwanttogetbacktoToronto.“Arewegood?”IaskInes,tryingtokeepmyvoiceaspatientaspossible.
“I’lldriveyoubacktoyourcar.”Shesmilesatme.“Itwasarelieftohaveyouherealthoughyoudidn’thavemuchtodo.Someofthosewineriescanbedifficultaboutspecialclientswithnoleadtime,andIwantedtobeprepared.”
“Ofcourse,”Imutter.
ItextJihoonthatI’monmywaybackasInesstartsdriving.Whenherphonerings,sheputsitonspeaker.
“Ines,”shesaysinasmoothvoice.
“Hey,Ms.Ines,theguestsaregone.”It’sGregor,thedriver.
“What?”Herhandstightenaroundthewheel.
“TheladiesIwasdrivingaround?They’regone.”
“Gonewhere?”sheasks.IlookatInes’sitineraryasshetalkstoGregorandseetheyshouldbeenjoyingmusselswhileoverlookingtheNiagaragorgewhirlpoolrightnow.
“Awaiteratthelastplacetoldthemaboutsomestripclubwheretheguysonlywearsteel-toedbootsand,uh,toolbelts?Iguesshecalledthemacab,andtheywentover.”
ItrynottogiggleatInes’sface.Toolbelts?
Ines,however,handlesitlikeapro.“Gregor,youstaythereincasetheycomeback.”
“Willdo,boss.”
Inespullsover.“Sorry,Ineedtotakecareofthis.”
“Ofcourse.”Mylegstartstremblingwithstress,butit’snotlikeIcanwalktomycarfromhere,sothesoonerthisisdealtwith,thefasterI’monmywayhome.Itakeasurreptitiouslookatmyphone.StarLunenotificationsareoffthecharts,andIclearthemallwithaswipe.Idon’tneedJihoon’sfameshovedinmyfacethismuch.
Inescallsalocalcontact,who,notsurprisinglygiventheclues,knowsexactlywhichclubitis.“It’scalledtheJackhammer,”thewomansayswithenthusiasm.“Yeah,Icanseewhytheywent.”
Ines’seyebrowsriseassheglancesatme.We’reboththinkingthesamething.“You’vebeenthere?”sheasks.
“Sure.Theyhavethebestnachopoutinearound.”
Ineshangsupandstaresatthephone.“Toolbelts,”shesaysthoughtfully.
Itrynottolaugh.“Wheredoyouthinktheyweartheworksocks?”
Herfacetwitchesasshestartsthecaragain.
Thebarisabouttenminutesaway,andJihooncallsasweenterthelittledimlylitfoyer.IanswerbecauseIwanttotalktohimincaseI’mdelayedfurther.
“Ari?Whereareyou?”
Althoughit’snotasloudasadanceclub,theplaceislituplikesomeonesetofffireworks.Inesheadstotheright,andIsniffcautiouslyasIlookleft.Itreeksoffriedfood,sweat,andToryBurchperfume,andIraisemyvoicetotalkintothephonesoJihooncanhearme.“I’matabar.”
“Abar?Ithoughtyouwereleaving.”Hesoundsmoreconfusedthanupset.IedgeintothemainroomsoIcanmultitaskfindingthesewomenandtalkingtoJihoon,butcheerseruptasamantakestothestageswingingasledgehammer.Theentireeffectismorenerve-rackingthanarousingasIwaitforhimtoaccidentallytakeoutthestripperpole.
“Theguestsdisappeared.We’retryingtofind…ohmyGod.”
Amandressedinajockstrapandtoolbelthaspoppedupinfrontofme.“Lookingforagoodtime,babygirl?”heasks,twitchinghisoiledpecsinmydirection.“Ilikethecuteones.I’llgiveyouadiscount,makeitgood.”
There’sachokednoiseonthephone.“Ari?”
PoorJihoon.“It’sforwork.I’llcallyouback.”Ihangup.
ToolBeltMandropsmeawink.“Boyfriend,huh?Havehimcomeby.Idon’tmind.”
Iignorethat.“I’mlookingforfivewomen.Mostlyblondandthey’reprobablydrunk.”
Headjustshisbelt.“Yeah?Takeyourpick,babygirl.”
Ileavemynew,almostnakedfriendandstartpeeringintobooths,increasinglydesperatetogetonmyway.Thenachopoutine,whichisaboutsixincheshigh,doeslookgood,though.I’mfendingoffanothertoolbelthandymanandamabouttorecheckthetableswhenatextcomesfromInes.
Foundthem,itsays.Meetmeatthedoor.
Thebestmessageofmylife.IracebacktotheexitandmeetwithInes,who’soutsidetakingdeepbreaths.
“They’regood?”Iask.
“Veryhappy,andIhavelearnedseveraldifferentapplicationsofthetermflexibilitytonight,”shesays.“Letmerunyoutoyourcar.Gregorcanpickthemup.”
Itakeaphotooftheneonsign,includingthePecPopper,whoisblowingmeakiss,andsendittoJihoon.
Me:Takingyouherenexttimeyou’reinCanada.
Jihoon:Can’twaitbabygirl.
Me:Shutup.Onmywayback.
IdeletethenextfloodofStarLuneupdatenotifications,andthistimeIturnthedamnthingsoff.Ihaveplentyofstressalready,thanks.
I’mgoingtobelate.
Seventhirtycomes,andIcheckmyphone.I’vekeptJihoonupdatedonmypainfullyslowprogress,andIseethemessageI’vebeendreading.Weneedtoleavefortheairportsoon.
Icanmakeit,Isendback.
Tenminuteslater,I’vemovedaboutthreekilometers.Sooncomesanothermessage,readoutbymyphone.
Wehavetogo.I’llmissyou.IglanceatthescreentoseeJihoon’saddedaseriesofheartsandaphotoofhimblowingakiss.
There’snowayIcangettothecondointime,butI’mgoingtoseeJihoonandthat’sit.IkeepdrivingasItabulatemyoptions.Icangototheairportdirectly,butIwon’tbeabletosaygoodbyetohimindepartureslikenormalpeople.
Ican’tmakeitback,butIhaveanidea.ItextJihoon.Icanmeetyou.ThenIgivetheGPScoordinatesforagasstationoffthehighwayonthewaytotheairport.
Hesendsbackaseriesofhearts.Yes.
Ihangupanddon’tbothertocheckthetimeasIwaitforthetraffictomove.
Thetrafficgodsblessmewithafewbreaks,butI’mlatetotheemptygasstation.Icheckmyphone.
We’rehere.
Areyouclose?
Then,afewminuteslater.Wehavetogoforourflight.
Goddamnthesexytoolbeltstrippers.ItextJihoon.I’msorry.Traffic.I’mhere.Ican’tbelieveImissedyou.
Ileanbackintheseat.ShouldIcallhim?Iwill,thesecondthetearsstopwellingupinmyeyes.
NowthatJihoon’sgoneandthechancesofseeinghiminpersonforalongtime—ifever—areveryslim,IadmitthatI’mperhapsonthebrinkofsomethingalittlemorethanacrush.Besidemesitsmylaptop,andIthrowittothebackseatwithaviciousmotion.Work.WasitworthittodisappointJihoonsoIcouldbethereasajust-in-caseforInes?Staringoutthewindshieldattheboredgasattendantworkingthecash,IglimpsewhatHana’sbeentryingtotellmealltheseyears.Workiswork,butitdoesn’thavetobetheentiretyofmylife.IignoredherbecauseIhadnothingelsetoturnto.Workbecomeslifewhenlifeisempty.
ButJihoonfilledit.HeslidintothefracturesIdidn’trealizewereformingandburstitallopen.Nowhe’sgonebeforeIhaveachancetosmooththecracksout.TheroadinfrontofmeisasflatandfeaturelessasthehighwayIdrovedown.Boring.Endless.Dull.
No.Comeon,Ari.I’mbeingdramatic.IsurvivedwithoutJihoon,andit’snotlikeI’mfacingalifeofhardshipanddeprivationbecausetheguyIlikedleftthecountry.Ihaveeverythingthatmatters—work,health,food,andshelter.
“Getittogether,”Iwhisperatmyreflectioninthewindow.Thisisn’tlikemeatall.Idon’tcryoverthisstuffbecauseIhardlyevercry.“What’sthematterwithyou?”
Theupliftingtalkdoesn’thelp,probablybecauseit’snotverygood.
IpulloutmyphoneandaddtomydistressbylookingatStarLunevideossoIcanseeJihoon’sface.ThescreenlightsuptheinsideofthecarinagarishflickerasIstoponasubtitledinterviewStarLunedidwithaJapanesebroadcaster.Jihoontellstheinterviewerhehasnotimetodatebecausehiscareerandhisfanswerethemostimportantlovesofhislife.
Ifrownandgotothenextvideo,whichfeaturesJihoonandKit.They’reinapracticestudiowiththevideotime-stampedtwointhemorning.
ThenJihooninanairport,headbowedandalmostinvisibleamidaseaofpeople.
Jihooninthecenterofthestage,tearsrunningdownhisfaceasthefivemembershugandlaugh.
Hopes,Hanaaskedme.Whataremyhopes?WhatdoIwant?IthoughtIwantedtomakemyparentsproudbybeingthebestlawyer,tosucceedatmycareer.Thatwasmyprimaryfocus.ItwaswhyIworkedsohard,whyIfeltguiltywhenIspenttimeonanythingnotgearedtogettingmoreclients,moremoney,moreaccolades.
EvenwhenIloveddoingotherthings.LikemakinguselessitinerariesfortripsI’dnevertake.LikereadingabookwhileJihoonwroteinhisnotebookorwatchingamoviewithHana.Thoseweren’tproductive,theycouldn’tbebilled,soIneverconsideredthemvaluable.
Thetearsstarttofallinearnest.There’snoonetowitnessmybreakdown,soIletmyselfgountilI’mflat-outcryingwithbellysobsasIsitaloneinmycar.
IwantedmoretimewithJihoon,andnowhe’sbacktohisoldlife.He’snotgoingtorememberalawyerhemetinTorontowhenhe’sjet-settingaroundtheworld.IguessIsuspectedthiswouldbetheend,nomatterwhathesaid.We’lltexteveryday,andthenonedayhe’llbetoobusyandI’llbetooproudtocallhimtwiceinarow.ThenI’llbetired.Adaywillpass,thentwo.
Thenitwillbeover,aslowandpitifuldisintegration.
Idon’twantthattohappen.
Kit’svoicecomesbacktome.You’veonlyknowneachotheramonth.He’sadickbuthe’sright.Thisisnothingbutaninfatuation.
ButIlikedbeingwithJihoon.IlikedthepersonIwaswhenwespenttimetogether.WhoisthepersonIamnow,onmyown?WhatdoIdonowthathe’sgone?
Thesearethekindsofquestionsthatnormallyonlycomeafteralotofwine,andsobermeisnotpreparedtodealwiththemwhilesittingintheparkinglotofahighwaygasstation.NordoIlikethefactthattheycenteraroundamanoranotherpersoningeneral.AtleastwhenI’mfocusedonwork,I’mthedriver.
Ipauseandsniffle.No,I’mnot.WorkisJihooninanotherform—adependency.Idon’tlikethateither,butit’sallIknow.
Iwipethetearsawaywiththebackofmyhand.Jihoonwillbeonthehighwaybynow,andthere’snowayI’mgoingtowinahigh-speedchasedownthe401.
There’saknockatmywindow,andIlurchbackinmyseat,readytofight.
ThenIseeJihoon’ssmile,andmyheartdoesadanceascomplicatedasanyStarLunechoreographytoknowthathecamebackforme.Twenty-Seven
“Yousaidyouleft.”IsoundfaintlyaccusingwhenIopenthedoorbecauseI’mhavingacrisisandhavinghimhereinfrontofmeisn’thelping.
“IaskedthedrivertocomebackwhenIgotyourmessage.”Hereachesintoundomyseatbeltbeforekissingthecornerofmymouthinapeacefulwaythatmakesmethinkit’shisfavoriteplace.“KithyeongandDaehyuncanwaitafewminutesuntilIgetthere.Comewithme?”
Idon’teventhinkbutgrabmypurseandphonebeforelockingthedoorandfollowinghimtoablackSUV.Besidesthedriver,it’sonlyus.Jihoon’sdressedinblackcargopantsandatightblackshirt,withamaskpulledunderhischin.It’sthesamelookhehasinotherairportnewsfootage,anditstrikesmehardthathe’sabouttorejoinaworldcompletelyunfamiliartome.
“Wereyoucrying?”heasks,runninghisthumbalongmycheekbone.
“Ofcoursenot.”Ablatantlie,asI’mnotaprettycrierandtheevidenceisclearonmyface.
“Ari.Don’tbesad.”Heputshishandonmykneeandmovesussowe’refacingeachother.“We’llseeeachothersoon.”
IleanoverandkisshimbecauseI’mnotsurewhattosay.Mymindisachaotictumble,andIlurchbetweenwishinghewouldstaytothinkingthisisallabadideatohopingwecanmakeitwork.Idon’thaveaplanforthis,andIhateit.Myphonevibratesandremindsmeofthenotificationsthatflowedinovertheday.AllthosepeoplethinkingaboutJihoonandtrackingeverymomentofhisscrewylife.
Asifawareofmyinternalturmoil,Jihoonundoeshisseatbelt,movesovertothecenterseat,andbucklesbackin—safetyfirst—beforetakingmyfaceinhishands.“I’mgladIfoundyou,”hesaysbeforekissingmesocompletely,heleavesmepanting.
Whenwecomeupforair,we’reonthehighway.Jihoonputshisthumbonmylip,gazeserious.“Nowtellmewhatyou’rethinking.”
Eveninthedimnessofthecar,hisfeaturesaremoredramaticthanusual.Ithinkhe’s…
“Areyouwearingmakeup?”Iask.I’mamodernprogressivewoman,butI’veneverseenamanwearingnaturalmakeupinreallife.
“Yes.Doyoulikeit?”
Iassesshim.“Verymuch.IsthisyourusualMinlook?”Maybehismakeupistheequivalentofmybusinessskirtsuitofarmor,thephysicalindicatorthathe’sabouttobecomemoreMinthanJihoon.OrI’moverthinkingitandhelikeswearingeyeliner.
“Ourcompanyprefersustolookpolishedinpublic.”Hestretchesbesideme.“Alexsaysourfanshavebeenwaitingattheairportsincemorning.”
Thisdoesnothelpmyanxietylevels.“DidtheychecktheflighttimestoSeoulorsomething?”
“Wedon’tusuallyflycommercial.It’snotsecure.Wehaveaprivateplane.”
Hehasaprivateplane.Jihoonmustreadthethoughtsonmyface.“It’sNewlight’splane,”hehastenstoassureme.“Idon’townitpersonally.”
“IsthathowyougottoTorontowithoutgettingtracked?Privateplane?”
Heshakeshishead.“Ifleweconomyclassandarrivedwithoutmysecurity.”Helaughs.“Ithinkthepersonwhocheckedmeinisn’tafan.Hedidn’trecognizeme.”
“Howdopeopleknowyou’releavingtoday,though?”
Heleansoversohisforeheadtouchesmine.“OnceIwasfoundout,StarrysknewIwouldhavetogoback.”
MyMafiatheorydoesn’tlooksofar-fetchedafterall.“Thatsoundslikeyou’rebeingkidnappedandalsohaveamonsterdoseofStockholmsyndrome.”
Thesilenceissolong,Iwonderifheheardme.“Youleftmetodaytowork,”hesaysfinally.“Didyouwanttogo?”
Ifalter.Iwanttosaynobecauseitwouldberudetotellhimyes,buttheyesisn’ttotallyaccurateeither.Heunderstands.“It’sthesame.Ihavepreferences,butmyobligationstotheothersaremoreimportant.RunningawaybecauseIhadafewsetbackswasnotthebestwaytodealwithmyproblems.”Heturnstolookatmeandmakesaface.“Kithyeongscoldedmeforbeingtooimpulsive,asusual.”
“Itwasdramatic.”
“Yes.”Heseemsunbotheredthathisescapewascoveredbyglobalmedia.“Now,tellmeaboutyourday.”
I’mgratefultohaveaneutraltopicformymouthtorunonaboutwhilemybraintouchesdownoneverywantandeverydoubt.Whatisthis,really?Whatdoyouthinkisgoingtohappenafteryousteponthatplane?Notwhatyouwanttohappenbutwhatwillhappeneachday.What’stheplan?
“Luxewasgreat,butthosewomenweresomethingelse.”Iglanceathischest.“Canyoumoveyourpecs?”
“What?”
“Makeyourchestmusclesjumparound.”
“I’venevertried.”HelooksdownandIcantellbyhisfacehe’sstruggling.Thenonesidetwitchesthroughhisshirt,andhelookstriumphant.
Igivehimaslowclap.“Sexy.”
“Icanalsowigglemyears.StarryswillbeimpressedIcanaddthistomylistoftricks.”
Iglanceoutthewindow,confirmingwe’vebeeninthesamespotforawhile.“Iwonderifthere’sanaccident,”Isay.“Thetrafficisslowerthanusual.”
Heshrugs.“Itmightbemyfault.”Theconnectionislostonme,soheelaborates,“SometimessomanyStarryscometoseeusthatitcausestrafficjams.”
HowintheworlddidIthinkthiswasagoodidea?Themancausesfreakingtrafficsnarls.Evenmoresurrealisthathetakesitforgranted.Thisisnormaltohim,aregularoccurrence.
“Okay,”Iwhisper.
“Itmightbeanaccident,”hesays.“Itdoesn’thappenallthetime.”
“Youreallythinkthat?”
“No,”headmits.“It’sprobablybecauseofme.”
Histoneiseasyenoughbutwithatensionunderneaththatreflectsmyown.I’mcastingaroundforanewtopicwhenhespeaks.
“Talktome,Ari.Icantellthere’ssomethingupsettingyou.Isitthetraffic?OrthatI’mleaving?”
Ilaughandthenimmediatelycringebecauseitsoundssobrittleandfalse.“Ofcoursenot.Youhavework.It’simportant.”
“Whyareyouspeakinglikethis?”Jihoonshiftsawayfrommetolookatmyface.“You’reimportant,too.Iwantustobetogether,andyou’llvisitsoon.Wecandothis.”
No,wecan’t.Iwantedto,butreallifehasclaweditswaybackin.AriandJihoonhalfaworldapartwouldbehardenough,butlayeringonalawyerandaK-popidol?It’simpossible,andIfinallyacknowledgethetruthwithasickfinality.
“You’llbebusywhenyougoback,”Isayslowly,notsurehowtosaywhatIneedto.
“I’musedtoit.”Hisphonebuzzes,andhefrownswhenhechecksit.
“What?”Iask.
Inanswer,heshowsmeavideoofthedeparturegateswarmingwithpeopleholdingthosestarsticksandbanners.Ireplayit,almostunabletobelievemyeyes.“Isthatforyou?”
“Thisisn’tasbadasitcanget.”Heshutsthevideooff.“StarryswillbeshockedtoseeKithyeongandDaehyun,sincethatdidn’tleak,”headds.“Itwillgettheattentionawayfromme.”
“Isn’tthereaVIPterminalorsomething?Whydoyouneedtogothroughthecrowd?”
Hegivesmeacrookedsmile.“Forthefans.Newlightwantsusseen.”
Itfeelsliketheywanttoparadethecapturedgeneral,butIsensethisobservationwon’tbewelcomeandkeepmymouthshut.
It’sworsethanwhatIsawoutsidemyapartment,andIcanbarelytakeitin.ReadingaboutJihoon’sfameisfarremovedfromseeingitfirsthand.I’dbeenplayingwiththeknifeofinadequacyalready,anditsnastyedgecutsinalittledeeper.ItextHanaforvalidation.Theairport.That’swild,right?
HerresponseisthepolaroppositetoJihoon’slaissez-faireattitude.Totally,shetextsMakesureyou’recoveredwhenthedooropenssotheydon’tseeyou.
Ididn’tthinkofthat,butapparentlyJihoonhasbecausehestartsfussingaroundwithabagbesidehim.Outcomesapairofhugesunglasses,afacemask,andablackhoodie.“Here,”hesays,passingthemover.“Attherightangle,atelephotolenscanseeintothecar.”
Icheckthebrand.Dolce&Gabbana.Idon’tevenwanttoknowhowmuchtheycost,butthenagain,I’mwearingawatchIcouldprobablysellforamidsizecar.
“Aish.”Heclickshistongueindismay.“Iforgotthehat.”Hetakeshisownandpositionsitonmyhead,thenbringsupmyhood.
Thedisguisesmothersme,andJihoon’sexpressionisnotgreatformyego.Hesnapsaphoto.“ForHana,”hesays,showingittome.Ilooklikeagothicmummy.
“Funny,”IsayasIpulldownthemaskandhookitundermychin,gladwe’rebothtryingtomakethelastminuteslight.“Thisisstifling.Ican’tbelieveyoudothisallthetime.”
He’sfrowningashelooksoutthewindow,alreadyplanningforhislifewithoutme.
Slowdisintegrationorquickchop?Itakeadeepbreath.What’stheendgoaltokeepingthisgoingwithhim?Ialwayshaveagoal.SuddenlyIwishwehadmoretimetotalkaboutwhat’sgoingtohappen,aboutusandhimandeverything,butthere’snotimeleftexcepttosaywhatIknowisthesmartthing.
Jihoonisthinkingwithhisheart,whichmeansoneofushastothinkwiththeirhead.
“Jihoon.”Myvoiceissoft.
“Remembertostayinthecorner,”hesays,glancingoutthewindow.
“Jihoon.”
Mytonealertshim,andheswingsbacktogivemeallhisattention.“Ari?Whatisit?”
Mymouthopensandnothingcomesout.It’stherightthingtodo,Iremindmyselffuriously.Getitoverwithsoyoucanbothgetonwithyourlives.
ButallIcandoissayhisnameagain.
Thistime,heunderstandsandhiseyesdrop.“Ah.”Heplayswithhisphone,movingitfromonehandtoanother.“Youdon’tneedtosayit,Ari.Iknow.”
“Thiswasfun,andIlikeyou,but…”
“Butwhat?”Hiseyesarewide.
“Youknowitwon’twork,”Isay,staringatmylaptoavoidhisgaze.“Yourlifeistoodifferent.”
“Allthisisallexternal,”hesays.“Wearewhatmatters,andweonlyneedtotry.Giveusachance,Ari.Takearisk.”
Icanbarelybreathethinkingaboutthecrowdswaitingforusandthecars,somanycars,ontheroad.HowlongdidsomeofthosepeopledrivetohaveachancetoseeJihoon?No,notJihoon.Min.“Ican’t,”Iwhisper.
“Wetalkedaboutthis.Don’tyoubelievemethatwehaveachance?”Thehurtbleedsthroughhisvoice.Ikeeprubbingmyhandsonmythighstotrytogetthemwarm.Ihatethisconversation,andevenworse,IhavethehorriblefeelingIshouldhavekeptquiet.Itwastherightdecision,butnowthatwe’rehere,IwanttorunawayfromtheconsequencesofwhatI’vesaid.
“Wedidn’ttalkaboutit.Notenough.”
“WhyareyoudoingthisrightbeforeIleave?”Jihoon’sagitationiscontagious.Itrytobreathesomyvoicedoesn’tshake.He’sright.Thisisaninexcusablybadtime,butit’snotlikeitwouldbebettertotexthimmidflightorwhenhetouchesdowninSeoul.It’sbettertodothisface-to-face.
“Whenyougoback,you’llbebusy,”Isay.“Youmadethatclear.”
“AreyoutryingtotellmeyouknowmyschedulebetterthanIdo?”hesayswithaflashofanger.“Iknowmypriorities.”
Ideservethat,butIknowI’mright.“Tellmehonestlythatyouhavetimeforsomethinglikethisrightnow.”Idon’tsayme.That’stoohard.
“Iwanttotry.”
“Wantingisn’tenoughwhenthereareonlysomanyhoursinaday.”
There’salonganddeepsilenceinthecar,sointenseIcanalmostseeit.Iunbucklethewatchfrommywristandholditout.“Ishouldgivethisbacktoyou.”
“Don’tdothis,Ari.”Helookspleading.“ThetimeIspentwithyoumeantso…pleasedon’tdothis.”
Ican’tevenlookathimnow,butIthrustthewatchout.“I’msorry.”
Itfeelslikeforeverthatmyarmisoutstretched,buteventuallyIhearhimsigh,adeepsoundthatcouldbemistakenforagroan.“Thisishowitis,then.”Hisvoiceissoftandmusing,almostasifhe’sspeakingtohimself.Heplucksthewatchoutofmyhand.
Mythroatishotandswollen.Iwanttocrybutcan’t,notinfrontofhimwhenthisisallmyowndoing.
Thecarstops,andIpeeroutthetintedwindowaslayersofsecurityconvergeonus.MyheartstutterswithnerveseventhoughI’mnotdoingathingexceptcoweringinthebackcornerofthecar.Jihoontakesadeepbreathandmakesacall,mutteringashescanswhat’swaitingforhimoutside.He’sallbusinessnow,andI’mgratefulforthechange
“KithyeongandDaehyunareoutoftheircar.Inthirtyseconds,mydoorwillopen,”hesaysafterheendsthecall.“Youneedtobeasfarawayaspossible.Keepyourheaddown.”
“Iwill.”PreciseinstructionsarenecessarybecauseI’msofaroutofmydepth,I’mbasicallyintheMarianaTrench.
“MayIhugyougoodbye?”heasks,handsgrippinghisknees.
Icanonlynod.Hepullsmecloseforamoment,hishandstightonmyarmsandhislipsbrushingmycheek.“Iwishthiscouldbedifferent.Iwishyouhadthecourage.”Hisvoiceishusky.“Bye,Ari.”
“Bye,Jihoon.”Tomyshame,myvoicehitchesbecauseI’mgoingtocry.LogicallyIhaven’tknownhimlongenoughtobethisattached,butthisisbeyondanythinglogical.MyhearthammerssohardthatIcanbarelyheartheroarofthecrowdovertherushinmyears.
Jihoonleansovertotugupmymaskandopenshismouthasiftosaysomething.Insteadherunsahandthroughhishairbeforethedooropenstoaflashsodazzling,it’slikeI’vebeenhitwithaspotlight.ThepulsatingwallofbrightnessfrommediacamerasandfanphonespushesmefartherbackasIinstinctivelycovermyfacewithmyarm.Evenamidthis,Jihooniscarefultoonlyopenthedoorenoughforhimtoclimbout,minimizingthecrowd’sabilitytoseeinside.
Hedoesn’tlookback.
“Cananyoneseethroughthesewindows?”Iaskthedriverafterthedoorcloses.
He’sstaringatthecommotion,mouthslightlyopen.“No,ma’am,they’recompletelyopaque.”
Withthatassurance,IscootacrosstothewindowtowatchJihoongo.Hejoinstwoothermen,whomustbeKitandDaehyun,andthethreeofthembowrepeatedlyastheearsplittingscreamsbecomelouder,eveninthecar.AwomantriestofightherwaythroughandisalmosttackledbysecurityasthethreemembersofStarLunebowonelasttimeandwave,posingtogivethecamerasandfansamomenttodrinktheirfill.
“Holygoddamn,”saysthedriver.Heglancesatme.“ExcusemyFrench.I’veneverseenacrowdlikethis,andIdroveforHarryStyles.”
“Doyouthinkanyonewillfollowus?”Iask.MywretchednessaboutJihoonhasbeensubmergedundernewandworryingconcernsforourpersonalsafety.
“I’llbecareful,”thedriverpromises.WewatchasJihoonandhisfriendsareengulfedbyevenmoresecurityanddisappearastheyentertheairport.Themomentthedoorsshutbehindthem,thecrowdsflowintothespacetheyleft,chantingandcheering.“Areyoureadytogo?”
“Yes,please.”
“Gotit.”HeputsthecaringearasIcheckmyphone.Unbelievably,Jihoonistrendingwithvideofootagefromsecondsago.It’sweirdtoseehimfrommultipleangles.He’smakingagestureIrecognizefrommydeepdivebutdon’tknowthemeaningof,soItextHana,myexpertonallthingsJihoon.
Me:What’shedoingwithhishands?It’slikehe’scrossinghisthumbandfinger.
Hana:Handheart.MeansIlikeu/loveu
Jihoonhadturnedhisbodyslightlywhenmakingthehandheart,almostbacktowardthecar.
Orhe’sdoingittotheadoringfansandI’mreadingwaytoomuchintoit.Imustbe,becauseIdon’tdeserveanythingfromhim.
Thedriverturnsaround.“Ma’am,doyouwanttogobacktoyourcarorsomewhereelse?”
“Thecar.”Idon’twanttoleaveitovernightatagasstation.
“Onourway.”
HegoesbacktodrivingasIdomybesttonotthinkaboutwhathappened.Iglanceoverandseemywatchsittingontheblackleather.Jihoonforgotit.Ireachoutwithshakingfingersandtakeitback.IcangiveittoHanatosendtohim,perhaps.
IslidethebandthroughmyfingersandtiltitbackandforthsothediamondsonthewatchfacereflectthehighwaylightsasIthinkoftheairportcrowd.Mob,really.ThereweresomanypeoplescreamingandchantingMin’sname.Kay,Min,DeeDee,overandover,liketheyweremorethanmen.Theirhandshadbeendesperatetotouchandtheirownerstobeseen.Icanbarelyputintowordshowparalyzingitwas,andI’dbeensafeinthecar.HowdidJihoonfeelbeingexposedlikethat?Whatdidhethinkaboutwhenthecrowdsreachedforhim?
I’llneverknow.
Istraighteninmyseatandshovethewatchdeepinmybag.ThenItakemyphoneandbringuptheinvitehesentmeforafterhisconcert.
IthurtswhenIdecline.
Ididtherightthingbecauseit’sawholedifferentworldthatJihoonlivesin.Itmightbedefeatist,butIcanseeKithadn’tlied:there’snospaceinitforme.Twenty-Eight
Theproblemwithheroicself-denialisthatafterthefeelingofnobilitywearsoff,you’restuckbackinyourregularlife.
Butnowyou’resad.
Jihoondoesn’tcontactme.Iexpectedthatandtellmyselfit’swhatIwanted.TheproblemisthatalthoughIthoughthewouldeventuallyfadeintomemory,hehasn’t.MybrainknowsIdidthesmartthing,butmybodyseemstodisagree.Ialmostphysicallycravehiscompany,andittakesallmywillpowertonotwatchtheseveralmilliononlineclipsofhimonrepeat.
Lifeisn’tdoingmuchtodistractme.Ihavenotravelitinerariestoplanforfriends,andworkissomehowbothhecticandtedious.DadcallsregularlytobestowadviceonhowtotalktoRichardsoIcangetahead.IspendalotoftimemakingaffirmativenoisesintothephonesoIdon’tsnapandtellhimhisexperiencehelpingpeoplenavigateadoptionsanddivorcesisn’tquitethesameasdealingwiththesuitedsharksatYesterlyandHavings.Itrytotalktohimabouthishealth,buthecutsmeoffeachtime.Eventually,IgiveupbecauseI’mnoteagertotalkaboutiteither.
Phoebe,surprisingly,hasbeenintouchwithme.AfterItoldherwhathappenedwithJihoon,shetoldmeshewasaroundifIwantedtotalk.
Ididn’twanttotalk.
Well,Iwanttotalkalittlebit,andIcan’ttalktoHana.Onceshegotpastherinitialshock,HanahadrefusedtotalkaboutJihoonatall,citingfriendshiprulenumberseven.
“Whichoneisthat?”I’dasked.Ourfriendshiprulescoveredissuessuchasnotleavingeachotheratabar,nomatterhowhotsomeonewas,tototalhonestywhenaskedforanopiniononclothingchoices.Ithoughtwehadsix.
“It’slikethatamendmentAmericanshaveaboutnotsayingsomethingthatwillgetyouintrouble.They’realwayspleadingitincrimeshows.”
“Friendshipsdon’thaveafifthtoplead.”
“Thisonedoesasofnowbecauseyou’llgetupsetifIsayyou’rebeingatotalassaboutthisentiresituationandyoushouldgrowupandexpandyourworldtogiveJihoonandyourlifeoutsidethatawfullawfirmachance.”Shetakesadeepbreath,havingletthatalloutinasingleburst.
“Ifeelthewholekeepingittoyourselfthingwasmoreofahypotheticalexercise.”
“Sorry.”Shewrapsherarmsaroundherknees.“Sorry.It’sthathe’samess,andyou’realsoamessbutalsobeingutterlyasinineaboutthisand…”
Iholdmyhanduptostopherbeforesherunsonagain.“Youwereright,friendshipruleseven.”
We’davoidedthetopicafterthat,butwhatshesaidaboutJihoonstung.Despitemybetterjudgment—andhonestly,whereisthatgettingmethesedays?—ItuneintooneofStarLune’svideoupdates.It’sKit,andbesidehimisJihoon.AtightfeelingbindsmythroatwhenIseehim.Helookstired,barefaced,withhishairhiddenunderahatandamaskcuppinghischin.Iwatchforafewminutesasthetwoteaseeachotheraboutaburnedmeal.
Jihoonlookslikehe’sbeengutted,andtheconcernedcommentsinthechattellmeI’mnottheonlyonewhonoticedthathelooksdullandhiseyesdon’tsmile.Theremustbemoregoingoninhislifesincethere’snowayIcouldhavedonethattohim.Hetoldmehowbusyhewasgoingtobe.Nodoubtit’sexhaustion.Ican’tfeelguiltyaboutdoingtherightthing.
Phoebemeetsmeinaderelictparkinglotthat’sbeentransformedintoahiddenpop-uppatiocompletewithsandandbeachumbrellas.TheBeachBoysplaysoftlyonthespeakersaswedrinkradlersoutofmasonjars.
Phoebekicksoffhersandalsanddigshertoes,bluepolishchipped,intothesand.“Almostlikebeingatthebeach.”
AcarbeepsitshornasitpassesonDundasStreet.“Almost,”Isay,lookingatthechain-linkfencethatsurroundsthelot.
“Mynewplacegetshotatnight,soit’snicetobeout.”Sheleansherheadback,thesettingsunlightingupherbleachedhairwithbrightstreaksoforangeandgold.“Worthittohavemyownspace,though.”
Itakeasipoftheradler.They’veusedgrapefruitjuice,soit’snottoosweet.“Don’tyouwishyoucouldsettledowninoneplace?Itmustbetiringtokeepmoving.”
Sheslipsonhergiganticsunglasses,whichsitontopofhertinynoseandmakeitlooklikeabutton.“Notforme.Thesameroutineisstifling.”
“Thanksalot.”
Phoebe’seyesarehidden,butherfacemovestolookatthecoupleholdinghandstoourleft.“Whydoyouthinkit’sajudgment?Idon’tlivemylifeatyou.”
“Itseemsthatway.”
Offcomethesunglasses,butwhenshelooksatme,Iwishshe’dkeptthemon.“Why?”
I’vealreadysaidtoomuch.Wemaysharehistory,butthisPhoebe—thewomaninfrontofmeandnottheoneI’vecreatedinmymind—isastranger.“Nevermind.”
“Talktome,Ari.Please.”
Iglareather.“Whydoyouwantthebigtalknow?”
“Doyouwantmetoapologizeforbeingmyself?”
“Howaboutbeingsorryyouleftussoyoucoulddoit?”
Inthesilencethatfollows,theBeachBoysgivewaytosomesurfrockband.Phoebelooksatherdrink.“ItoldyoubeforewhyIdid.Idon’tknowhowlongyouwanttostaymadorwhatyougainfromit.WenearlylostDad.”Shedoesn’telaborateafterthat.
IhatethatshemakessensebecauseIhaveagoodseventeenyearsofsourresentmentclingingtomelikeasweatysportsbra.WhatdoIgainfromthislow-levelwarfare?NothingexceptthatIcantellmyselfPhoebeisaflakeandherdecisionsareflakyandthusnothingtomakemequestionmyownlife.ButPhoebeenjoyingherselfdoingmyexactoppositemakesmewonderifIhavethesamechoicesopentome,evennow.
Sheletsthatsitforamoment,thenleansbackinherchair,makingitcreakalarmingly.“Iregretquittingschool.Iwasjealouswhenyougotyourdegree.”
“Jealousofme?”
Phoeberollshereyes.“Youdon’tevenknowhowproudMomandDadareofyou.‘Ari’sabouttograduate.Ari’stopinherclass.Arihasafancy-pantsjob.Ari’slifeisgoingsowell.’”Shesaysthisinasingsongvoicethat’shalf-mockingandhalf-dejected.
“Isthatwhyyounevercalled?”
“Probably.Idon’thaveagoodanswer.”Shemakesaface.“Thatsoundsbad.I’mnotagoodperson,shit.”
Wedrinkouroverpricedjuice-beer.
“Iwanttotalkaboutotherthings,”Isay.
Shelooksrelieved.“Done.”
Icastaroundforaneutralquestion.“WherewereyoubeforeMontreal?”
“Peru,workinginahotelnearMachuPicchuforafewmonths,”shesayslikeit’snobigdeal.
IfeelalmostshywhenIaskher,“Canyoutellmeaboutit?”
“Youreallywanttoknow?”
“Ilovehearingaboutpeople’stravels,”Isayhonestly.“I’veneverbeenanywhere.”
“No?”
“Work.”
Phoebe’sexpressionisunderstanding.“Onedaywecangosomewheretogether.”Shegulpsdownherradlerasthiscasualoffermakesmyeyesflyuptoherfacetoseeifshe’sserious.Sheis.“Okay,tellmewhenyougetbored.”
Idon’tgetboredatall.Forthenexttwohours,Phoeberegalesmewithtraveltriumphsandmishaps.MissingaflightinLAandmeetingamoviestarinthebar.LearninghowtomakeespressofromamanwhoinsistedhelearneditinSicilyfromaMafiaconsigliere.She’samusingandwryandmakesmelaughsohardmystomachhurts.ThenmyhearthurtsabitbecauseIcouldhavehadthisyearsago.
Shesignalstheserverforthebill.“Youknow,youcouldgotoKorea.Onvacation.”
Ikickatthesandundermyfeet.“Thatshiphassailed.”
“IonlymetJihoonforabit,butheseemslikeagoodguy.He’dhearyouout,especiallyifyoumadeanefforttoseehim.”
“Theproblemisthere’snothingtohearout.Itwastherightdecision.”
Phoebedragsafingerthroughthecondensationonherglass.“Youdon’thaveasingleregret?”
“Ofcoursenot,”Ilie.
Shelooksatmeskeptically.“Ihadatherapistdoathoughtexercisewithmeonce.Doyouwanttohearit?”
FirstIneedtogetovermysistermentioningatherapistsocasually,whichisnotsomethingshelearnedtodointheHuifamilyhome.“Idon’tknow.”
“Willithurttohear?”sheaskswithexasperation.
“Itmight,”Isay.
Shesmiles.“Yeah,you’reright.Youshouldlisten,though.”
Iwaveforhertogoahead.Behindher,theserverswingsthegateopentoletinagroupofwomendressedintiarasandHawaiianshirts.
Phoebetakesadrinkbeforeshespeaks.“Ihadtomakeachoice,andthetherapisttoldmetothinkoftheworstthingthatcouldhappen.Inyourexample,let’ssayyoureachouttoJihoon.What’stheworstthatcouldhappen?”
“Herejectsme.”ThatburstsoutbeforeIcanevenbeembarrassed.
“Whathappensafterthat?”
Noneedtothinkaboutthiseither.“He’soutofmylifeforever.”Shestaresatme,andIstarebackbeforeIfinallyask,“What’syourpoint?”
“Jesus,thisislikepullingteeth.”Phoeberunsahandthroughherhair.“I’llspellitout.Isthatdifferentfromyourhereandnow?”
Idon’tlikewherethisisgoing,butIshakemyhead.“No.”
“Thenyou’realreadylivingyourworst-casescenario.”Shestandsandgrabsherbag.“You’venothinglefttolose.Thinkaboutit.”
Phoebe’swordspicktheirwayacrossmymindasIheadhome.I’mnotlivingmyworst-casescenario.Arealworst-casescenarioisbeingleftinadesertwithnowater.Asquanderedromanticopportunityisalmostcommonplace.It’swhytherearesomanymissedconnectionssectionsinlocalnewspapersandonline.There’snosuchthingasonetruelove,andIam100percentnotlivingmyworstscenario.
I’mnot
HanaisonthecouchwhenIgethome,herheadbentsofarbackshelookslikeshe’sauditioningforapartinTheExorcist:DemonDeathRedux.“Leftoversinthefridge,”shemumbles.
Itakeagoodlookather.“Howwasyourmom?”
“Brutal.It’skillingme.Shewon’tlisten.”
HanahadbeensummonedtotheChoihouseholdforanotherinterrogationaboutherroleintheJihoonincident,whichhadapparentlydevolvedintohermother’susualnaggingaboutHana’slife.
