For the rest of the week, I relive the moment Woori told Nathaniel he was saved as “Boyfriend” in my contacts. It catches me unawares—on the treadmill, in the shower. And his response, I see.
What did he see? It’s mortifying to think that he thinks I might still be pining after him. I grab the nearest stuffed animal on my bed and bury my face in its stomach.
“Sori-yah?” Ajumma’s voice travels from downstairs. “Min Sori, are you awake?”
Releasing the stuffed animal, I trip out of bed and open the door. “Ajumma?” I call back.
“Come down! Breakfast is ready!”
I hurry to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Last night, I picked out my outfit for the day, and I quickly change into the white ruffled blouse and light blue jeans. As I close my bedroom door behind me, my eyes flit to the master suite at the end of the hall. It’s my mother’s bedroom, but she hasn’t slept there in over a month, either because she’s traveling on business trips or staying overnight at the company.
I wonder if I should pack up clothes to bring to her. Is she skipping meals? At least when she comes home, she can have proper meals, as Ajumma is one of the few people my mother will listen to when she tells her she needs to eat. Since before raising me, she raised her.
I toe on my house slippers at the bottom of the stairs and head across the front entrance to the dining room. Though it’s early in the morning, the chandelier sparkles over an array of dishes that my housekeeper has laid out on the long table.
I pull the chair back from the table and sit down, admiring the spread. Surrounding a small grilled fish on a bed of lettuce are a half dozen vegetables, both pickled and freshly prepared. Directly in front of me is a bowl of beef-and-radish soup, several scoops of thick, fluffy rice, and a small plate that holds a single perfectly cooked sunny-side up egg.
“Thank you for the meal,” I say, before picking up the cool metal chopsticks, cutting off a piece of egg, and placing it between my lips.
“Mm,” Ajumma says approvingly, as she takes the seat opposite me. “Eat lots.”
Ajumma is in her late sixties, and I’ve known her my whole life. My family used to also employ a driver, but my father took Mr. Kim when he left.
My mother got Ajumma and the house. My father got Ajeossi and the car. And they split me.
As usual, there’s only one place setting at the long table. I’ve asked Ajumma to join me for meals, but she refuses. It’s a quiet affair as I reach my chopsticks across the table, my spoon lightly clinking against the rim of the bowl. Not for the first time, I’m reminded of that morning at Nathaniel’s house when he and his sisters had to scramble over each other to grab dishes, filling the air with lively chatter.
“Sori?” I glance up to find Ajumma watching me with a crease between her brows. “You look tired. Are you sleeping well?”
When it’s not dreams of the embarrassing moment on the radio show, it’s dreams of New York, not just that morning at Nathaniel’s house, but the night before, when I saw him at the restaurant for the first time in several months. How at first it was awkward, because we didn’t know how to act around each other, but then, as we worked together to protect Jenny, and later as he teased me at his house, it was like having a glimmer of what we were like before, when we were friends.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll go to bed earlier tonight.”
She clicks her tongue, clearly not satisfied.
“I’m seeing Gi Taek and Angela today,” I say to distract her.
It works because her expression immediately brightens. She met Angela and Gi Taek when I brought them to the house, where she proceeded to thank them for being my friends. Gi Taek likes to remind me of this moment as often as possible. She’s also met Jenny, who stayed with me last summer when she wasn’t at her grandmother’s. I’d caught Ajumma looking in on us with actual tears of joy in her eyes. It’s embarrassing, but I can’t blame her. Before Jenny, who came as a package deal with Gi Taek and Angela, I hadn’t had any friends. Well, besides Nathaniel and Jaewoo.
“Actually, I need to leave soon if I’m to meet them on time.” I place my chopsticks on the chopstick rest.
“Yes, of course!” she says. “You mustn’t keep them waiting.”
Feeling a sudden rush of affection and gratitude, I move around the table and press a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you for the meal,” I say.
“Sweet girl,” she says, patting my back. “Always.”
“Sori!” Angela spots me across the coffee shop, pressing her hand to her head to keep her beret from flying off as she winds around the tables.
After a hug, she plops onto the cushioned seat opposite me.
“Where’s Hong Gi Taek?” I ask. They were supposed to come together. This coffee shop is one subway stop away from Neptune Entertainment, where both of them are trainees, Gi Taek having joined soon after graduation.
Her eyes widen and she turns in her seat. “He’s not behind me?”
I laugh. “He probably popped into a store while you weren’t looking.”
She turns back with a grin. “There was an Olive Young outside the subway station.”
“I was on a radio show with someone from your company,” I tell her once we’ve placed our orders at the counter and returned to the table with our drinks. “Tsukumori Rina.”
“Rina!” Angela exclaims. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re talking about me again?” Gi Taek pulls out a chair next to Angela, grabbing the drink she bought for him and bringing it to his cherry-tinted mouth.
“Yah, Hong Gi Taek,” I say. “We were wondering when you’d make an appearance.”
“I got distracted,” he says, holding up his shoulder bag. “I got a gift . . .”—he brings the bag to his chest—“for me!”
I roll my eyes. “You should come over to my house soon. My housekeeper wants to see you both.”
“Remember when she thanked us for being your friends?” Gi Taek laughs, a fact that I don’t think he’ll ever let go.
“No.” I feign ignorance. “Did she say that?”
The morning and afternoon fly by as we catch up on what we’ve been up to since we last saw each other, eventually moving to another café, and then a third. We end up at Subway for dinner.
“I miss Jenny!” Angela says before proceeding to take a large bite of her tuna sub.
“Maybe she’s forgotten us,” Gi Taek says, twirling his straw. “Now that she has her fancy New York friends.”
I know he’s joking, but it’s close to what I’ve been thinking lately. My phone buzzes and I quickly reach for it.
“Jenny?” Gi Taek asks.
I shake my head. “It’s from my mother.” I skim the message. “She wants me to come to Joah early tomorrow morning.”
Gi Taek and Angela exchange a glance. I filled them in on my decision not to become an idol when I got back from New York. They were sad, as it was a dream the three of us shared, but they supported me. Though Angela shed a few tears.
“You haven’t told her yet?” Gi Taek says.
“I wish I knew how she would take it. I feel like it’s been her dream for me longer than it was something I had ever wanted.”
“You need a game plan,” Gi Taek says. “You have to give your mom a better career path for you than being an idol.”
I nod slowly. “That’s a good idea, but I don’t know what that is.”
“You could be a stylist!” Angela says. “You’re always so stylish, Sori.”
“Or a dance instructor. Remember when you taught Jenny when she took that dance class?”
I don’t know if either of those are right for me, but I would feel better having a plan. My mother might have personal reasons why she wanted me to debut as an idol, but she’s also a businesswoman. If I can give her an alternative path for me that’s a better use of my time—at least in her eyes—then maybe she won’t be so disappointed.
“We should do something to celebrate you deciding to talk to your mother,” Gi Taek says, and Angela nods eagerly.
There’s a familiar glint in his eye, and I know what his answer will be even before I ask, “What did you have in mind?”
“Noraebang!” Angela and Gi Taek shout together.