Tearsoffrustrationleakoutfromthecornersofhereyes.She’sbeenseeingatherapist—secretly,becauseMamaChoiwoulddissolveintoself-accusationsofhowshe’saterriblemotherifsheknew—butit’shardtogoagainstyourparents.Especiallywhenwhateverisdoneissupposedlydoneoutoflove.
“Whatwasittonight?”Iask.
“Everything.EventhisworktripIneedtotaketoKoreainacoupleweeksisachanceforhertotrytocontrolme.ShegavemeanonnegotiablelistofwhatIneedtobringbackandpeopleIneedtosee.”
IrepresstheslapofemotionIgetwhenHanamentionsherKoreatrip.It’shappenedafewtimes,andIdon’tdwellonitlongenoughtotellifit’senvyorremorse.Althoughshe’sgoingtoBusanandnotSeoul,Ihaven’thadthecouragetoaskifshe’sgoingtoseeJihoon.Hiswatchistuckedinthebackofmysockdrawer.Ihaven’tlookedatitsinceheleft.
Tonightisn’taboutmyheartache,though,butHana’s.Irememberwhathertherapisthadtoldhertodo.“Didyousetyourboundaries?”
“ItoldhertheotherdayIdidn’twanthertalkingaboutwhatIeatorhowIlook.”
“That’sgood,”Iencourageher.
“Technically,itworked.Shedidn’tsayawordaboutmyappearance.”Shereachesdownandfishesaroundinherbag.“Insteadsheverygenerouslyboughtmesomenewclothes.”
Isnatchitoutoftheairwhenshetossesitover.“Isitanecktie?”
Hanacloseshereyes.“Goodguessbutno.Theyarepants.”
Thetwoofushavesimilarbodytypes,solidlyonthecurvierside.Thesepantsmightfituptomyknee.Icheckthetag.They’reanextrasmall.“Wow,thisissomeMachiavellian-levelmindplay.”
“I’lldonatethemtoachildren’scharity,”shesays.
IsitbesideHanaandnudgeherintheside.“Iknowyoudon’tlikemyfootballcoachmottos,butyou’llappreciatethisone.”
Sheturnstome,oneeyebrowraised.“Yeah?”
Inodandleanin.“Fuckit.”
Thisisnotwittyorclassy,butshelaughs,andit’senoughtogetthesmilebackinhereyes.That’senoughformerightnow.Aftershegoestobed,IhidethosenastyleggingsinmyroomsoHanawon’tseetheminthemorning.
Takethat,MamaChoi.Twenty-Nine
“So.”
“So,”Iparrotback.It’saweeklater,andAlexandIareatabarafterworktoprepareformyupcominginitialmeetingwithHyphen’sin-houselegal.BrittanyhasalreadytoldmeseveraltimeshowjealoussheisthatI’mgettingthefunlittlelocalclientswhileshehastospendhertimewithboringoldcompaniesnegotiatingmultimillion-dollardeals.Sometimesshedidn’tgethomefordinner,andKennywasgettingsomadabouthavingtakeoutallthetime.
Idomybesttobecollegial,butit’sdifficult,especiallywhenIseehercomingbackwithMeredith,bothholdingcoffeefromthesameplace.Brittanyisgatheringsupportamongthepartners,andIneedtofindasolution.Dad’sconstantharpingonthethemeofcareeradvancementdoesn’thelp.
Alexstraightenshislapelsandputshishandsflatonthetableasthevisualindicatorthathe’sabouttosaysomethingimportant.
“Mr.Choi.”
“Whatabouthim?”Ilookatthemenutoavoidhisgaze.
“Areyoudating?”
Ican’tpreventtheslightjerkthatshakesthemenuandfocusonthedescriptionforthepanko-crustedcauliflowerbites.“Idon’tseehowthat’sanyofyourbusiness,”Isay.
“Asthemanwhospentthegreaterpartofaweekandmostofhissleepinghourstryingtohideyourexistencefromthemediaandaverysmartandresourcefulfanbase,Ibegtodiffer.”
Touché.“We’renottalkinganymore.”
Hisfacesoftens.“Sorry.”
“Therewasnowayitwouldwork,andIdon’twanttodiscussit.”
“Understood.”Heputsdownhismenu.“Ontheprofessionalside,HyphendistributesStarLune.Ineedtoknowifyoucanhandleit.”
Isitbackinthechairandglareathim,offendedhethinksIcan’tkeepittogether.“Icanstayprofessional.Webarelykneweachother.”Ican’thelpchokingoverthelastbecauseit’struebutalsofalse.
“Right.”Hegivesmeadisbelievinglook.“HaveyoulookedthroughtheinformationIsent?”
Inod,gratefultobeonsaferground.“Interestingindustry.”
“Youdon’tsoundconvinced.”
Iturnthemenuover.“Mostofitismanufacturedmusic.”
“YoulivedwithMinofStarLuneandcansaythat.”Alexsoundsdisgusted.
“Hewasn’tMinwhenIknewhim,”Isnap,angrytohaveJihooncomeupagain.Workatleastusedtobemysafezone.“AndIsaidmost.”
“Doyouthinkgreatactorsareartists?Dancers?”
“Yes.”
“Thenyouagreethat,say,DameJudiDenchisanartist.”
“NormallyIwouldsayyes,butI’mdowngradingmyanswertoperhapsbecauseI’msuspiciousofthepointyou’regoingtomake.”
“DoesJudiDenchwriteherownparts?DodancerscreatetheirownchoreographyforSwanLake?”
“YouaretryingtosayIamculturallyignorantandshouldhavesomerespect.”
“Iwouldn’tphraseitexactlylikethat,butclose.”Heshakeshishead.“You’vegotsomepreconceptionsthatIstronglyencourageyoutoreassess.Thisisamultibilliondollarindustry.”
That’ssomethingtothinkaboutbut…“That’sthebusinessside.It’stherestthat’sstrange.Theyauditionandgettrainedandliveingrouphousinglikethey’reinbootcampbeforesomecorporatesuitstickstheminaband.”
“Youthinkthemusicismorevalidiftheymeetorganically.”
“Yes.”
“Likeasymphonydoes?Ordoesthefirstchairviolinistalsonotcountasanartist?”
“Whataboutthevarietyshowswheretheydressupandwhackeachotherontheass,like,alot?”
“Fine,”heconcedesafteralongmoment.“Thosearebizarretome,too.”
Ikeepgoing,pullingonknowledgegatheredfrommyStarLunebinge.“Plus,theydothesamedanceeverytimeforeachsong.”
“Thechoreographyispartofthesong,andit’snotlikeadancerchangestheirmovesforeachperformanceofTheNutcracker.”Hestaresoffintothedistanceasiftryingtofigureoutwhattosay.“It’slimitingtothinkofitthatway.Thesearemultimediaexperiencesthatcombinemusic,style,dance,andperformance.It’sadifferentconceptthanyou’reusedto,butthatdoesn’tmakeitabsurdorlesser.”
Ipauseasthedrinksgetdelivered.“You’rebeingsurprisinglysevereaboutthis.”
Hewipesaspilloffthetable.“You’vehitoneofmysorespots.IspendaninordinateamountoftimetryingtoconvincepeoplethatbandslikeStarLunecountaslegitimateeventhoughtheytopglobalcharts.It’slikepeopleseeAsianfacesandrefusetobelievethere’sanycreativityorartisticmeritinvolved.”
“Fine.”Itrytokeepmyvoicedisinteresteddespitefeelingalittleattacked.“Now,canwegetontobusiness?”
“Thisisbusiness.”
“Otherbusiness,”Isay.“Tellmewhat’sgoingonwithHyphen.”
“Ari.”
“I’llkeepanopenmind,”Ipromise.
“Good,becauseIwantyoutocometoSeoul.”
“Seoul?”IputmydrinkdownandwonderifIheardhimright.Jihoonlivesthere,mybraineagerlyremindsme.Icouldseehim.OrIcouldhave,hadInotdumpedhimashewasleavingthecountry.Workisdefinitelynotasafezoneanymore.
“Yes,andsoon.Desireewassupposedtocomewithme,butshe’sgoingonearlymaternityleave.”
Ifrown.“Isn’tthisaconflictofinterest?”
Heshakeshishead.“You’renotinarelationshipwithMr.Choi,andnoonebutusknowsitmighthavebeendifferent.”
“Right,”Isay,tryingtoignoretheemptinessinmychestI’veacceptedaspermanentwhenitflaresintoaprecisepain.
“NewlightwantstogettoknowmewhilewefinalizetheNorthAmericanplansforoneoftheirdebutgroups.Areyouin?”
Itwirlastrawaroundmyfingers.Idon’tusuallytakevacationtime,soAlex’sofferprovidesthechancetotravelwithoutfeelingasifI’mslacking.Infact,it’sapotentialcareerenhancersinceIcanworkcloselywithHyphen,anditshowstheyvalueme.
ThesearetwogoodreasonsforwantingtogothathaveabsolutelynothingtodowiththeopportunityofbeinginthesamecityasJihoon.
However,Idon’tmakequickdecisions,eventhoughI’myearningtogo,andIneedtocheckwiththepartnerincharge.“Letmegetbacktoyou.”
“Youdon’tneedtoseeMr.Choiwhilewe’rethere.Wewon’tbeworkingdirectlywithStarLune.”
Ishiftuncomfortablyonthevinylseat.“Iwasn’tthinkingaboutthat.”
“Ifyousayso.”Hegivesmealonglook,butIsteertheconversationbacktoHyphen,andthat’swhatwetalkabouttherestofthenight.
ThenextdayattheofficeiscoloredbyfantasiesofwhatIcandoifIgotoSeoul,combinedwithworryaboutbeingoutoftheofficeforaweek,evenifit’sonbusiness.Ihaveafeeling,almostlikedread,thatifIleave,somethingwillgowrong.
Ilookupfrommyscreenandnoticemywaterglassisempty.BettergetsomethingtodrinkbeforeIstarttoshrivel.
ThekitchenatYesterlyandHavingsisallchromeandglass,ahigh-designcontrasttothecountryclubelegancethatfillstherestoftheoffice.Asmallhallleadsfromtheopenseatingtoarecessedsnackareacustom-madetocatchtheloudandunwary.
OrtheuncaringlikeBrittany,whosevoicedriftsoutasIstepunseenintothespace.
“Idon’tunderstand,”shesays.“I’vetriedtomakeitclearsosheknowsit’sokaytobeChinese,thatit’sthesameasbeinglikeus.Idon’tseecolor,anyway.”
“You’retrying,andthat’swhat’simportant.”ThisisMeredithspeaking.
“I’mdoingmybest,butit’ssohardtotellwhatshe’sthinking.”Brittanysoundsmiserable.“Iknowshe’sjealousbecauseRichardaskedmetojointheBeaconsmithmeetings.”
“Youwereaskedbecauseyoudeserveit,”saysMeredithwithrighteousindignation.“Youworkhard.LikeItoldyoutheotherdayatlunch,ifsheworkedashard,she’dgetthoseaccountsaswell.”
“ShegotupsetwithmewhenwemetbecauseshethinksIsaidhernamewrong,butpeoplegetmynamewrongallthetime.Itdoesn’tbotherme.”
“Brittany.”Meredith’svoiceisaswarmasatalkshowtherapistabouttolaydownsomelifelessons.“Youcan’tletpeoplemakeyoufeelbadforbeingastrong,competentwomanandafantasticlawyer.Don’tdroptotheirlevel.”
“You’reright,”saysBrittany.“Whentheygolow,wegohigh.”
“Exactly,”approvesMeredith.
Atthismoment,visionnarrowedtoatunnel,Iweighseveraloptions.
Option:Makemyselfknownandusethisasateachablemomenttocreateamoretolerantworld.
Analysis:Iamnotcapableofthis.
Option:Walkinthere,lookthembothrightintheeyetowatchthemsquirm,thenleave.
Analysis:Imightseemlikethiskindofperson,butit’saspirational.
Option:LeaveandforgetIheardanythingtosaveBrittanyandMeredithembarrassment.
Analysis:Mostlikelycourseofaction.
“Imean,Idon’twanthertofeelbad,”saysBrittany.“Itmustbehardwhenyou’reobviouslythediversityhireandtherestofusgotherebecauseweputinthework.”
“We’reimpressedwithhowfastyou’relearning,andit’sbecauseyoutry,”soothesMeredith.“Yourmotherisveryproudofyou,Brittany.You’reagoodfitwithus.”
Iturnaroundsofast,Inearlystumbleonmyownfeet.I’mtakingoptionthree,butit’snottosavethemembarrassment.It’stopreventmyown.
Inmyoffice,Ilowermyselfintheleatherchair.Theroomsmellsexpensivelygoodfromthesubtleairfreshenertheypumpthroughtheofficetonegateanyindicationofhumanoccupation.Idon’trealizeI’mshakinguntilasharppangshootsthroughmyjawfromhowhardI’mclenchingmyteeth.
IreachformyphoneandthenpullbackbecauseIcan’ttalkaboutthis,nottoanyone.
Therearetwokindsofshamefulexperiences.Thefirstcategoryisnormalbutmortifying,likefallingdownthestairswhenyou’retryingtomakeanentranceorsayingsomethinginane.Theyfadewitheachretellingandeventuallygetreworkeduntiltheybecomecringeybuthilariousanecdotesthathappenedtoafictionalpastyou.Theylosetheabilitytocauseanymoreindignity.
Thesecondcategorycausesdamage.They’rehailstormswheretheicetakesupspacesodeepinyourverybonesthatit’simpossibletomelt.Thesearetheunwelcomeeye-openers,whenyou’reforcedtofacesomethingyoucoulddamnwelldowithout.Ifthefirstisfallingdownthestairs,thesecondisgettingshovedfrombehindbythepersonyoutrustmostintheworld.Thoseneverstopbleeding,andtellingthosestories,ifyoucan,onlyripsthemrawagain.Usuallyyoudon’t.
Youendupeventuallyowningthefirstkind.Thesecondownsyou.
Ifanyoneshouldbeuncomfortablehere,it’sthosetwowomenandnotme.YetI’mtheonewho’sbeencutdownandmadesmallerbecauseatsomepointmyancestorscamefromAsiaandnotEngland.Idon’tevenspeakthelanguage:PhoebealwayscalledusdimsumChinese.DespitethefactthatIknowjackaboutthemotherland,I’mnotallowedtobeCanadian,onlyChineseCanadian.Mydoubleddescriptorseemslikeithalvesmybelonging,makingmeapermanentoutsider.Idon’tevenknowhowtofighttheBrittanysandMeredithswithoutsomehowfeelingthatI’msellingoutaheritageI’veneverevenrelatedto.
EventhoughtheBrittanyshaveaheadstart,I’dbelievedDadwhenheinsistedhardworkwouldgetmewhereIwantedtobe.Forthefirsttime,Iseehewastoooptimistic.OrBrittanyreallyisthebetterlawyer,abetterfit.HowwouldIeverknowiftheproblemismytalentorme?AlthoughI’vebeenpaddlinglikemadintheYesterlyandHavings
Irubaroundmyeyes,carefultonotmakemyupsetvisiblebysmearingmymascara.Atleastitclarifiesoneofmydecisions.ItextAlexbecauseIcan’tbesuremyvoicewon’tshake.Sendmetheflightinformation.
IwasgoingtobethebestdamnlawyeratYesterlyandHavings.NowI’mnotsurethat’sevenwhatIwant,soImightaswellgetatripoutofit.
There’snowayI’mbringingasouvenirbackforBrytaghnghie,though.Thirty
“Businessclass,”IsaytoAlexasweboard,tryingtohidemyexcitement.StressedthoughIamaboutJihoon,thisismyfirsttimeonaplane.“Extravagant.”
“Companypaysfortheupgradeifaflight’sovereighthours,”hesayscomplacentlyashewipesdownthearmrestswithenoughsanitizertomakemyeyeswater.
Isitstifflyintheseatbeforeslowlyrelaxingenoughtotakeinmysurroundings.Theairsmellsoppressivelyneutral,andeveryoneisunpackingbooksanddevicesastheygetcomfortableforthetrip.Theyalllookbored.
Ihaveaweek’sworkwithNewlightbeforeImeetwithHana,whichI’mthrilledabout.OurtripstoKoreaoverlap,andI’vetakensomevacationdays(screwyou,YesterlyandHavings)sowecanexploreSeoulbeforeshegoessouthtoBusan.Hanadidn’tmentionmeetingwithJihoonorthestrangenessofmetakingvacationdaysinaveryobviouswaythatmakesitclearshe’swaitingformetobringitup.
Ipokethebagstuffedundertheseatinfrontofmewithmytoe.It’sfilledwithworkfilesIshouldgothrough,butIwasuplatelastnightpagingthroughdocuments,andIwantabreak.Theproblemis,ifIdon’twork,IbroodaboutwhetherIshouldhavetoldJihoonthatI’llbeinSeoul.
BecauseIdidn’t.IhavenoideawhatIevenwant.Tomeet?Totalk?Andsaywhat?
Alexwaskindenoughtogivemethewindowseat,andImakethebestofit,craningmyheadtolookattherunwayandthesurroundingdrybrowngrass.I’mabouttopulloutthein-flightmagazinetoseewhatrestaurantstheyrecommendinPhnomPenhwhenthescreeninfrontofmeflickerstolifewiththesafetyvideo.It’sinKoreanandsubtitledinEnglish.
Iblink,andAlexmakesastranglednoisebesideme.“Noway,”hemanagestogetout.“That’snot…”
“Itis.”It’sStarLune,dressedindappersuitsandsingingaboutwheretheexitsareonthisairplane.
Heelbowsme.“Breathe,”hesaysasDaehyungoesintoaraptoinformmethatintimesofemergency,myseatcushioncanbeusedasaflotationdevice.
AlexandIwatchtherestofthevideo,whichincludesahugedancinglifevestandatrippysegmentofthemgoingdowntheinflatableslidestolandonwhatlookslikeJupiter.Ipraytheplanedoesn’tcrashforrealbecauseIhaven’tabsorbedanyofthislife-savinginstruction.Jihoonlooks…good.Helooksincredible.
Atmymostcrasslevel,Ican’tbelieveItappedthat.Moreimportantly,I’mkickingmyselfforbeingsuchacowardandlettinghimgowithoutafight.Hewasright.ImadeexcusesbecauseIdidn’thavethecouragetotakearisk.
Worse,Ididn’tlethimgo.Imadeithappen.Itwas100percentallmyfault.
Myseatrumblesunderme,andIhaveamomentoffear.SoonI’llbeintheair,dependentontechnologyandthehumanunderstandingofaerodynamicstokeepmealive.AllJihoon-relatedthoughtsdisappearastheplanetaxisforeverbeforeitaccelerates.Everyonestilllooksbored.
IturntoAlex,wholaughswhenheseesme.“Liftoffnevergetsoldformeeither,”hesays.Thenhepassesmesomegum.“Foryourears.”
Iknowtheexactmomenttheplanetiltsuptotheskyasitliftsoffandbrieflywonderifthetailwillhittheground.Thenwe’retravellingup,andInearlydislocatemynecktowatchasthecitybelowtransformsintoamap.Wecirclearoundoverthelonglinesofthehighways,ovalsofrunningtracks,andevenlittledotsofaquamarinefrompeople’spools.Whenwegohigher,Irealizeforthefirsttimethatfogisactuallyalowcloud.I’vebeenwalkingthroughclouds.Wekeepclimbinguntileventhecloudsareunderus,strangelysolidinappearance.
OnlythendoIsitbackwithasmile.Alexsayssomething,butbetweenmyearsandtheroarinsidetheplane—Ididn’tknowitwouldbethisloud—Ican’thearhim.Hegivesmeathumbs-up,andInod.
Bythetimethere’saglassofwhitewineandapackageofricecrackersinfrontofme,I’vecalmeddownenoughtonotlookoutthewindoweveryminute,sinceit’sallthesamecloudcover.Iclickthroughthemovies,butthere’snothingIwanttowatch,evenifIcouldhearthedialogue.Alexisalreadyasleepbesideme.
Withmyairplaneamusementoptionsexhausted,IdecidenowistheperfecttimetodosomethingI’vebeenavoiding.AlexhadtoldmetocheckoutsomeStarLunefanaccountsforresearch,eventhoughwe’dbeworkingwithNewlight’sothergroups.It’saworkthing,Iassuremyself.Notaweirdstalkerthing.
IgotoStarLune’ssocialmedia.It’smostlystagedphotosandselfies,soIscrolldowntothecomments.AlthoughthevastmajorityareemojisandGIFs,thereareafewthoughtfulonesthatIinvestigate.
Thankstothein-flightWi-Fi,thenexthouriseye-openingasIfollowmessagesandrepliesandcomments.PlentycelebrateStarLune’soutlandishgoodlooks,butcountlessotherstalkaboutthemusicanditsimpact.ThebestthreadIfindsays,moots,what’sbeenthebestthingabouthaving@_starlune_inyourlife?
ThefirstpostisaGIFofasweatyJihoondancing,andIlingeronthisbeforemovingon.Thetweethasoverfivethousandreplies,andtheyrangefromaplaylistthatgotmylazyasstothegymtoIwasinareallybadplaceandtheirlyricssavedmylife
Liftingmyeyestothescreenonthechairinfrontofme,whichshowsalittleairplanezoomingitswaywestwardtowardthePacific,I’mforcedtothedifficultconclusionthatIamachild.Notevenachild.IamtheinsecureemoteenagerglaringoutunderovergrownbangswhohateseverythingonprinciplesoIcanfeelsuperior.Ican’tdothatanymorebecauseJihoonis,factually,aculturaliconforareason.Despitemyaverreddislikeforcelebrityculture,whenIscrollthroughthecomments,Ihavetoadmitthatmylegalcareer,whichforthemostpartinvolveshelpingtherichgetricher,isnothavingthislevelofpositiveimpactontheworld.
Althoughslightlyproudofmyselfforreachingthisbreakthroughofself-discovery,Idon’tlikeit.I’malawyer.Ilookatthefacts.Ididn’tdothatwithJihoonbecauseIletmypreconceptionsgetinthewayoflearning.I’mashamedofmyselffornotgivingJihoon’sworktherespectitdeserves.Worse,noteventheconsiderationthatitneededrespect.Ididn’tthinkabouthisworkpastthefame,andIwonderifourconversationattheairportwouldhavebeendifferentifIhad.
Alexwakesupandgrabsasquished-lookingbottleofwaterthatpopsbackintoitsregularshapeoncehecracksitopen.Heglancesatmyphoneafterhetakesafewsips.“TurningintoaStarry?”
“No!”Iflipthephoneover.“Research,likeyoutoldme.”
Hesmilessmugly.“Youtellyourselfthat.”
BeforeIcanclapback,ayawnsohugeit’sclosetodislocatingmyjawsplitsmyface.Alextucksmyphoneintomybag.“Getsomerest,”hesays.“We’vegotafewhourstogo,andyou’regoingtobeworkinghardthisweek.Newlightdoesn’twastetime.”
HisvoicecomesthroughafogbecauseI’malreadydriftingoff,thinkingaboutJihoonandwhatmighthavebeenhadInotbeensowronglysureofwhatwaspossible.
OurarrivalatIncheonAirportisundramaticandtheexactoppositeofthemayhemIknowgreetsStarLune.I’manexhaustedswirlofwearybodyandkeyed-upbrainfromfinallybeinginanothercountryafterdreamingofitforsolong.Eventheendlessimmigrationlinedoesnothingtodampenmyenthusiasm.Iwentonaplane.I’moutofCanada.I’minadifferentcountrywithunfamiliarstoresandfoodandrules,andIdon’tunderstandawordbeingsaidaroundme.Besideme,AlexthumbsthroughhisphonemumblingatthemessagesfromNewlight,butIwanttodrinkineverythingaboutthissterileairportenvironment.TheborderguardasksmewhyI’mhereandforhowlong,andIdomybesttonotgrinathimlikeanabsolutefool.
Luggagecollected,wegetoutoftheairportandintoourcar,whereIleanmyheadagainstthewindowtotakeinthescenery.Althoughitlookslikethekindofhighwayyou’dseeconnectinganyindustrializedcity,thereareaslewofminordifferences.Koreansigns,obviously,andpeopledrivefasterthaninTorontoincarsthatallseemtohavetintedwindows.Aswecrossahugebridge,IthinkofhowbigtheworldisandhowI’vespentmytimelongingforafancierofficetolookdownonitinsteadofexploringitinperson.Idon’twanttomissamomentandhavereachedthepointoftryingtoliftmyeyelidswithmyfingerstokeepmyeyesopenbeforeIgiveinandendupdozing.Alexpokesmeawakewhenwearriveattheornatedoorofaluxuryhotel.Thevaletsbowwhenwearriveandrushtohelpuswithourbags,whicharelitupbythemarqueethatcoversthemaindoor.
Ourroomsareadjacentbutdon’thaveanadjoiningdoor,soAlexdropsoffhisbagandcomestoseeme.Giventhesumptuousatmosphereoftherestofthehotel,IwasexpectingaVersailleslook,oratleastaLasVegaswinner’ssuite,buttheroomisastandardsizeandpaintedacalminggray.Eventhephotosonthewallsaretastefulblack-and-whitelandscapes.
Alexcheckshisphone.“It’snoweightintheeveningSeoultimeonMonday.ItwasSundaywhenweleftToronto.”
“Right.”I’mbarelylistening.I’veneverbeenthisfarfromhome,andthesightoutsidemywindowdrawsmein.Fromhere,Seoullookslikemostothercities,andI’mitchingtogoouttofeellikeI’veleftCanada.
“Ari.”Alexsoundsexasperated,buthe’ssmilingatme.
“Sorry.”Ishutthecurtainsandtakeadeepbreath.I’mheretowork.“Havetheychangedtheschedule?”
“Let’swalkandtalk,”hesuggests.“Didyoudoatravelplan?”
Iscoff.DoIhaveaplan?OfcourseIhaveaplan.Forthefirsttime,Iwasabletodoanitineraryformyself,whichiswritteninpurpleinkinmytravelnotebook.“There’sacaféIwanttotry.It’sclose.”Allthewallsaremadeofplants,withfurniturefromrepurposedtreestumps.There’sevengrassonthefloor,accordingtothepictures.
“I’min.”
Fiveminuteslater,we’reonthestreet,whichhasawidesidewalkandlookslikeafinancialdistrict,withlotsofgraybuildings.I’malmostimmediatelysidetrackedbyabrightlylitconveniencestore,andAlexandIshareasinglelookbeforeweenter.There’sabigseatingareawithmicrowavesandahotwaterurn.Alexlooksaround.
“Howweddedwereyoutothecafé?”heasks.“Iloveconveniencestores.They’relikeculturalmicrocosms.”
IlookattheshelvesuponshelvesofsnacksI’venevertriedorknownexisted.“Travelisaboutflexibility.”
Weeachgrabapurpleplasticbasketandstartbrowsing.IselectsomestrawberrymilkandaboxofChocoPies,whichlooklikethecookie-marshmallow-chocolatewagonwheelsfromhome.AlexgrabsSpamonastick,eyeswidewithjoy.“DoyouknowhowharditistogetfoodwithSpamathome?”heasksashepopsitintothemicrowaveafterwepay.
IonlynodbecauseI’mbitingintoasandwichwithtangyeggsaladandspaghettionwhitebread.It’skindofnastyandalsoamazing,andIrealizeIhaven’tthoughtaboutJihoonallnight.
ThenIlookoveratadisplayofcannedcoffeeandseehimemblazonedontheside.
Right.He’sahugecelebritywithendorsements,andI’minhisterritory.Mymoodplummets,butIhideitfromAlex,whoischattingaboutwhattoexpecttomorrow.Newlighthasitpackedtight,includingsocialevents.“There’sacompanyparty,”Alexsays.“They’vehadagoodquarterandwanttocelebrate.”
“DoIhavetogo?”Idon’tlikecorporateparties.
“Yes,becauseIhaveto,andI’mnotenduringitalone.”
Welookoutatthestreetatthepeoplepassing.“AreyougoingtocontactMr.Choi?”heasks.
“No.”
Alexlookspained.“Uptoyou,butifyouwantsomething,don’twastetimenotgoingafterit.”
“Rightnow,allIwantisfortomorrow’smeetingtogowell,”Isay,bringingtheconversationbacktowork.Hetakesthehint,andwe’resoonyawningoverthetableoffoodwrappers.
“Timeforbed,”hesays,rubbinghiseyes.“Thiswasagoodidea.We’llcheckoutthatcafétomorrow.”
Backinthehotel,IrollupinthecrispwhitesheetsandtrynottothinkaboutwhyAlex’scommentaboutwastingtimebothersmesomuch.Thenthethoughtcomestomethatthisisnothingnew.WastingtimeiswhatI’vebeendoingforyears.Ijustdidn’trealizeit.
Thatnight,Idreamaboutcannedcoffeeandphotoshoots.Thirty-One
We’rereadybrightandearlyforNewlight.Althoughthere’salmostzerochanceofseeingJihooninthecorporateoffice,Ihaveashakyfeelinginmychest,likemyheartisvibrating.
“Whyisn’ttheGPSworking?”saysAlex,squintingathisphonemapasheturnsitupsidedownandtotheside,tryingtolineitupwithwhathethinksisnorth.“NewlightisinGangnam,sameasthehotel.”
Becausewe’relosers,webeginhumming“GangnamStyle”anddoingthehorsedancewithourhands.Thedriverkeepshiseyesprofessionallyontheroad,nodoubtusedtocluelessforeigners.
WepassthroughwhatlookslikeatypicalurbancenterbutwithmoredesignerstoresandpullupattheNewlightbuilding,amidsizeskyscraperwiththecorporatelogo,astylizedtorch,emblazonedonthetop.Afterpassingthroughtherevolvingdoor,wearriveinthenextcentury.
“Stopstaring,”Alexmutters,tryingtolookblasé.“Youlooklikeyou’veneversetfootoutsidethevillage.”
Inmydefense,there’salottosee.Theentirelobbyissheathedinwhiteplastictilessobrightthereflectionofthesunthroughthehugeroundwindowshurtsmyeyes.HologramsofStarLuneandNewlight’sothergroupsdancealongtheedgeofthewalls.Iavertmygazefromatwelve-foot-tallJihoonwithchocolate-tonedhairwearingasuitthat’sbeenshreddedtorevealthesapphire-encrustedsatinlining.Non-holographicyetfashionablepeoplestridepastuswithpurposeandimpeccablegroomingandstyle,makingmefeeldullerthanusual
Alex’scooldemeanordoesn’tcrackuntilalittlegreenrobotwithasmilingfaceplaterollsuptogreetusinperfectEnglish.“Mr.WilliamsandMs.HuiofHyphenRecords.WelcometoNewlightEntertainment,whereinnovationiscontent.Pleasefollowme.”
“Innovationiscontent,”ImurmurtoAlex.“Iknowthewinnerofthebuzzwordbingogame.”
“It’sbetterthanshutupandgiveusyourmoney,”hesays.“Iguesswegowiththerobot.”Ihumafewnotesof“ThusSpokeZarathustra,”thethemesongforkillerAIs,andAlextugsonhislapels.“I’llfollowanythingaslongthere’scoffeeattheendofit,”hesays.
Therobot,whichplaysasoftacousticversionof“Candor”asitmoves,takesustoaglasselevatorwherewestandinsilencebecauseI’munsureofwhetherIshouldmakeconversationwithitorifit’srecordingus.Whenwearriveatourfloor,thedooropenstoahallwaythatisalsodousedinlight.
“Ishouldhavebroughtsunglasses,”Isay,retreatingintojokestomaskmyanxiety.
Alexisstaringattherowsoftrophiesandframedmetallicrecords.“I’veneverseensomanyawardsinoneplaceoutsideamuseum,”hesayswithawe.“There’sanentiresectionforStarLune.”I’mnotsurewhatsortofasoundImake,butAlexpeersover.“Areyouokay?”
“I’mfine.”Myvoicesqueaks,andIcoughandtryagain,pitchingitaslowandconfidentaswhenIspeakinameeting.“I’mfine.”
I’msomething,that’sforsure,surroundedbyairbrushedimagesofJihoon.Fromthevinylimagesthatcoverthewall,hisfacebeamsdownonmewiththesamesoftsmilehehasinthemorning,sleepy-eyedashedozesoverhiscoffee.IlookdownatthepolishedfloorbecausethinkingofJihoonasapersonisnotconvenientatthemoment.This2DimageisMin,andMinisnotmine.
NorisJihoon.
Iwanthimtobe.Arushofpossessivenessflashesoverme,immediatelyfollowedbyadisappointmentsosharp,Itasteitlikebloodinmymouth.
Yeah,I’mlivingmyworst-casescenario.
“Remindmetohitthegiftstore,”Alexsaysashecontinuesdownthehallwayaftertherobot.
Icatchupwhenhepausesatanotherdisplaycase,thisonewitharowoftrophiesshowingwhatlookslikeamermaid.“Thewhat?”
“Newlightmerchisahugemoneymaker.StarLunehastheirownsnack-foodline.”
Oncewegetintotheboardroom,it’slikeanybusinessmeetingbutwithmorebowing.IcanmatchthepeoplefromthedossierAlexgaveme,soIknowthewomanintheblackdressisHyesu,Newlight’sheadofpublicity,themaninthenavysuitisherassistant,andthemaningrayistheirlegal,myequivalent.There’satranslator,butHyesuisfluentinEnglish,asisWonho,thelawyer.BothwenttoschoolintheUnitedStates.
Themorningpassesquickly,withtheusualformalintroductionsandsmalltalk.AfterwewatchacorporatevideothathasbetterproductionvaluethanaMarvelmovie,Hyesupullsoutherlaptop.
“Let’sgettoit.”Inseconds,spreadsheetsandtimelinesdisplayonthewallinfrontofus.Wehunkerdowntowork,andit’ssatisfyingtobeabletofocusentirelyonasingleclient.ItmightnotbeBeaconsmith,butit’safascinatinglookattheindustry.IfeelnaiveformyargumentwithAlexatthebarnowthatIhaveabettersenseofwhat’sinvolved.
“Thisgroup,Kay-Ent-Kay.”IstopwhenAlexkicksmeunderthetable.
“Kinetic,”heinterjectssmoothly.
“Ofcourse,myapologies.”BecausenaturallyKntKwouldbepronouncedKinetic
Thedaypasseswithoutfurtherincident,andAlexandIgobacktothehotel,change,andstaggerouttothecutecafé.Wedrinkraspberry-champagnelattes,themostbonkersitemonthemenu,whilediggingourtoesintothefloorgrassandbarelytalking.Ididn’tknowjetlagdrainedyousobad.Idon’tevenhaveenergytoworryaboutcontactingJihoon.Hana,blessher,haslimitedhermessagestosuggestionsonthestreetvendorfoodsIhavetoeat,andPhoebeconcentratesongivingmeupdatesonDadandphotosofdogssheseesinthepark,allcaptioned,HailLordPugglesworth,regardlessofbreed.Inaway,bothofthembeingsocarefultoavoidtalkingaboutJihoonmakesmethinkabouthimmore.
Backatthehotel,IsendHanaatextwithphotosoftheconveniencestorefoodIpickedupontheway(acupoficewithamangodrinkpacktoaddin)anddebatereplyingtoPhoebe.Ifshe’strying,Iwill,too,soIsendherphotosofthehotelroomandtellheraboutmyday.
Phoebe:There’sagiftstore?
Me:I’llgetyousomething.
Latethatnight,IstartatexttoJihoon.
ThenIdeleteit,becausewhatcanIsay?
IcouldsayImadeamistake,butthenwe’rebacktowherewestarted,himinKoreabeingabig-assidolandmelivinginToronto.There’snopoint.
SoIlieinbed,staringattheceilingandlisteningtomyheartarguewithmyobtusehead.Thirty-Two
Ihateparties.
No,I’mlookingforwardtothisevent.ThenIrepeatit,outloudandwithzest.“Iamlookingforwardtothiscorporateparty.Iamlookingforwardtothiscorporateparty.”
Theaffirmationdoesn’thelp.Iamnotlookingforwardtothiscorporateparty
Aftertheworkday,Iforcemyselfunderacoldshower,fillingthebathroomwithpainedyelpsbutknowingitwillbeworthittofeelslightlymorealert.Intwentyminutes,myhairisupinahighbunbecauseIcan’tstanditonmyneckinthisunseasonableheat,myblackdressison,andIhaveagoodredlipandevenacateye.Alex,wholookslikeamoviestarincharcoalpantsandoneofthosesuitvestswiththesatiny-lookingbackpanel,nodsinapprovalwhenImeethiminthehallway.
Weslideintothecab,andhegivesanaddressontheothersideoftheHanRiver.Seoulisenthralling,andIwanttoinvestigateeverystreetandalleywedrivepast.SofarI’veonlyseenaroundthehotelandthecommutetoNewlight,whichissad.Morepatheticisthatputtingoffpleasureforworkisstandardforme.AtleastIfeelbadaboutitnow,sothat’sgrowthofsomekind.Thenextbutdistantstageisdoingsomethingaboutit.
TheneighborhoodwearriveinissurprisinglymulticulturalcomparedtotheofficeinGangnam.“Itaewon,”saysAlexaswegetoutofthecabandwalktoasmallalleylinedwithagreencarpet.“Gaytown,partytown,andwherealotofforeignershangout.”
Wehaltinfrontofachromedooretchedwithtulipsthatswingsopenonsilenthingeswhenwecrossadarksquarecutintothecarpet.Iwaitforanotherrobottocomeup,butinsteadbeautifulwomensmileandbowasweenter.Ican’thelpbutsuckinmystomachbecausetheyhavewaistssocinchedtheyresemblewasps,animpressionheightenedbytheblack-and-yellowdressestheywearandhairthatrisesabovetheirverypalefacesinsculptedbouffantstyles.FreshsympathygrowsforHanaifthisistheobviouslynotimpossiblebutverydifficultbodystandardshe’sbeingcomparedtobyhermother.
Hyesuandherteamaretheretogreetus,litbythespotlightsthatgleamdownonthebarsliningtheroom.Smearedglasseslitterthetables,andthesicklysweetsmellofalcoholfloatsintheair.
“Ariadne!”Wonhocomesup,alreadyatthelevelofdrunkwherehiseyesarehazyandaslightslurmakeshimhardtounderstandovertheloudmusic.Yethistieremainsaworkofart,andhehasn’tevendowngradedtoaFrenchtuck.“Youneedadrink.”
“Thanks,butI’mfine.”
Itdoesn’ttake.Heplucksonefromaprettytraythat’sflashingLEDlightsintotheglassessotheyglowandhandsitover,thenhewaitsuntilIsipit.Onlywhentheglassisemptydoeshesmilecontentedly.
Thefirsthourofthenightpasses.Wonhointroducesmetohiscolleagues,andAlexchatstoHyesuatoneofthebarcountersnearby.Theatmosphereisoverwhelming,andmyskinfeelstoohumidfromeveryone’sbreath.Nothelpingaretheidolhologramsthatclusterintableauxnearthebar,similartotheonesatNewlightheadquarters.Moreofthegroupsarerecognizablefrommymeetings,andI’mpleasedtoidentifyKntKaswellasStarLune.
WhenWonhoisdistracted,Iescapetoaquietcorner.Tiltingmyheadagainstthewall,Isurveythecrowd,noticinghowmanypeopleStarLunekeepsemployed.There’sthestaffatNewlight,thestylists,dancers,andvideographers.It’saminieconomy,andmostofitcomesdirectlyfromStarLune.Jihoonwasn’tlyingwhenhesaidhisdecisionimpactedmorethanonlyhim.
Programmers,too.Newlighthaspropelledtheirtechnologygametobosslevelwithasetofhologramsthatmaketheirwayaroundtheroom,sorealisticIcouldhaveswornitwasStarLuneintheflesh.They’vedressedtheimagesinblazersandblackjeans,andwhenIpeercloser,thefacesareextraordinarilyexpressive.IknewKoreawaslight-yearsaheadofCanada,buttheexpertisehereismorethanIcanimagine.AslightauraseemstofollowthebandandpeoplemeltoutoftheirwaybecauseitwouldbeweirdtohaveKitwalkthroughyoulikeaghost.
IcatchsightoftheJihoonhologram,andmybreathsimplystops.Hehaslilachairtrimmedinasleekundercutthatemphasizeshisbonestructure.AsIstare,Alexappearsatmysidefromtheoppositedirection.“We’veputinenoughofanappearance,”hesays.“WanttoheadbacktothehotelorlookaroundItaewon?”
“ItaewonsowecanseetheoldestjazzbarinKorea,butinaminute.”Bemused,ImoveacrosstheroomtogetabetterlookatJihoon.Longingfortherealmanitchesalongmyfingers.
AriadneHui,youareanabsoluteandutterjackasstohavedonewhatyoudid.
“Thistechnologyisphenomenal,”Isay.Theblackboxesliningtheceilingmustbeprojectingtheholograms.
Alexfollowsme.“Whatareyoutalking…ohno.Ohno.”
AsIstepclosetothehologram,Ireachouttoseewhathappenstomyfingerinthelight.Amurmurgoesuparoundme.
“Ari!”AlexgrabsmyarmbeforeImakecontact.
IfreezeasIrecognizethelightcitruscologne.Computergenerationsdon’twearcologne.
Thenot-hologramJihoonlooksrightatme.
“OhmyGod,”Isay.“You’rereal.”ThenIcringe.
“Jesus,Ari,”muttersAlexashetugsatme.“Howmuchdidyoudrink?”
Jihoonatleastkeepshiscool,althoughhiseyeslookabitwild.“MinofStarLune.”He’ssoclosethatwhenhebows,abreezeflowsovermysweatyskin
Twoissuesoccurtomesimultaneously:I’mnotsupposedtoknowJihoon,andI’vebasicallyaccostedtheguestofhonoratmyclient’sevent.BehindJihoon,Kitstaresatme.Correction,everyonestaresatme.Imusthavebrokenathousandetiquetterulesinthepasttwentyseconds.
KitnudgesDaehyun,andthetwoofthemcastmecoldlooksthatIonlyseeoutofmyperipheralbecauseIcan’ttakemyeyesoffJihoon.ThenKitstepsforwardtopullJihoonsubtlyaway.It’slikethespellisbrokenastherushofbloodinmyearsgiveswaytothedrivingtechnobeatofthemusicandthebuzzofNewlight’sentirestaffcomplementgawkingatme.Hyesubustlesforward,bowingandspeakingquickly.Itmustbealongthelinesofshe’sablunderingCanadian,pleasecuthersomeslackbecauseshehasnoideahowtobehavelikeafunctioningadult
Jihoonsmilesather,thenleansovertospeakinEnglish.“Wouldyoulikeanautograph?Welovetomeetourfans.Starrysaresoimportanttous.”
Ifeelmyfacegopurple,buthisexpressioniscompletelyearnest,likewe’vetrulynevermetandI’mnothingbutastarstruckfan.Ishouldlethimhavethisbrieftriumph,becauseGodknowsIdeserveit.ImightnothaveachoicebuttolethimhaveitbecauseIcanbarelybreathe,letalonethinkofaretort.
SoIonlystareathim.Hestaresback,smilefadinguntilhisgazedarkensandhiseyesflickacrossmybarenecktomylips.
Alexclearshisthroat.“Well,thisisfun,wow,sogreat,”hesays.“Apleasuretomeetyou.”
Heleadsmeaway,hissing,“Don’teventhinkaboutlookingback.Notonefuckingglance,amIunderstood?”
Hemustbemadifhe’sswearing,butIcan’thelppeekingovermyshoulder.Jihoon’swatching,histeethbitingsohardintohislipthatIcanseetheindent.IwishIcouldsmoothitout,butI’vehumiliatedmyselfenoughforoneevening.
“Youupforthatjazzbar?”Alexasksoncewe’reoutside.
“Ionlywanttodie.”Myvoiceismuffledbehindmyhands.
“Hotelitis.”
Inthecab,Alexthrowshimselfbackwithagroan.“Howdidwenotknowthey’dbethere?”
“Youknow,itwasfine.”I’verecoveredabit.“Ilookedlikeanawestruckfangirl,nothingtoobad.”
“Saysyou.IthoughtyouweregoingtoripoffthatBottegajacketandclimbthepoorguylikeatree.”Hegivesmeapenetratinglook.“Youdidn’ttellhimyouwerehere.”
“Itried,butIcouldn’tdoit.”Mymindisallovertheplace.“Youcanrecognizewhodesignedablazer?”
“Yes,andit’snotdifficulttotellsomeoneyou’reinSeoul.It’sthreewords.I’m,there’sone.In.Two.Seoul.Three,thereyougo.”
“Theywerehardwords,”Isay.
Myphonebuzzes.Jihoon.
You’rehere.
Alexlooksdownatmyphone,whichlightsupthebackofthecab.“Idon’tknowwhyyou’replayingthisgamewithyourself.”
“It’snotagame.”He’sright.Everyoneisright.Iwantthis,sowhycan’tIadmitIwaswrongandaskhimtogivemeanotherchance?
Alexlooksatmewithraisedeyebrows.
Itmightbethedrinks,butIgivehimthetruth.“Idon’tknowwhatIwant,okay?”Thewordsrushoutfasterthanthetrafficwe’respeedingthrough.“IthoughtIdid,andnowIdon’tknow.WhatifI’mwrongaboutthis,too?Iwantitalltobesimpleagain.”
“Itneverwassimple,”Alexsays.“Itwassmall.Nowyou’reopeningup.”
“Thanks,Ihateit.”
“Thinkofitlikeanewcitytoexplore,”hesuggests.
“ExceptifImakethewrongchoiceinacity,Icangrabacaborcheckamap.Thisismylife,andifIscrewup,that’sit.It’saone-wayticket.”
Wegosilentaswecrossthebridge.Mostbodiesofwateratnightarealittlefreaky,becausehowcanyoulookatablackoceanandnotgetworriedaboutbeingdraggedouttoseabyagiantsquid?Butthere’ssomethingaboutadarkriverthat’seternallyromantic.IwishIcouldappreciateitbetter,butAlex’swordsriseinmewiththesamepowerasaseamonster.
“Doaprosandconslist.”Alex’svoicebreaksinonmythoughts.
“Thosedon’twork.”
“Iknow.IdidonebeforeaskingBentomarryme.Theconsidewasmuchlongerthanthepros,startingwithhisparents.”
“Yougotmarried,though.”Iglanceathisweddingband.I’dseenphotosoftheceremonyinCostaRica,boththegroomsincustom-madelinensuitswithBermudashortsandgiganticsmiles.
“Becausetherewasoneprothatnegatedeverycon.Everylastone.That’swhenIrealizedit’snotaprosandconslist,it’saweighting.IfIweighedallmyconcernsagainstallthebenefits,whatwouldwinout?”
NowI’minterested.“Whatwasthepro?”
Hegrins.“I’dwrittenBen,inallcapitalletters.Hewasallthatmattered.”
Iglancebackatmyphone.Therearesomanycons:thedistance,work,thefame.Thenthatoneweightedpro:it’sJihoon.
Ireallylikedhim.Likehim.Ican’tstopthinkingabouthim,butmorethanthat,whatmyexistencecouldbewithhim.Moreintenseandricher.Deeperandbroader.IwishIhadn’tbeensuchaquitter.IwishI’dgivenmylifehalftheattentionIgivetowork,thatI’dvaluedmyselfasmuchasIhadalawfirmthatcouldn’tcarelessaboutme.IwishI’dgivenusachancetobesomething.
Alexreachesovertogivemyhandasqueeze.It’swarmandcomfortingaswedrivethroughthebusySeoulstreets.Thenhereleasesmeandlooksoutthewindowtogivemespacetothink.
WhenItakeoutmyphone,lletmyheartleadthedecision.
Ittakesthreetriesformetotypeoutareplythatdoesn’thaveanytyposfrommytremblingthumbs.ThenIreaditoveragain.I’mabouttoreaditonemoretimebeforemyfingerunilaterallydecidestocommittothiscourseofaction,draggingmybrainalongwithit.
I’dliketotalktoyou,myreplyreads.Toapologize.
Thereplycomesblessedlyfast:I’mfreetomorrownight.
ThistimeIdon’twaitorbotherwithcheckingmymessage,sowhatIsendbacksays,yse
Heunderstands.I’llsendyoutheaddressofacafé.
WhenIlookup,Alextakesoneglanceatmybeamingfaceandburstsoutlaughing.Idon’tevencare.
IgettoseeJihoonagain.
Thenthere’sapauseandanothermessagecomesin.Youlookedlovelyinthatdress.Goodnight,Ari.
Idon’thatepartiesthatmuchafterall.Thirty-Three
Thenextdaydrags,andbeforeIleave,Jihoontextsmewherewecanmeet.
Jihoon:It’ssafebutwearamaskandhat.
Safe.I’mmeetingamanwhoneedstoconsidersafetywhengoingforcoffee.Despitehismoneyandfame,Jihoonlivesinabubble.
BythetimeIgettothecafé,I’vediscardedsevendifferentstartersastohowI’mgoingtoapologize.Noneofthemseemadequateyetallseembeyondmyabilitytomanage.
Thecaféisinasidealleyand,absorbedinmyinteriorrole-play,Iwalkpasttheentranceandhavetodoubleback.ThemomentItapthebuttontoopenthedoorandwalkin,asmilingwomanwearinganivoryapronbowsandwavesformetofollowher.Thecaféisemptybutgorgeouslydecoratedlikeanoldlibrary,withgreenlampsanddarkwoodandbookspiledonsidetablessurroundingplushclubchairs.Shepointsmeupthebackstaircase.
Thedecoronthesecondfloorissimilarbutfeaturesprettyteasetsinsteadofbooks.InoticeallthesedetailswithasenseofdesperationasItrytoavoidthinkingaboutwhat’sgoingtohappen.Idon’twanttohavethisconversation.IwouldsellmysoultoskipthenexttwentyminutessoIcandealwiththefalloutofwhatJihoonhastosay
There’satablenearawindow,andatthetablesitsJihoon,eyestrainedonme.Ablackslideloaferdanglesfromthetoesofhiscrossedleg.
Hestandstogreetme,andIpeerathim.“Whathappenedtoyoureyes?”
Thatwasn’toneofmyplannedopeners,butit’stoolate.Well,it’snoworsethansomeofthem,soIcommitandgiveaweakwavetowardhisface.“Youreyes.They’reblue.”Moreofagrayishblue,thecolorofabattleship,butnowisnotthetimetogetpedantic.
“Contacts,”hesays.“Foraphotoshoot.”
“Oh.”Rightnow,I’mSmauglyingonthatbedofloot,thejewelsencrustingme,butthesecondIstarttalking,mywordswillrevealthatonesoftspotonmyunderbellyforhimtostaborstroke.
Idon’tevenwaitforhimtositdown,becausethestressistoomuchforme.GoneisthecoolandcollectedAriwhocanhandleaclientmeetingwithoutbattinganeye.
“I’msorry.I’msorryIsaidweshouldn’tseeeachother.I’msorryIdidn’ttry.Thecontactslookgood.Iknowyouhaveeveryrighttobemad.I’msorry.”
“Ari,breathe.”Hedoesn’ttouchme,buthisvoiceisgentle.
ItakeahugegaspingbreathandavoidlookingathimbecauseIdon’tknowwhattodonext.Ihatethis.Ihatetalkingaboutanythingemotional.Ihatebeingvulnerableandhoping,prayingtheotherpersondoesn’tmakeajoketolightenthemoodwhenI’mnotreadytobelaughedatormakemefeelsillyorcutmedownforhavingthosefeelings.Ihatehavingtogivethatamountoftrust,eventoJihoon.
“We’lltalk,”headds.Ilookupquicklyandhenodsmetothetable.Hisfaceisdrawnandpaleunderhistanskin,andhisarmsarecrossed.
WesitdowninchairslowenoughthatIlandwithaninelegantoomph.ThesilencethickensasIlookanywherebutathimandhelooksatme.FinallyIunderstandhe’sgoingtowaitmeout,soIsteelmyselfandraisemyeyestohis.
“Ipanicked,”Isaysoftly.Eyecontactmakesallthisharder,especiallywiththosecontacts,butIpowerthrough.“Isawthecrowds,anditwasallsostrange,andIchoked.”
“Whatworriedyou?”HishandsaretuckedunderthetablesoIcan’tseethem.
“I’mnotsure.”Ifrown.“Abitofeverything?Thefame,forsure.Thedistance.We’veonlyknowneachotheramonth.We’rebusy.”
Henods.“ThoseareallreasonableconcernsthatwediscussedbeforeIleft.You’reusingthepanicasanexcusewhenyousimplyweren’tconvincedevenafterwetalked.”
Iwince.“Wemightnothavediscussedthemenough.”
“Thenwhydidn’tyousayso?Whydidn’tyouaskmewhatIthoughtorifIhadthesamefears?”
Thismakesmefrown.“Becausewe’dtalkedaboutitalready?”
“Yes,andyoucontinuedtohavethosethoughts.Insteadoftellingme,insteadofcommunicating,youacted.Youactedalone.”
That’strue,but…“Ididitbecauseyouwerehappywithtrying.”
“Iwas,”hesayssimply.“Iwashappytotry.IwantedtotrybecauseIdon’tknowthefuture.Youwerescaredtoevendothat,andyoushouldhavetoldme.”
“Iwasn’tscared.”
“You’relying.”Hisvoiceissharp.
“Itwasashocktoseetheairport,”Isay,pluckingataloosethreadonthechair.“Youtoldme,butIdidn’tunderstandhowfamousyouwereuntilIsawitmyself.”
Jihoonpushesawaythecuphe’sbeenplayingwith.“Iwasthesameperson.”
“Let’sbereal.Saywedate.Wecan’tgoseeamovieinthespurofthemoment.Apparentlywecan’tevengotoacoffeeshopwithoutadisguise.Evenifwewantedcoffee,it’sathirteen-hourflight.”
“Othershavemadeitwork.”Hisjawisset.“Wecouldhave,too.Youdidn’twanttomaketheeffort.”
“That’sunfair.”Iyankthethreadoutcompletelyandfiddlewithit.“Ididn’twantwhatwehadtofadeaway.”
“Youwantedtokeepcontrol.”
Thatsoundsbothverybadandlikeme.Inod.“IguessIdid,althoughIdidn’tsaythattomyselfatthetime.”
“Yethereyouare.Noneofthosethingshavechanged.Whatdoyouwantfromme,Ari?”
Itakeadeepbreathandgoforit.“Imissyou.Imisstalkingtoyouandknowingyouwerethere.”Itakeanotherdeepbreath,wonderingifI’mgoingtostarthyperventilatingfromsuckinginallthisoxygen,andforcethewordsout.“Iscrewedup,andIknowit.Iwanttotryagain.”
It’sout.Iputallthecardsonthetable.Hecangetupandleave,butatleastIwon’thavetheregretofneverlettinghimknow.Iwon’tlivemyworst-casescenario.Well,thatmighthappen,butatleastIgaveitthesameeffortIwouldaworkproject.More,becausefeelingsaremuchhardertodealwiththanamemo.
“Whenyoutoldmeitwasover,atfirstIthoughtitwasajoke,”hesaysmildly.Nowhe’slookingawayfromme,overmyshoulder.“Averyunfunnyandcrueljoke.”
Shameistheworstfeeling.Itrynottohideinmychairandinsteadaccepttherepercussionsofmyactions.“I’msorry.”
“Ididn’tknowwhatchanged.Ithoughtyouwereusingme,andwhenIwasleaving,youdidn’tneedmeanymore.”
Thissnapsmyheadup.“Never!”
“No?”Hissmileistwisted.“I’msurroundedbypeoplewhoonlywantmeforwhattheycanget.”
“Jihoon,Ididn’tevenknowyouwereinStarLuneorrichuntilI’dalreadyfallenforyou.”Myfaceheats.Thatwastoomuchinformation.
Heassessesmecarefullyacrossthetable.“WouldyouhavecontactedmeifIhadn’tseenyoulastnight?”
“Idon’tknow.”Ilookdownattheredthreadtwistedaroundmyfingers.“Iwaspsychingmyselfuptoit.Startedafewtexts.Deletedthem.”
Hegivesmeasmallseedlingofasmile.“Whatdoyouseehappening,Ari?”
Behonest,myinnerlawyertellsherclient,Ms.A.Hui.“Youtoforgiveme,first.IknowIneedtoearnyourtrustback.Iwanttotry,reallytry.Ifyouwant.”
“Weneedtotalkaboutallthosethingsyoukeptbottledup.”Ifrown,andthismakeshimgroan.“EmotionalopennessistheonlywayI’mwillingtoforgiveyou.”
“Howmuchopenness?”Iaskcautiously
“Ari.Asmuchasisneeded.”
“Okay,”Isay.“Wehavedifferentstandards,though,ifpasthistoryisanexample.”
“IwanttheAriIknewinTorontobeforeshegotscared,”hesays.“Theonewhotalkedtomeaboutherlifeandlistenedtometalkaboutmine.”
ThatIcando.IthinkIcandoit.Iwilldefinitelydomybesttotrytodoit.“Allright,”IsaywithmoreconfidencethanIfeel.Helooksatme,andIspeakmorefirmlybecauseIhavetofixthiswithJihoon.“Yes.Iwill,ifIcangettheJihoonIknewbeforeMin.”
“Thatmanisalwayshere.”Jihoonpincheshislipthoughtfully.“Kithyeongwillcallmeafoolandsayyou’llbreakmyheartagain.”
Iglanceup.“Youcanbreakminethistime.”
“I’dpreferwedidn’tbreakanyone’sanything.”Heslidesthedecorativeteacupbackandforthacrossthetable.“Youhurtme,Ari.Ineedyoutoknowthat,althoughIprobablydeserveditafterlyingtoyouinToronto.”
“Iknow.”Ikeephisgazethistimeandletmyselffeelthecrushofregretaroundmyheart.“Ihandleditbadly.”
Hestandsupandcomesaroundthetabletomyside,wherehedropsonthearmofmyseattorunhishandalongmyhair.“It’sadeal.Again.”
Iblinkathimuncertainly.“Itis?You?Ah…withme.”Howarticulate.Ican’teventhinkofthewordsbecausehe’ssocloseandhishandhasmovedfrommyhairtoclaspthebackofmyneck.IfreezeforamomentbecauseIdidn’tthinkhe’dsayyes,evenafterallthatnegotiation.
Hebendsdown,thoseunnaturallylighteyesfixedonmine.“Yes.Shallwesealitwithakiss?”
Igroan.“That’ssocorny,ohmy…”
Jihoonshutsmeupwithhismouth.Myhandscomeuptobrushthehardmusclesofhischestandhisheartracesundermyfingersthroughthethinshirt.It’sasweetkiss,nomorethanaflutteragainstmylips.It’salsonotenoughbecauseafterthattorture,Iwantmore.Isitupandleanintohimashisarmswraparoundme.
“Jihoon-ah!”Awoman’ssharpvoicecomesfromtheothersideoftheroom,andJihoonleapsaway.Herfacehasahugelyinfectioussmile,andshewavestwomenusasshewinks.
Hebows,butsheonlylaughs.Theyspeaktogetherforamomentbeforesheturnstome.
“Itisnicetomeetyou,”shesays.“IamEunyoo.”
HerEnglishishaltingbutmilesbetterthanmyKorean.“Annyeonghaseyo,”Isay,rememberingthatJihoononcesaidthiswasthemoreformalgreeting.“Hello.I’mAri.”
ShelooksaffectionatelyatJihoon,andwhatevershesayscauseshimtoduckhisheadandgored.Thenshelaysthemenusdownandleaves.
“Whatdidshesay?”Idemand.
“ShesaysIneedtoeatwell.”Hepicksupthemenuandgoestohisseattoperuseitwithhisfullattention.
“Whatelse?”Hiscolorhasn’tgonedown.
“Nothing.”
“Jihoon.”
“BecauseIneedtheenergy,”hemutters.
“Forwhat?”
“Youknow.Performing.”Isaynothingandhehuffs.“ShesaidIneedtostaystrongtokeepyouhappy.”
Iwatchinastonishmentastheflushtravelstothetipsofhisears,turningthemfuchsia.Hewon’tlookmeintheface,andthisshynessfromamanwhocaneyefuckanarenaoffansintoascreamingmassishilarious.Itakepityonhimandchangethetopic.“Howlongisthebreakyou’regettingtoday?”
Healmostpouts.“Untiltentonight.”
“Oh.”That’snotlong.
“I’mduebackforpracticebecauseoftheconcert,”hesaysasifinapology.
Ilookathimcarefully.“Haveyoubeeneating?”He’sskin,muscle,andbone,andhisjawlineismuchsharper.Ihadnoticedlastnightbuthadputitdowntothelighting.
“Comeback,”hesays.“Weallloseweight.It’sexpected.”
“That’snothealthy.”He’sasstreamlinedasagreyhound.
“Notatallhealthy.It’stheindustry.”
“Howlongcanyoukeepthisup?Performing,Imean?”IalreadyholdmybackwhenIhavetobendover.
“Agoodquestion.”Heglancesdownathimself.“Idon’tknow.StarLunedebutedtenyearsago.We’reveteransbutnotsuperhuman.”
“Whatcomesafterbeinganidol?”
“Icouldhostavarietyshow,”hesays.“Actinadramaorshiftintofull-timeproducing.Songwriting.”
“Thatseemslikeabettermatchthanvarietyshows.”Ihesitate.“Yoursongsareincredible.”
Hiseyebrowslift.“YoulistenedtomanufacturedK-pop?”
Iwrinklemynoseatbeingdeservedlycalledout.“Iwaswrong.”
Helaughs.“Anunexpectedbutappreciatedvoteofconfidence.”Hecomesoverandtuckshimselfintothechairbesideme.Ileanintohim,takingphysicalsatisfactioninhiscloseness.
“Now,tellmewhyyouareinSeoulstalkingidolsatparties,”hesays.
“Ireallydidthinkyouwereahologram,”Iexcusemyselfasheslideshisarmaroundmyback.
“Idon’tknowhowtotakethat,tobehonest.”
“Asacompliment.I’mherewithAlextoworkonsomeoftheNorthAmericanpromotionsforbandsunderNewlight.NotStarLune,though.”
“Forhowlong?”
“Afewmoredays.”
Hepicksuphisphoneandbringsupthecalendar.“Theconcertissoon,andI’llhavesometimeoffafter.Canyoustaylonger?”
“Ah,Iamactuallystayinglonger.”
“Youare?”Heglancesoverwiththoseunnervinglypaleeyes.
“I’mtakingsomevacationtime.HanaisstoppingoverinSeoulforacoupledaysbeforeshedoesatrainingcourseinBusan.Weweregoingtoexplore.”
“Shedidn’ttellmethat.”Hetucksmyhairbehindmyear.“Youwillbothstaywithme.”
“Wehaveahotel.”
Jihoonwaveshishand.“Myplaceissafer,andwecanseeeachother.YoucancometoourVIPconcert.”
IwantthisandknowHanawouldloveit,soIdon’tneedanyconvincing.“We’dloveto.”
“WhenHanaleaves,wewilltourthecity,youandItogether.”
“Thatwecando.”Irestmyheadonhisshoulderthenliftittosmileathim.“Ihaveanitinerary.”
“Ihavenodoubtyouwouldhavethebestone.PerhapsIcanaddsomesecretspotstoit.”
Itfeelslikewe’rebackinToronto,normalpeopleinsteadofcelebrityandnoncelebrity.Jihoon’salwaysbeentouchierthanme,soothedwithphysicalcontact,butIdidn’trealizehowmuchhedependsonituntilhedrapeshimselfoverme,handsstrokingmyarmsasifremindinghimselfofhowIfeel.Eventhoughtheconversationisgoingsmoothly,Ihavethisnaggingfeelingthatitshouldn’tbegoingaswellasitis.
“Whyareyousoquicktoforgiveme?”Iasksuddenly.“Iwouldhavemademeworkforitwaymore.”
Heplayswithmyhair.“What’sthepointofthat?Webothactedpoorlyandhavelearnedfromit.”
“Iguess.”
“Youforgavemebefore,andIdidthesame.You’rehereandwetalked.Peoplemakemistakes,andit’snotproductivetoholdgrudgesforeverorkeepscore.I’dprefertobehappy.”
HemovesbacktohisseatwhenEunyoobringsushotteok,pancakesfilledwithsyrupsosweet,ithurtsmyteeth.
“IshouldhavemadetheseforyouwhenIwasinToronto,”hesays.
“Thepancakesyoudidweregood.Morechocolatechipsthanbatter.”
Henods,satisfied.“Good.Imissthecereals,though.”
It’sanoddlydomesticconversation.Arelationshipisbuiltontinyeverydayinteractions,casualcomments,andbrieftouches.Ididn’tknowhowmuchImisseditand,asJihoonlicksthesyrupoffthesideofhishotteok,howIwouldliketohavethisallthetime.
Thisisnotlikeme.Previousrelationshipswereinaveryspecificcompartmentinmymind.Ihadwork,home,friends,family,andtheoccasionalboyfriendwithverylittleoverlap.That’snothowitiswithJihoon.IlikehiminmyhomelifeandthatheandHanaarefriendsapartfromme.IlikethewayheintersectedandintertwinedwithmeinTorontolikenooneelsehas.
Jihoonreachesoverandtugsmyhandacrossthetablesohecantracethelinesonmypalm,histouchripplingthroughmywholebody.He’snotevenlookingashedoesit,buthisabsentmindeddesireforustotouchmakesmeweak.
EunyoocomesupandwhisperstoJihoon.Bothofthemlookserious.“Gamsahamnida,”hesaysquietly.Sheleaves,feettappinglightlyonthestairsasJihoonrubshisknucklesintohishand.
“What?”Iask.
“There’ssomeonefromafansiteoutside.Theymusthavefollowedme.”Thirty-Four
Someonefollowedhim.Right,that’sacommonoccurrence.
“Runthatbymeagain.Afansite?”
“Websitesrunbyfansthatpostphotosofus.”
ItakeadeepbreathandbecomelawyerAriadne,basedondataandnotemotion.“Iftheyfollowedyou,dotheyalreadyhavephotosofme?”
Wepulloutourphones.Afteraminuteofscrolling,helooksup.“Nothing.You?”
“Nope.”
SinceI’veremainedinproblem-solvingmode,IbypassthemanyunrelatedquestionsIhaveandstandtolookoutthewindow.“Wouldthefansitepersonhaveaprofessional-lookingcamera?”Iask.
“Yes.”Hestands,butIwavehimback,lookingintentlyoutthewindowlikeI’maspy.Outfrontofthecaféisawomanwithblackhairpulledintoalowponytail,twocamerasslungaroundherneckandherphoneinherhand.
“Whydoesn’tshecomein?”Iask.
Helooksouttheotherside,angledtostayhidden.“Goodfansitesrespectourpersonalspaceandprivacy.Shewouldthinkitincrediblyrudetointrude.”
Iturntohim.“Jihoon,she’sfollowedyouhereandiswaitingrightoutsidethedoortogetaphotoofyou.That’snotrespectingyourspace.”
“She’snottouchingmeorapproachingme.She’snotthreatening.Sheusuallyonlycoversappearancesonourschedule,soherevenbeinghereisunusual.”Hebiteshislip.“Myownfault.It’sbeenhappeningmoresinceIcameback.”
Thisissooutofmyrealmofcomprehensionthatittakesafewmomentstotrytowrapmyheadaroundhisreality.“Thereisawomanoutsidewaitingtotakephotosofyou,andyou’rescaredtoleavebecauseofit.That’snotnormal.”
Thiscauseshimtoburstoutlaughing.“Ofcoursenot,butit’swhatmylifeis.UsuallyIwouldn’tcare,butIwanttoprotectyou,Ari.”
Imovetonextsteps.“Dowestayhereallnight?”
“Eunyoohasaplan.I’lldistractherbygoingoutthefrontwhileyouleaveoutthebackdoorforthecar.YouandYeong,thedriver,canpickmeupoutfront.”He’sconfident,andsincethisishisworldandnotmine,Ihavetotrusthim.
Hecatchesmearoundthewaistbeforeweheaddownstairsandliftsmychinwithonefinger.“DidIsayhowprettyyoulooktoday?”hesays.
“I’mmorethanlooks.”IsnifftheatricallyevenasIfeelmyfacegored.IforgothowmuchIloveJihoon’sspontaneouscompliments.
Hegrins.“Ihaven’tbeenabletotellyouhowsmartandcreativeyouareforalongtime,butI’lldothatsoonaswell.”Hebendstokissme,hislipsslottinginperfectlytomine.Foramoment,that’sallIknow—hishandsonmywaistandhiskiss.ThenEunyoocallsfromthebottomofthestairs,andJihoonhandsmeamask.
Tomysurprise,hisplanworks.WhileIwaitdownstairs,Jihoonleavesandlingersinthedoorsoanyonewaitinginthebackalleywillleavetofollowhim.IgiveEunyooawaveanddashoutwhenthecarappears,fallingintothebackseatsodramaticallythatYeongstiflesalaughbeforehegunsitandheadsaroundthecorner.
Thecarslows,andIduckdownasthedooropens.Jihoonjumpsinbesidemewithacupinhishand.
“Eunyoothoughtitwasmorerealistictocomeoutwithadrink,”hesays,seeingmelookatit.“Ithinkwe’resafe.Didyouseeanyone?”
“NobutbetteraskYeong.”
Jihoonleansoverandhasalongdiscussionthatconcludeswhenheturnstomeandsays,“Hedidn’t.”
It’slikethosesubtitledmovieswheresixminutesofdialoguegetstranslatedtogoodidea.
“Nowwhat?”Ipeeroutthecarwindowtolookforotherphotographers.
“Ifyoudon’tmind,Yeongwilldropmeatpracticefirst.AnyonefollowinguswillwaitthereuntilIcomeoutlatertonight,sohe’llbefreetotakeyoutoyourhotel.”
Anyonefollowingus.Ionlynod.“Right,butImeantus.Whathappensnow,tous?”
“Ah.”Hekissesmyhand.“Wetakeitdaybyday.Noplan.”
Idomybesttosmile,butthethoughtofnoplanmakesmenervous.He’sworththeeffortoflivingwithmyheart,butIdon’tknowhow.I’myearsoutofpractice.Decades,maybe.
“Weneedtotalk,”Isay.“Abouthowthisisgoingtowork.Logistics.”
“Thatwillbethefirstthingwedoonceourspecialconcertisover,”hepromises.“Ilookforwardtoadeepandsincerediscussion.”
“Ah,yeah.”Ihopemyeyesdon’tresemblethoseofanemotionallystunteddeerintheheadlightsofanoverlyempathictruck,butJihoontakesmyhand.
“Itwillbeeasy,”hesoothes.“Ifyou’rehonestwithmeandwithyourself.”
“Nothelping.”
Jihoon’sphoneisalmostvibratingofftheseatwiththenumberofmessagescomingthrough.Hesimplypicksitupandturnsitoff,themostthoughtfulthingamodernmancando,beforebrieflypressinghisforeheadagainstmine.“I’msorry,Ari.”Hesoundsregretful.“Thislifeisstifling.AtleastwhenI’mbusy,Idon’tthinkaboutit.Workisanexcuse.”
Workisanexcuse.JihoonhasadisconcertinghabitofexpressingthoughtsIdidn’tknowhadbeencirculatinginmyownmind.WhenI’mdoingduediligenceorcheckingoverdocuments,Idon’thavetothinkaboutwhatafuckinguselesswayI’mspendingthetimeIhaveonthisplanet.
HereliesAriadneHui.
Shewrotememosnooneread.
Nowshe’sdead.
Lostinthought,Iwatchthenightcitypassbythecarwindows,Jihoonatmysidewithhishandonmine.He’shumminglowtohimself,littlesnippetsofsongsthatstartfamiliarbutsoontwistandalterintonewmelodiesthatcurvearoundmymind.Ithinkaboutcoolwaterwashingovermyskinandthewaythesunfeelswhenitbeatsdownthroughthethick,wetheatofasummerday.Hechangesthetune,anditturnsbluer,fillingmewithlongingforaplaceI’veneverbeen.Kaukokaipuu,theFinnscallit.Iwriteitonthefirstpageofeachnewtravelnotebook.
Idon’trealizeI’veletoutalingeringsighuntilJihooncallsmyname.“Ari?”
“Yes?”Myeyesalmosthurtfromtheintensityoflookingoutthewindowwhilenotseeingwhat’sinfrontofme.
“Tellmewhat’sbotheringyou.”Heshiftsontheseat.“Isitme?”
“Notyou.”Ilifthishandtomorecomfortablyfitmyfingerswithhisandnestlemyheadbackintothecarseattolookthroughthesunroof.“Yousaidworkisanexcuse.”
“Idid.”
“WorkhasbeenmylifeforaslongasIremember,”Isaytothedistantsky.“Firstschool,thentheoffice.Myparentsexpectedthebestfromme.YouknowPhoebedroppedoutandisbasicallyanomad.Itdrivesmyfathernutstoseeherwasteherlife.”
“Yetyouseemenviousofher.”
“Idon’tknowiflawwasmygoalorDad’s.Phoebegottodowhatshewanted,andI’mstuckwithwhathewantedforme.”IsayitlouderthanIplannedandthenstop,shockedwhenIhearthewordsandhowangrytheyare.
“Then,Ari,makeadifferentchoice.Likeyoursisterdid.”
Iglareathim.Easyenoughtosaywhenit’snotyouwhohastodealwiththebacklash.“Achoicethatwillworryanddisappointthemthewayshedid?Iwasalwaysthegoodone.”
“Theysurvivedyoursisterleavingschool.”
“Sure,buttheyweren’thappy.”Imakeaface.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutitanymore.”
Hesmilesandlooksdownatme.“I’llbeherewhenyoudo.”Myhairisovermyshoulder,andheslidesalockthroughhisfingersbeforedeftlytyingitintoalooseknotandundoingit.“ThisisthefirsttimeIhaven’tadoredacomeback,”hesaysthoughtfully.“Before,Iwasworriedandtiredbutexcitedforfanstohearourwork.”
“Why?”
“WhenIwaswithyouinToronto,Ihadnoexpectationsonme.IcoulddowhateverIwanted,withoutpeoplefussingaboutwhereIwasorwhatIwaswearing.Noonewatchedme.Ihadspacetothinkanddream.”
AlthoughI’veslowlycometogripswiththeideathatbeinganinternationalcelebrityisn’tallskittlesandbeer,partofmewantstopointoutthatbeingamillionairewithstafftotakecareoftheboringpartsoflifeishardlyatragedy.Thatwouldbegrosslyunfairbecauseneitherisbeingalawyerwithlovingfamilyandfriendsandkick-assbenefitsandapensionplan.IhaveallthatIshouldneedtobehappy;sodoesJihoon.Yetbothofusgreedilywantmore,toselfishlycarveouttheextrathatmakeslifeworthlivinginsteadofgoingthroughthemotionseveryday.
“Whatdidyoudreamabout?”Iask.
“Impossiblethings.YouknowIwritesomeofoursongs.”Herubshisarms.“Peoplethinkminearefunones,lightandhappy.Iwanttogrowandmoveindifferentdirections.”
“Thenyoushould.”
Hissmileissardonic.“Thecompanylikesthingshowtheyare.”
“Notmessingwithagoodthing,”Isay,rememberingtheconversationwehadonmybalcony.“Yousaidyoutriedtodothingsontheside.Wasityoursongwriting?”
Hefreezesup,andthistensionissounusual,Iturntofacehim.“Jihoon?”
Heonlyshakeshishead,andsoonwepulluptotheNewlightbuilding.“Turntomeforasecond,”hesays.Hesnapsaphoto,thengivesmealingeringkiss.“I’llseeyousoon.I’llfindthetime.”
Thistimewhenheleaves,hetakeswhatremainedofmyregretandsadnesswithhim.It’sgoingtobehard,butI’minittowinit,evenifittakestheopencommunicationJihoonthreatened.Icandothatforhim.
Backatthehotel,I’malonewithmythoughtsuntilanemailfromYesterlyandHavingscomesthrough.It’stoallstaff,congratulatingBrittanyonhernominationforaprestigiousexcellenceaward,theoneIhopedtheywouldselectmefor.
Iwaitforthefurytocome.Itdoesn’t.Itstingsbutitdoesn’tburn.
Anotheremailcomesin,thistimefromLuxe.Ineshasfoundsomeonetotakeontherolesheofferedme,sononeedtoworry.
Igetintobedandpulltheduvetovermyhead.Myentirebodyfeelsempty,andforthefirsttime,workisn’ttheretosootheme.Aloudspeakersquawksoutsidemywindow,andwhenapeppysongstartstoplay,Ipeeroutofmyblanketcave,wonderingwhatitis.Alexwouldknow.IshouldhavehadhimtakemeonamusicaltourofthecitytoexperienceK-popmyselfinsteadoflearningitfromacomputerscreen.
Amusicaltourofthecity.IdeasstarttoflowasIconsiderhowthiscouldlook.
Excited,Isitupandstarttomakesomenotes.Slowly,withoutmenoticing,anythingtodowithYesterlyandHavingsdriftsquietlytothebackofmymind.
“Water,”raspsAlex,hanginginmydoorwaywithanashenface.“Ibegyou.Coffee.”
Igiveaweakwavetowardthecoffeemakeronthedesk,andhestumblesin.
“Thatwas…”IpauseasItrytoforcemylethargicbrainintothinkingwhilecontrollingmynausea.“Intense.”
ThelastdayworkingwithNewlighthadpassedwithoutincident.Thentheytookusouttosaygoodbye.
Iwasunprepared.
Thenighthadstartedwell,ataBBQplacefamiliartomefromtheonesHanaandIgotoinKoreatown,withalittleventedbrazieronthetabletocookthemeat.Inibbledonsomefriedtofuanddrankthefirstofwhatwouldbemanydrinks.
Somanydrinks.ItextedJihoonbeforeweleft,andhewarnedmeitwouldbealongnight.Ididn’trealizehowlong
“Theymusthaveironlivers,”saysAlexnowwithdeeprespect.
Afterdinner,wewenttothenoraebangforkaraokeandmoredrinking.ThankGodI’dhadtheforesighttoturnoffmyphone,whichsavedmethedreadofoneoftheNewlightstaffseeingatextfromJihoonandthemoredominantfearofsendinghimanincrediblybadbootycallmessage.
Makeupsexrocks,butI’mtryingtobeclassyhere.
Clutchingourcoffees,wegotoAlex’sroomsohecanfinishpacking.Hestrugglesasheliftshisbagtochecktheweight.“Whowouldhaveguessedsouvenirsweresoheavy?”hesays.
“YouboughtStarLunesnowglobesforyourteamandtheconveniencestore’sentirestockofspicydriedsquidsnacksforBen.”
“Worthit.”Alex’sfacebrightensasitalwaysdoeswhensomeonesayshishusband’sname.“Helovesthosesnacksandthey’reimpossibletofindathome.DidyouseewhereIputthehoneybutterchips?”
“Weatethemlastnightwhenwegotbacktothehotel.”
Alexglancesintothetrash,whichcontainstheempty,cracklyevidenceofourdrunkencravings.“Shoot.Weatethecrabchips,too.”
Alexfinishespacking,andwegooutforlunch.Hyesuhadrecommendedhaejangguk,whichisapparentlyahangover-curingsoup,sowegetthatforAlexandsundubujjigaeforme.
“Areyouhappywiththeweek?”Iask,pickingupthewidemetalspoonwhenthefoodcomes.Therichsmellofthesofttofustewmakesmefeelbetteralready.
“Ididn’tgettogetherwithanidollikesomepeople,butitwasproductive.”HeignoresthelookIgivehimandeatssomebanchan.“Igottonsofcontentformypodcast,too.”
Alexrunsamusichistorypodcastontheside.Thisseemslikeagoodseguetomymusicaltouridea.
“Iwasthinkingaboutyourpodcast,”Isay,allfauxcasual,nobigdeal.“Whatdoyouthinkaboutrunningmusichistorytours?”
“What,inToronto?”Hesoundsdoubtful,andItrytonottakeitnegatively.
“No,likeyoutakeabunchoflike-mindednerdsonamusichistorytourinLondonorLAorwhatever.Luxedoestheplanning.Youhost.”
There’salongpause.“Doyouhavemyphonetapped?”
“Why?Youlikeit?”
“I’vebeenplayingwiththesameidea.”Alexsoundsexcitedandhe’sneverovertlyexcited—he’stoomuchthesmoothPRguy.“Iwasgoingtoaskyouforadvice.ThetripyouplannedwhenBenandIwenttoGreecewasincredible.”
Thismakesmelaugh,partlywithreliefandpartlywithexcitement.
“Ialreadyhavesomething,”Isay.I’dtakenthenotesfromtheothernightandturnedthemintoaproposal.
“Sendittome.I’llreaditnow.”
Alexspendstherestoflunchshiftingbetweenhisfoodandmakingsuggestionsonmyproposal.Oncewe’rehappy,wepause.
“WillYesterlyandHavingsbeokaywithyoudoingthis?”heasks,nibblingonsomebeansprouts.
Ishrug.“Gottalivewhileyoucan.”
Heshootsmeanastoundedlook.“Whoareyou?Ariwouldneversaysuchathing.”
Iignorethat.“I’llsendittoIneslater.Ithinkshe’lllikeit.”
Wefinisheating,andafterAlexheadstotheairport,Isitonmybed.It’swithunfamiliardelightandnosmalldegreeofstressthatIswitchonmyout-of-officeemailnotifications.
I’mofficiallyonvacation,soIpullmyproposaluponmylaptoptoreaditoveronemoretime.Alex’ssuggestionsweresolid,andIcanvisualizehowthetourwouldwork.Iknowitwoulddowell.
ThenIsendit.Likethat,oneclickandit’sgone.Lookingatmycursoronthescreen,Iwonderwhytherearenoundercurrentsofshouldorwhatabout.Insteadmymindticksovermoreideasinasatisfied,steadyrhythm.
ThatYesterlyandHavingsisnotfrontandcenterisdisconcertingbecauseit’sbeenoneofmyonlyconcernsformyentireprofessionallife.WhatIcandotoimpressRichard.Howtogetmorework.Howtowin.ItwasallIthoughtIwanted,butworkwasathingIdid,notathingIwasdeeplyconnectedto.Itwastransactional.
Nowsomething’sshifted,andIdon’tknowwhoIamanymore.We’ddoneaWhoIsJihoonDayinToronto.NowIwishI’ddonethatWhoIsAriDayaswell.
Itwouldhavebeenuseful.Thirty-Five
Hanaarriveslaterintheafternoon.JihoonaskedYeongtocollectherfromtheairport,andaftertheypickmeupfromthehotel,weheadtoJihoon’sapartment.It’snearItaewoninaneighborhoodcalledHannam-dong,closetomostoftheplaceswewanttoseeoverthenextcoupledays.We’rebothdozingwhenmyphonedingswithsomephotosfromJihoon.Thefirstisthewholebanddressedasprincesinlushvelvetandbrocadeandtightpantslacedatthefrontwithhighboots,standinginwhatlookslikeabaroquefairy-talethroneroominouterspace.
ThesecondisofhimandKit,back-to-backandlookingatthesky.Thelastisofhim,alone,standingneararockwithalightsaber,KingArthurstyle.He’slookingstraightatthecamerawithhistonguetouchinghislip,danglingacrownfromhishand.Imakeanungodlynoise,andHanaisinstantlyawake.
“IsthatKit?”Hereyesbugoutasshelooksatthesecondphoto.Thensheblinks.“Hooniesentyoutheirconceptphotos?Unedited?”
“Iguess.Hesaidtheyhadashoottoday.”
“Doyouhaveanyideahowsecrettheseare?StarLune’sconceptsmightaswellbestoredinFortKnox.Ifthesegetleaked,therewillbechaosinthefandom.”
“I’mnotgoingtoleakthem,”Iprotest.Ican’tstoplookingatthephotos.He’snotevenapersonrightnow,andit’sclearwhythey’recalledidols.ThisisMin,notJihoon.Theuncertaintystirsinmychestagainbutisimmediatelyquelledbyknowinghetrustedmeenoughtosendtheshots.
Hanascrollsthroughthephotos.“Starrysaregoingtogonutswithhowhottheseare.ItmakessensewiththehintsNewlight’sbeendroppingaboutthenewalbum.”
ImakeafaceandcontentmyselfwithsendingaseriesoffireemojistoJihoon.
“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutwhatthey’replanning,doyou?”
“Wedon’ttalkaboutthatalot.”Wetextedfrequentlybuthaven’tbeenabletomeetagainthankstohispunishingschedule.
Sheglaresatme.“Pretendingheisn’twhoheisisn’thelpful.”
Ittakesmeaminutetoparsethisout,butwhenIdo,Idecidetoignoreit.“Iwasbusy.Thiswasaworktrip.”
“YouwerebusyignoringthefactthatyouaredatingJihoonandJihoonisavocalistforStarLune.”
“We’renotdating.”Notifdatingincludesactualdates
Shewavesthisaway.“Ifyou’renotseeinganyoneelse,thenit’scloseenough.”
“Hana,Iamdoingmybest,butit’sanadjustment.”Anotherphotocomesin.Jihoonhashisjacketopen,andhe’swearingasorryexcuseforashirt,thinlacethatcoversnothing.Ibrandishthephoneathertoprovemypoint.“Thisisnotwhatregularguysdo.We’regoingtotalkaboutitaftertheVIPconcert.”
“Good.”Satisfiedtoknowthereisatalkscheduled,Hanarelaxesandleansoverme.“TellhimtosendoneofKit.Sangjun,too.”
Igrabmyphoneprotectively.“Tellhimyourself.”
“I’mnotsupposedtoseethese,remember?Becausethey’reunderlockandkey,butapparentlyyou’verecalibratedyourboyfriend’sgive-a-fuck-ometertozero.”
“He’snotmyboyfriend.”Notofficially.
Shedoesayap-yapmotionwithherhand.“Whatever.”
Afinalphotocomesin,aselfie.It’sJihoonagain,sameoutfit,sameincrediblytonedlace-coveredchest,buthe’sblowingakiss.
Inthisterritory,Jihoonisavisualking,andasamortal,Ican’tcompete.IpokeHana,andwemakemonsterfacestosendback.
Wedriveuptowhatlookslikearegularapartmentcomplex,althoughthePentagon-tightsecuritycheckpointsweneedtonegotiateindicateit’snotforaveragepeopleatall.Therearethree-sixty-degreecamerastuckedintotreesandmountedonwalls,smallrobotsbuzzingalongthepaths,andguardspatrollingthegrounds.Thedriverdropsusoffatapainting-filledlobbydecoratedwithachandelierornateenoughtograceczaristRussiaatitsmostopulent.
Likeahotel,there’saconciergewhogreetsuswithafriendlysmilebutwhomIsuspectisacombatmasterreadytotakedownintruders.Iwouldn’tbesurprisediftuckedunderthedeskisanAK-47andpanicbuttonsthatwouldcausegatestoslamdownonalltheentrances.Hanadealswiththedetailsandsoonhandsmeafob.“Here.Yourkey.”
Shetapshersagainstthenumberlesspadintheelevator,andwhenwearriveatthefloor,itopensrightintotheapartment.It’soneofthosedesignelementsthatlooksgoodinmoviesbutfeelsstrange.Ineedahallway.
Wewalkintoafoyerwithverticallightshangingfromtheceiling,whichmustbefifteenfeethigh.
We’rehere,ItextJihoon.
Hisresponsecomesimmediately.Homewithinanhour.Makeyourselfcomfortable.
“They’verenovatedsinceIwaslasthere,”Hanasaysassheexplores.Tocallthisplaceanapartmentisanunderstatement.It’ssocavernousitechoes,anditincludesamusicroomwithapianoandguitarsaswellasthemultiplebedrooms.Thefloorsarepolishedstoneandcoveredbyprettyrugs.It’salottotakein.
“Thisoneisyours,”Hanasays,peekingintooneoftherooms.
“Why?”I’minthemainbathroom,whichhasaseparateshowerandjacuzzitub,butIgoover.“Wow.”
Agorgeousbouquetofprimrosesandtigerflowersstandsonthedesk,andorchidsdecoratethesidetables.Ichecktheotherroom.“Thishasflowers,too,”Ipointout.
“Gerberas,”shesays.“Pretty.”
“Whydidhegivemeaguestroominsteadofaskingmetostaywithhim?”
Shesitsonthebedandstretchesherarmsback.“IassumethisisaboutJihoon,andIfurtherassumeitwasbecausehewantedyoutohaveyourownspace.”
“Doesn’thewant,youknow.”Imakeawigglemotionwithmyhand.“Tobetogether?”
Hanamakesamoueofdistaste.“I’mtwodoorsdown.”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
Shesitsup.“LetmecheckmyJihoontranslator.”Sherubshertemplesandcloseshereyeslikeafairgroundpsychic.“I’mgettingvibesthat…letmesee…okay,it’scomingthrough,andthespiritssayyoushoulduseyourwordsandaskhimyourself.”
“Hana,comeon.”
“Communicationiscentraltoahealthyrelationship.Ikeeptellingyouthis.”
Webringinoursuitcases,andIcontinuetoinvestigatewhileHanashowers.ShejoinsmewhileI’mstaringintoasmallfridgeIfoundinthekitchen.Afterapeekovermyshoulder,shepushesmeasidetoriflethroughbecauseit’sstuffedfullofskin-careitemsinsteadoffood.“He’sgotthefullBeautéDiableline,”shesays,pullingoutapackagewithreverenthands.“Thisisafifty-dollarsheetmask.”
“Let’sseeiftheyhaveanythingtoeatbesidesretinolserums.”I’mnauseous,butitcouldbefromeitheranticipationorhunger.
Sheopensthelarger,non-cosmeticsfridgeandsomedrawersbeforeadmittingdefeatandhandingmeabanana.“Notmuchapartfrommicrowavericeandramen.”
“Aren’ttheymillionaires?”
Shepointsatthecosmeticsfridge.“Millionaireswithpriorities.”
Weeatthebananasstandinginfrontofthefloor-to-ceilingwindowsinthelivingroomaswedebatestealingJihoon’ssheetmaskstoalleviatethephysicaleffectsofHana’sjetlagandmyresidualhangover.TheHanRiverlooksgrayandsadunderacloudylate-afternoonsky,andmytensionrachetsupwitheachminutethatpasses.
Whenthedoorfinallyopens,it’sasurpriseeventhoughI’vebeenwaitingforit.Jihooncomesinfirstanddropshisbagonthefloorbeforekickingoffhisshoesandcrossingtheroominlongstridestowrapmeinahugthatfeelslikehome.HekeepshisarmaroundmeasKitcomesovertogreetHanawithasmileandatightembracewhilewatchingmewithdistrustoverhershoulder.Itgiveshisfaceaninterestingexpression,andImakesuretogivehimabigtoothygrintobeajerk,eventhoughhiscontemptiswell-earnedafterwhatIdidtoJihoonattheairportinToronto.Heshutshiseyes.
AnyworriesIhadaboutJihoon’swelcomeandwhatitwouldbeliketoseehimafterthecafétalkmeltawayashekeepsmetuckedintight.Bothmenarecoiffedandmadeupandlookmorelikemodelsthanfleshandblood,buttheypepperHanawithenthusiasticquestionsabouttheflight,thedrivefromtheairport,andifwe’rehungry.
“Youonlyhavedehydratedpucks,”saysHana.“That’snotfood.”
“Easilyrectified.”Kitpullsouthisphoneandputsinasushiorderbeforeheadingofftotakeashower.
Jihoonrunshishanddownmyarm.“Letmechange.”
Aloneagain,HanaandIfallintoawearysilence.“AfterIeat,Ineedtosleep,”shesays.
“Jihoonsaystheyneedtoleaveagainanyway.”Heshowedmetheirschedule,anditwaspackedfrommorningtonightwithinterviews,showappearances,practices,andrehearsals.Thenewalbumandtheconcertarekeepingthembusy.
Shedoesn’tanswer,butherheadnodsdownontoherchest.WithJihoonhere,someofmystresshastransformedintoexhaustion,andIrelaxonthecouchbesideher,barelyregisteringthedipofthecushionswhenJihooncomesbacktoburrowintomyside.It’srestfultohavehimhere,notdoinganythingbutbreathing.
ConversationoverdinnerisamessofHanaandItryingtokeepoureyesopenandbothmen’sphonesflashingwithnotificationseveryfewseconds.ThetwoofthemdotheirbesttokeeptoEnglishbutoccasionallydropbackintoKoreanwhenamessagecomesthrough.
“Youshouldrest,”Jihoonsaysastheygetreadytogo.He’sbarefacedanddressedingiganticmaroonsweatsthathangoffhisleanframe.Kitisalreadyatthedoorpullingonhisshoes.“We’llbelate,butI’lltext.”
Hedoesn’tkissmegoodbye,whichIdomybesttonotreadanythinginto.Hanabarelywaitsforthedoortoclosebeforeshestumblesdownthehall,mutteringaboutjetlag.Iturnoutthelightsandlingerinthelivingroom,comfyinanoversizechair.Thecityisondisplay,andtoolazytogotobed,Iwatchthelightsflickeronandoffaspeoplegoabouttheirbusiness.FinallyIdriftoff,headrestingonthesideofthechairandhandstuckedinmylap.
“Ari?”Agentletouchonmyshoulderwakesmeup.ComingoutofadeepsleepmeansI’mnotsureexactlywhereIam,butJihoonissittingonthefloorbesideme.
“Hi.”
Nowhesmiles,buthelooksweary.“I’msorryI’mlate.”
Isitupstraightandrubmyeyes.“Whattimeisit?”
“Pasttwo.”Heleansagainstmyknee,andIrunmyhandthroughhishair.“Whyareyounotinbed?”
“Yougavememyownroom.”Inmyhalf-awakestate,it’seasiertosaywhat’sbotheringme.“Isitbecauseyouwantyourspace?”
Jihoonlooksupatmeandblinks.“Iwasbeingrespectful.Iknowyoudon’tliketobewokenup,andIhavetoleaveearly.”
That’sthoughtfulandhe’sright,Idohatewakingup.Icanmakesomesacrifices,though.“Wedon’thavemuchtime.”
Perceptiveasheis,hereadsbetweenthelinestowhatIwanttosay.“IwanttoseeyouwhenIcan,too.”Heurgesmeupandleadsmetohisroom.
It’sbiggerthantheonehegavemebuthastheimpersonalairofahotel.Iclimbonthebedandlookaround.“Youdidn’tdecoratemuch.”
“I’mnothereenoughtobother.”Hesaysitindifferentlyashesortsthroughsomebottlesonthedesk.
Thistime,insteadoflettingitgo,ItakeapagefromtheBookofJihoonandsimplyaskwhatIwanttoknow.“Whyisitnotworththebothertomakeithomey?”
Jihoonstops,andIwatchhisfaceinthemirrorashiseyesmoveovertheroom.“YourplaceinToronto,”hefinallysays.“Youhadsomephotosupandlittlefigurinesonthedeskthatyouliked.”
“They’receramicbirds,”Isay.“Twoinacage,oneinflight.Hanagavethemtome.”
Hesitsdownonthebedbesideme.“Whenwewereyounger,Newlightdidalotoffilminginourrooms.Fanswoulddissecteverythingtheysaw,sotherewerenosecrets.Welearnedtohideanythingtrulypersonal.”
“Dotheyfilminthisapartment?”
Heshakeshishead.“KithyeongandIrefused.Weneededsomespacetobeourselves.”Webothlookaroundthebareroom,andhegivesasmalllaugh.“Isupposetheoldhabitsstuckwithme.”
“Youmusthavesomeartorsomethingyouenjoy.”
Jihoonjumpsfromthebedandgoestohiscloset,wherehepullsoutasmallwoodenbowl.It’scarvedfromaknotandpolishedtoadullglow.“Iboughtthislastyearfromastreetvendor,”hesays,curvinghishandsaroundit.“Thepersondidn’tknowwhoIwas,andwehaggledfortenminutes.Usuallypeopletrytogivemethingsforfreebecauseit’sgoodforpromotion.”
Heputsitdownonthedesk,frowns,andshiftsittotheleft.Thenhe’sintheclosetagain.Thistimehebringsoutastatueofatiger,astrangedarkworkthatmixesTigger’sgoofinesswiththemenaceofawildanimal.“FromanartisaninThailand,”hesays.“Shebeggedmenottodisplayitbecauseshedidn’twanttobeoverwhelmedbyStarryrequests.”
“Whynot?”
“Shewantedherworktogotopeoplewhoappreciatedherskill,notthosewhowantedonebecauseIdid.”
“Theycanbeoneandthesame,”Ipointout.
Henodsinagreement.“Iagree,butshesaidtimewouldtell.Noteveryoneknowsourfansthewaywedo.”
Jihoonstudiesthenewlydecorateddeskbeforegivingitanodofsatisfactionandmeaquickkiss.I’malreadydozingwhenhecomesbackfromtheshower.Oncehe’sinbed,Ipullhimupsohisheadtucksundermychin,hislongbodyhalfcoveringmine.“Tellmeyouwanttobehere,”hesaysinalowvoice.
“Ido.”
Icanfeelhimsmile.“Itwaslikecominghometoseeyouinthechair.Ihaven’tfeltlikethatinalongtime.”
“Howaretherehearsals?”
Hemakesahummingsound,themusclesinhischestandstomachshiftingagainstme.“Difficultbutmanageable.”
I’mnotsureifit’sworsetoaskornottoask,butIdecidetokeepgoing.“Areyouworriedaboutwhathappenedlasttime,whenyouwereatOlympicStadium?”
Jihoon’sarmstightenaroundme,andheburieshisfaceinmyhair.“Everytimewerehearse.”
“Holdonasec.”Iwriggleawayfromhimandgrabmywalletfrommyroom.
HelooksatthelittlesilverhandIpressintohispalmwhenIreturn.“What’sthis?”
Isitcross-leggednexttohimonthebed.“Iwastensestudyingformybarexam.”That’sputtingitlightly—I’dneverbeensostressedinmylife.“IwashavinganawfuldayandnothingwasgoingrightwhenIfoundthisontheground.Itwasliketheuniversewasgivingmeasign.”Irubmynose.“Iknowitsoundssilly,butIbroughtitintomyexams.”
“Agood-luckcharm.”
“Moreofareminder.WhenItouchedit,ItoldmyselfI’dworkedhardandIcoulddoit.Youcan’tdoanythingabouttheluck,butyoucancontroltheeffort.”
“Nowyou’regivingittome.”Hesitsupaswell,duvetbunchingaroundhiswaist.
Ilookover.“Youworkhard,Jihoon.Iknowyoucandoit.”
Hiseyesflashbetweenmeandthehand,whichhasthefingersoutstretchedasifwavingacheeryhello.“Thankyou.”Hegetsupandputsitinhiswallet,thengivesitasmallpatafterhezipsthepocketshut.
Whenhegetsbacktobed,Idrawhiminuntilwe’relyingwithourlegstangledtogether.
“Howtiredareyou?”
Hestirswithinterestbesideme,rollingupononeelbowandlookingdown.“Ifeelslightlymorealertnow.”
“Thenthankmebetter,”Itellhim.
Hegrins.“ThatIcando.”
Andhedoes.Thirty-Six
HanaandIspendahappydaywanderingaroundSeoulandeatinguntilwefeellikewe’regoingtoexplode.Bindaetteokfollowsmandufollowsbibimbap.Hanahelpsmefindvegetarianoptionssincealargeportionofthefoodseemstorevolvearoundporkbelly.
It’snotuntilshe’swithmethatIunderstandwhathadbeenlingeringinmymindsinceIarrived.It’sashifttobeinacitywheremostpeopleresemblemebecausethey’reAsian.IglanceoveraswesitonabenchinHongdae,watchingthebuskers.“Thisfeelsstrange.Everyonelookslikeus.”
“Iknow.”Shesipsherlilac-coloredbobatea.“Yougetusedtolookingdifferentbackhome.”
“Asianasdescriptor.”
Shelaughs.“Yeah,yourdefiningqualityinacrowd.Here,it’sirrelevant.Igetlookedatformynoseshapeormyshoes,notforbeingKorean.Ilikeit,atleasttovisit.Itfeelsrestful.”
Wefinishourdrinksandheadforournextdestination.
ThenextdayisthespecialVIPshow,andIwaketoaselfieofJihoonholdingthehandtalismanandmakingaheartwithhisfingers.DespitethedarknightofthesoulthatbroughthimtoToronto,Jihoonisfullyengagedinwhathe’sdoing.Abuzzofenergysparksoffhim.
Iwantthatfeeling,too.IgotaglimpseofitwhenworkingonAlex’smusicproposal.AtYesterlyandHavings,Ionlyhavethesatisfactionofcompletingthejobandthat’sit.Iwantmore.
“Areyougettingready?”Hana’svoiceisatthedoor.
Iputthephoneaway,decidingtoredirectmymisgivingsaboutworkintoamarkedlymoretrivialconcern,whichisthatthere’snothingIwanttoweartonight.Ihavenotasinglegarmentthatwillkick-starttheconfidenceIneedtostandoutamongthemultiple-step-skin-caregorgeouspeoplewhowillbescreamingforStarLune.
HanacomesinasI’mpokingdisconsolatelythroughmyboringclothes.Shelookscute,Iobservewithresentment.Lovingresentment.Enviouslovingresentment,eventhoughIneversawthepointindressingwithstylesincemostofmydaywasspentatworkandlawyersaren’tgenerallylaudedfortheirfashion-forwardapproach.
“Ihatemyclothes,”Isay.“Ineedtogoshopping.”
Shecloseshereyesandbendsherhead.“Ihavewaitedyearstohearyousaythat,”shebreathes.“You’vemademethehappiestwomanintheworld.”
“Pleasestop.Iwantabitofchange,that’sall.”
“Youneverwantchange,”shesays.“Youwantcertainty.Youeatthesamething.Whenapairofshoeswearsout,youbuytheexactsameonesasreplacementsandgetupsetifyoucan’t.”
“You’reexaggerating.”
Sheignoresthat.“Youhaven’tevencutyourhairinadecade.”
“Igettrims.”
“Yougettrims.”Hereyetwitches.
“Wantinganewpairofpantsishardlyearth-shattering.”
“Thepantsarenotthepoint.”Hereyesandmouthopenwideasifshe’shadanepiphany.“Holdon.”
“What?”
“Thisisn’taboutthepantsatall.”Shepointsatme.“You’reinpsychologicalterraincognita,andit’sdrivingyoubats.”
“That’sridiculous.”Idigthroughmyclothesandtossashirt—plain,black—intothesuitcase.
“Nope.”Hananodsvigorously.“HereyouareawayfromyourTuesdaylaundryandyourmealprepandyourpredictableStevesandGarysorwhoeveryoudealwithatwork.You,myfriend,areinasituationyoucan’tregulateandyou’respinning.”
Igotothewindowandyankthecurtainsopentorevealthebucolicforestvieweventhoughwe’rebasicallyinthemiddleofSeoul.Beingrichisnice.“YoumakeitsoundlikeI’msomesortofcontrolfreakwhocan’tfunctionunlessI’mstandingontopwithawhip.”
“Idon’tkinkshame.”
“Hana.”
Shestandsandliftsoneofmy—plain,black—shirtstoherchest.“You’vealwayshadyourlifeplanned.Lawschool.Lawfirm.Liveclosetoyourparents.Youneverhadtomakeachoice,Ari.Nowyoucanandit’sscary.”
“Idon’tknowwhatthishastodowithbuyingpants.”
Sheliftshereyebrowsatme.“Youshouldthinkaboutit,then.”
“Sometimespantsareonlypants.”Icheckthetime.We’regettingbehindonthescheduleIhaveplanned.IcanmakedowiththeclothesIhave.“Anyway,yesterdaywewentallhistoricalwithGyeongbokgungPalaceandthemuseums,sotodayIthoughtawalkalongCheonggyecheonStream.ThenlunchatGwangjangMarketandasurprisefortheafternoon.”
“Nope.We’regoingshopping.”
“But…”IthinkoftheitineraryI’vesetout.
“Foranhour,”shewheedles.“Thestreamandallthosecuteplaceswillbethereafterweshop.Thinkofitasanexperience.”
“WecanshopinToronto.”
“Trustme,notlikethis.”
Icatchsightofanotheroneofmyplainblackshirts.“Okay.Onlyforabit,though.”
Hanaleapsoutofmyroom,voiceechoingdownthehall.“Let’sdooneofJihoon’sridiculouslyexpensivemasksbeforewego.”
Withourskinfullyhydrated,wegodownstairs,whereHanaentersananimateddiscussionwithYeong,whogenerouslyagreedtodriveusaround.Thetwoofthemchecktheirphoneslikethey’replanningaheistbeforeHananodsandweheadoff.
“We’regoingshoppinginMyeongdong.”Shegivesmeanappraisinglook.“There’salot,soitmightbealittleoverwhelmingforababyconsumer.”
Iletthatpass.“Idon’tevenknowwhatIwant.”
She’salmostbouncing.“YouwanttolookgoodforJihoontonight.”
“Itsoundsbadwhenyouphraseitlikethat.”
“Jihoon’sseenyouinsweats,andhelikesyou,butyouwanttoblowhissocksoff.”
Idowantto,butIdon’twanttoadmitthatoutloud.
“Youwanttokissboringblackgoodbye,”shecontinues.
“Ilikewearingblack,”Iprotest.
“Isaidboringblack.Wecangetyousomeinterestingblack.”
Interestingblackseemslikeacontradiction,butI’mwarminguptothewholeidea.“Ineednewthingsforwork.Idon’twanttolooklikealawyerwhenIgointoLuxe.OrHyphen.”
Hanaglancesovermyhair,tiedbackinasmoothbun,andmynudelipstick.“Gotit.”
Duringtherestoftheride,shepullsupvarioussocialmediaaccountstogetasenseofwhatIlike.It’safrustratingexerciseforbothofus,sincewhatIlikeandwhatIfeelcomfortableinarenotthesamething.Bythetimewearriveatabustlingdistrictfilledwithpeopleandverticalshopsigns,I’mcertainthisisabadidea.Hanatapsmeontheshoulder.“It’sonlypants,”shesays.
Pantscanbeonlypants.Meinnewpantsisstillme.Icheerup.
HanaandYeongmapoutamorefulsomeplanofattack,alternatelypointingorfrowningatvariousstores.Theyturntomeandpursetheirlips,thenHanashakesherhead.YeongsayssomethingthatmakesHana’seyeswiden,andtheystartnodding.
“Thisissocool,”shewhispersasYeonggetsonhisphone.
“Whatis?”I’msuspiciousbecausewehaveconflictingideasonwhatcountsascool.
“Therearesalonsthatcatertoidols,wheretheygettheirhairandmakeupdone.”
“No,Hana.”
“Idon’twanttobeg,”saysHana.
“Good.It’sdemeaningforbothofus.”
“ButIwill,”shecontinues,undaunted.“Please,pleaseprettypleasewithacherryontop,let’sgotoJeebie’s.”
“Hana.”
“Iwon’tletthemdoanythingdrastic,Iswear.”
“Whydoyouwanttogosobadly?”
Sheblinks.“Becausethisisaonce-in-a-lifetimeexperiencewithsomeofthetopstylistsinacountryfamousforitsstyle?They’llmakeussohot.”
“We’rehotnow,”Iremindher.
“Yeah,butexceptionallyhot.We’llbehottified.”
“That’snotaword.”Despitemyquibbles,Iadmitthatsoundskindofappealing.Also,itwillmakeHanahappy.“Allright.Wecango.”
Sheclapsherhands.“Shoppingfirst.”Thirty-Seven
HanasipshercoffeeasIstretchmyshoulders,inpainfromcarryingabouttwentyshoppingbags.I’msittingwithmybacktothewindowbecauseacrossthestreetisahugebillboardfeaturingStarLunedressedinjeansandwhiteT-shirts.Jihoonhasfollowedmearoundthisentiremorning,aghostlypresencethatpopsupondrinkbottles,skincare,portablefacefans,anddigitaladvertisingscreens.Nameanyitematrandomandsomewhereinthecity,there’saStarLunebrandedversionoraStarLuneadforit.Afterthefirstsevenoreightsightings,I’dbecomesomewhatinured,butIdrawthelineathavinghisbillboardinmyfacewhileIchuganicedmatchalatte.
“Ineedtobuysomeluggage,”Isay,nudgingabagwithmyfoot.
Shestirshercarameldrink.“Leaveyouroldclotheshere.”
“Ican’t…”ItrailoffbecauseIcould.AfterdressingfortheYesterlyandHavingsecosystemforyears,itwaspleasanttobeabletocontemplatebuyingahot-pinkshirt.Ididn’tbecauseitwasugly,butforsolong,I’dsimplynotthoughtitwasanoption.
Ilikehavingoptions.WhyhadIletmyselfgetsoconstricted?Phoebemightnothavealotinherbankaccount,butatleastshe’shadexperiences.AllIhaveisthememoryofmybillablehours
“We’dbettergetgoing,”Hanasays,wavingtoablackcaronthestreet.Wehaulthebagsover,andYeongleapsouttohelpusloadthemintothetrunk.TheyalmostfillthebackoftheSUV.
“Hesaysitlookslikewehadasuccessfultrip,”Hanatranslates.
Ialreadyhavemyeyesclosed.Shoppingwasexhausting.“Onlinefromnowon.”OrIthinkthat’swhatcomesout,becauseI’malreadyfallingasleep.
HanashakesmeawakewhenwearriveatJeebie’s,itsglassstorefrontlitwithapinkishglow.Walkingintothesalonislikeenteringanalternateworldwhereverydifferentstandardsofbeautyapplyandthenormissofartotherightofthebellcurve,it’soffthegraph.Dazzlingpeoplemillaround.Perfectlyappliedeyemakeupabounds.Hairiseverycoloroftherainbow.EvenHanastopsdeadinthedoorwaytotakeitin.
Oncewerecover,wegetourbearings,andHanaapproachesthefrontdesk,whichisatleasttenfeetlongbutonlyafootwideandmadeofsomeresinouspolymerthatshiftsunderthelightlikemercury.Iexpectthereceptionisttobealoofandjudgmental,butshegivesusawidesmileandabowasshegreetsus.
“TheyhaveanEnglish-speakingstylistforyou,”Hanasaysasawomaninawhiterobeleadsusupstairs.
“Thisplacelooksveryexpensive,”Isay,watchingaguywithbonestructuremadeofrazorssleepinginachairasamanbleacheshishair.
“Jihoon’spaying.Hehasanaccounthere.”
Ofcoursehedoes.Awomancomesoutwithcotton-candy-pinkhairtiedintoahightwistedbraidthatremindsmeofastyleI’dseeontheWhosofWhoville.She’sdressedinmatchingpink,withpinklipsandeyemakeup,andlooksconfidentlyincredible.IhaveamomentarydaydreamofwalkingintoYesterlyandHavingswiththatbubblegumlook.Would
“I’mNayeon,”thestylistsaysbeforeleadingmetoachairinasmallroom.Shesitsmedownandleansonthecounter,headtothesidelikeanintelligentbird.“WhatcanIdoforyoutoday?”
“I’mnotsure,”Isayhonestly.
Shepursesherlips.“Wecanworkwiththat,”shereassuresme.“Isthisforanevent,ordoyouwantachange?”
“Ihaveaneventtonight,butIalsowantachange.”Iwrinklemynose.“Sorry.I’mnothelping.”
Nayeonlaughs.“It’shairandmakeup.Itcanseemlikeahugedeal,butit’snot.It’stransient,awaytoplay.Youcanwashyourfacelater.Youcangrowoutyourhairorwearahat.”
Ineverthoughtofthatbefore.Slowly,Inod.“Iwanttolooklikeme,”Isay.“But…different.Abitdifferent.”
“Sure.”Shewalksaroundme,herfaceassessingassherunsherhandsthroughmyhair.“Toconfirm,nobluehair?”
“No.”
“Green?”
“Iwouldprefernot.”
“Gotit.”Shewinksatme.“Youwanttowatchmework,oryouwanttodotheclassicmakeoversurprisereveal?”
“Surprise.”Myanswerastonishesme.
Sheswingsthechairaround.“Yougotit.”
Nayeontalkstomeassheworks,chattingaboutlivinginNewYork,whereshewenttocollegeatParsonsbeforeworkingasastylistforsomeK-popbands.“Theschedulewastoomuch,”shesays.“Ihadnolife.Itwasevenharderfortheidols.”
“Howso?”
Nayeonliftsmyhairwithbothhands.“Toomuchscrutiny,andtheyhavetobecautiousofeverysinglething.Onestepoutoflineanditcouldbetheendofyourcareerorevenyourband.Thepressureisenormous.”Shestartssnippingagain.“What’stheeventtonight?Doyouwanttobesuperglam?”
“It’stheStarLuneconcert.”There’snoharmtellingher.Ibetallthestylistsherearesworntosecrecy,andI’monJihoon’stabanyway.
Hereyebrowsraise.“Lucky.You’llneedstayingpowerbecausethoseshowsareintense.Who’syourbias?”
Iknowwhatthisisnow—myfavoriteintheband.Mightaswellbehonest.“Min.”
“IlikeX,soit’sgoodwedon’thavetofight,”shesays.“WewantMintoseeyoufromthestagesohecanfallinloveandrunawaywithyou,andthat’snotgoingtohappenifyou’vegotmascararunningdownyourface.”
Nayeoniscarefulaboutaskingmeforinput—doIwantcurls,lightlipstickordark,howmuchhairtrimmingwillIallow?—andendswithashouldermassagethatalmosthasmepurring.
Shedoesafinaldustingonmyfaceandstepsbackwithabigsmile.“Tellmewhatyouthink.”
SheswingsmearoundatthesametimeasabeatdropsonthespeakersasiftoheraldthenewandimprovedAriadneHui.
Nayeonisamagician.Myhairisdownbuthasmorepresence,ifyoucansaythatabouthair.IstayedclearofbangseversincetheschoolphotographerkeptcallingmeChinaDollonmygradeeightpictureday,butInowsportathicklineofbangsthatframemyfaceandmakemyeyespop.Iloveit.Shetakesamirrorandshowsmehowshe’scutlayerstoformthebackintoapointyshape
Thenthere’stheface.Ilooknothinglikemyusualprofessionalmade-upself,whichisdesignedtomakemelessmemorable,notmore.Mycheeksarefaintlyflushed,andmylipslooklikeripesummercherries.Myskiniscreamy,ifslightlyfreckled,glass.Nayeonexplainshowtorecreatethelook,andIbarelylistenasIturnmyheadfromsidetosidetowatchmyhairsettle.Despitethehighglossonmylips,notastrandstickstothem.Nayeongrinsandgrabsatubeoutofadrawerthatsheholdsup.“Lipvarnish,”shesaysbeforetuckingitintomybagwithawink.
“Verynice.”Hanacomesinwithabiggrin,andmypaintedmouthfallsopen.Herhairisshorter,abobthatcomesunderherears,andherlookissultry.Shelookslikeshecangocroonsomejazzhitswhilelyingonapianoinaredsatindress.“WorthspendingHoonie’smoney.”
“I’llpayhimback.”
Shesnorts.“Asifhe’llletus.”
WethankNayeon,whoisbeamingwithprideatherwork,andheaddowntothereceptionarea.Istrutwithalittlemoreswingthanusualandamself-awareenoughtobeembarrassedevenasItossmyhair.Afterall,lawyersaren’tsexkittens.Strong,confidentwomenaren’tsexkittens.ThenIpassaguysoetherealheglows,andwhenhedoesadoubletake,eyeswideinappreciation,Ipreenabit.
IdecideIcanbeallthosethingsifIwant.
Yeongiswaiting,andhegivesusabow
“Hesayswelookslovely,”Hanatranslatesafterhespeaks.
Wegetin,meshakingmyhairbecauseitfeelssolightandsmooth,andIreachintomybag,alreadyredinthefaceatwhatI’mabouttodo.“CanyouaskifYeongisfreetodropsomethingoff?”
Sheeyesthebox.“Apresent?”ShespeakstoYeongandnods.“Noproblem,hesays.”
Ipassoveralittlebox,tiedwitharibbon.“It’sforJihoon.CanYeongbringittohim?I’mnotevensurewhereheisrightnow.”
Yeonghidesasmile,andhetakesitasHanadieswithcuriositybesideme.Idon’tknowwhyIboughthimapairofearrings—Iknowthestylistsusuallypickoutaselectionforthemtowear—andthey’reonlysimplehoopsbutwithadesignoflittlewatchfacesetchedonthethickmetal.IthoughtofhimwhenIsawthem.
Hanadoesn’tsayanythingaboutit.
Tiredbutlookingphenomenal,westumblebacktothecondoanddumpourbagsonthefloorbeforegrabbingsomefancywaterfromthefridgeandcollapsingonthecouch.Ilookatmyhaulwithsatisfaction.It’lltakemetimetosortthroughmynewclothes,whichhavegreenandredandblueamongmybelovedbutnowstrikinglycutblack,andevenlongertogetusedtowearingthem.
Ican’tdenyitwasaveryilluminatingday,evenwithoutthemuseums.
Hanawriggleshertoesinthethickrugandchecksthetime.“Twohoursuntilweneedtogo.Youknowwhatyou’regoingtoweartonight?”
Notatall,sothat’sthecuetodrageverythingtomyroom,whereIstopdeadatthesightofaboxonthebed.“Hana?”Icall.
ShecomesinasIpickupthelongbox,whichisswathedandknottedinanemeraldvelvetthatcatchesthelightinacomplexpattern.HanadanceswithimpatienceasIpickitopenwithmynailstorevealaplainblackbox.Inside,tissuepaperdottedwithsilverteacupsiscarefullyfoldedover.Ipushitasidetorevealsomethingblack.
Hana’seyesbugoutasIpulloutablazer.“That’saHarhawk.”
Idon’trecognizethebrand.Ishakeitout,andHanagasps.It’sexactlythekindIwouldweartoworkexceptthissuckeristurbocharged.Thewool,whichgleamswithasubtlewovenblack-on-blackpattern,issoftundermyfingertips,andtheliningisalovelypalebluesilkpatternedwithmoreteacups.
“Tryiton,”Hanainsists.She’sgotthegreenvelvetwrappedaroundherthroatlikeascarf.
IpullitonovertheshirtI’mwearing,anditfitsasifit’sbeencustom-made.Hanafussesoverme,exclaimingoverthehiddendetails.TherearesoftcuffsinsidethesleevessoIcanpushthemup,andpocketslinetheinsideofthejacketinarow.InsideoneisasmallboxItossonthebed.AninsidebuttonatthebackmeansIcancinchitforatighterfit,andwhenHanatestsit,theblazerdoesn’twrinkleatallaroundthewaist.ThenwefindoutithasadetachablebottompaneltoturnitintoalongjacketwithabeltandanothertomakeitflareatthehipsinwhatHanacallsapeplum.Shestandsbackwithherhandsonherwaist.
“Thatthingisaworkofart,”shesays.“YouknowthatHarhawk’swaitinglistisaslongasoneforaBirkinbag?Theyhavetodecidetoselltoyou.”
“Abrandfortherichandfamous.”Celebrities.
Sheflicksmeonthearm.“Pluspeopletheythinkdeservethem.Thebrandisasocialcooperative.Profitsgotohelpgirlsgeteducationsandfundmicroloansforwomenentrepreneurs.”
Sheseesmyconfusion.“Jihoonisoneoftheirglobalambassadors.Thememberssupportgenderandsexualdiversityacceptance,too.DaehyungaveasongtoanLGBTQcharityunderadifferentnamebecauseNewlightwouldn’tlethimdoitofficially,buteveryoneknew.StarLunekeepsalltheirlyricsgender-neutral.Didn’tyounotice?”
“ThelyricsaremostlyinKorean.”
“Theyweardresses.”
“Ithoughtthatwasastylistthing.”
Shecloseshereyes.“Icannotbelieveyou.”
Ican’tbelievemeeither,tobehonest.Myinternetresearchwasappallinglyselective,andIdon’twanttodwellonwhyIwasmoreinterestedinthefootageofthemgettingmobbedbyscreamingfansthanthestoriesabouttheircharitablework.
HanagrabstheboxIfoundinthepocket.“Openit,openit.”
Iobeyandnearlydroptheboxonthefloor.It’sapairofearrings.Thinchainswithdiamondsthatmightbealotofcaratsdanglefromthingoldhoops.They’resopretty,Hanasucksinherbreathbesideme,andwebothreachintotouchthegemswithtentativefingers
“Ican’tacceptthese,”Isayautomatically.
“Thehellyoucan’t.Givethemtomeifyoudon’twantthem.”
Iclutchtheboxtomychest.“It’stoomuch.”
Hanagrabsmyhandstoliftoneofthehoopsandholdsituptoherear,checkingoutherreflection.“YouknowJihoonboughtmyparents’mortgageoutforthem,right?”
Iblink.“Seriously?”
“Momwassopissed.”Hanagrins.“Saidhewasshowingoff.Thensheburstintotearsandsaidhewasthebestnephewever.”
“They’refamily,though.”
“Buyinggiftsishislovelanguage,”shesays.“Hewantsyoutoknowhecares.WhenIvisitedhiminSeoullasttime,hewouldn’tletmepayforathing.Ihadtosneakouttogethimabottleofwhiskeyasahostgift.”
“Idon’tknowifIlikethat.”
“Becauseyoucan’treciprocate?”
“Inpart.”ThesilverearringsIgothimnowlooksocheap,Ifeelembarrassed.
Sheperchesontheedgeofthebedlikeawiseowl.“Becauseyou’vebeenraisedtobeanindependentandmodernwomanwhodoesn’tneedamantogetby,whocan’tbeboughtbymaterialgoods,likeabribe,andwhocanmakeherownwayintheworld,thankyouverymuch.”
Ifrown,fingerspettingthesoftgreenfabricItookfromHana.“Yousaythatlikeit’sabadthing.”
“Wouldyoufeelbadacceptingflowersfromsomeone?”
“No.”
Shetapsmyearrings.“Lookatitasscale.ForJihoon,thesearetheequivalentofflowers.”
“Idon’tthinkthat’sentirelytrue.”
“Relationshipsarenotanexerciseinabsoluteequality,”shesaysinexasperation.“Fromeachaccordingtotheirabilityandtoeachaccordingtotheirneed.”
“ThatwasMarx’sdescriptionofcommunism.”
“It’sperfectlyapplicable.Alsoyouneedthoseearrings.”
IvacillatebecauseJihoon’sgiftsarewildlyovergenerousbutalsoreallyfuckingawesome.
“Howdidheknowthejacketwouldfit?”Iwonder,lookinginthemirror.
“Itoldhim,”Hanasaysunrepentantly.“We’rethesamesize,soIcanborrowthatdreamofablazer.Win-win.”
“You’reunreal.”
Shelaughsandtugsitoffme.“Nowletmetry.”
IfItuckitintheclosetwiththerestofmynewclothes,well.Itisanicejacket.Thirty-Eight
“Don’tworry,youlookgood.”Hanachecksmeoverforthetenthtime.“Ican’tbelieveyouhadtheoptiontolooklikethisallthetimeanddeliberatelychosenotto.What’sthematterwithyou?”
Intheend,Iwentforallwhite,apairofhigh-waisted,wide-leggedpantscinchedwithasilverbeltandasatinhaltertank.Theshoesareredflats,andmyhairisinahighponythatshowsoffmynewbangsandmynewearrings.MyhearthammeredwhenIlookedinthemirror,andHana’squiet,“Damn,youlookexpensive,”whenIcameoutdidn’thelp.MyCartierwatch,whichIbroughtwithme,isclaspedaroundmywrist.
Yeongdropsusataprivatesideentrance,andwemakeourwaytoourseats.They’reincredible,frontrowandinabendofthestage.It’sasmallerspace—onlyseatingtwentythousand—andHanatellsmethat’sdeliberate,togiveanintimatefeel.StarLunevideosarealreadyplayingonthescreensthatlinethestage.
PeoplescanmeoverwhenIwalkby,andit’shardtostaycalm.I’mnotusedtobeinglookedatlikethis,butpartofmelikesit.
Fulldisclosure:allofmelikesit.IspendsomuchtimeatworktryingtoblendinthatIgetasubversivepleasureoutofbeingnoticedforlookinggoodasmyself,notforlookingdifferent.
Myphonebuzzes.Areyouhere?
IsendhimaselfieofHanaandI,andmyphoneringsalmostimmediately.
“Looktotheleft,”Jihoonsays.“Yourleft.”
There’sasetonstagewithasmallblackcurtainIwouldn’thavenoticedunlessIwaslooking.Ittwitches,andthenIseehim.It’sonlyamomentbutenoughtonoticehissmilewhenheseesme.
“Youlook…”Hedoesn’tcontinueasaburstofconversationcomesfrombehindhim.“Staythere,andI’llhavesomeonebringyoubackstageafter.”
“Likeagroupie.”
“Yah,Ari,youknowbetter.”
“Thankyouforthegifts.Ilovethem.”
“Youdeservetohavethingsasspecialasyou,andIthoughtthejacketwouldbemorewelcomethantheshoesIpromisedyoubackinToronto.”Hepauses.“Enjoyyourself.”
Smilingfromthecompliment,IpassonthemessagetoHana,whoisecstaticattheideaofseeingthebandaftertheshow.“They’llbesweaty.”Sheswoons.“Pantingfromexertion.Chestsheaving.”
“Gross.”
“Shutup.”Shelaughs.“It’sfuntolook.”
Hanahandsmeapairofearplugs.There’snoopeningbandforStarLuneconcerts,andthelightscutoutatexactlyseven,leavingusinawarmshareddarknesslitonlywiththelightsticksthatfanswavearound.AscreenlightsupincenterstagewithavideoofStarLunesettoahypnoticdrivingbeat.
Besideme,Hana’salreadyscreaming.I’mtoostunnedtoeventhink.Thisentireexperienceisphysicalandvisualoverload.Thenoisebattersatme,andIwanttocovermyearswithmyhands.I’veneverbeentoarealconcertinmylife,andthisissomuchdifferentthanIexpectedthatit’shardtotakein.It’snotashowbutanextravaganza.Therearescreenshangingeverywhere.There’sinfrastructure
Jihoon’sgrowlblastsoutfromthespeakers.Hanajerksmeforward,screamingevenlouder.
Whenthewhitelightspiercethedarknessofthevenuelikeknives,we’rebothhuggingandyelling.It’ssocatharticthatwhenJihoon’svoicestopsandthepoundingbeatstartsupagain,mykneesweaken.Thescreensexplodewithredlights,andnowDaehyun’svoiceroarsout,attackingmerightdowntomybones.Ontheothersideofme,agirlshrieksasifshe’sbeenstabbed,andthelightsticksheldbythefanspulsewiththemusicinakaleidoscopeofcoordinatedcolorallaroundthearena.Peoplearechanting,andittakesmeaminutetorealizeit’sthebandmembers’names.
Bythetimethecenterscreenlifts,Icanbarelybreathe.StarLunerisesfromthestagebacklitwithspotlights,andalltheydoisstandthereasthey’rerevealedtothehowlingaudience.Thelightsflashon,andtheyposeforasingleperfectmoment.They’redressedinwhite,gold,andblack,complementarybutnotidentical.Jihoon’sface,theflawlessmaskofanidol,fillsthescreens.Hislipsareperfectlypouted,hisjawlinesharpenoughtocutdiamond.Hedoesn’tlookreal.
JihoonbreakstheposetoglanceatKit,who’snexttohim,andthecrowdroars.Heturnsbackandtiltshisheadasifjudgingus.Hedoesn’tsmile.
Thecrowdlovesit.Iloveit.
Jihoon’sthefirsttomovedowntheflightofsteps,onehandinhispocketandhisswaggersoutterlybreathtakingthatHanapoundsmeonthearm.“Holyshit,that’smyboy,”shehollers.
Ican’tanswerbecauseIhavemyhandsuptomymouthlikeI’veseenaghost.Thefiveofthemwalktothecenterofthestageandstop.Forablessedmoment,thecrowd’sdinlowerstoonlythunderous.
ThenJihoonliftshismic,andthefivemoveasone.
Idon’ttakemyeyesoffhimforalmostthreehours,andbythetimethey’redone,bothHanaandIcollapsebackintoourseats,spent.Exceptforafewbreakstochangeoutfits—whentheywouldplayvideosonthescreensthatshowedStarLuneasspies—andtotalktotheaudience,thebandhadbeeninactiontheentiretime.
“Thatwas…”Ican’tevenfinishandfluttermyshirttotrytodrysomeofthesweat.
“Itwas.”Hana’svoiceissohoarsefromscreaming,shecanbarelyspeakoverawhisper.
IthoughtI’dfeelsillyforcheeringJihoonon,likeIwassomesortofrah-rahfangirl,butthehellwiththat.Hewasastounding,buthewasn’tJihoononthatstage.HewasMin,StarLunevocalistandidol,andhewasutterlyinhiselement.Hedeservedtobeadmiredfortheworkheputinandhowhepulleditoff.Aroundus,peoplearebuzzingandtakingphotos.I’mtoowrungouttomove.
Whenthevenueisabouthalf-empty,amancomestothebarricade,securitycardsdanglingfromhisneck,andmakeseyecontactwithus.Henodstoanexitaroundthesideofthestage.
Besideme,Hanaischanting,“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,”andIknowexactlywhatshemeans,becausealthoughI’mtryingtobecool,thewholebackstagethingisnerve-racking.PartofmewantstotellHanaI’llmeetherathomebecauseIfeelsuddenlyshyaboutseeingJihoon.Hewasaliveonthatstage.Nomatterwhathesaid,hewasmadeforthis.
Wefollowthesecurityguythroughamazeofcinder-blockcorridors,andwhenwearrive,thespaceisnothinglikeIexpect.Forone,it’ssmallandcrowded,withwomeninartisticallyrippedcrewsweatshirtschatteringastheysortthroughportablehangingclosets,peopleeatingfromabuffet,andpeoplehandingeachotherdrinksastheyloungeonblackleathercouches.
IhearJihoonlaughinthecorner,andmyeyesseekhimout.Hereinthisbusylittleroom,he’snothinglikethemegastarIsawonstage.He’sonlyJihoon.Hisgazecatchesmine,andforamoment,there’snooneintheroombutthetwoofus.
Ofcourse,likeallperfectmoments,itslipsawayalmostbeforeInoticeithappening.
Asilencesettlesaspeopleseeus.Jihoonbouncesovertomakeanintroductiontotheroomatlarge.WhenHanabowsandIwave,theeyesonusbecomelessdistrustful.I’mabouttoaskhowheintroducedme,butJihoonleansover.
“Whatdidyouthink?”Hedripswithsweat,shirtopenhalfwaydownhischestandanicepackdrapedaroundthebackofhisneck.
“Ilovedit.”That’sallIcansay,butJihoonsmilesatmeashepusheshishairoffhisface.“Youwereunreal.”
“Weworkedhard,”hesays.
Kitcomesup,andwelookateachother
“Icouldtell,”Isayhonestly.“Youwerefantastic.”
Kit’ssmileisreluctantbutrealashegivesmeasmallbow.“Thankyou.”HepullsHanaawaytochatwithhimandDaehyun.Apartfromaslighttaponmyarm,IbarelynoticehergobecauseI’mfilledwithconflictingemotionsasItrytoseparatethemaninfrontofmefromtheperformerIwitnesseddominatingthestageandtwentythousandpeople.
“Youlookbeautiful,”Jihoonsays.Heleansdown,butthenhiseyesflickaroundtheroomandhestraightens.“Doyouwanttoseewhatit’slikeonthestage?”
“Yes.”Theweightofthestaresaroundusmakesmenervous.
“Weneedtowaitforthearenatoclearout.”Hebringsmetoanemptysideroomandcollapsesonthecouch.
Isitbesidehim.“What’sitlike,beingonstage?”
Hesmiles,andhisnosewrinklesadorably.“Whenit’sgood,it’samixofnervousnessandexcitementandanticipation.Knowingaperformanceiscomingfillsmewithabuzz,andbeingonstageistheonlywayIcanreleaseit.Ittookmealongtimetogethere,though.”
“Itdid?”
“Ihadsuchbadstagefrightinthebeginningtheyalmostcutmefromtheband.ComparethattoKithyeong.Forhim,performingislikeanaddiction.Hecravesthestageforitself,butIwantonlytheconnectionthestagebrings.”
Heseesmefrowning.
“WhenIstarted,Iwasn’tsureIwantedtobeanidol,butIknewmusicwasforme.Ourproduceraskedme,‘Doyouwanttowritesongsormakemusic?’”
“Thatsoundslikethesamething.”
“It’snot.IcouldbeinatinyroominBusanwritingsongs,butIneedtosharethemwithothersandgettheirideas.Ineedthemoutintheworld.It’saconstanttensionbetweenfame,whichIendure,andcreating,whichIneed.Beforeyousayanything,IacceptIlovetheattentionIgetonstage.”Hegivesmeawrylook.“Contradictions.”
“Isitworthit?”
Herubshisfaceagainstthesideofmyneck.Hisskiniscoolfromtheicepack.“Idon’tknow.”
“Thenwhatareyougoingtodo?”
“Thinkaboutitlater.”Herunshislipsalongmyneck,makingmeshudder,beforesettlingbackwithalowgrowl.“Ineedtostop.Anyonecancomein.”
Goodcall.There’sasnacktable,andJihoontakesanotherbottleofwaterandaplateforthetwoofustopickat.It’sacombinationofKoreanandWesternfood,amixofjunkandhealthy.Jihooneatschipsandcarrots,sushiandpizza,whileIworkthroughthedoughnuts,twistyandcoveredwithsugar.Finally,heglancesattheclock.
“That’senoughtime,”hesays,standingandthenextendinghishandstohaulmeup.
Ifollowhimbackthroughthecorridorstowhatlookslikealift.Onehandcatchesmearoundthewaistastheotherpullsmyponytailoffmyshoulder.
“Waitamoment,”hesaysintomyneck.Thenhecallsouttoahiddensomeone,andagruntcomesfromsomewhereintheback.
“Thecrewissafe.EveryoneworksforNewlightandsignsNDAswiththeircontracts.”Jihoonstepswithmeontoaplatform.“Holdon.”
That’sallthewarninghegives.Theplatformrises,andwhenIcranemyneckup,IseewhatIthoughtwasthebottomofthestageisactuallyaholeandthedarknessisthedistantarenaceiling.
ItrytoimaginewhatitfeelsliketobeJihoon,standinghereaspeoplescreamforhim,butIcan’t.It’scompletelyforeigntome.
“Howdoyoufeel?”Iask.“Whentheplatformrises?”
“Forthisshow,westartedoffwithmicsinsteadofheadsets.Ithinkofhowitfeels,pressingintomypalm.”Hetracesalinedownmyhand.“Ilistentothecrowd.”Henodstotheleft.“Sangjunstoodthere,andhealwayswavesatmebeforewestartashow.That’swhenitfeelsreal.”
Theplatformsurfaces,andItakeacautiousstepontothestage.It’sbiggerthanitlookedfrommyseat,andtherearecrossesandlinestapedonthefloor.QuietlyIwatchJihoonashestaresoutattheemptyseats,hisfaceblank
“Whatifsomethinggoeswrongwhenyou’reonstage?”
“Thingsgowrongallthetime.Daehyunoncefellandtookmedownwithhim.Wenearlyrolledoffthestage.I’vedroppedhandmics.Oneendedupinafan’slap,andshefainted.Iforgotthelinestoasong,andXincoveredforme.Tonightthelightswerewrongforthesecondsong,andKithyeong’svoicebroke.Afewyearsago,hewouldhavecriedallnight.”
TothinkIgetstressedstumblingonacurbiftherearepeoplearound.
Jihoon’snowtalkingsoftlyasiftohimself.“We’veplayedhundredsofliveshows,andtherearetwothingswecandependon.Somethingwillalwaysgowrong.”
HepausesuntilIprodhim.“Thesecond?”
“Thatwe’llgetthroughittogether.”
Thereitis,thatutterfaithinhisfriendshipsthatbringsalumptomythroat.It’snotonlytherushoftheadulationIdon’twanttocompetewith—it’sthis,hisloyaltytohisfriends.That’swhyhecamebacktoSeoulinthefirstplace,becausehecouldn’tletthemdown.
Ihughimclose.“Youdidn’tlooknervousatall.”
Heleansagainstme.“Weshowitindifferentways,”hesays.“Daehyunpacesandwhispershislines.Xindoesadancemoveoverandover.”Hedemonstratesapivot-twist-armthing.It’ssimplebutsosmooththatifyouputaguntomyheadandtoldmetoreplicateitordie,I’dhavetotellmymotherIlovedherasIwaitedfortheinevitable.
“Howaboutyou?”
“Ihadyourtalismaninmypocket,”hesays.“Itsteadiedme.”
Jihoonflopsdowntolieonthestage,andIbreakawaytowalkaround,notingthedustymarksoftheirfeetallover.Howdoeshemanagetodothatmuchdancingandsingingwithoutpassingout?Icouldn’twalkdownstairsfortwodaysafterHanamademegotoabootyblasterclass.Idriftbacktositbesidehim,onlygivingaquickthoughttotheintegrityofmywhitepants.
“Youwereactuallysinging?”Iask.“Nolip-synching?”
Hesitsupandgivesmeasourlook.“Ari,really.I’maprofessional.”
“Youweredancing.Like,hard.Withjumps.”MyvoicebounceslikeaballifIwalktoofast.
“It’saperformance.Ourfanswouldn’tbehappyifwestoodinonespotlikestatuesforthreehours.”
“Itmustbehardtokeepitup.”
“Ihaveexcellentstamina.”HisdeliveryissostraightthatatfirstIdon’tseethesmirkonhisface.ThenIburstoutlaughing.
“Don’tbenasty.”
“Fine,butit’strue.”
HepullsoutatubeoflipglossandrunsitoverhismouthinafarsexierwaythanIthoughtevenpossible.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Icroak.
“Mylipsaredry.Youwantsome?It’spomegranate.”Heholdsitouttome.
“No,Imeanyou’reapopstar.Youputonlipgloss.”It’sweirdingmeouttoseeJihoondoregularJihoonthingswhenanhouragohewasonthisverystagemakinghisfansscreamtheirbrainsout.
Jihoonlaughssohard,hedropsthetube,andsinceI’vealreadysacrificedmywhitepantstothestagedust,Irolloverafterit.WhenIhanditback,hegrabsmyhand.“It’sonlyme,”hesays.“Ising.Igetdrylips.Youdolaw.Yougetdrylips.Samething.”
Thisissowrong,Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.InsteadIsay,“Mylipsareperfectlyhydrated.”
Jihoon’seyesdropdown,andhelickshisfreshlypomegranatedmouth.“Really?Ishouldcheck.”
Heleansin,butI’mdistractedagain.Thistimeit’sthesilverhoopsinhisears.“Arethose?”
Jihoontouchesonewithgentlefingers.“Theonesyouboughtme.Iwantedyouwithmeonstage.”
WorryfloatsawayasJihoon’shandsnakesaroundmywaisttopullmeintightagainsthim,andhebitessoftlyonmylowerlip.Icanalmosttastemypulseasitsurges.
Thenhepullsback,fingertracingmyeyebrow.“Doyouwanttogohome?”
“Torontohomeoryourapartmenthome?”Iask.
“Torontoeventually.Apartmentfirst.”
Inodandhisfacebreaksopeninahugesmile.“Let’sgo.”Thirty-Nine
ThenextdayIgowithHanatothetrainstation.EventhoughJihoonofferedtoflyher,HanawantstotaketheKTXtrainbecause“itgoesoverthreehundredkilometersanhour!”Ihadn’tknownshehadathingfortrains.
“Trytositwiththebaseballteam,”ItellherasYeonghaulsoutherluggageandshethankshim.
Shelooksatme.“ATraintoBusanjoke?Predictable.”
Iwaveheroffandgetbackinthecar.AfewminutesafterIarriveatthecondo,Jihooncomesin,Kittrailingbehindhim.Bothmenlookutterlybeat,butJihoonsmilesandenvelopsmeinahugbeforerestinghischeekonmyhead.“Thiswasworthsurvivingtheearlymorningphotoshoot,”hesays.
“Wecanstayinifyou’retired.”Ipullbacktolookhimover.
Jihoonmakesaface.“I’llfallasleep,andIhaveplansforus.”
“Havefun.”KitlollsoverthecouchinamelodramaticreenactmentofTheDeathofMaratandthencollapsestothefloor.Hesoundsuncharacteristicallyfriendly,whichIattributetohisfatigue.
JihoonprodsKit’spronebodywithatoe.“We’llbebacktonight.Don’twaitfordinner.”
“Besmart,Jihoon-ah,”Kitsays,rollingoveronhisback.“Canyoudragmetomyroombeforeyougo?”
“No.”Jihoonstepsoverhimlightly.
Weheadoff.“WhatdidKitmeanbybeingsmart?”Iask.
“Don’tbeseen.”
IstiffenatKitbeingKitafterall.Jihoongrabsmyhandandholdsit.“It’snotyou,”hesayshurriedly.“Imean,itisyoubecauseI’mtryingtoprotectyourprivacy,butit’snotyoupersonally,ifthatmakessense.”
“Igetit.”IdobutIfeeluneasy.It’slikehe’sashamedofme.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Whatshoesareyouwearing?”
“That’syourconcern.Myshoes.”
Hesighs.“Forwalking,Ari,notstyle.Iwanttoknowifyoucangoforahike.”
“I’mgood.”Idon’tneedtoglancedowntocheckthatI’mwearingcomfortableflats.
“Perfect.Seoulhasmanymountains.”
“We’reclimbingamountain?”I’mintrigued,butalso,mountainsarehigh.
“We’lldoaneasypath,”hesays.“Notuptothesummit.”
Wechatidlyaboutnothinginparticularaswedrivenorthoutofthecity,andnowthatI’mlooking,Ican’tbelieveIhaven’tnoticedhowmountainousitishere.Seoulissomodernthatthegreenthatrisesallaroundalmostseemstofadeintothebackground.
“Hereweare,”Jihoonannounces.“BukhansanMountain.”
HehandsmeafacemaskthatIdutifullydonasIweavemyhairintoatightbraid.Jihoonpullsonabuckethatandamask,andthere’snowayanyonecanrecognizehimbecauseallyoucanseeishis—admittedlyverypretty—eyes.Thenhedonssunglassesandthosearehidden,too.
Themountaintrailismoderatelybusy,andIsoonlearntododgeolderwomenwieldingtechnicalhikingstickslikeweapons.Itremindsmeofhome,withtheautumnleavesglowingredandgoldinthesunandacoolbitetotheair.
Jihoontakesmyhand,andwewalkforabouttenminutes,eachofuswrappedinourownthoughtsbutenjoyingtheother’spresence.Occasionallyhetakesouthisphonetojotdownanote,andIleanonarailandletmymindwander.ThisisthefirsttimeinyearsIhaven’tbeenthinkingaboutwork,andit’salittleworrisome.Ishouldbeschemingandplottingabouthowtoraisemyprofile,especiallygivenBrittany’srisingstar.
Idon’twantto.Ifeelatrest,mymindcalm.Jihoontapsawayashehums,absorbedinthefragmentsoflyricsandmelodiesthathewantstocapturebeforetheyfade.Lawwasneverthat.Itwasaduty,andI’mcompetitiveandegotisticalenoughtowanttobethebest,butIneverlovedit.IwasneverinspiredthewayJihoonisrightnow.
Myhandgoeswhiteontherail.I’mnevergoingtobethebestlawyerinthecity,atYesterlyandHavingsoranywhereelse.Idon’twantitenough,notanymore.Idon’tknowifIeverdidorifIsimplyrepeatedthatstorytomyselfuntilIbelievedit.
Besideme,Jihoonrollshisneckinacircle.Ireachuptostrokehisnape,rubbingthetightmusclesunderhiswarmskin.Hesmiles.“Thankyou.”
“You’redeepinthought.”
Helooksatmeoutofthecornerofhiseye.“What’syourfavoritesongofours?”heasksme.
“OnlyUs.”
“Why?”
IpulluptheEnglishtranslationofthelyricsonmyphone.“Ilikethisverse,”Isay,pointingatthescreen.
Hehookshisheadovermyshouldertosee.
Whenwestandtogether
Ourkneesarescratchedrough
Filledwithsandandpebbles
Thelostcousinsofboulders
Thehiddenchildrenofthemountains
Thatusedtoencircleus
Brushingourpalmsdown
Thedustfliesuplikediceonathrow
Yourhandonmine
Ourfeetlostinthedunes
Myhandslipsinyoursleeve
Yourarmwarmagainstmyside
WhereI’llkeepitcloseforever
Ifound“OnlyUs”whenIwasontheplane,andsomethingabouttheimagecaughtmyattention.Therearepagesofdebateaboutthemeaning,butwhenIreaditthrough,Iagreedwiththeconsensus,thatit’sabouttwopeoplewholeaveeverythingtobetogether.
UnliketheotherStarLunevideos,whichareslicklyproduceddancenumberswithhigh-conceptwardrobes,thevideofor“OnlyUs”isgrainyandlookslow-budget.ThebandwearsrippedjeansandT-shirts,withmussedhairandambitiouseyeliner.There’sasixthperson,grayedoutsoyoucan’ttelltheirgenderorage,andtheyalltrytoleaveinturnbeforeadooropensandlightstreamsout.Onlythefacelesssixthpersongetsthrough,andtheydon’tlookbackwhenthedoorcloses.Thevideoendswiththeimageofthedoor,nowweatheredandfaded,crackingopenagain.
Ireadoverthelyrics.“It’snotaspoppyandlightassomeofStarLune’sothersongs.”
Hegivesmeawrysmile.“TheonesIwrite.”
“They’regood!”Idon’twanttoinsulthim,butit’snotlikehedoesn’tknowthat.Anyway,they’rechart-toppers.
“TheonesDaehyunwritesaremoretoyourliking?Likethisone?”
“Well…”
“Iwrote‘OnlyUs.’”
Ifrown.“Areyousure?”
“Iknowmyownsong,Ari.”
Ilookbackatthelyricstofindthesongwritingcredits.“Ithasbothyournames.”
Jihoonpropshisfootuponarockandleansouttosurveythetrees.“Itdoes.Hisnameisfirst.‘DanceRoyalty,’ontheotherhand,hasmynamefirst.”
Ipullhimbackonthepathsowecankeepwalking.“Youneedtoexplainthis.”
“YousawDaehyun.Methim.”
“Yes.”
“Howwouldyoudescribehim?”
“Brooding,sortofquietanddark.Tough.”
Jihoonlaughs.“He’saclowninprivate.Playstricksoneveryone,alwayshavingfun.Hedoesn’tlikethecameras,soheshutsdownwhenwehavetodointerviewsorwe’refilming.Theyusedthatashisimagewhenwedebutedandbuiltonit.Howaboutme?”
“Ah.”Howtoanswerthiswithtact.“Brightandplayful?”
“Ofthetwoofus,whodoyouthinklovesbubblypop,designedtogetpeoplelaughinganddancing?Whowouldlikethekindofmusictolistentointherainwhenyouyearntobehappybutyou’veforgottenhow?”
“OhmyGod.”Istopdead,causingawomanbehindmetotapmewithherwalkingstick.Ijumpoutofthewaywithanapology,andshebarelyadjustshervisorbeforestridingon.“You’rekidding.YouwrotethesongspeoplethinkareDaehyun’s.”
Henods.“Whilehewrotetheonespeopleassociatewithme.”
“Holyshit.Isn’tthat,like,fraud?”
“Technicallyno.We’rebothonthesongwritingcredits,andwecollaborate,butthecompanywantstomaintaintheimagestheycreatedforus.Theydon’tlie,buttheypromotetheideathatIwritethelightsongsandDaehyunwritesthedarkonesbecausetheythinkthat’swhatappealstoourfans.”
Iwalkforabit,mullingthisover.“Idon’twanttosaythefunsongsaren’tasgoodastheotherones,”Isaycarefully.“Thefanslovethem,andtheycheerpeopleup.”
“Wewanttomakepeoplehappy.”
“Yoursongsaretheonespeoplekeeptalkingaboutandtheorizeabout,theonestheyturntowhentheyneedtofeelseen.Doesn’titbotheryouthatpeoplethinkDaehyunwritesthem?”
Helooksdownandnods.“ItshouldbeenoughtohaveStarLunedomysongs,”hesays.“YetI’mselfish.”
Wewalkalong.“Doyounotlikethesongspeoplethinkareyours?Daehyun’s?”
“Ido.Ilovethem.Towriteasongthatstickslikethatisagift,andDaehyunisagenius.”
“Ihearabut.”
“Iwanttodomore.Ifeellikealiartothefans.Iwanttotalktothemfreelyaboutmymusicbutthecompanywon’tletus.”Hetoesatafallenleaf.
There’ssomethingdarkinhisvoice.“Whatelse?”
“IwanttowritemoresongsliketheonesIloveandtoexplorewherethatcantakeme,buttheydon’tchartaswell.ThecompanywantsustofocusonDaehyun’sstyleforthenextalbum.Hissongs,eventhoughpeoplewillthinkit’sme.It’ssuccesssomewouldkillfor,butitmakesmefeelsick.”
There’salongsilence,andIcantellhe’sstruggling.Itakehishandandwaituntilhespeaksagain.“Perhapsmysongsdon’tchartashighbecausethey’renotgoodenough,”hesaysinalowvoice.TohearJihoonunsureabouthistalentisshocking.OfallthethingsIthoughthewouldbe100percentsureof,hisabilitytopsthelist.
“Youknowfanslovethem.”
“Becausethey’reStarLune.Wouldtheylovethemthesameiftheydidn’tknowitwasme?”
“That’sanimpossiblequestion.”
Hefrownsatthetrees,andItakehisotherhand,rubbingthecoolskintogetsomewarmthinthem.“Hey,”Isay.“I’vedonenothingbutcomplainaboutmyworktoyou.It’syourturn.”ItbothersmethatIcan’tseehisfullfaceunderhismask.Iwanttoreassurehim,butI’mnotsurehow,hereinpublic.Irubharder,hopinghecantellIwanthimtokeeptalking.
“It’snotanimpossiblequestion.Isentsomesongsout.Myownsongs,underafalsename.Theywererejected.”Helooksdownatme.“TherejectioncamerightbeforeIwentonstageforourfinaltourshow.I’dneverdoubtedmyselflikethatbefore.”
“Jihoon,no.”Ileanintogivehimsomecomfort.“Youshouldtalktotherestofthebandaboutthis.DoesNewlightaccepteverysongyouandDaehyunwriteforStarLune?”
“No.”Hisanswerisreluctant.
“Noteverysongisgoingtowork.Sure,fansmightbemorewillingtolisten,buttheywouldn’tremainifyoustartedproducinggarbage.”
“Starrysareveryloyal,”hesaysdoubtfully.
“Becauseyoudeliver.”
Hebrightensabit,thenfades.“IfNewlightwantsonlyDaehyun’ssound,andnoonewilltakemysongswhentheydon’tknowit’sme,whatdoIdo?WhoamIifI’mnotMinandasongwriterforStarLune?”
Ituckhisarminmine.“You’realsoJihoon,andyou’llkeeptryinguntilyoumakeithappen.”
Hesmilesthen,arealsmile,andpullsmeclose.“Thankyou,Ari.”Forty
Wekeepwalkinguptheincreasinglysteeptrail,andtensioncontinuestobuildbetweenuslikeawall.There’saflatrockupaheadthat’sabitoffthemainpath.Ileadhimoverandsit.
“Areyoutired?”heasks.
“Sitbesideme.”Hedoes,andItakehishandandputitbetweenmyhandsandthenmykneestokeepitwarm.“Tellmewhatelseyou’rethinking.”
“There’snothingelse.”Hetriestotughishandaway,butI’manexpertatrecognizingsignsofavoidingfeelings.ThatJihoonisbalkingmeansit’sbig,andIwonderhowtogethimtoopenup.Idependonhimtotaketheleadonthesethings.
“WenevertalkedabouthowthiswilllookwhenIgobacktoToronto,”Isay,takingashot.“Wehaven’thadthetalkaboutthefuture.”
Hepullsawayslightly,andIknowI’vehitit.“Haveyouchangedyourmind?”Iaskcarefully.
Thefewsecondsittakesforhimtorespondnearlykillme.“No.”Whenhefinallyanswers,theconfidenceinhisvoiceletsmerelaxabit,andthewalldissolves.Helooksup.“Iwasworriedyouhad.”
ThereliefIfeelisall-encompassing.“Noway.”
Helaughsandleanshisheadagainstmine.“IstillhaveourwalkingtriptoSpainbookedinthecalendarfornextyear,”hesays.
“That’samazing,butI’dalsolikesomeshorter-termplans.”
“HowlonguntilIseeyouagain?”heasksashelooksoutatthetrees.
Ilookatmywatchasifthatwillhelp.Itdoesn’t.HesmilesandholdshisownwristouttoshowhismatchingCartier.“It’sthefirsttimeI’vewornitsinceToronto,”hesays.
Thistime,it’smewhogetsathrillatusmatching.Igivehimaquickkissonthecheekthroughthemasks.“Plans,”Iremindhim.
“Iwon’tbeabletocomebacktoCanadaforawhile,”hesays.
“Iunderstand.Willyoubehappy?”
“Awayfromyou?”
Igivehimashovesoftenoughforhimtoknowit’sonlyaffection.“Beingsobusyandaddingtoyourcollectionoflittlehotelsoaps.”
Hemakesaface.“Ibringmyown.Thosearetooharshformydelicatecelebrityidolskin.”
“Myquestionwasnotreallyaboutsoaps.”
“Idon’tknow.”Hefrownsandfixeshishat.“Idon’tknowanythinganymore.”
“Ithoughtyouwentwithheartoverhead,”Isay.
Jihoon’slaughissobiting,Iblinkinsurprise.“Isupposethatonlyworkswhenyourheartisn’tsplitexactlyinhalf.”Thenheshakeshishead.“I’llbehappyknowingyou’recomfortable,andtobecomfortable,youneedaplan.Let’sdoone.”
WesitandtalkliketwoadminassistantsbookingtheirC-suitebosses.Wetalkabouthisschedule.Wetalkaboutcallsandshortvisits.Welookatcalendarsandhistouringplans,withnodatesinNorthAmericafortheforeseeablefuture,andItellhimwhatkindofworkloadIhaveasItrytomakepartner.Likechildren,weevencomeupwithasecretsignforhimtouseinhisvideochats.
Allthatiseasy.Whatcomesnextisharder.“HaveyouthoughtaboutthefutureafterStarLune?”Iask.HiscontractwithNewlightisanotherfouryears.
Jihoonshiftsover,andIclosetherestofthedistance.“I’mnotgoingtosignagain.”
“What?”
“I’mgettingold,”hesayssimply.“Idon’twanttobelearningchoreowhenI’mthirty-two,andIdon’twanttodisappointthefansifIneedtoslowdown.Idon’twanttobeontheseschedules.Iwanttomakemyown.Iwanttodressmyselfforeventsinclothesthatdon’thavetomatchfourothermen.”
“Yourmusic?”
“That’stheonlythingIwantbesidesyou.IwouldgetoutnowifIcoulddoitwithoutlettingtheothersdown.”
Afewmonthsago,IwouldhavetoldJihoonthatyouneedtowatchoutforyourselffirst,butnowIdon’tknowifIbelievethat.Thestrengthhegetsfromhisrelationshipswiththebandandthesupporttheyshareisastonishing.“Haveyoutalkedtotheothers?”
Heshakeshishead.“Iwill,butIonlydecidedawhileago.YouwereacatalystforthoughtsIwastooscaredtoletsurface.Ican’tbetheonetosplitupStarLune,butthedaysarebecomingastruggle.Ineedtogrow.It’slikeanitchIcan’tget,butit’sallIcanthinkabout.”
WesitquietlyasIscrollthroughmycalendar.“Thisisgoingtobehard,”Iadmit.“Reallyhard.Yourlifeisnext-level.”
“You’rescared,evennow.”
Thatmakesmepullback.“There’salottobeworriedabout.”
“Yes,butI’mlessworriedwhenIknowwe’redoingittogether.Weneedtodependoneachother.”
“That’snotwhatIdo.”Irubatmyfaceunderthemask.“That’sthehardpart.YouhaveKitandtheresttohelpyou.Idon’tdothat.I’mnotusedtoit.”
Jihoonturnsmearoundtoseemyface.“Whatareyoureallyfrightenedofhere,Ari?Isitmycareer?Thedistance?Thefame?”
“I’mafraidyou’llleave.”Ican’tevenlookathim.“Thatyou’llwakeuponedayandlookaroundandrealizethatit’stoohardandthatwillbeit.”
Hepullshismaskdowntolookatme.“Doyouworkhardatbeingalawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Iworkhard,too.Allthetime,everyday.I’mnotafraidofwork.Iknowit’shardforyou.We’llbeapart,butyouwon’tbealone.Ipromise.”
Hetugsmymaskdown,shushingmyprotestwithafingeronmylipsbeforehelowershishands.“Nooneisaround,andIneedtoseeyouwhenIsaythis.Youareworththework.Weareworththeeffort.Ican’tspeakforyourfeelings,soI’llspeakaboutmyown.Noonemakesmefeelalivelikeyoudo.Millionsofpeopleseeme,butnoonemakesmefeelasseenasyou.”
Irisklookinginhiseyes,andit’sintense.Hesaidnoonesawhim,butIfeelthesameway.He’snotglancingovermyshoulderorfidgetingwithhisphone.Allhisfocusisonthismoment,himandmeandwhatwecanbetogether.
Ibelievehim.Thisisworthit.“Okay,”Isay.
Hisfacerelaxesintoasmile.“Okay.”
Wesitontherockforanotherminute,wrungoutbythediscussion,butJihoon’swordswarmmefromtheinside.ThenIgetantsy.Iwanttowalk.Iwanttotalk.Iwantto…Hisphonebuzzes.
Jihoonchecksitandraisesaneyebrow.“Theapartmentisempty.”
“Itis?”Ipullmymaskbackupandsodoeshe.
“Mmm,yes.Wecouldheadback.”
Igiveamockgasp.“Andmisshikingtothetopofamountain?”
“Themountainwillalwaysbethere,buthyeongwilleventuallycomehome.”
“Thatsettlesit.Home.”Afterall,Ideserveareward.Thisemotionalhonestystuffishard.
“Iloveawomanwhoknowswhatshewants.”Heleadsmedownthepath.
Wehaveaslowandlazyafternooninbed,filledwithsillyjokesandirrelevantobservations.Afewtimes,Ilookoverandmarvelatthestrangenessoftheentiresituation.MinfromStarLunecoilslikeacatnexttome,blinkinglazilyashetalksaboutwhyit’sgoodtoaddmayotocupramen,althoughhonestlythatsoundsrepulsive.
It’snice.Nicerthannice,andnotbecauseit’sMin.Becauseit’sJihoonandI’mfallinginlove.Nosurprise,he’seasytolove.Hiswordsfromearlierkeepcomingupinmymind.Youareworththework.Weareworththeeffort.Hedidn’tmentionwhatIcanoffer,howmanyhoursIbill.It’sonlyaboutme,Ari,asaperson,andusaspeople.
Foodarrives—notmayonoodles—andwediveinasifwe’restarving,whichJihoon,giventheamountofenergyheexpendspracticingandhowheneedstofitintotheworld’stightestpants,mightactuallybe.Ilookaroundtheroomasweeat.“IkeepthinkingoftoursLuxecoulddo.LikeonehereinSeoul.”
Jihoonraiseshiseyebrows.“Ifit’snotbasedaroundStarLune,I’llbehurt.”
“It’slikeyoureadmymind.First,we’llhaveaguidedtourofyourapartment,includingyourstate-of-the-artcosmeticsfridge.”
“Theproductsarebettercold,”heprotests.
“MakesureyoukeepsomedirtyclothesonthefloorforauthenticityandpreferablyanotetoKitabouthowyou’reoutofmilkorsomethinghorriblydomestic.Signitwithalipstickkiss.”
Hesnorts.“Thatsoundslikeafanfic.”
“Nodoubt.”Ipausewithmychopstickshalfwaytomymouth.“Doyoureadthose?”
Hegoesred.“No.”
“Liar.”
“Wemighthavelookedwhenwewereyounger.”
“Jihoon.”
“What?”Hefishesaroundtoputatofutidbitonmyplate.“Howcouldwenot?”
“Imean…becauseit’skindofnarcissistic?”
Heburrowsintohisfood.“Wewantedtoknowwhatourfanswerethinking.”
Iwavemyhandforhimtocontinue.
“TheywerethinkingsomeextremelyimaginativethingsthatIdon’tthinkarephysicallypossibleunlessoneisagymnast.SangjunandIcouldn’tlookateachotherforaweek.”
Irollmyeyes.“Anyways,aK-poptourwouldwork.Orfood,thosearepopular.Theydon’thavetobepersonallyguided.Yourlocationcouldtriggerstoriesonyourphonewhenyouarriveinspecificareas.Likeit’sserendipity.”Anotherthoughtcomestome.“Wecanpartnerwithvendors,andyoucanpickupfoodsamplesasyougo.”
“Iwoulddothat.TheysoundliketheoneyoutookmeoninGraffitiAlley.”
Ideflate.“Yeah,there’satonofthingslikethis.”
Jihoongrabsmyhandandkissesthepalm.“Thatdoesn’tmatter.TherearethousandsoflawyersaswellbutonlyoneAri.”
“Isuppose.”
Hegivesmeasharplook.“AnAriwhoismoreanimatedtalkingaboutthisnewopportunitythansheeverspokeaboutlaw.”
“That’strue.”Itfeelsstrangetosayitoutloud,likeI’mbetrayingsomething.
KitcomesinbeforeJihooncanreply,dressedincomfortablesweats.Wewavehimtowardthefood,andhewasheshishandsbeforesinkingintoachairandhelpinghimself.“Hanaisgone?”heasks.
“Tookthetrainthismorning,”Iremindhim.
“Ah,Ididn’tgetachancetosaygoodbye.Ishouldtexther.”Hepullsouthisphoneandsendsatextbeforestartingtocheckhismessages.
Thenhisheadshootsup,andhemutterstoJihoon.
WhenJihoon’sfacegoeswhite,Iknowthere’saproblem.Forty-One
Igonumb.“Hana,isitHana?”
Jihoonshakeshisheadrapidly.“No,no.Nunaisfine.”
Myreliefisshort-lived,becauseifthisentirethingwithJihoonhastaughtmeanything,it’sthatphonesarethemediumthroughwhichglobal-scaleproblemsarrive.
“Somethingwasleaked,”Isurmise,puttingthedeductivepowersofmyhighlytrainedlegalbraintouse.“Photosfromtoday.”
Bothmennod.
“Ofthetwoofus.”
Againwiththenods.Myphoneisinmyroom,soIholdoutmyhand,andKitpasseshisoverwithoutcomment.
We’reinthebackgroundofacasualselfie,andtheperson’sfaceisblurredforprivacy.Theycaughttheexactmomentwhenourmaskswerebothoffaswesatontherock.Myfaceisupandhisisdown.Itlooksexactlyliketwopeopleabouttokiss,andtheremightaswellbeataglinewrittenincutefontacrossourchests.
“What’sthecaptionsay?”Iask,doingmybesttospeakaroundthelumpinmythroat.Oddly,it’snotthephotoitselfthatbothersmebutthatitcapturedsuchaprivatemoment.I’dneverfeltpossessiveaboutanexperiencebefore.
Kittakesbackhisphone.“ItidentifiesJihoonandawoman.Nonameforyouyet.”Hescrollsdown.“ApparentlyyoumetonatriptoKoreawhenJihoonwasatraineeandhavebeenintouchsince.That’sfromanunidentifiedsource.Wait.They’resayingNewlighthasbeenkeepingyouapartforyears.”
“Whosaysthis?”Idemand.
Kitdoesn’tlookup.“They.Theinternet.”
Inthemiddleofthis,Jihoon’sphonerings,andhestartspacingthelivingroomashetalks.
“You’retakingthiswell,”IsaytoKit.He’snotburstingwithanItoldyouso
“No,”hecorrectsme.“I’mnot,butIcandealwiththatlater.Nowwesolvetheproblem.”
Thatsoundsominous,butbeforeIcanreply,Jihoonhangsup.HelooksfuriousashesnapsatKit,whowalksawaywithhishandsintheair.
“Ineedtogotothecompany,”Jihoonsays,takingmywrists.“Ari,Iamsosorry.”
Inod,butinaway,it’sarelief.Idon’thavetowaitfortheworsttohappenbecauseit’shere.
“Icanfixthis.”Jihoonsoundsurgent.“Letmehandlethis.IknowIcanfixit.”
“How?”I’mgenuinelycurious.
“Ihaveafewideas.Doyoutrustme?”
“I’dbemoreconfidentifIknewwhatyouhaveplanned,”Isay.“Letmecometotheofficewithyou.”
“Thatwouldbeabadidea.Ineedtofocus,andtherewillbemediaoutfront.Toomanyfans,bothatthegateshereandatNewlight.Wecan’texposeyoutothat.”
Fairenough.Itakeadeepbreathandtrytostopitfromcomingoutshaky.“Iunderstand,”Isay.Althoughit’sterrifyingtorelinquishanysemblanceofcontrol,I’mtrustinghimnottohurtmethesamewayhetrustedmebackatthecafé.
Reliefbreaksoverhisface,andhekissesme.“Good.”
ThenheandKitaregone.I’mleftintheemptyapartmentforexactlythreeminutesbeforeIgetacall.
“Hey,Hana,”Isay.
“Jihoontextedme.OhmyGod.IcangetmylocalpartnertocovermeforadayandcomeupfromBusanifyouneedme.”
“I’mokay.Jihoonsaidhe’sgoingtofixit.”Isitdown.“I’mgoingtotrusthim.”
There’salongsilence.“Youdon’ttrustanyonetodoanything,”shesays.
“Hesayshehasthis.”
“What’stheplan,then?”
“Notsure.”
“Howareyoudoing?”
“Youknowthosefishthatliveatthebottomoftheoceanandwhentheydriftup,thelackofpressuremakesthemexplode?”
“Yes.”
“Likethat.Inminutes,Iwillbeexplodedfishgutsalloverthisfancyapartment.”
“Hellofananalogy,butIgetit.”Shecoughs.“Areyoulookingatsocialmedia?”
“No.”
“Youwantmetotellyouwhat’sgoingon?”
“Definitehardno.”
“Okay.”Herfingernailstapagainstthephone.“Atleastyouweren’tidentified.Callifyouneedme.”
Imanageonehourandsevenminutes.
OnehourandsevenminuteswithnothingfromJihoon.
Onehourandsevenminutesofpacing.
Onehourandsevenminutesofstaringatmyphone,tornbetweenwantingtocheckitandknowingIshouldn’tformyownmentalhealth.Fuckit.I’mabouttograbthephonewhenHanacallsmeatonehourandeightminutes.
“Ari.”Hana’svoiceislowandserious.
“Idon’twanttoknow.”
“Youdo.”Hervoicebreaks.“Theyknowwhoyouare.Yournameisout.”
Beforethis,Iconsidereditpurehyperbolewhensomeonesaidtheyneededtositdownbecausetheirkneeswentweak.Icannowsaythisisnotanexaggerationatallbecausemylegsturntojellysofast,Istumble.
IftheyknowwhoIam,they’lllearntoomuchaboutme.Mywork,myfamily.YesterlyandHavings,Richard,willneverputupwiththiskindofpublicity.IhaveanimageofmydadgettingharassedathislawofficeandtheirhousesurroundedbyStarLunefans.Theinternetcandigupdirtonanyone.I’mboringashell,butIdon’tknowwhatPhoebe’sdonewhileshe’sbeenoutofmylife.
No,getthefacts.Firstgetthefacts.
EvenasIstareatthefloor,wordless,messagesrollinfromAlex.
Hey,textmewhenyoucan.
Wehaveanissue.Textme.
“Ineedtogo,”Icroak.Idisconnectandstartfearscrolling,desperatelysearchingforinformation.Ikeepmyeyeshalf-closedasifthatwillsomehowmitigatetheexperiencethewayitdoesforhorrormovies.Itdoesn’t.
Whereareyoutextme
Callme
DonotansweryourphonetoanyoneexceptmeI’mcallingnow
Thephonerings—Alex—butIdeclineit.Idon’twanttotalktohimuntilIfindoutwhat’sgoingonformyself.
StarLune’sMindatingCanadianlawyer
K-popdatingscandal
MinGfriendidentified:WhoisAriadneHui?
FansdemandapologyfromStarLune’sMin
Therearecommentsaboutme,andwhiletherealargesubsetwhoarevocalintheirsupportofJihoon,manyarelesspositive.There’sdisbeliefMinwoulddateanyone,letalonesomeonelikeme.I’mtoobig.Notpretty.Old.CanadianandChinese,soadoublewhammyofforeign.Anothingandanobody.AfewdefendJihoon’srighttopursuearelationshipbutinaconceptualway,notonewithmespecifically.
IdeclineanothercallfromAlex.
WHEREAREYOUCALLMENOW
Multiplethreadsarecombingthroughtheband’slyricstodecidewhichonesareaboutme,whichisromanticbutuntrue.ThestoriesgetwilderbytheminutewithzeroevidenceandhaveshiftedtoanarrativeaboutmeasatemptressratherthanJihoonandIasstar-crossedlovers.
answeryourphoneitsmealex
Ifitweren’tmetheyweretalkingabout,thisexperiencewouldbeafascinatingpsychologicalstudyintohowpeoplemakeconnectionsoutofnothing.Sinceitisme,ithoversrightatterrifying.
AnothercallfromAlex.Ideclineagain,needingamomenttoabsorbwhat’shappening.Toprocessit.
UREGENT
HadIrunamarathon,Idon’tthinkmyheartratecouldbehigherormybodymoreexhausted,soIputthephonedownandwalkovertothewindowonshakylegs.Seoulliesoutinfrontofme,andithitsmethatinthiscityandothers,legionsoffansarecurrentlytalkingaboutme.Ifeelcold.Jihoondoesonlinechatswithoveramillionpeoplewatching.Howcanyoueventraintodealwiththatlevelofscrutiny?
Unabletoresistthelureofthephone—it’snotFOMObutPOMO,petrifiedofmoboutrage—Icheckagainbeforetherealityofthishitsme.Mynameistrending.Mynameisagoddamnhashtag.
IreachthebathroomrightbeforeIthrowup.
I’vebarelyrinsedoutmymouthwhenIgrabmyphone.Jihoonsaidhewasonthis,soIshoothimatextthatlinkstooneofthestoriesaboutme.Me,specificallybyname.
Hisreplycomesupinstantly.I’msorry.Iknow.Trustme,Ari.Bestrong.
I’veseenhowpeoplegetevisceratedonsocialmedia.I’vebeenpartoftheconversationsasmyclientsdecidewhetherit’ssafertocutanoutspokenoroffensiveemployeelooseratherthanfeeltheweightoftheinternet’sjudgment.
Ilookathismessage.Itrustyou,Iwriteback.Iknowyou’rebusydealingwiththis,andItrustyou.ThenIthinkaboutwhathesaidonthemountain,andItypethreewords.
Iloveyou.
Themessage—thedeclaration—sitsonthescreenasItapmyfingersonmyknee.TellingJihoonhowIfeelfillsmewithexhilarationinsteadoffearabouthisreaction.Icandothis.Ineedtodothis.
Isendit.
ThenIwaitforaresponsethatdoesn’tcome.Forty-Two
Thenexthourorsoisablur.Ispendagooddealoftimeinthebathroomstaringatmyreflectionandwonderingwhattodoinbetweencheckingtoseeifthere’sareplyfromJihoon.
There’snothing.That’sfine.He’sbusywithacrisis.
Butmystomachfeelstight.
Afamiliarnumbercomesupwhenmyphonerings—Richard’sassistant.Hemusthaveheardaboutwhat’sgoingon,althoughIhavenoideahowsincehe’snotonetofollowgossipsites.Idebateanswering,buttheneedtomakesurethingsaregoodatworkistoostrongtoresist.IneedtomitigatewhateverRichard’sheard.
“PleaseholdforMr.Havings,”shesays.Shedoesn’twaitformetoagreebeforesheputsmeonhold.It’saboutseveninthemorningbackinToronto.She’sneverlikedme,soI’mspitefullygladRichardhauledheroutofbedtomakethecallbecausedoinghisownisbeneathhim.Aminutelater,Richard’ssmooth,culturedvoicecomesthrough.
“Ariadne,hello.”
“Richard,goodmorning.”Myvoiceshakes,soIleaveitatthat.
“IhadacallfromKarina,”hesays.
Ittakesmeasecondtocomputethis.“Thecommunicationsmanager?”
“Yes.Shereceivedamessageaboutyoufromatelevisionchannel,ZedTVorsomesuchthing.”
Hewaitsformetopickupthestory.
“ZZTV.”No.Ohno.
“That’sit.Istheresomethingweshouldknow?”
It’stheoldesttrickinthebook,toletsomeonehangthemselfwiththeirownrope,butI’malawyer,too.“Somethingyoushouldknow?”Irepeat.Hecansayithimself.
“Karinatellsmeyouareinvolvedwithacelebrity,amemberofsomeAsiansinginggroup.SouthKorean,Ibelieve.”
Somethingabouthowhesaysitmakesmyhacklesrise,asifwhereJihoonisfrommakesthiswholethingsomewhatludicrous.
“Exactlyso.”Adesiretobecontraryrearsup.“He’saKoreanperformer.AK-popidol.”
ThelongpausesaysexactlywhatRichardthinksofthis.“Idol.”Herollsthewordaroundinhismouth.“Yes,Karinamentionedthat.”
SoundslikegoodoldKarinagavehimathoroughbriefing.“WhatdidZZTVwant?”Iask.
“Toconfirmyouwereoneofourlawyers.Karinasaysyou’relistedonourwebsite,whichisnodoubthowtheydiscoveredyourconnectiontous.She’supdatedthesitesoyounolongerappear.”
Hedowngradedmetobeingmerelyaconnectionandthenerasedme,asifworkingatYesterlyandHavingsaroundtheclockforyearsmeantnothing.BeforeIcananswer,hecontinues,“Karinaassuresmeshe’sequippedtodealwiththeissue.”
“Sheis?”ThelastIchecked,herbiggesttaskwasdoingthestaffnewsletter.Inwhich,Ialsoremember,sheinsistedonfeaturingmeinYesterlyandHavings’sfirstandonlyFaceofDiversity!column.Hanahaditonthefridgeforamonth,laughingeverytimeshelookedatit.
“Karinaisverywellqualified.Hermotherisonthehospitalboardwithme.I’vedecideditwillbebestforyoutotakesometimeawayuntilthisgossipdiesdown.”
Inearlydropthephoneandhaveamomentofinelegantclutchingtogetitbackuptomyear.“Ibegyourpardon?”
“Karinahaspointedoutthatyourrelationshipwiththismandoesnotmatchtheimagewe’dliketomaintainwithourclients.”
Idrummyfingersonmychest,feelingthesoothingthumpingagainstmysternum.IshouldtellRichardthatwe’reonlyfriendsandthewholethingwasblownoutofproportion.Thatmightchangehismind.ThenIseethetigerstatueonJihoon’sdesk.
No.I’mnotgoingtodothat.Jihoonisimportant,andI’mnotgoingtohidehimaway.“Myrelationshipsareprivate,asareanyoneelse’sinthefirm.”
“Weareaseriousgroup,Ariadne.Thisabsurdpopculturemediatalkisn’tthetypeofthingwe’dliketobeassociatedwith.”
“Areyoufiringme?”
“Ofcoursenot.You’reanexcellentlawyer,”hechides.“I’dlikeyoutotakeamonthoffuntilthiscalmsdown.We’llredistributeyourclients.You’llagreewithmethere’sarisktotheirprivacy.”
“Idon’tagree,”Isay,fistclenchingatmyside.“I’munsurehowanyonewouldfindoutwhicharemyclientsunlesssomeoneatYesterlyandHavingstellsthem.”Iftheleakcomesfromtheclientside,theycan’tcomplainaboutthepublicity.
“Iunderstandyouthinkthat.”Richard’svoicedoesn’tchangebecausehe’sbeenatthisfordecadeslongerthanIhave.“However,Ilookatthebiggerpicture,andweneedtoprioritizethefirm.”
Igiveitonelastattempt.“Richard,clientslikeHyphenandLuxewon’tcare—”
Hedoesn’tletmefinish.“Mydecisionismade,Ariadne.”Icantellhe’spissedIspokeup.“Wecanassessyourrolewhenyoureturn.Itwouldbeunfortunatetoloseyoupermanently,butthisisbestfornow.”
Aftergivingmeinstructionsonhowtopassovermyclients,hehangsup,andIdomybesttonothurlthephoneagainstJihoon’slovelystonefloors.TheonlythingcalmingmedownismyfaiththatJihoonwillgetthisundercontrolsoon.Hehasto,becauseI’mabouttoloseit.
Igobacktosocialmedia,unabletostayaway,andrefreshtoseeastatementfromNewlightpostedthirtysecondsago.MyheartthumpshardenoughtobruisemyribcageasIinchpasttheKoreantotheEnglishtranslationpostedunderneath.
Hello.ThisisNewlightEntertainment.
Wewouldliketoaddressanissueconcerningoneofourartists,MinofStarLune.Recently,aphotowaspublishedofMinwithawoman.Thereisnopersonalconnectionbetweenthetwo.ThewomanisafanwhoapproachedMinwhenhewasvisitingfamilyinTorontoandataprivatepartyaftershepursuedhimtoSeoul.SheinterferedwithMinduringawalkonBukhansanmountainwherehewenttoreflectafterlastnight’ssuccessfulVIPconcert.
MinwouldliketoassureallhisfansthatheissafeandapologizesforanyconcernsStarrysmayhave.StarrysandStarLunearehisonlypriorities.Thesafetyofourartistsisparamountandactionsbyindividualsthatintrudeontheirprivacywillnotbetolerated.
Thankyou.
AtthebottomisashotofmestaringatJihoonattheNewlightparty.Iknowmyexpressionreflectsmyshockatseeinghim,butIcanalsoseehowitcanbereadaswide-eyedadoration.
Ireadittwice,thenoncemore.
Ihaveafewissues,toputitmildly.ThefirstisageneralWTFbafflementthatacompanywouldputoutastatementlikethisatall.That’sgoinguptherewiththevarietyshowsintheculturalrelativismcategory.
ThesecondisamuchstrongerandmorespecificWTF.Thiswashowhefixedit?Hedisassociatedussomynameisoutofit,whichisgood,buthemightaswellhavepunchedmeinthegut.HebasicallytoldtheentireworldIwasadelusionalfanhehadnothingtodowith.Iwon’tbeviewedasJihoon’sseducerinthecollectiveStarryfandommythologybutthisissomuchworse.Ibringupthepartyphotoagain.Whatwashethinkingtoletthishappen?
IdialAlex’snumberalmostonautopilot.Hemusthaveknown,andIneedtogetthebackgroundbeforeIconfrontJihoon.
Alexpicksup.“GoodGod,finally.Doyoudeliberatelyplanyourdayaroundruiningmine?”
“No.”
“Sorry.”Hesoundsexhausted.“It’sbeenahellofayear,andit’snotevennineinthemorning.Howareyoucoping?”
Iignorehisquestion.“DidyouknowaboutthestatementfromNewlight?”
“Ihaven’tseenastatement.”Hesoundspuzzled.“Givemeasecond.”
Mutteringcomesthroughthephoneashereadsthrough.“Photos…interfered…whatthe…Ari,Ihadnoidea.Thatphotoisfromtheparty.That’snotwhathappened.Theydidn’ttellme.NewlightonlyaskedustomonitorNorthAmericanmedia.”
“Jihoonsaidhe’dfixit.”Idomybesttonotbreakdown.IfYesterlyandHavingstaughtmeanythingbesideshowtowriteaconcisememo,it’sthatcryingduringabusinesscallisakintohavinganeonsignaroundyourneckthatsaysWEAK,GOFORTHEJUGULAR.IlikeAlex,butthisishardtrainingtofightagainst.
Alex’slaughiscynical.“Yeah,hefixeditalright.It’stheonlythingNewlightcouldhavedone,Isuppose.”
“You’rejoking.Brandingmeasasasaengfanwastheirbestsolution?”
“No,that’stotalbullandI’msorry.Imeantfromtheirperspective.TheymusthavepanickedandoverreactedtostopthescandalforStarLune.”
“I’mnotascandal!”ThevolumeofmyvoiceshocksmeasmuchasitdoesAlex,whopausesforamoment.
“Iapologize,”hesays.“Ididn’tmeanitthatway.”
Idon’tevencareabouthisapology.“TheycouldhavesaidIwasafriend.Theycouldhavesaidalmostanythingelse.NowthisiswhatIamtopeople,andIcan’tcontrolanyofit.I’mnotevenawhoanymore.I’mawhat.I’mnotAributadesperateStarLunefanwithnosenseofreality.Thisisso…”Ican’tevenfindthewordsbutsinkintoachair,headinmyhandasIworktogetmybreathnormal.
“I’msorry,Ari.”
“Whatever,”Imutter.Thismessisn’tAlex’sfault,butIhavetheignobledesiretotakeitoutonsomeone,andJihoon,therealcauseoftheproblem,isn’there.“ForgetNewlightandStarLune.Ineedaplanforme.”
“Ari,weshouldtalkabouthowyoufeel—”
“Canyouhelpmeornot?”
“I’llcallyourfamily.Ifyoucomehome,youcanstayatthesamecondoasbefore,bothyouandHana.”Hehesitates.“Theremaybesomefansaroundyourapartmentagain.”
“Maybe?”
“Willdefinitelybe.”
Ishutmyeyes.“Thankyou.Canyoucallmyfamilyintwentyminutes?Iwanttotalktothemfirst.”
“Done.Tellmeifyouneedhelpwithflights.”
“Iwill.”
Icanbeupsetlater.NowIneedtotalktoDadbeforeAlexdoes.Idon’tditherbeforeIcallbecausethiscan’tbeoverfastenough.“Hi,Dad.”
“Ariadne.BackfromKorea?Ihopeyougotsomegoodworkdonesoyoucangetbacktoyourrealclients.”
“Soon.”IsitdownbecauseIfeelshaky.“AlexWilliamsfromHyphenRecordswillbecallingyouinafewminutes.”
Hechuckles.“Haveyouquitlawtogetarecorddeal?”
Imanageaweaknoisethatimpersonatesalaugh.“Ha,yeah.Veryfunny,Dad.DoyourememberJihoon?”
“Hecamefordinner.Nicekid.”
“He’saperformer,hereinKorea.He’sprettybig.”
“LikethatJustinBibber?”
“Bieberandkindof.”Icough.“Themediafoundoutwe’refriends,andAlexisworriedreportersmightcometalktoyou.”NoneedtogointothedetailsofwhatNewlightdid.
“Us?”Hesoundsconfused.“Why?”
“Tofindoutmoreaboutme.”
“Isee.”Heclickshistongueinhishabitualthinkingsound.“MakesureyoukeepRichardHavingsintheloop.”
“Ialreadyspoketohim.”
“Good.”
“Heputmeonamonth’sleavetoprotectthefirm’sreputation.”
“Hedid?”There’salongpause.“Itmakessensefromhisperspective.Youknowthiswillaffectyourchancesofbeingmadepartner.Thisisserious.”
Beingmadepartner.Heisn’tevenconcernedmynamehasbeenannouncedfortheworld,orenoughofit,todragthroughthemud.Partnerisallhecaresabout.“Iguessitmight.”
“Youweredoingsowell.Weweresoproudofyou.”
Were,notare.“Iknow,”Isay.
“What’sgoingonwithyou?I’dexpectthisfrom—”Hestopssuddenlytopreventthenextwords,whichIknowarePhoebe,notyou.
“Ididn’tplanthis.”Myanswerissharp,andDadreceivesitwithadisapprovingsilencethatsoarsacrossacontinentandanocean.Iknowfromthearticleshesendsthatheexpectsmetobecoolunderpressure,butthisisfarbeyondhandlinganunrulymeeting.
“We’llwaitforthecall,”hesays.“Iappreciatetheupdate.”
WhenhehangsupbeforeIcanreply,Iknowhe’smoreupsetthanIthought.Partofme,thatlittlegirlwhowillnevergrowup,wantstocallbackandbegforgivenessandtellhimthatI’llfixitwithRichard.
AtextcomesinfromPhoebe:Doyouknowyou’reahashtag?
Me:Yes
Phoebe:Youok?
Me:No
Phoebe:IpromiseIwon’ttellthemhowyoucriedwhenmomwashedyourteddybear.
Me:Thanks.
Phoebe:
IseeafewmissedcallsfromHana,butIdon’twanttotalktoanyone.
Instead,Igotomyroomandpack.Forty-Three
I’mnotsoimmaturethatI’mgoingtorunoffwithouttalkingtoJihoon.IamsufficientlyimmaturethatI’mreadytoleaverightafterItalkwithhimsincethere’snowayit’sgoingtobearewardingconversation.ThatfinalandstillunansweredtextIsenttohimstandsasthemostregrettedactionofmyentirelife,evenworsethanwhenIgotaperm.
TherearereasonsIneveropenmyselfup.Thedisappointment.Thehurt.Thehumiliationatreadingitallwrong.
IslickmyhairbackinitsusualbunandpullontheclothesIarrivedin.ThenIwait.
WhenJihoonarrivesbackattheapartment,it’snight,andtheSeoulbuildingsglowthroughthewindow.He’saloneandpausesatthedoortotakeoffhisshoes,headbentlowandhandlingeringonthewalltosupporthimself.
IstaysilentashecomesintothelivingroombecauseI’mnotsurewhattosay.Hejoinsmeatthewindow,eyeslingeringonmybun.“ThisisnothowIwantedittogo,”hesays.
“YoutoldthemIwasasasaeng.”It’snotevenaquestion.
“That’snotwhatIagreedNewlightwouldputout,”hesaysashereachesforme.Istepneatlytothesidetokeepsomedistancebetweenus,andhishandfallstohisside.
“No?”
“Iapprovedastatementthatsaidthephotowasmisleading.Ididn’twanttosayanythingatall,butthecompanyinsisted.”
Misleading.Ibitemycheek.“Whatexactlydidyouwantthestatementtosay?”
“Thatyouareafriendofmycousin.”
Iwaitbutthatseemstobeit.“Notthatwe’reinvolved.”
Hepullsonhisearring,theoneIgavehim.“No.ThestatementIwantedwouldbeclearthatwearenotinarelationship.Nowisnottherighttimetoannounceit.”
“What’ssobadaboutadmittingwe’retogether?”Idemand.“AmIthatterribleachoice?”
“I’msorry,Ari.There’snothingwrongwithusdating,butitneedstobeplannedcarefully.It’snotsafeforyou,andwealsoneedtofocusonourcomeback.Ican’tlettheothersdown,andI’dbetoodistractedwiththisifourrelationshipcameout.”
Atthepurelyintellectuallevel,it’squitetheexperiencetobedeniedsopublicly,especiallysinceweneverhadtheofficialWhatAreWerelationshiptalk.It’slikeakoan:Whatisthesoundofdumpingagirlfriendwhowasn’tagirlfriend?
“Whatdistraction?Youtellthemthetruth.Peoplewillunderstandyou’reentitledtoyourlife.”
Inthereflectiononthewindow,helookstiredandsodoI,mytightbuncausingunflatteringshadowstofallonmyface.
“Thecompanyoriginallywantedtoremovemefromtheband,”hesays.“Toapologizeandgoonhiatus.”
Istepback.“Forseeingsomeone?”
“Youknowsomefansdon’tlikeit,”hesays,rubbingthebackofhisneck.“TheywerecirculatingapetitiontohavemeremovedbecauseIwasn’tfullydedicatedtoStarLune.”
“That’swhatyoudid,then.Youletthemthrowmeunderthebusforyourcareerbecauseafewpeoplemadeafussaboutapartofyourlifetheyhavenorighttointerferewith.”IdesperatelywantatimemachinesoIcantakebackthatfuckingtext.
“No.Itoldthemtoissueacorrection.Kithyeongisattheofficefightingwiththemnow,butIneededtoseeyoutoexplain.”Hetakesmyhand.“Wecanfigurethisout.”
Ishakehimoff.“Youmadeyourchoiceclearly,unequivocally,andonaglobalplatform,”Isay.“YouletNewlightsmearmeinfrontofmillionsofpeople,andyoustoodaside.”
“Ican’topenlygoagainstourcompanylikethat,”hesays,runningaroughhandthroughhislavenderhair.“Youdon’tunderstand.I’mfightingback,butithastobedoneright.”
“It’snotenoughtohavethemsayI’mnotasasaeng.Therightthingistotellthetruth.”Thisisembarrassingnow,likeI’mforcinghimintoarelationshiphedoesn’twant.
“Ihadnochoice.Ari,youneedtounderstandwhat’satstake.I’vebeenwithStarLuneforoveradecade.Themembersaremyfamily.It’snotonlyaboutmebutalsotheirlivesandthecareersthey’vededicatedeverythingto.”
“Igetthat.”
“Thenyou’llunderstandthatwemakeourdecisionstogetherandalwayshave.It’sourgreateststrength.It’snotlikeIcanthreatentoleave.Ican’ttossStarLuneawayfor—”
Hehalts,andIfillintheblanks.“Forme,”Isay.
“Ididn’tmeanitlikethat.It’snotyou,Ari.It’sthetiming,that’sit.Iwantyouinmylife,butfornowwecan’tbepublic.Soon,Iswear.”
“Yousaidwewereworthfightingfor.”Whitelightslinethebridgeinthedistance.
“Weare.”
Thisactuallymakesmelaugh.“Itoldmyworkthatitwasalltrue,andtheyputmeonleave.Theywouldhaveanyway,butatleastIstoodupforus.YouwantedtomakesuretheworldknewIwasnothingtoyou.”
“That’snottrue.”Hetakesmyhandsbetweenhis.“It’sthatthisinvolvesmorethanus.Staywithme.Please.Givemeachance.”
“Willyouputoutthetruth?Rightnow?ThatI’mnotasasaengandwearedatingbecauseI’mmorethanyourcousin’sfriend?”
Hissilenceisanswerenough.Lateristhetimetodecidehowtoworkthroughthemixofshameandfurythatfillsme.Nowisthetimetogetoutofherewithwhat’sleftofmyprideintact.
“Ilostmyjob,”Itellhim.“Ilostmyreputation.Whatdidyoulose?”
“Youdon’tevenlikeyourjob.”
“It’swhatIchose,andit’sasvalid.Yourmoneyandfamedon’tmakeyoumoreimportant.Theydon’tmakeyournamemoreprecious.”Iglarehim.“Youaren’tevenhappywithwhatyoudo.Orwasallthatanguishaboutfindingyourtrueartisticselfanotherlie?”
Theflashofpainonhisfaceisinstantlyreplacedwithanger,andhepinsmewithalook.“You’rereadytoleavenomatterwhatIsay.”
“That’snottrue.”
“No?Iseeyourbags,Ari,sodon’ttellmeaboutgivingupwhenyouhitanobstacle.”Hedoesn’twaitformetoreply.“It’sawful,butnooneelseisaffectedifyouloseyourjob.Withme,theentireteamisimpacted.”
“Thenit’sanumbersgametoyou.Thisway,onlyIgethurt,andit’sworthitifeveryoneelseishappy.”
“Ididn’tsaythat.”
“Youdidn’thavetosaytheexactwords.Thesentimentisclearenough.YouchoseStarLune.”
“You’retheonemakingmechoose,Ari.Givemesometime.”
IttakesmeamomenttofindmybreathbecauseI’mlivid.“EverytimeIapplyforajob,peoplewhosearchmeonlinewillseethis,asifbeingyourstalkerisallIhavetooffer.”
“ItoldyouIdidn’twantthattogoout.”Hisusuallylowvoiceisrisingtomatchmine.
“Yeah,that’swhatyousay,butlet’slookatwhatyoudid.Youdidn’tretractit.”
“We’reworkingonit.”
“Ifyou’dwanteditdone,itwouldbedone.You’dhavefoundaway.I’mgoingtohavetorebuildmylife,whileyourbiggestproblemwillbehavingDaehyun’snamefirstonthecreditsforthesongyou’regoingtowriteaboutthis.”
Jihoonreachesout,butIstepbackwithmyhandup.“Nowayareyoucomingnearme.”Ishakemyhead.“YouknowwhatIsaidinmylasttext?”Thingscan’tgetworse,soImightaswelladdressthiselephantinmymind.
“Yes.”
“Forgetit.Forgetthisallhappened.”
“Ari,please.”Hisvoiceissosoft.“Iwanttotalktoyouaboutthat.Iwaswaiting.Let’stalk.”
Iturntothewindowandanswerhisreflection.“No.”
Hebowshishead.“Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
Thenhe’stheonetoleave.Forty-Four
Idon’tcryinthecarbutlookroughenoughthatYeongcastsworriedglancesthroughtherearviewmirror.FinallyIgivehimabriefsmile.He’saniceguy,andIdidn’tevengetachancetobuyhimathank-yougift.
“Gwaenchanayo?Okay?”heasksslowlyenoughformetounderstand.
“Gwaenchanayo.”I’mnot,I’mamess,butthere’snowayYeongispaidenoughtodealwithmydrama.
He’sunconvinced,andthelanguagebarrierisenoughthatwehavetoleaveitatthat.Hissilentsympathyflowstothebackseat,whereIhuddleagainstthedoor.
Ididn’tseeJihoonagain,butthatcouldbebecauseIleftassoonasIwassureIwouldn’tseehiminthehall.Yeongwasalreadyinthelobby,soIdidn’tneedtocallacab,whichwasconvenientsinceacommontaxiprobablycouldn’tpenetrateJihoon’sfamous-personsecurity.IwonderedifYeonghadbeenaskedtowait,ifJihoonknewIwouldleave.Orifhewantedmeto.
Yeongdropsmeoffundertheawningofaluxuryhotelthatglowsgoldandunloadsmybags.Webothbow,himwithconsiderablymoregracethanme.
“Gamsahamnida,”Isay,proudIrememberhowtosaythankyou.Alowbar,andIshouldaimhigherthantoddler-levelKoreanwheninSeoul.RichardoncetoldmeaclienthadtoimprovehisEnglishifhewantedtobetakenseriously.Hedidn’tsayanythingwhenIpointedoutitwastheman’ssixthlanguageandmostpeopleatYesterlyandHavingsspokeonlyonedespitelearningFrenchinschool.
Confirmed:Richardtrulyisadick.
ThemomentYeongdrivesaway,Isearchmyphoneforanotherhotel.Idon’twantJihoonfindingme,eventhoughIsuspectitwon’tbeaproblem.Hemadehischoice,anditwasn’tme.Despitetheprettywords,itwasnevergoingtobemebecauseIcan’twinagainsthisrelationshipswithhisbandmatesandhisfans.Enjoyingmycompanyisn’tenoughwhenhestacksitupagainsthisentirelifeandlifestyle,theroutinesandhabitsofhisworld.
WhileIhavemyphoneout,IblockJihoon’snumberandhisemail.We’vesaidwhatweneeded.MyhandhardlyshakesasIpickupmybagsandheadtothenewhotel,acomfortablemiddle-rangeplacethat’sagoodtwostarsbelowtheoneYeongleftmeat.Icollapseonthebedaftercheckingin.Ineedtobookaflightout.IneedtocallHana.Alex.Ineed…todonothing.
Anhourlater,Istopstaringattheceilingandlookatmyphone,whichhasaccumulatedmessageslikeplaque.Idon’thavetheenergytocheckthroughthembutsendatexttoHanatosayI’mheadinghome.AsecondgoestoAlex,askingforhelpwithaplanetickettoTorontoassoonaspossible.
Alex:Done.Flightleavestomorrow.Checkyouremail.I’llmeetyouatPearson.
Iswingmyfeettothefloorandstretch,thoughtsziggingthroughmyzaggingmind,whenPhoebecalls.“WetalkedtothatAlexguy,”shesayswithoutpreamble.
“HowmadwasDad?”
“Worryaboutyourselffirst,”shesays.“Thiswon’tsendhimintoaheartattack.”
“Whatif—”
“Ari,enough.He’sanadultandcapableoftakingcareofhimself.Thequestionishowareyou?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.“It’salot.”
“DidyoutalktoJihoon?”
Isnort.“DidIever.”
“Itdidn’tgowell?”
“Yousawthestatement.”
“Yeah,Alexshowedus.”
Great,nowmywholefamilyknowsmyshame.“AfterhetoldtheworldIwasastalker,hesaidhedidn’twantanyonetoknowaboutourrelationship.Asafinale,hepickedhisbandoverme.I’mleavingforTorontotomorrow.”
Phoebegroans.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’teventalkitoverwithhim.”
Igoggleatthephone.“Ididtalktohim.Howdoyouthinkthishappened?Telepathy?”
“Didyoukeepanopenmind?Hewasprobablyinatoughplace.”
“Thebestwaytogetoutofthatplacewasnottobrandmeasasaeng.”
Phoebemakesanasalnoisethatsoundslikedisagreement.“Thatwasabadchoiceforsure,buthiscompanydidthat,nothim.”
“Ifhehadhisway,thestatementwouldhavesaidIwasnobody.That’sarealstepup.”
“It’snotfantastic,butyouknowit’snotsafetobenamedasMin’sgirlfriend.”
“First,I’mmorethanMin’sanything.Second,you’retakinghisside.”Ipacetheroom.“Ican’tbelieveyou.”
“OfcourseI’mnot,butitdoesn’tsoundlikeyouwerereadytohearhimout.”
“That’srichcomingfromyouofallpeople.You’resoscaredofpeopleknowingtherealyouthatyoumovearoundtheworldtoavoidit.Youcan’tevenholdajobdown.”
Shesucksinherbreath.“Doesn’tlooklikeyoucaneither,doesit?”shesaysvenomously.
Idon’tevenanswer.Ihangupandturnthephoneoff.
Stompingindignantlyaroundtheroommutteringtomyselfisn’tenough.Ineedtogetthehellout.Ileavemyphonebythebedbutmakesuretowritedownthehotel’snamebeforehittingthestreet,becauseifthere’sonethingthismomentrequires,it’scomfortcarbs.Ilosemyselfinthefast-flowingcrowd,seekingoutsomeofHana’srecommendedSeoulstreetfoods.Noonelooksatmebecauseeveryoneisthinkingaboutthemselves:theirownheartbreaksandjoysandboredomsanddreams.EventuallyIcomeacrossavendorstirringadeliciouslyfragrantbubblingpanfilledwithredsauceandthicknoodlethingsthatIrecognizeastteokbokkiandexactlywhatIneed.
Withdoublethecheese,thecontainerhasasatisfyingheftwhenIgiveatestliftinmyhand.Isitonabenchandbrieflywonderifit’srudetoeatonthestreetsbeforeshrugginganddigginginwiththelittlewoodenstick.Thericecakesarepillowy,andthesaucehastheperfectamountofsweetspice.
Aftereating,Idriftlikeasatedjellyfishthroughthecrowds,stomachfullandmindvacant.Inthenearfuture,withinhoursinfact,I’llhavetomakesomedecisions,butrightnowIallowmyselftheindulgenceofnotthinking.
OrItryto.Itryveryhard,butallIcanpictureismyphone,abandonedupstairsinmyhotelroom.It’sSchr?dinger’sphone,keepinganyandalloptionspossible,fromJihoon’spublicreversalanddeclarationoflovetosomeothermasshumiliation.It,andbyextensionme,existsinazoneofpossibility.Despitewhathappened—anditwasobjectivelylousy—I’mnotreadytoadmitit’scompletelyoverwithJihoon.AslongasIdon’tlookatthatphone,there’shope.
Whatasad,desperatepersonIam.
“That’spathetic,”IwhispertothecoloredcontactlenseslinedupagainstthewallofthestoreI’veendedupinwithoutnoticing.“Youarebeingpitiful.”
Backatthehotel,Iavoidlookingatmyphonetokeepthattinyflameofhopealiveandinsteadsetthealarmonthehigh-techclockthat’spartofthewall.Onenightofavoidingmyproblemsisacceptable.OnenightandtomorrowI’llstartfresh.
Fresh,jobless,andalone.
Happydigitalchirpswakemeup.Isilencethealarmandlieback,tinglestrailingupanddownmylegsasItrytopinpointwhat’swrong,becausethingsaren’tright.I’mnotevensurewherethehellIam.
Thenerve-rackingignoranceonlylastsafewmoresecondsbeforemyeyesflyopenandIsitupright,alreadyqueasyatthethoughtofhavingtoendurethisday.IcanavoiditforabitlongerbynotlookingatmymessagesuntilafterIshower.
Nope.MyhandsmightaswellbecontrolledbyapuppeteerbecausetheyreachformyphonebeforeIknowI’mdoingit
Firstthetexts.Hana’scompassionliftsoffthescreen,afoiltomysister’squestionmarksandnotetellingmetogrowup.Yukowithavirtualhugviaemoji.Mydad,wantingtoknowhowIplantoconvinceRichardtogivememyjobback.
Theemails.OnefromKarinathecommunicationsmanagerthatgetsinstantlydeleted.InescasuallymentionsthatYesterlyandHavingsassignedanewlawyerandshe’slookingforwardtomyreturn.Spammessagesremindingmeit’stimetotakeadvantageofsales.TherearealsoastreamofmessagesfromStarryswhomusthavefiguredoutmyaddressfromotherYesterlyandHavingsemails.TheseIdeleteenmassewithoutdoingmorethanglancingattheall-cappedandunflatteringsubjectlines.ThenIremovemyYesterlyandHavingsaccountfrommyphoneforgoodmeasure.
Irefusetolookatsocialmediaanddragmyassoutofbedtomakecoffee,eachsteptakingallmyfocus.Rinsethemug.Riflethroughthepodstofindadarkroast.Insertpod.Swearatforgottenwater.Addwater,reinsertpod.Watchthelittledialshowmehowlongitwilltakeuntilthewaterheats.
Don’tthinkofanythingelse.Onlyeachdripofcoffee.
Themugcomesintotheshowerwithme,wherehotwaterbeatsdownonmyheadasIsipthegraduallydilutingandincreasinglysoapyespresso.
Everythinghappensasitshould.Icheckoutandpay.GetinacabandgotoIncheon.Checkin.Wanderaroundthebeautifulairportstaringmindlesslyatgatenumbersandduty-freestoresanddodgingfellowtravelers.Thedayisbrightandsunny,andtheclearblueskythroughthewindowsmakesmefeelsmallandleaden.
Inthebusiness-classlounge,thefirstthingIdoislookforJihoon,becausethat’swhatshouldhappen,right?Hecomesrushingintorevealhisloveandatonefortheerrorofhiswaysbyfillingtheloungewithsurpriseflowersandballoons.Theremightbeaband.Thereshouldabsolutelybeone,sincehe’sinagoddamnbandthathevaluesovereverything.Atleastanacousticguitar.
There’snoband.Noflowersexceptforsomedecorativewillowbranchesinvases.Theonlypeopleareboredbusinesstravelerspeckingatdevicesandadjustingtheirdarksuits.That’swhenithitsmethatwearedone.
Igointothebathroomandcry.
Notforlong,though,becauseIhavethingstodo.OnceItakemyredandpuffyeyesbacktothelounge,IdeleteJihoon’sinformation,feelingnothingasmyfingerstaphimoutofmylife.ItellHanaI’mgoodbutneedsomespace.ThenIrunoutofsteam.
Luckily,theloungeisfancyandfilledwithdistractionslikeelegantlittlematchacakesandmochiandabar.IverycarefullyhidemyphoneinmybaganddownthreevodkasodasbeforeIboardtheplaneandfallasleep.Forty-Five
“Hey,Ari.”Alex’svoicecomesinadistressinglymildwayovermyphoneasIwaitformyluggageinToronto,headachy,miserable,andwithatonguesodryIcantapMorsecodeonit.“There’sabitofanissue.”
“Ofcoursethereis.Icangetacab.Istheinvitationtothesecretcondoopen?”
“Sorry,thatwasambiguous.I’mhere.TheproblemisI’mnotalone.”
Igetafive-dollarbottleofwaterfromthevendingmachineandtakeasipthatgetsabsorbedintomymouthbeforeIcanevenswallow.ThosevodkasIhadintheloungeinIncheonwerenottheonlyonesoverthecourseoftheflight,andIregretthedecisionsthatbroughtmetothispointbecauseit’shardtocopewhensimultaneouslydrunkandhungover.“Notalone.”
“LookslikesomeonegotyourphotoatIncheonairportandpeopleherefiguredoutflights.I’mlookingat”—Ihearsomemutteredcalculations—“yeah,I’dsaythreecameracrewsandagoodfiftyfans.”
“Why?”Theluggageconveyorbeltstartsup,andthefirstbagdrops.
“Doyouwantmetogointoanexpositiononthecultofcelebrityandparasocialrelationshipsinmodernsocietyandhowit’sasubstituteforthesenseofcommunitywelostinthepostindustrialera?”
“No.Dotheylookmad?Liketheywanttotearmeapart?”
Hehums.“I’dsaycurious.”
“Great.”
“Areyouokay?”heasks.“Yousoundbad.”
“Vodka.”
“Shit,Ari.”
“Givemeabreak,Alex.”
“Didyouchange,orareyouintheblackjoggersandwhiteshirtyouwerewearingwhenyouleft?”
“HowdidyouknowwhatIwaswearing?”
“Socialmedia.”
Idon’tevenhavetheenergytobehorrified.“OfcourseIdidn’tchange.”Isatonmyasstenkilometersupintheskyforatrillionhoursbeingunhappy,watchingterriblemoviesIcouldbarelyhearoverthethrumoftheplaneandfallingasleep/passingout.Wasitahealthywaytocope?Whatever.
“That’sgood,Icanrecognizeyou.Putyourhairinabraid.Haveahat?”
“No.”
“Mask?”
Ifishacrumpledoneoutofmypocket.“Yes,andsunglasses.”
“Good.You’veseenmediafootageofwhatitcanbelike,”hesays.“Therewillbecamerasandnoise,peopleshoutingyourname.Uh,orotherthings,soIneedyoutoignorethatandkeepwalking.”
“Whatkindofthings?”
“Idon’tknow,ridiculousstuffaboutleavingJihoonalone.”Hesighs.“Tuneitout.Ifthey’rehereattheairporttoseeyou,theyprobablyhaveanunbalancedperspectiveontheirrelationshipwiththebandaswell.”
“I’lltry.”
“Good.Godowntherightramp,andI’llbeaboutthreemetersawayfromtheconveniencestorewearingaredhat.”
Myfirstbagslidesdowntothecarousel.“Anunusualfashionstatement.”
“I’dliketoneverspeakofitagain,butthere’sagoodchanceZZTVwillhaveitplasteredontheirhomepageinabouteightminutes.”
Wehangup.Itugmybagstothefloorandmakemywaytoarrivals.Alexwasn’tlying.Assoonasthedooropenstorevealme,amancallsmyname,andabarrageoflightsgoesoff.Idon’tknowhowAlexexpectsmetokeepmovingwithoutfallingovermyfeet,butIdomybest,eventhoughmyeyesarebuggingoutbehindmyshadesandmybackbendswithmorethantheweightofthenewclothesinmybags.Awomanscreams,“JihoonlovesStarrys,notyou,loser.”Iautomaticallyturntoanswer,butavoicesoundsbesideme.
“C’mon,girl.”InearlythrustmyarmoutforprotectionbeforeIrecognizeAlexinhisredhat.“Let’sgo,you’redoingsogood.Getyourheadhigh,that’sright.”
Hetakesmybags,continuingtomurmurlikeI’maskittishhorse,andleadsmeouttoacar,wherehehandstheluggagetoawomanandushersmein.Thecameracrewshavefollowedusout,andItrynottoduck.
Herunshisfingersoverhishead,hideoushatdiscardedontheseatbesidehim.“Areyouokay?”
“No.Thatwasweird.”
“Iknow.”Hisquietwordsaresympathetic.Wedon’thavethekindofrelationshipwherewehug,butthatgoesoutthewindowwitheverythingelseI’vecometoexpectfrommylifewhenAlexpullsmeinclose.Iburymyfaceinhisexpensivelycladshoulderandlethimpatmybackuntilthehotfeelingfadesfrommyeyes.Iwon’tcry.Iwon’t
“Jihooncontactedme,”hesays.
Ipullaway.“WhendidheturnfromMr.ChoitoJihoon?”
Alexadjustshislapel.“AboutthetwelfthtimeIhadtofieldacallfromhimsinceyesterday.Hanawon’ttalktohim,andhewasterrifiedyouwereindanger.Hewantstotalktoyou.”
Thistime,Ilookhimrightintheeyes.“Mr.Superstardoesn’talwaysgetwhathewants.”
“That’sunfair.”
“Iappreciateyourhelpingettingmehomeandthroughthatclusterfuckatarrivals,butscrewyou,Alex.”
There’sapause.“Ideservedthat.Whatareyourplans?”
“Totakesometimetothink.”I’veneverhadthat.Iwentfromhighschooltouniversitytolawschoolandstraighttowork.Atgraduation,myfriends’parentsgotthemcopiesofOh,thePlacesYou’llGo!withtearyhandwrittenvariationsoftheworldisyours,exploreandbehappy.Igotthegratificationofmeetingexpectations.
“YoucanhaveHyphen’scondoforaslongasyouwant.WehavesomeplacesforyouandHanatolookatifyoutakemyverystrongsuggestionthatyoumove.Shesaidshe’sbacknextweek.”
“YouspoketoHana?”
“Shewantedtotalkaboutthestatement.Theyellingmademyearsring.”
WepassthesilversilosoftheMolson’sbrewery,thegiganticCanadianflaghanginglimpanddejected.“Itwasanassholemoveforthemtodo.”
“Forus,yes.Forthem,self-preservationandprotectingtheirinvestment.”Heponders.“Also,theyarekindofassholes.”
Imusthavefallenasleep,becausethenextthingIknow,Alexisshakingmeawake.“We’rehere.”
Hecomeswithmeupstairsandpointsouthehadthefridgefilledwithgroceries.Thenhetellsmetokeepalowprofileand“fortheloveofGodandyourownmentalhealth,don’tgoonsocialmedia.Atleastyouraccountsareprivate.”
WhenI’malone,Iputdownmybagsandliedownonthecouch.
ThenIcryagain,butit’sthelasttime.Iswear.Forty-Six
Therearerecurringproverbsinculturesaroundtheworldthatindicateacertainuniversalnaturetospecificpartsofthehumanexperience.
Itneverrainsbutitpours.
Badthingsneverwalkalone.
Poorluckcomesinthrees.
Allroundaboutwaysofsayingwhenlifesucks,itsuckshard.
Afewmonthsago,ifyouhadaskedmetowriteapersonalprofile,itwouldhavesaidI’malawyerwithastrongworkethicandnotmuchelse.Itwouldn’thavetouchedonthefactthatIamalsoapparentlyappallingatself-reflection—althoughlookingback,thetersenessofthatmockprofilemakesitabundantlyclear—andghastlywhenitcomestohandlingabreakupwithfinesse.
ApparentlyI’malsoamasochist.Insteadoftryingtoclimboutofthisfunk,IlieonthecouchwithmygreasybangshanginglimponmyforeheadandwatchallStarLune’svideos,eyesgluedtoJihoon.Then,forfun,Itorturemyselfwiththeirlatestonlinechats.KitandDaehyuneatsomegimbap,andXinshowsabouthalfamillionpeoplealoopholeinsomevideogame.It’sallverynormalguystuffplayedoutinfrontofahugeaudiencewithlongpausestostareatthescreenandrespondtofancomments.IsitthroughalloftheminthehopesofseeingJihoon.Orhearinghisname.
Tragic,butatleasttherearenowitnessestomyshame.
Anewvideowaspostedlastnight,andit’ssubtitled,soIdebatebetweenheatingupaboxoffrozensimulatedchick’nnuggets,whichisallthecookingIcanhandle,orwatchingit.Mylaptoptakesthedecisionoutofmyhandsthroughthemiracleofauto-play.Lookslikethenuggetswillhavetowaittwenty-eightminutesandsevenseconds.
It’sSangjun,whomInevermetproperlybutisnowasfamiliartomeasmyownfamilyfromtheamountI’veseenhimthroughvariousmedia.Helooksdrained,darkeyespeekingoverawhitefacemaskheeventuallytugsunderhischin.Isipfromthecanofwarm,flatDietCokebalancedonmychestbesidemylaptopandlistentoamanIdon’tknowspeakinalanguageIdon’tunderstand.
Whenthedooropensbehindhim,heseemshonestlyshockedtoseeJihoon.Iam,too,somuchsothatIjoltuprightandtopplethecanonmylap.Ignoringthepopsoakingmysweatpants,Ibringthescreencloserasmyheartbeatshardenoughtodrownoutwhatthey’resaying.LikeSangjun,Jihoon’seyesareabitpuffyandringedwithpurple.He’sbundledinanoversizebluejacketwiththehoodpulledupsofar,italmostcomesdowntohiseyebrows,andhishandsaretuckedinthefrontpockets.
Thechattotheleftgoesevenfasterthanbeforewithlittlestarandmoonemojisandmissyouoppa!Myeyestogglebetweenthesubtitles,thechat,andwatchingJihoonbeforeIgiveupandadmitI’mgoingtowatchthedamnthingatleastthreetimestofocusoneachone.
Atleastthere’snotalottoparseoutbecauseit’sbanal.JihoonsayshewasintheNewlightbuildingdoingsomeworkandwantedtosayhitoStarrys.Thetwomenstareatthescreen,frowningoccasionallyatthecommentsandbrieflytriggeringmyregretthatJihoon’sbandmembershavebeenpulledintoourmess.ThenJihoon’smouthgivesasadtwist,quickenoughtomisshadInotbeenstaringunblinkingly.Hegivesalittlewaveandsayshe’sofftothestudio.HavingmasteredthesubtitlesandfeastedmyeyesonwhatlittleofJihoonIcansee,Ireplayforthecomments.
Ishouldnothavedonethis.MostofthemareabouthowmuchtheyloveStarLuneinavarietyoflanguages,butoccasionallysomeonewillwriteinEnglish.
Isthatwomanstillbotheringyou,oppa?Youdeservebetter.
Sheshouldbeinjail.
Loveusfirst,Jihoon.
I’mgladyou’reokay,Min.Shewasabadperson.
ThenIseethecommentthatmadeJihoonreact.Minoppa,youlooksad.Don’tbesad.Youdeservehappiness.
IgobacktothevideoandnoticesomethingImissedbecauseIwaslookingathisface.Jihoonmakesthetiniestgesturewithhishandbeforehegoes,touchinghisthumbandhispinkietogether.It’sthesameonewedecidedon,thesilentI’mthinkingaboutyou.
Islamdownthecoverofmylaptop.That’senoughfortoday.
Aftertwomoredays,trialanderrorshowsmetheexactformulaforrespondingwiththeleastamountofefforttokeepthepeopleinmylifeoffmycase.Thisgivesmeplentyoftimetolieonthecouchandthinkbigthoughts,whichincludebutarenotlimitedto:
Mycareer,whichisintattersandIshouldattendtoposthaste.
Myreputation,nowtrashedbyNewlight.Atleastthegossipisdyingdown,helpedbythefirmAlexhiredthatspecializesinrestoringonlinereputations.
NewapartmentsIshouldbeviewinganddon’twantto.
Jihoon,whohungmeouttodry.
Climatechange,anenormousproblemIcontributetobyexisting.
Myonlineshopping,whichIshouldchillonbecausenooneneedssevenpairsofsweatpantsandconsumerismleadsdirectlytothepointabove.AlsoIdon’thaveajobtopayforit.
Dad,whoisaftermedailyaboutYesterlyandHavingsandhasofferedtointercedewithRichard.
Phoebe,becauseIdon’twanttofightwithher.
AllthismeansIdon’tdoadamnthing,evenwhenInesemailshowmuchshelovedthemusicproposalIsentbeforemyentirelifewentdownthedrain.Itossmyphonedown,unabletosummonthemotivationtoreply,letalonereplyenthusiastically.
I’mbusynotthinkingaboutanyoftheseissueswhenthere’saknockatthedoor.Sinceitmightbethedeliveryofanotheroutfitdesignedfortheslothlife,Iforcemyselfoffthecouch,wheremybodyhasstretchedanindentintheleathercushions,andcheckthepeephole.
Phoebestaresrightback.“Openthedoor,Ari.Iknowyou’reinthere.Icansmellthepizzaboxes.”
WhenIdo,sheshoulderspastbeforeIevensayhello,leavingmetocloseandlockthedoorbehindher.Phoebeputsherbagofgroceriesonthecounterandsurveysthesurroundings,gazepickingoutthehalf-emptytakeoutcontainers,balled-upsocks,andopenlaptop,thenlingeringontheemptybottlesofwine.Ihavenodefense.Itlooksbad,theportraitofawomanwhohas100percentlosttheplot.
Becauseitisinfacttheapartmentofawomanwhohasatleast96percentlosttheplot.
“Howdidyougetthroughsecurity?”Ifinallyask.
“Ihavemyways,”shesays.“Itsmellslikearaccoon’sassinhere.”
“Howwouldyouknow?Beenhangingwithalotofraccoons?”
Shedoesn’tdignifymyfeebleretortwithareply,insteadmarchingtothekitchen,whereshepullsoutabowlandaforkandthenopensthecontainerofprecutfruitshebrought.Thesweetsmellofpineapplespillsout,andthecornerofhermouthturnsupwhenshehearsmystomachgrumble.
“Here.”Sheshovesthebowlover,andItakeabite,mysalivaryglandsachingwiththefirsttasteoffreshnessI’vehadindays.WhileIeat,sherummagesunderthesinkforagarbagebag,fillsitwithtrashbeforesheevenleavesthekitchen,andthengrabsanothertotacklethelivingroom.
Iwanttotalktoherbutcan’tfindawayoverthewallofourfight.Youdon’tbleed,ever.Youdon’tknowyourselfatall.ArichtideofunwarrantedbitternessrisesinmetowardJihoon.It’shisfaultI’mhere,unsteadyandconfused,insteadofpoweringmywaytoacorneroffice.LousyJihooncameintomylifewithhislousyheart-over-headideasanddamnit.
IwatchPhoebeworkandtrytoexcavatethewordsstuckinmythroat,thatI’msorry.Aretheythehardestwordstosay?Betterorworsethansayingyou’reimportanttome?
BetterorworsethansayingIloveyou?
“Spititout.You’regivingmeaheadache.”Phoebecracksapizzaboxinhalftofititinthebag.
“Spitwhatout?”Ican’thelpfallingintomyolddefensivepattern.
“Ari.”Phoebedoesn’tlookupasshemovesaroundthelivingroom,asifI’mawaryanimalshedoesn’twanttoantagonizewitheyecontact.“Sayit.”
AtYesterlyandHavings,Ihadtoholdmybowcarefullyandcalculatetheimpactandthemeaningofeachwordbeforereleasingit.Nowthewordstumbleoutinelegantly,likeachildemptyingaboxofblocksontothefloor.
“I’msorryforwhatIsaid,Phoebe.I’msorryIwantedtoholdontomyangermorethanIwantedtobeagoodsister.Ishouldhavereachedoutinsteadofblamingyoufordoingthesamethingasme.”
Hereyeshavewidenedwitheveryword.“Thatwasn’twhatIexpected.”
I’mpantingfromtheeffortofgettingallthatout.“What’dyouthinkIwasgoingtosay?”
“ThatI’mafailurewhodoesn’tknowwhatshe’stalkingabout.”Whenshelooksatme,hereyesglimmer.“IknowyouandDadthinkthere’ssomethingwrongwithmebecauseIhavenosavings.Nohome.Noambitiontobethebest.”
IwanttoprotestthatIdon’tthinkthatatall,butshe’dknowitwasalie.Instead,Isay,“It’sdifferentfromhowIlive.”
“Thatdoesn’tmakeitbad.Youwerepartlyrighttheotherday.Imightbescaredtosettledown,butwhatyoudon’tgetisthatIwouldn’tchangemylifeatall.Ilovemovingaroundandmeetingnewpeople.It’showIam,anditmightnotbewhatDadwantsorwhatyourespect,butit’smylife.Notyoursandnothis.”
Ifeelworse.Iletmyenvy—becausenowit’sclearwhatitwas—blockmefromthejoyshehasinlivinghowshewants.Icouldhavebeenpartofthat,too.Icouldhavevisitedher.Icouldhavewidenedmyhorizons,butIwastedallthattime.Allthoseexperiences.Allthatlife
Phoebedoesn’tmovefromthelivingroom,wheresheworkstheedgeofthegarbagebagbetweenherfingers,theplasticstretchingthinandalmostsplitting
Shedoesn’tlookup.“Youlikebeingthegoodgirl,withallthepraiseandtheheadpats.”Hersmiletwistsasshedropsthegarbagebagtotheground.Webothignoretheboxesthatspillout.“Youneededmeasafoil.Can’thaveagoodgirlunlessthere’sabadone.”
I’mahorribleperson,becauseshe’srightagain.She’skickingmewhenI’mdown,butIdeserveit,andthisneedstobesaid.Iletmyselfthinkshewasamesstomakemyselffeelbetter.I’msoarrogant.
Youdon’tbleed,ever.Youdon’tknowyourselfatall.
Thisiswhy.Becauseithurtswhenyouhavetodigdeep.
“Idon’tknowwhattodo,”Isay.“Idon’thowtobreakthishabit.”
“Ariadmittingshedoesn’tknowhowtodosomething?”
That’sit.Thetearscomehotandhard,spillingfromthedamIstuffallmyfeelingsbehind.“I’msorry.”It’sallIcansaybecauseeveryemotionhascometothosetwowords,overandover
“Youknow,”shesaysconversationally,“I’mtheoneintherapy,butyoushouldbetherebesideme.You’vegotsomeissues.”
“Iwanttofixthis.”
Sheholdsupherhand.“Let’sunpackthis‘fixing’idea.You’reimportantandpartofmylife,butIamaboutme.Youareaboutyou.”ShekicksthegarbagebagasidetowalkacrosstheroombeforegrabbingmyarmssoIhavenochoicebuttolookupather.“It’snotaboutfixingbecauseit’snotbroken.We’retwopeoplewithsomebaggagethatwe’llworkthroughbecauseweloveeachother.”
Shemustseemyconfusionbecauseshesmiles,andthistime,it’sgentle.“We’llbethereforeachother.Don’tjudgeme.It’sallIeverwantedfromyou,andyou’venevergivenittome.Idon’tthinkIgaveittoyoueither.”
Itakeadeepbreath.Myskinisraw.Mythroatisdry.“That’sit?”
“Imean,it’llprobablybeabitbumpyatfirst,butyeah.Wemoveforwardfromhere.Webehereforeachother.”
“I’msorryIwasahostilejerk.”
“I’msorryIsnitchedonyoutoMomandDadtotakethepressureoffmeforfailinggymwhenyoutriedtochangetheBtoanAonyourreportcardingradefour.”
“Iknewit.Iknewthatwasyou!”Myforgeryhadbeenperfect.I’dbeengroundedforamonth,threeweeksforgettingtheBinthefirstplaceandthenaweekforthelying.
Sheputsherarmaroundme.“YouknowIloveyou.”
“Ditto.”
“Ari,jeez,c’mon.”
Itouchmyheadtohersandtakeadeepbreath.“Iloveyou,too.”
“Good.”Sheclapsherhandstogether.“Nowit’stimetotalkaboutyou.”
“I’drathernot.”
“Iknow,butHanagotmynumberfromthatAlexguyandtextedme,”shesays.“Saysyou’reamess.”
“Thanks.”
“NotlikeIcouldn’tseethatformyself,”shecontinues.“Dudesuredidanumberonyou.”
“Aren’tyouonJihoon’sside?”There’sthebittermecomingoutagain,andIwince.“Ididn’tmeanitlikethat.”
“Ithinkyoudid,butyou’reclearlyoutofpractice,soI’llletitpass.Fortherecord,Ididn’tsayhewasablamelessangel,onlythatyoucouldhavestayedtotalkitoutinsteadoftakingoff.”Shesettlesintothehighstoolbesideme.“Nowitlookslikeyou’renotevenmad.”
Iforkupmorepineapple.“HowcanIbemadheputtheneedsofthecollectiveoverme?”
“BecausethisisnotStarTrekII:TheWrathofKhanandheisnotSpock?”
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“WrathofKhan?WhenSpock…”Shesighs.“Nevermind.Thepointishedidn’thavetomakethatchoice.”
“Hefelthedid.Isn’titthesamething?”Ishakemyhead.“Iknowhewasunderalotofpressure.”
“Youcanbeangryaboutit.”
“It’sjust…”Ipushthepineappleaway.“Evenifhedidn’tknowtheyweregoingtosayIwassomesortofdeludedfan,healsodidn’twanttotellthetruth.”
“You’resadbecausehebrokeyourtrust.”
Idropmyhead.“Iguess.NottomentionDad’sfuriouswithme.Worse,he’sdisappointed.”
“Ohno.Holdup.Let’stacklethatone.It’sokayifpeoplearedisappointed.It’smoreaboutthemthanyou.”
“Iguess,”Isayuncertainly.
“Iknowyou’veinternalizedsomeshitaboutneedingtobestableorresponsible,butMomandDadaren’tmadeofglass.Youdon’tneedtostructureyourlifearoundthem.”
“Dad’sinvestedinmebeingalawyer.Itmeansalottohim.”
“Who’smoreinvestedinyourlife?Youorhim?”
Iknowthecorrectanswerisme,butIdon’tknowifit’sthehonestone.
Phoebeputsherelbowsonthecounter.“Look,yourlifeisnotDad’slife.Youcan’tkeeptryingtofulfillwhathecouldn’t.”
Ifrown.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Allthisbiglawstuff.”
“Daddidn’twanttobeinalawfirm.Hewantedhisownbusiness.”That’swhathealwaystoldus,thathewantedthefreedomofdoinghisownthing.
“Hedidn’thaveachoice.Youthinkit’sbadnow?HowmanyBayStreetfirmsdoyouthinkwerehiringChineselawyersbackthen?”
“Thatdoesn’tmeanhegotrejected.”
Shelooksuncomfortable.“ImayhaveoverheardhimtalkingtoMomwhenwewereyounger.Hedidn’tcomeoutandsayit,butitwasclearwhathappened.”
“Youmighthavemisinterpreted.”
“Possibly,butcanyoulookatyourfirmandtellmeI’mwrong?”
She’snotbut…“I’mnotsurewhatyou’retryingtosay.Ifanything,thismakesmefeelworse.”
“No,no.”Sheshakesherheadsohard,herhairfliesout.“That’stheexactoppositeofthepointI’mmaking.Again,it’sgotnothingtodowithyou.ThisisaDadthing.”
“WhatdoIdo,then?Aboutthiswholemess?”
Sheletsmechangethesubject.“Ican’ttellyouthat,”shesays.“Idoknownothingwillhappenifyousithereinthisdirtyapartmentfeelingsorryforyourself.That’snottheAriIknow.Nowgetoffyourduff.I’mnotdoingallthiscleaningbymyself.”
Thefreshapartmentsparksaneedforchange,whichmeansit’stimetomakesomeplans.ThedayafterPhoebe’svisit,IgotoHighParkandclimbasmallfencetoreachmyfavoritepicnicbenchbesideGrenadierPond.It’swarm,soIcansitinthewanautumnsunlighttoassessmychoices.
Ispreadmynotebooktoafreshpageandjotdownalistofoptionsformyfuturelife.
YesterlyandHavings
Ines
Travel
Backtoschool
Liveoffthelandasahermit
Other(pleasespecify)
Ileavethenotebooktowalkafewstepsinapersonalcleansingritual,thencomebackandlookatmylistagain.
Timeforinspiration.IgotomyStarLuneplaylistandclickon“TwoofSwords.”IhaveacomplicatedsetofthoughtsaboutJihoon,butthissongreflectsexactlywhatI’mgoingthrough.Howdoeshemanagetodistillmytangledmessofthoughtsintoamelody?Isupposeitcomeswiththeterritoryofbeinganaward-winningsongwriter.
WhenIopenmyeyes,IletmyselffeelbeforeIthink.AbigblacklinegoesthroughYesterlyandHavings.Anothergoesthroughschoolandthenhermitlife.Ishovethebookawayandpacetothepond’sedge.Makingthoselinesfilledmewithsomuchenergy,Ineedtoburnsomeoff.Idon’tneedtogobacktoYesterlyandHavings.RichardandBrittanycanbeoutofmylifecompletely.
Idon’towethemanything,andIdon’toweDadmycareer.
ThisbegsthequestionofwhoIamifI’mnotalawyer,butthisisn’tadystopianfuturewherecitizensneedtotattootheirprofessionontheirforeheads.ItcanbeanongoingquestionforfutureAri.Backatthetable,Ipickupmynotebook,idlydoodlingaseriesofdashesasIconsidermyoptions.Theylooklikelittlenegatives,allthethingsI’mexcisingfrommylife.Removing.Deleting.Iverydeliberatelyaddathinverticallinetothecenterofeachdash.Idon’thavetoonlyremove.Icanaddandgrow.
Icanmakethosenegativespositives.
Iwanttostartmylifeforreal,andit’sfineifIfigureitoutasIgo.Forty-Seven
“Thisisanewlookforyou.”Ineswavesanapprovinghand.Myhairisloose,andI’minaKelly-greendresswithashortskirtthatwouldhaveraisedeveryeyebrowatYesterlyandHavings.
“Iquitmyjob.”TheconversationwithRichardhadbeenbriefandexhilarating.Hehadn’teventriedtogetmetostay.Iscreamedwithreliefthesecondthecallended,possiblyevenwhiledisconnecting,beforedancingalittlejigaroundthekitchen,middlefingersraisedtothephoneinafinalsalute.
“Good,youwerewastedthere,”shesays.“Whatwillyoudo?”
Ismooththefrontofmydress.“Ihaveanidea.”
Shewaits,andit’snowornever.“Ican’taskthisofficiallybecauseIdon’twantbeseenstealingaclient,butIwanttojoinLuxeasyourpart-timein-housecounsel.”I’drealizedbythepondwasthatitwasn’tnecessarilylawIhated.Infact,Ienjoyedalotoftheactualwork.Theculturewastheproblem.
InestemplesherhandsasYukostopstypingtoeavesdrop.“Part-time.Therestofthetime?”
“Iwanttocreatetoursforyou,likeIdidforAlex.Iknowtheycanbesuccessful.”
There’salongsilence.“You’vethoughtthisthrough,Ari?”
“Yes.Ihavefiveproposalsready,plusanoverviewoftheindustryandwhatgapstheyfill.”Theplancametomeinthemiddleofthenight,andIinitiallypusheditasideascompletelyunworkable.Ialsocouldn’tstopwritingdownideas.Hana,whohadkeptwatchonmesinceshe’dcomehomefromKorea,wastheonetopointoutIlostnothingbytrying.
SohereIam,trying.
Inessmiles,lipsacrimsonslashagainstherdarkskin.“Thenit’sagoodthingIcalledRichardHavingsyesterdaytotellhimthenewlawyerhe’dgivenmewasthemostvacuoushumanI’devermetandYesterlyandHavingswasfiredunlessIhadyouback.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
Sheadjustsherskirt.“Hedidn’tgivemewhatIwanted,whichisyou.ItoldhimIwasleaving.”
Elationfillsme.“Hewouldn’tlikethat.”
Inesraisesaneyebrow.“Idon’tcare.”
“TherewassomecontroversywhenIleft.”Iwantnosecrets.“Iassureyouitwasn’taboutmywork.”
Yukoleansover.“AreyoureferringtoNewlight’sstatementthatyoustalkedMinofStarLuneontwocontinents?”
“Ah,yes.”Iglareather.“ThanksfordescribingitsoconciselytoInes.”
Shegivesmeawickedgrin.“RevengefornotlettingmegetapeekwhilehewasinToronto.Idon’tthinkyou’reastalker,bytheway.Newlightisfullofassholes,everyoneknowsthat,andthentherewerethewatches.”
“Thewhat?”
“YouwerewearingmatchingCartiers,andIknowforafact,becauseInestoldme,thatyougotyoursasagiftandnotasasasaengmove.”
Iblink.“That’sobservant.”
“Itwasallovermysocialmedia.Thematchingwatches,notthegiftpart.OnlyIknewthat.Plus,thatphotoofthetwoofyouwas…wow.”Heresheholdsherhandstoherchest.“Noone’severlookedatmelikethat.Likeyouwerehisworld.”
Yeah,hedid,atthatmoment.Idon’twanttothinkaboutit.
“Iwon’taskifyou’resecretlytogether,butI’mnotopposedtoyoutellingme,”Yukoadds.
“Yourpersonallifeispersonal,”Inessaysfirmly.Thensheholdsoutherhand.“Welcome,sweeting.Wewantyouhere.”
ItakeadeepbreathbecauseIneedtoconfirmIcangetwhatIreallywant.“Howaboutthetours?”Iask.
Sheleansback.“TheoneyoudidforAlexsoldoutinhours.Youhaveaneyeforwhatpeoplewant.It’sadeal.”Shesmiles.“Yougotthejumponme,Ari.Iwasgoingtoaskyoutodomoreanyway.”
Yukowhoopsandpullsoutthechampagne.“Timetocelebrate!”
AsIsipthecoolchampagneandtalkshopwithInesandYuko,Ithinkabouthowfunnyheartbreakis.Itsoundssodramatic.Myheartisbroken.Myheartissplitintwo.Cleaved.
Theunfunnythingaboutheartbreakisthatit’snotdramaticatall.It’ssimplythereasabackgroundachethatebbsandflows.Likenow.AsYukodigsoutapackageofsrirachacashews,thepainthatcomeswhenIthinkoftellingJihoonaboutmynewjobcomessharpandfast,astabtotheheart.
Ibleed.
Thehurtwavesinovertheweeks.LikewhenHanaandImoveintoournewplacewithaviewoftheCNTower.NotsendingJihoonaphotoleavesmeempty.
LikewhenIseeamanwalkingdownthestreetwithhispetlizardzippedintohisjackettokeepwarm,theanimal’sheadtuckedunderitshuman’schin.There’sasofttwingewhenIthinkofhowJihoonwouldlaugh.
LikeseeingtheonlinehypeforStarLune’sminitour,whichsoldoutvenuesinrecord-breakingtime.OrwhenIhearthefullalbumandreadtheglowingreviews.Whenthere’sabillboardinYonge-DundasSquarefeaturingJihooninthatprinceoutfitandlilachair.
“Whycan’tIgetoverhim?”IaskHanaonelazySaturdaymorning,theearlywintersnowfallinglightlyoutside.
“He’saChoi,”shesays,microwavingmilkforhotchocolate.“We’reprettygreat.”
“Hana.”
There’sabeep,andshepullsouthercup.“Hemadeamistake,abigone,butyou’repunishingyourself.DidyouwanttoleavehiminSeoulorthinkyoushould?”
“Both.Itwasabigdealwhenhedidn’tstandupforme.”Ican’toverlookthat,althoughI’vecomearoundtounderstandingtheimpactonthegroup.
“Remember,atthebeginningofthiswholething”—hereshegesturesasiftoencompassthepast,present,andfuture—“Iaskedwhatyouhopefor?”
“Vaguely.”
“Shutup,Iknowyoudo.It’stimetoputitinactionagain.”
“Yeah,sinceitworkedsowelllasttime.”
“Itdoeswhenyou’rehonestwithyourself.”Shereachesforherphoneandtapsforamoment.“Ifyouneedsomehelp.”
Icheckmymessages.“Anemailaccountwithapassword?”
“I’llgooutforabit.”Herlookissokind,itkicksmyconfusionrightpastnervousintoextremetrepidation.“Callmewhenyou’reready.”
Idon’tanswerbecauseI’malreadyloggingin.Theaccountnameprovidesnoclues,andasusual,ittakesextra-longtoloadupbecausethegodsoftheinternetareattunedtoknowingexactlywhenyouneedurgentaccesstosomethingandenjoythwartingyouateveryturn.
ThenI’min,andmywholebodyfreezes.It’saregularemailaccountwithforty-sixunreadmessagesfromJihoon.Thelastone’sdatedfromearlierintheweek.Isitupstraighter.ObviouslyI’mgoingtoreadthemessages,butIdebateovertheorderbeforedecidingtochecktheearliestonefirst.
It’sanemailJihoonsentinAugust,whenhewasinToronto.Iscanitwithoutabsorbinganyofthewords.ThenIslowdownandreaditagainbeforeclickingthroughtothenext.
Ari—YoumentionedtheemailaccountyourfriendhadformemoriesandIthoughtIwoulddoitforyou.LastweekyoutookmeonatourofthecityandIwatchedyoulaugh.Itwaslovelytosee.You’reoftensoseriousandIlikethataboutyoutoo.Ilikeeverythingaboutyou.
Ari—TonightIkissedyouandtherewasasongthere,Ifeltit.Ididn’tcarebecauseyouwerewithme.Thesongcouldwait.Forthefirsttime,thesongcouldwait.
Ari—KithyeongandDaehyunarehereandI’mscaredthey’lltellyoumysecret.Mytimewithyouhasbeenprecious.Ifeltlikemeagain,Jihoon,andnotStarLune’sMin.I’dforgottenwhatthatwaslikeandIcan’tbeartolosemyselflikethatagain.NowonderIcouldn’tbelieveinmysongsifIcouldn’tevenbelieveinme.
Ari—HanasaidIshouldhavetoldyouwhoIwasbeforebutIhadnowords.Alyricistwithnowords,whatajoke.
Ari—Why?YoubrokemyheartattheairportbutKithyeongtoldmethiswasimpossible.Wehadn’tknowneachotherlongenoughforittohurtthismuchbutitdoes.Hedoesn’tunderstandthatthetimedoesn’tmatter,onlyhowIwaswithyouandyouwerewithme.ItriedtohideitfromhimbutIcouldn’t.Theplaneridewasendless.
Ari—Idon’tknowwhyIkeepthinkingofyou.Peopleusuallywantgiftsorfavorsfrommebutnotyou.Whatwasit,then?
Ari—WeareinSeoultogether,andIcanpretendweareanormalcouple.Ilikeit.Ilikeyou.ItookthisphotointhecarbecausethelightsplayedonyourfacelikeagalaxyandIwaslostamongthestars.
Ari—You’regoneandIdon’tblameyoubutIalreadymissyou.IwenttothehotelYeongbroughtyoutobutyouweren’tthere.
Ari—Imadeamistake.Youwereright.Ishouldhaveretractedthecompany’sstatementwhentheyrefusedtochangeitandgonepublicwiththetruth.ItoldmyselfitwouldmakethingsworseforeveryonebutIwaswrong.Themembersareshocked.WealwayssaidStarLunewasmorethanourselvesbutKithyeongtoldmeourstrengthcomesfromsupportingeachotherasindividuals.They’refuriousatthecompany,whowon’tlistentoanyofus.They’redisappointedinmebutnotasmuchasIaminmyself.
Ari—Alexwon’ttellmeawordbuthesaysyou’resafe.
Ari—I’msosorry.IknowIdidwrong.Youwereright.IgaveupwhenIshouldhaveprotectedyou.Ishouldhavetriedharder.Ishouldhavedonemore.
Ari—You’rebackinToronto.Youhadtoendurethatterriblecrowdbecauseofmebutmyheartliftedtoseeyou.
Ari—Iwokeupearlytogoforawalk.It’sgettingcoldersoIhopeyouwrapupwellandstayhealthy.Pleasemakesuretoeat.
Ari—IhadAlexhireacompanytorestoreyourreputation.Ihopethishelpsyou.
Ari—Iknowyouwon’tbewatchingbutImadeoursigntodayonSangjun’slivestream.Itmademefeelbetter.
Ari—I’vebeenthinkingaboutthemusicIwanttomake.IspoketoDaehyunandhefeelsthesamebuthadbeenscaredtotellme.Itwasgoodtospeakwithhimaboutthis,andIwishIhadthatcouragelongago.Wetoldtheothersaswell.
Ari—It’sthreeinthemorningbutIcan’tsleep.WewereinthedancestudiotodayforhoursandIthoughtitwouldtiremeenoughtorestbutIlieawakethinkingofyou.
Themessagesareamixofwhathe’sdoingthatdayandhowhefeels,likejournalentries.Someareonlyaline,andsomearelonger,almostafullscreen.Idon’trealizeI’mcryinguntilateardropsonthekeyboard.
Thelastmessageisfromlastweek.
Ari—We’reabouttogoonstage.HowcanIloveandhatesomethingsoequally?StarLuneiseverythingtomebutittookyouaway.IthoughtitwasbadbeforeIleftforCanadabutthatwasanacutepainthatIcoulddigoutlikeasliver.Thisnewpainisallthroughme.Icontinuetofoolmyselfthatthatyouremaininmylifethroughthesemessagesbutit’sgettingharder.
Ishutthelaptopandliebackonthecouch,lettingthetearsstreamdownmyfaceandpuddleinmyears.It’sdisgustingandIdon’tcare.
Hopes,Ari.
IwanttobewithJihoon.
Shit,despiteeverything,IwanttobewithJihoon.
HowcanIbewithamanwhotwicebrokemytrust,whenhedidn’ttellmewhohewasandthenwhenheletNewlightputoutthatstatementandwantedtodenyourrelationship?IcallHana.
“What’swiththesemessages?”Idemand.“What’shetryingtopull?”
“Iimagineheisamantryingtodothebesthecan.”
“Hehadachancetomakeadifference,butwhenpushcametoshove,heneverdid.”
“No.”Shesoundssad.
“Howdidyougetthatemail?”Iask.
“Hesentittometheotherday,butIwasn’tsureifyouwereready.”Acarhonksinthebackground.“I’monmywayhome.IwasgoingtogetThaifordinner.”
“Yeah.”I’mtoodrainedtocook.
Orthink.
God,IhateJihoon.
No,Idon’t.That’stheproblem.Forty-Eight
OnacolddayinlateNovember,IarrivehometoHananappingonthecouch.ImovequietlytolethersleepasImakesometeaandcheckthesecretemail.Idoiteverydayandcan’ttellifit’sapunishmentorreward.
Ari—thetouriscompleteanditwasbreathtakingandexhausting.NowIhavetimetothinkaboutwhatmighthavebeenandwhatIcouldhavedonedifferent.Ihavetoomuchtime.
IwonderifIshouldwriteback.Hemustseethatthemessagesarebeingread,buthenevermentionsit.
Aknockatthedoordisturbsmythoughts.Hanamusthaveorderedtakeout.Icheckthepeephole.
DearGod.Hana’smomstandspeeringatthedoor,holdingacovereddish.Imuffleagroan.TalkingtoMrs.Choicanbedifficultevenonagoodday,andtodaywasmediocreatbest.
Islideonmysocksacrossthewoodfloor.“Hana.”
Shethrowsanarmoverherface.“Sleeping.”
“Yourmotherishere.”
Thisgetshereyesopen.“What?”
“Yourmomisoutsidethedoor.”There’sanotherknock,andwesharealook.
Hana’slipsgothin.“Iwasoverthereyesterday.”
“Wecanpretendwe’renothome.”
Tomysurprise,Hanasitsup.“Youknowwhat?No.”Shethrowstheblanketonthefloor,stridesovertothedoor,andflingsitopen.
“Whydidyoutakesolong?”Mrs.Choimarchestothekitchen,wheresheuncoversherdish.Therichsmellofkimchifriedricespillsout.
Hanaremainsatthedoor.“Eomma,ItoldyouwhenIleftyourhousethatwehavefood.”
“Youhavebadfood,”shecorrects.“Goodfoodequalsgoodthoughts.”
Hanalookslikeshe’sgoingtoexplode,soIstepintogiveheramoment.“Hi,Mrs.Choi.Iwasabouttocook,butwecankeepthisforlater.”
“TheChinesedon’tknowgoodfood,”shesaysasifthisiscanon.
Hanacomesintothekitchen.“Isaidtopleasecallbeforeyoucomeover.Imightbebusy.”
Mrs.Choiscoffs.“Toobusyforyoureomma?”Shelooksthroughourcabinetandflicksherfingeratthehotchocolate.“Youshouldn’tdrinkthat.NowonderMrs.Lee’sboydidn’tlikeyou.Youneedtotryharder.”
Forthefirsttimeinmylife,IwitnessHanaChoirenderedspeechless.Shestaresathermotherasiftickingofftheladderoflinesthewomanhascrossed.Shecan’tsayitbecausethat’shermomstandingthere,interferingbutstillfamily.Hanaglancesoveratme,andInodather.I’mhereforher,howevershehandlesthis.
Thatmustbewhatsheneeds,becausewhensheturnsbacktohermother,herheadishigh.
“Eomma,”shesays.“Youweren’tinvitedover.”
Mrs.Choidoesn’tevenlookupfromwhereshe’shuntinginadrawerforchopsticks.“Idon’tneedaninvitation.We’refamily.”
“Youdo.”Shetakesabreath.“Pleaseleaveandcalltoaskifyoucancomenexttime.”
Thisisanightoffirsts,becausenowit’sMrs.Choi’sturntobewithoutwords.Shelookstomeasifforconfirmation,butIkeepmyfacearock.Thenhermouthopensandcloseslikeafish.
“Youdon’twantyourterriblemotherhere?You’reashamedofme?Keepingsecrets?”
Hanadoesn’tmove.“Iloveyou,butIneedyoutolistentome.I’veaskedyouadozentimestonottalkaboutmylovelifeorhowIlookorwhatIeat.Idon’twantyoutocomeoveruninvited.Fromnowon,whenthosethingshappen,I’mgoingtoleaveoraskyoutoleave.”
Mrs.Choi’shandisonherthroat.“Howcanyousaythistoyourownmother?”
“I’msayingitbecauseIloveyouandIwanttokeepseeingyou.Ifyoudon’trespectme,wecan’tdothat.”
“Respect.”Mrs.Choiglaresather,voicegettinghigh.“Whatdoyouknowofrespect?Iraisedyou!Wecameheresoyouwouldhaveabetterlife.Youshouldrespectme.”
“Ido.Ialsoneedsomespace.”
I’minaweofHanarightnow.IthoughtitwashardtotalktoPhoebe,butHana’sgonerightintothebear’sden.Icantellhowscaredsheisbythewayshepicksatherleggingswithonehand,butshe’sstandingupforherself.
“Yourfatherwillbeashamedofyou,speakingtomelikethat.”
Hanadoesn’treply,butshedoesn’tlowerhereyes.ThestaringcontestbetweenthetwoChoiwomenlastsforanotherfewseconds,andthentomyshock,it’sMrs.Choiwhobreaks.
Sheslamsthecutlerydrawershutandspinsaroundtograbherrice.“Onlydutifuldaughtersdeservemycooking,”shesays.
Thensheleaves,slammingthedoorbehindher.IrushtolockitandthenturntocheckonHana.Shelooksalmostdazed.“WhatthehelldidIdo?”shewhispers.“I’veneverseenhersomad.”
“Hey,youdidgood.Itwashardbutyoudidit.”
SheburstsintotearsasIhugher.“AmIabaddaughter?She’sright.Idooweherrespect.She’sdonesomuchforme.”
“Hana,youcanloveyourmomandwanttoliveyourlife.”
Shedoesn’treply,butafterafewminutes,shemovesfromsobstosniffles.“Ithoughtshewasgoingtocry.”
“Iknowyoufeelbad.”
“Ifeelterrible.”Sherubshereyes.“Ihadto.”
“Youdid.”
“Thanksforstayinghere.Ithelped.”
“Anytime.Kindofwishsheleftthefood,though.Yourmomisagreatcook.”
Hanahiccupsandstartslaughing.Soonwe’rebothlaughing,anditfeelslikeacure.
Ari—DaehyunandImetwiththeagencyaboutoursongwriting.Theyinsistit’sbetterforStarLunetokeepthingsthewaytheyare.Igaveinandhatedmyselfagain.DaehyunisunhappyandsoisKithyeong,sincetheyrejectedhissoloproject.Ihopeyouarekeepingwarm.IchecktheweatherinTorontoeveryday.Watchforthesnow.
IpullmycoattighteraroundmeasabarrieragainstthecoldwindwhileIstandinfrontofDad’sofficebuilding.
It’sbeenyearssinceI’vebeenhere.Idon’twanttobeherenow,butsomethingsarebettersaidinperson,andtheformalityoftheofficemightbehelpful.Theothernight,PhoebeandIhadbeenatdinnerwhenshefinallyexplodedonhimforpressuringmetobegRichardtoendtheleaveheputmeon.Ihadn’thadthegutstotellhimI’dalreadyquitandwasworkingatLuxe.I’dtoldmyselfitwasforhisowngoodbecauseofhisheart,butitwasbecauseIwasacoward.
AfterseeingHanaconfronthermom,Imadeupmymind.IalwaysthoughtIhadcontrolinmylifeandofthedecisionsImade,butnowIseethataslongasI’dlethimdeterminemypath,howeverindirectly,noneofthosechoiceshadbeenmineinthefirstplace.
Ipushopenthelobbydoor.Theelevatoriswaiting,butinsteadIclimbthestairstothesecondfloor.
“Ohmy,Ari.”Gloria,Dad’sassistant,givesmeabigsmilewhenIleanaroundthedoor.“Lookatyou.It’sbeensolong.Howareyou?”
“Good,thanks.You?”
“Can’tcomplain.”Shecheckshermonitor.“Isyourdadexpectingyou?”
“No.Iwasintheneighborhood.ThoughtI’dcomesayhi.”
Hereyebrowsriseslightlybecausesheknowsthechancesofmecoincidentallybeingintheneighborhoodareslim.Allshesaysis,“He’sfreeifyouwanttogoin.”
Nope,Idonotwanttogointohavethisconversation,butIforcemyselfthroughthedoor.Dadlooksupfrombehindthedesk.“Ari?Iseverythingokay?”Hehalfstands,handsflatonhisdeskandeyeswide.
Ishutthedoorbehindme.“Iwantedtotalktoyou.”
Hesighs.“Thiscouldn’thavewaiteduntilIwasdonewithwork?Youshouldbetryingtogetyourjobback.Youmadeamistake,andyou’llhavetoearnbacktheirtrust.It’sgettingtoolate.”
Mynervousnesstransformsintoangerathowone-trackheis.Hehasn’tevenaskedhowIam.I’mmorethanmyjob,butnottohim.“Idon’twantto.”
Hefrowns.“Don’tbechildish.You’reabitupset,butyouknowbetter.Swallowyourprideandapologize.ShowRichardyoucanhandleit.”
“No,Dad,I’mdonewiththem.”
“Don’tsaythat.Ishouldhavecalledhimforyou.”
“Iquitmyjob,andI’mnevergoingbacktoYesterlyandHavings.Ihateditthere.I’mnotevensurehowmuchIwanttobealawyer.”
Thatwasgraceless,butthereliefIfeeloncethewordsareoutisimmense.Nomorelies.We’llhavetolearnanewwaytorelatetoeachotherthat’snotworkbased.Iwonderifwecan.
Dadlowershimselfandstaresatme.“Youfoolishgirl.Whatwereyouthinking?You’llnevergetachancelikethatagain.Ifyouquit,you’vewastedyourlife.”
“IwaswastingmylifewhenIwasthere.”
He’stalkingovermebeforeIfinish.“Youneedtothinkthisthrough.Thisisyourfutureatstake.What’sgoingonwithyou?Youusedtobesosteady.Ineverhadtoworryaboutyou,notlikePhoebe.”
“Thisisn’taboutPhoebe.It’saboutme.”
Heblowsouthisbreathandturnstohisscreen.“Ifthat’swhatyoucametosay,Ineedtogetbacktowork.”
Istarttoleave,butthere’sanitchinmymouth.I’vestartedthis,soImightaswellgetitallout.
“Ihaven’tsaideverything.”
Heraiseshiseyebrowsandputshishandsonthedeskinamoveofexaggeratedpatience.
“Ionlywentintolawtomakeyouhappy.YouwantedHuiandHuiorBayStreetHui,andPhoebewasnevergoingtodothat.”
Dadpicksupapenandlooksovermyshoulder.“Isthisbecauseof—”Hefrowns.“Jihoon?”
“It’snot.”
Helooksup.“No?”
Thisrankles.“Iamperfectlycapableofmakingadecisionwithoutaman.”
Heputsthependown.“YouknowIdidn’tmeanitlikethat.Ionlywantwhat’sbestforyou.”
“Howaboutyouletmedecidewhat’sbestforme?”
Dadstiffens.“Idon’tappreciatethat,Ari.There’snoneedtospeaktomewiththattone.”
ThisisthehardestthingI’veeverhadtodo,butItakemycourageinhand.Iwalkoverbehindthedesk,wrapbothmyarmsaroundhisthinshoulders,andsay,“Iloveyou,Dad.Iloveyou,butI’mdonebeingwhatyouwantmetobe.”
Foralongmoment,Idon’tknowwhathe’sgoingtodo,butthenhegivesalittleshake,soIreleasehim,andhepullsawaywithoutlookingup.“IwantyoutoreconsiderYesterlyandHavingswhenyou’recalmer.”
“I’mverycalm.Iknowyouwantedmetobealawyer,”Isay.“Ididn’tknowwhatIwanted.NowIknowwhatIdon’twant.”
“I’mnothappyaboutthis,Ari.You’reshowingahugelackofjudgment.”Hepurseshislips.“It’samistake.”
“Ifitis,it’smymistaketomake.Notyours.”
Hegesturesasiftoindicatewashinghishandsofmydecisionandkeepshiseyestrainedonthemonitor.
I’malmostoutthedoorwhenhecallsmeback.
“Ari?”
“Yeah,Dad?”
Heglancesdown.“Drivesafe.”
IcanheartheIloveyouunderhiswords,butIdon’tpresshim.Isaidmypiece,andthiswillhavetodo.“Iwill.”
ThenIgobackouttothecold.Forty-Nine
Februaryistheshortestandlongestmonthonthecalendar.It’sbeenoverfourmonthssinceIleftSeoul,andmylifehasbeenturnedaround.Alex’ssecondmusictoursoldoutinaday.I’mnowcreatingtheK-poptourbecausehe’sonboardtodoawholemusicseriesinconjunctionwithlocalartistsindifferentcities.Inesaskedmetodoon-the-groundnegotiationsforherluxurytravelagainwhentheotherguyquit,andthistimeIjumpedatit.IcanfinallyexperienceeverythingI’veputoff.PhoebeandImadetentativeplanstotraveltogetherandmeetsomeonesheknowsinMaltawhomightbeagoodconnection.
Insummary,Ihavealottodo,butinsteadofdoinganyofit,I’mrereadingtheemailsJihoonsentme.Forthehundredthtime,IwonderifIshouldwriteback.WhatwouldIsay?
I’mnotsure.PhoebeandHanawerecorrect—Jihoonwasamanstrugglingtodotherightthing.Ievenhavenewsympathyforhim.HespenthiscareerworkingwithStarLuneandputtingthemfirst.Protectinghismemberswashisdefault.IevengetwhyhewantedtolieaboutwhoIwas.Safetyandtimingweregoodreasons,butIwastoohurttoseeitthen,andI’mtoostucktodoanythingaboutitnow.
Ituckmylegsundermeandhuddleunderafuzzyblanket.Iwishallthissoul-searchinghadresultedinmebeingabletoleavethosefeelingsbehind,butthetwistinessinmyheartisenoughtotellmewhatIwishweren’ttrue:thepainhasn’tgoneawaybecauseIamverymuchinlovewithJihoon.
Ugh.Comeon,brain,doyourjob.Reasonthisfeelingoutofexistenceandletmelivemylife,Ibegofyou.
Igivemybrainacountoffivetotakesomeaction.Nothing.
ItwistthecoininmypocketbeforeIpullitouttotosslightlyinmyhand.Ineedtomakeadecision,butI’mnotevensurewhatthequestionis.Whatwouldbeheads,andwhatchoicewouldbetails?
Ithrowthecoinintheairandgrabitinmyfist,staringatmyknuckles.
ThenItuckthecoininmypocketwithoutlooking.Itdoesn’treallymatter,afterall.Themomentthecoinflippedintheair,IknewwhatIwantedbecauseithasn’tchanged.
Afterallthis,IwantJihoonback.Iwantus.
Ichecktheemail,andthere’sanewmessage.
Ari—Iwroteasong.ItwasthefirstsongIwrotewhereIcouldwritethemusicIwanted.Daehyunistiredofhidingaswell,andthistimewestooduptothecompany.TheotherscamewithusforsupportbutIneverwouldhavehadthenervehaditnotbeenforyou.Thankyouforthisgift.
Therewasamuralinthealleyyoutookmetowithatigerflower.Ithinkofitoftenbecausethatwasthetrueimageofmylife,thedesiretobeloved,butintimatelyandnotontheworldstage.IwishyoucouldhearthissongbutIdon’tthinkI’llseeyou.Youneverreplytothesemessagesandtheyonlydragoutthepain.
Iwon’tbecheckingthisemailagain.Goodbye,Ari.
Panic.Sheerpanic.Idon’tknowwhyIthoughtJihoon’sone-sidedemailswouldcontinueforever,butIdid.Ireaditagain,andknowinghe’llneverseemyanswergivesmeasenseofliberation.
Thistime,Iclickreply.
Jihoon,Ihopethisemailfindsyouwell.
Imakeaface.
HiJihoon!
No,ohmyGod.
DearJihoon:Withregardstoyourlastemail.
Ibangmyheadagainstthebackofthecouch.
ThenItakeadeepbreathandstarttyping.
Jihoon—Ireadyourmessages.Allofthem,manytimes.Ididn’treplybecauseIdidn’tknowwhattosay.I’mgoingtotrynowbecauseknowingyou’llneverseethismakesiteasiertosaywhatI’vebeenthinkingaboutsinceIcamehome.
Iknowyou’resorryforwhathappened.Idon’tlikeitbutIunderstand.Youfeltyoudidn’thaveachoice.
Ithurt,though.Itreally,reallysuckstobetoldyou’refirstandthentofindoutthatyou’renot.ThatIwasmorelikeeighth,afterthemembersandbandandfansandmusic.WhenyouwantedtosayIwasnothingbutanacquaintance,Ifeltdismissed.Iwasinsignificant,andI’dneverfeltlikethatwithyou.
Butyou’repartofStarLune.Iexpectedyoutomakedecisionsbasedonusasindividualsbutyouconsideredtheimpactoneveryoneelseaswell.Ithoughtinislandsandyousawtheocean.Itwasn’twrongbutIcouldn’tseethat.
Imadesomebigchangesinthepastfewmonths.Mylifeisgoingokaynow,actually.Iquitlaw.I’mgoingtobetraveling.I’mdoingwhatIwantedbutitseemsemptywithoutyou.It’snotgoingaswellasitcouldbecauseImissyou.IthinkoftheJihoonImethereinTorontoandImissus.I’mgladyoufoundyourmusicagain.Iknowyou’llwritethesongspeopleneedtohear.
IwishwecouldfindourwaybacktowhatwehadbutIdon’tknowhowandit’stoolate.
Ari
“Passthecharsiubao.”Daddoesn’tlookatMom,whomuttersaboutsodiumintake.
We’reatourusualdimsumrestaurant,sinceMomwantedafamilylunchandPhoebeandIprivatelyagreedthataneutralandpublicplacewouldbepreferable.It’sthefirsttimewe’vebeentogethersinceItoldDadI’dquitatYesterlyandHavings.Myothernews,givenoverthephone,thatIwasnowwhathecalledaglorifiedtourguide,hadgoneoverequallywell.
PhoebepasseshimtheBBQporkbunsasIpouranothercupofjasminetea,darkleavesswirlinginthebottomofmycup.Sofar,theconversationhaslurchedfromtheweathertomyworktoPhoebe’swork.MommusthaveputthefearofGodintoDad,becauseIswearhislipsbegantoformtheYinYesterlyandhergazesnappedtohimlikealaser.Heshutup.
Mom’sexcitedtotellusabouthernewexerciseclassthat’s“likeZumbabutbetter,withpoles.”
Phoebelooksathercuriously.“Skipoles?”
“No,stuckintheground.I’mlearningtoswingonthem.”
Ichoke.“You’retakingpoledancing?”Phoebepinchesmeunderthetable.
Momnodshappily.“It’sverygoodformuscletoning.I’llneeditforthebeach.”
Phoebe’seyesnarrow.“Whatbeach?”
“We’regoingtoMexicoforaweek.YourfathercanexploreMayantempleswhileIsnorkelintheocean.Theyhavebarracudasandseaturtles.”
MysisterandIstopeating.“Vacation,”Isay.“You,Dad?”
Heshrugsanddoesn’tlookupfromhisrice.“Itmakesyourmotherhappy.”
Phoebe’smouthhangsopen.“Whoa,”shewhispers.Iagree.It’slikewitnessingaunicornprancealongthedimsumcarts.Idomybesttokeeptheconversationgoingsohedoesn’tclamup.
“Whattemplesareyouthinkingofvisiting?”Iask.
Dad’schopstickswaveroverthedeep-friedshrimpdumplingsbeforeheturnstothesteamedoneswithaheavysigh.“I’mnotsureyet.”
“Icanhelpyouout,”Ioffer,tryingtokeepmyvoicecasualeventhoughmyheartjitters.“I’vedoneafewitinerariesforfriendsgoingtoRivieraMaya.”
Henods,attentiononthefood.“Okay.”
“Okay?”Iwasreadyforarejection,soittakesmeaminutetoabsorbthis.
“Mightaswellputyourknowledgetouse.”
Phoebewinksandsendsmeadiscreetthumbs-up,butIbarelypayattention.
I’mgoingtoplanDadthebestfreakingexcursionsever.
AndfindapoledancestudioforMomwhileI’matit.Aslongasshenevermakesmewatch.
ThenotificationonmyphoneannouncesthatJihoon’sabouttostartanewlivestream.Icanrecognizehisname,Min,inHangulnow.Agluttonforpunishment,Ipulloutmylaptoptoseehisfacebetter.It’sbeenthreedayssinceIsentthatemail,andIhaven’tcheckeditagain.Partofmeisgladtohavegottenitoffmychest,butmostofmeispsychicallywallowinginanoverflowingpooloflossthatwillhopefullydrainovertime.
IturnonthelivestreamasHanacomesin.“Iwasabouttoaskifyouwantedtowatchthis,”shesays.
Ipatthecouchbesideme,andshesqueezesmyshoulderasshetucksin.Jihoonappearsonthescreen,butunliketheusualroomtheyfilmfrom,he’soutside.Hanasucksinherbreath,andIsquintatthescreenasthecommentsexplodewiththeoriesonwhereheis.Hewearsablackbeanieandblackpufferjacket,andthere’ssnowontheground.Behindhimisaconcretewall,butIcanmakeoutwhatlookslikeapaintingtohisright.ItlooksmorelikeTorontothanSeoul,butIguessallcitieshavepocketsofsimilarity.Idon’tlooktoolongatthescenerybecausemyattentionisonhim.ThisisthelasttimeIwatch,Ipromisemyself.Theverylasttime.Ican’tkeeppunchingmyselfinmyownface.
Helookstothesideofthescreen,Iassumereadingthecomments.
“Phonemustbeonatripod,”Hanamutters.Idon’tanswer,becausefirst,that’strulyirrelevanttome,andsecond,I’mtakingineveryaspectofhisappearance.Hishairhasgrownoutabit,andunderthebeanie,Icanseeit’sbacktoblack.He’sbarefaced,andthismakeshimmorelikeJihoonthanMin.Icanalmostpicturehimlyingwithhislegsuponthecouch,tellingmeabouthisdayashealwaysdid,hairfloppinginhisfaceuntilheshovedabandanaontokeepitback.AllthoselittledetailsIdidn’tknowIkeptasmemories.
Afewsecondslater,henodsasifhe’sready.
“Hello.”Hebowsquickly,eyescrinklingashelooksupandsmiles.“I’mgoingtospeakinEnglishforthis.”HespeaksbrieflyinKorean,breathpuffinginthecold,andthechatlightsup.
“Thisisn’tusuallywhereItalktoyou,butIhavesomethingspecialIwanttoshare.”Hesmilesatthechat.“Yes,it’sasong,oneIwroterecently.It’sneverbeenperformedbefore,butnowthatourminitourisdone,I’dlikeyoutohearit.”
“What?”squealsHana.“Anewsong?”That,alongwiththecomments,tellsmethisisnottheusualorderofthings
“Didhetellyouthiswashappening?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.“Onlytomakesureyoutunein.”
BeforeIcanquizheronthis,Jihoonisspeaking.
“Thisabitdifferentfromwhatyou’vecometothinkofasmysound.Ihopeyoulikeitbecauseit’sthekindofmusicI’mgoingtocreatefromnowon.”
“What’shedoing?”mumblesHana.ItoldheraboutJihoonandDaehyunandtheirsongwritingcredits.“Ishegoingtocomeoutandtellpeoplewhat’sbeenhappening?”
Ishakemyhead.“Hewouldn’t,”Isay.“Theremightberumors,buthewon’tconfirmthemunlesstheydoittogetherasagroup.”
Sheglancesover.“Thatsoundsexactlylikehim.”
Jihoonhasbeenreadingthecomments,andwhenhelooksup,hisexpressionisdiscouraged.Iwonderwhatheexpectedtosee.“I’llplayitnow.Pleaseforgiveanymistakes.It’scalled‘Turns.’Whenit’sdone,youcantellmewhatyouthinkonmynewsocialmediaaccount.”
“Hiswhat?”bleatsHana.“They’renotallowedindividualaccounts.Newlightcontrolsasingleoneforthewholeband.”
Jihoon’sfacefades,andupcomestheimageofafieldandawindingpath.Alongitgrowvibrantorangeflowers.Tigerflowers.
“Didheshootamusicvideoforhissurpriselivestreamsong?”asksHanaindisbelief.“Whatishedoing?Isthisasolo?”
Jihoon’svelvetvoicecomeson.TheflowersfadeastheimagebecomesJihooninasoundbooth.Hanastartstotranslate,butItouchherhand.Rightnow,Iwanttoconcentrateonhisvoice.
ThencomewordsIrecognizebecausethechorusisinEnglish.
Tigerflower
EveryturnItake
Iseeonlyyourreflection
Asilhouetteinthesettingsuntracedwithred
Tigerflower
ThroughthemazeIwalk,tracingyourfadingpath
Mywatchmeasuringstepsinsteadofhours
Idroptomykneestoseeyou,touchyou
Tigerflower
Ineedyou
Iwantedthat.Iwantthat.GoddamnJihoon.Ican’tstopstaringatthescreenwhereJihoonissinging,eyesclosedinthebooth.Hisrighthandisheldup,andhisfingermakesacirclewithhispinkie.Oursign.
Molassesslow,itoccurstomethisisoursong,thesongwetalkedaboutinToronto.Irecognizethemelodyandsomeofthelines.Hetookourmessingaroundandmadeitart.
Kitjoinsinthenextchorus,andtheirvoicesriseinaduetbeforetherestofthebandcomesin.It’sahauntingtune,andItearmyeyesawaytocheckthechat.It’smovingtoofastformetoevenread,butIcatchtheoccasionalEnglishwordaspeopletrytodescribewhattheyhear:beautiful,yearning,passion,genius.
Thenitfades,andthescreenisblank.Jihoonisgone,thelivestreamover.
Ijumptomyfeet,shakingmylaptop.“Whathappened?Makeitcomeback.”Frantic,Iclosethewindowandbringthebrowserbackup.Nothing.“Hana,checkyourphone.Wheredidhego?”
Hanasitslikeastatueonthecouch,mouthopen.ShelooksovertowhereI’mnowonsocialmedia,tryingtofindoutwhatthehellisgoingon.Theinternetisinfullmeltdown,and#MinSongand#Turnsarealreadytrending.“Ari.”
“What?”
“Thatsong’sforyou.”
TohearhersaywhatIwasthinkingcausesmetostopwhatI’mdoing.“Howdoyouknow?”Iask,wantingtoknowwhatsheheard.
“Themaze.Thethread.Ariadne.He’stalkingaboutyou.It’sforyou.”
IneedtofindthoselyricsASAP.“Therewasnothingaboutathread.”
“Right,thatwastheKoreanpart.Thelyricsareaboutfollowingathreadouttothelight.AriadnegaveTheseusthethreadtofindhiswayoutofthemaze.”
Icollapseonthecouch,staringbetweenHanaandmyphone.“Didhetellyouhewasdoingthis?”
Sheshakesherheadandglancesatherphone.“Wait.Hementionedhisnewsocialmedia.”ShetapsinthesearchandbringsupanewaccountheadedwithacasualselfieofJihoon.ThefollowercountclicksupandupasIwatch.Ithasasinglepost.Atigerflower.
Hanatapsagain.“Holyshit.Kit.Sangjun.Xin.Daehyun.Allofthemhavelaunchedtheirownaccountsandundertheirownnames,nottheirstagenames.”
Sheshowsme,andeverymemberofthebandhaspostedthesameimageasJihooninsolidarity,andeachalreadyhaslikesinthehundredsofthousands.“Newlightisscrewed,”shecrows.“Thisisunbelievable.StarLuneisfinallytakingcontrol.”
Inod,barelylistening.Thatthisisunprecedentedisclearfromthecomments,andI’mscrollingsofast,I’maccidentallylikingpostswhenmyfingerstaphurriedlyonthescreen.
“Checkthatemail,”Hanasays.“Checkitrightnow.”
Ido.There’sanothermessage.
Ari—Imissyou.
“Tigerflowers,”Imurmur,thinkingaboutthevideo.“Hetalkedtomeaboutthem.”
“They’reJihoon’sbirthflower,”Hanasupplies.
“Hementionedit.”
“Didhetellyouthemeaning?”
Ishakemyheadandswipeatmyeyes.“He’donlytoldmethemeaningforprimrose.”Loveliness.
“Pleaseloveme.”Shegrabsmyhand,hard.“That’swhattigerflowersmean.He’stoldtwomillionpeoplehe’sinlovewithyou.”Fifty
Thealley.Thebackgroundtothelivestreamwasfamiliarforareason.IknowtheplacebecauseItookJihoontheremyself.He’snotinaCanadian-lookingneighborhoodofSeoul.He’shere,inToronto.
“Ineedtogo,”Iblurt.ThenIdon’tmove,lookingbetweenthedoorandthescreen.DoIwanttodothisagain?IsaidinmyemailthatIdidn’tknowhowtogetbacktowhatwewere,andJihoon’sgivenmeapath.IwanttotakeitbutamunsureifIhavetheguts.
“Hey.”Hana’svoiceisquiet.“Youknowthere’snolimittohappiness,right?Likenohappinesspolicethatwilltakeeverythingawayifthingsaregoingtoowell.”
Imakeafaceather.“OfcourseIdo.”
“Idon’tthinkso.”Shepausesasifcollectingherthoughts.“Youdon’tactlikeit.Whenthingsgoyourway,younevercelebrate.Youalwayslookforwhatcangowrongasifthelight’stoobrightwhenyou’rehappyandyouneedacloudtomakeyoucomfortable.”
“I’mnot…”Ican’tfinishthesentence.
“It’sokaytowanttobehappywithanotherperson,”shesays.“It’sscarytonotknowwhatwillhappenandhowsomeonewillreact.You’reagoodperson,Ari.Youwon’tbeabletofuckituptoobadifyou’rehonest.”
“Thanks?”Hana’snotalwaysthebestatpeptalks.
“Nowgetyourman.”
“Right.”ThisiswhatIwant,andI’mgoingtograbthatthreadhe’soffering.Imarshalmycourageandthrowonsomeunstainedpants.There’sacabrightoutside,andIhopin.“QueenandPortland.”
WhenIarriveattheemptyalley,Istartsearching.Idon’trememberthetigerflowerpaintingatall,andthemuralschange,soIdon’tevenknowifitwillstillbethere.Iwalkslowly,lookingattheimagesofgatesandfacesandcatsuntilIfinditbyanopengarage,sovibrantandgorgeous,Idon’tknowhowImisseditwhenIwaswithJihoon.
Ittakesupafulldoor,andIstepclosertoseeeachofthepetalsisastylizedtigeroutlinedinred.
“Ari?”
MyheadsnapsupbecauseJihoonisstandingbehindme.Hedidn’tleave.HestayeduntilIcouldcomeafterhim.InowknowIwouldhavegonetoSeoultofindhimagainbutthisiswaymoreconvenient.
IrubmycoldhandstogetherbecauseIforgotmygloves.“Hi.”Asopenersgo,it’snotgreat,butcutmesomeslack.
Hedoesn’tmove.Thisisterrible.Shouldn’thebethrowinghisarmsaroundmeorkissingmepassionately?Themoviestoldmethat’swhathappensafterthegrandgesture.
Thegrandgesture,whichohmyGod,hedid.Theball’sinmycourt.ItalkedfeelingswithPhoebe.IhuggedmyDad.Icandothis.I’mgoingtoJihoonthisandlayitallout.Writingthatemailwaseasycomparedtothis.I’mnauseous,andmylegsaretrembling.I’mscared,butIhavetostopthebleeding.
“Igetwhyyoumadeyourchoice,”Isay.“IthurtmebecauseIthoughtImatteredtoyoubutyouletNewlightjust…dothattome.ThenyouwantedtoerasewhoIwastoyou.”
ThatiswithoutadoubtthehardestthingIhavehadtosay.Ican’thavehopewithoutvulnerability,soIpushon.“Ireallylikedyou.Ifellinlovewithyou.”
Nope,thatwasthehardest.Almostdone,Ari.Keepgoing.
“Youtoldmetotrustyou,andIdid.Yousaidyou’dfixit,butyousteppedonmyheartandcrushedit.ItwasprobablykarmicpaybackforwhatIdidtoyouattheairport,butitwasawful.Reallyawful.”
There,it’sout.
“Yousaidyouwantedustofindourwaybacktowhatwewere,”hesays.
“Youreadtheemail.”
Henodded.“Icouldn’thelpbuthopeyou’dwritten,soIkeptcheckingdespitepromisingmyselfnotto.Wereyoubeingtruthful?”
Inodandlookuptotrytopreventthetearsfromfalling.“Iwas.”
“I’mnotsurewecangobacktothat,”hesays.“Thepastisover,andthosepeoplearealittlewisernow.”
Itakeabreath.“Thenwedon’tgoback.Wemoveforward.”
“Youwoulddothatwithoutknowingwhat’stocome?”
“Yes.”Nohesitation.
Jihoonstuffshishandsinthepocketsofhispufferjacket.“I’mleavingStarLune.We’redisbanding.”
“What?”Thisisn’twhatIthoughthe’dsay.
“Afteryouleft,IhadtofacewhatI’ddone.StarLunehasbeenmylifeforadecade,andIloveit,butthebandismypast,andyoucanbemyfuture.”
“Youcan’tleavetheband,”Isay.“It’stooimportanttoyou.”
“Wemadethedecisiontogether.StarLuneismadeofpeople,andthosefourpeoplewillalwaysbewithme.That’swhywepostedthesamephotoonoursocialmedia.Wehaveothersplannedtoshowwesupportandloveeachother.”
“Allofyou?”Ieyehimhesitantly.
“Yes.Weallneedthis.YouarenotwreckingStarLune.”
“TheinternetwillsayIam.”
“We’lltellourfansthetruth,thatwe’vetalkedandthecrackshavebeentherealongtimebutnoneofuswantedtobethefirsttosayit.Weneedtogrowinourownways.”Helooksatme.“Iwantyoutobepartofthatjourney.Ifyou’llhaveme.”
Itakeahalfstepforward,andit’senoughforhimtocoverthedistancebetweenusandwrapmeinhisarms.HismouthisonminebeforeIcananswer,butthekisstellshimwhatheneedstoknow.
I’llhavehim.
Heenclosesmeinhispufferjacket,wrappingitaroundmeuntilwe’reinabubble.“Iloveyou,Ari.WhenyousentthattextinSeoul,IwasalmostburstingtotellyouhowIfelt,butIwantedtotellyouinperson.”
“Really?”SinceIstillsometimeswokeatnightregrettingthatmessage,thisisarelief.
“Yeah.”Hebreathesintomyhair.“Itturnedouttonotbeanopportunetime.”
Igrindespitemyself.“Thisisdefinitelyamoresuitableoccasion,butyoushouldsayitagaintomakesure.”
“Icandothat.”Hekissesthecornerofmymouth.“Iloveyou.”
“Good.”Imakehimwaituntilhe’sfidgeting,thenrubmynoseonhiswarmneck.“Iloveyou,Jihoon.AndMin.Iloveallofyou.”
Hisheartpounds,matchingmine.“Thankyou,”hewhispers.
“What’snext?”Imurmuragainsthismouth.
“Idon’tknow.”Hepullsmeclosertosheltermefromthecold.“Whatdoyouthink’snext?”
“Idon’tknow,either.”Idon’thaveagoal.Idon’thaveaplan.
That’sfine,becauseJihoon’sarmsarewarm,andhe’ssmilingonlyatme.
DiscovermorefromLilyChuEpilogue
Hello,thisisNewlightEntertainment
WehavesomenewsaboutStarLune.Althoughwehavenegotiated,asofApril,StarLune—Kay,Min,DeeDee,Sangjun,andX—willnolongerbeartistsunderNewlightEntertainment.Newlightstronglydeniesanybadfaithactionsorwrongdoingsinthesongcreditsofitsartists.
ToalltheStarrys,
ThisisStarLune.YoumighthaveseentheannouncementfromNewlightEntertainmentandwewishtogiveyoumoredetailsaboutwhyweendedourcontractaheadoftime.Althoughwearedisbanding,allthemembersofStarLuneremainclosefriendsandareeagertosupporteachotherinourfuturecareersaswegrowasartistsandindividuals.Thiswasachoicewemadeasateam,aswehavealwaysmadeourdecisions.
Westandbyourcommentsregardingthedeceptivesongwritingcreditsandcannotstaywithacompanythatdoesn’trespectourartisticcontributions.JihoonandDaehyunareproudoftheirworkandeachother.WeapologizewithallourheartsformisleadingStarrysandhopeyouwillforgiveus.
Jihoonwilltakeahiatusfromperformingtocontinueinhissongwritingcareerandmusicproduction.HewillbemakinganewhomeoutsideSeoul,creatingthemusicheloves.
Daehyunwillfocusonmusicproductionandwillalsomakemusictobringjoyandlighttofans.
SangjunandXinareproudtoannouncethelaunchofStarRiseEntertainment,whereartistsaretreatedwithfreedomandrespect.Globalauditionsforartistsofallgenderswillbeginsoon.
AsthefirstsignedartistwithStarRiseEntertainment,Kitaewillbelaunchingasolocareerwithanewalbumdueinseveralmonths.Pleasegivehimyourlove!
Forallyourloveandsupportovertheyears,wethankyoufromthebottomofourhearts.Youwerealwaysthestarslightingthepaththroughournightsky.
Kitae,Jihoon,Daehyun,Sangjun,andXin
“Areyoucoming?”Phoebepokesherheadinmyhotelroom.“Wehavetimeforacoffeebythewaterbeforethemeeting.”
MyroleatLuxehastransformedsinceIstartedalmostayearago.MytourshavebeensuchasuccessthatI’vebeenputfullyinchargeoftheirdevelopment.We’regettinganotherlawyer—notBrittany—todotheluxurygrouptravelcontracts.Thisismylastonetonegotiate,andPhoebeisheretointroducemetoherMaltesecontact.ShemovedbacktoMontrealinJune,soIdon’tseeherasoftenasI’dlike,althoughwetextmostdays.
“Almostready.”Ipullonmyusualdisguise,ahatandsunglasses.ThechancesofbeingrecognizedhereinMaltaareslim,butI’vehadenoughrun-inswiththemediaandStarLunefanstobecautious.
Lifehasbeen,asHanacallsit,anabsolutegongshowbutinawonderfulway.“Turns”chartedinmultiplecountries,whichgaveaeuphoricJihoontheconfidenceheneededtocommittohissongwritingpath.MinofStarLune’sromanticgesturetohisallegedandnowdisprovenstalkercausedamediafrenzythatIdon’tthinkIcouldhavesurvivedonmyown.JihoonbroughtmetoSeoul,whichofferedmuchbettersecurity,andheldmyhandthroughtheentiresituation.Newlightwaszero,possiblyevennegative,help,buttherestofStarLunesupporteduspubliclyandprivately,asdididolsfromothergroups.ThefurorgrewwhenJihoonexplainedthestoryonalivestream,rightfromthemomentwemettothefalsestatement,toanaudienceofoversixmillionviewers.
“Ishouldhavesaidsomethingtoclearhernamesooner,andthat’sonme.I’mgratefultohaveAriinmylifeandthatherheartwasbigenoughtoforgiveme,”hesaid,lookingatthecamera.“Myhopeisthatyouareallabletofindthesamejoywebringeachother.”
Therearepeoplewhodon’tlikeit,butthatstreamreassuredmostofthefanswhotrulydidwantJihoontobehappyandcausedabacklashagainstNewlight.WhenXinannouncedhewasseeingsomeone,itwasacceptedalmostimmediately.They’reacutecouple.
Inanycase,gossipaboutStarLune’srelationshipswasinstantlyovershadowedbytheannouncementofStarLunedisbanding.SomeStarrysheldvigilsoutsideNewlightandaccusedmeandXin’spartnerofbreakingthemup.Thebandfoughtbackhard.MytimeinSeoulmeansthatIknowallJihoon’sfriendswellnow.ItbothershimabittoknowthatKitandIwillneverbebuddies,buthe’ssatisfiedwerespecteachother.
Infact,itwasKitwhoturnedthetideaboutStarLune’sdisbandmentwhenhelaiditoutinamessagetotheirfans.Hewashonestandemotionalashedescribedhowproudtheyallfelttoloveandencourageeachotherastheysoughtnewpaths.
“BeingpartofStarLunewasbeautiful,butit’stimeforanewera,”hesaid,staringintothecameraearnestly.“Noonecanbethesameastheywereadecadeago.Youaren’tandwearen’teither.”
Then,hetookalongsilentlookatthecomments,whichmademelaughwithhowweirditwastowatchKitreadthescreentohimselfasmillionsviewedhimbreathlessly.Jihoon,whowaswatchingitwithme,nudgedmeintheside.“Quitit,”hesaid.
“Sorry.”
Kitspokeagain.“StarLuneisover,andit’snoone’sfault.We’vealwaysknownitwouldneverlastforever,andwe’regratefulwecouldclosethebandonourownterms.Weloveyou,andweloveeachother.Pleaseletusgrowtobethemenyouhelpedusbecome.”
Jihoonbeamedwithprideandpostedthecliponhissocialmediawithalineofhearts,stars,andmoons.Nowthattheywereoutoftheircontract,JihoonandtheotherstookgreatpleasureincheckinginwithformerStarrysandencouragingthosewhowerehavingbaddays,apersonalinterestthathelpedfansadjust.Newlight’sCEOgettinginvolvedinafinancialscandaldidn’thurteither,andtheircontinueddenialsaboutforcingJihoonandDaehyunintopretendingaboutthesongwritingcredits—whichincludedleakedemailsthreateningtocancelthegroup’sdebutifthetwomembersdidn’tplayalong—wasoneofthefinalnailsinthecompany’scoffin
Now,monthslater,mostofthecontroversyhasdieddown,allowingtheformermembersofStarLunetomakewavesintheirnewchosenpathsandmetotraveltoMaltawithmysister.
“Let’sgo,”Phoebesays,andwestepoutintotheVallettastreets.Thebrightsunreflectsoffthelightstoneofthecity,andIpullmyhatfartherdown,alreadysweatinginthefallheat.
“YouhearfromJihoon?”sheasksaswegodownaflightofsteps.
“Hecalledearlier,”Isay.“They’redonewithKit’snewEP,andhetooktwoofJihoon’ssongs.”
JihoonhadbeeninSeoulforthepastweekworkingwithSangjunandXin’snewcompany.AswellassigningKit,StarRisehastworookiegroupsdebutinginafewmonths,andJihoonlovesspendingtimewiththem.Iwentbythestudiowithhimonceandwasstruckathowgentlyhetreatedthesekidswhoidolizedhim.StarRiseisdeterminedtogivethetraineesasupportiveenvironment,andJihoonishappytodropinwithadvicewhenhecan.
He’salsomakinganameforhimselfwithhisownsongsandcontinuestocollaboratewithDaehyun,boththrilledtohavethefreedomtotalkabouttheirworkwiththeirfans.Daehyun’slastsongwasforagirlgroupwhohittheU.S.chartsforthefirsttime.Hecalledusatthreeinthemorningwhenhefoundout,andwepoppedchampagnerightthereforanimpromptutranspacificcelebration.
Phoebepointstoasmallalley.“Wecantakeashortcuthere.Youleavetomorrow,right?”
Inod.JihoonisleavingSeoultoflyintoParis,wherewe’lldosomeshopping(him),visitsomemuseums(me),andclimbtheEiffelTower(both).We’vealsosentourhikinggearaheadtoSaint-Jean-Pied-de-Port,wherewe’llstartwalkingtheCaminodeSantiago.Weonlyhaveafewdays,butwecanalwayscomebacktowhereweleftoff.
Myphonebuzzeswithanalert:JihoonandAriSuperAwesomeGetaway.It’sthecalendarinviteJihoonsentfrommylivingroomlastyear,butnowit’sbeenupdatedtosay:JihoonandAriSuperAwesomeGetaway.Thefirstofmany.Iloveyou.
Jihoonhasaddedanewselfieinthenotessection.Itreads,Alwaysthinkingofyou,Ari.
Iblowtheselfieakissandstepoutofthealleytoaviewoftheocean,thecityringingtheharborlikeapartialcorona.Phoebegrinsatme.“Notbad,huh?”
Ismilebackather.“It’sperfect.”
Andrightnow,itis.Acknowledgments
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