Ten

One week later, Umma finally tells us the truth. By then, it’s impossible for her to keep pretending like nothing is happening. She’s been coming home later and later in the evenings under the guise of working later shifts, even though Ji-hyun and I are both fully aware that the grocery store closes at seven every night. Her furtive calls in the bathroom are also much more frequent and obvious.

“Can I tell you girls something?” she asks. She’s nervous and fidgety, fiddling with the faded couch cushions. There’s a cracked vase on the side table next to the couch, the one Appa used to hate. Umma never let him throw it out because it was a gift from her mother, who passed away years ago. She runs her finger along the split, and I find myself wondering: Is it my father she’s remembering, or her mother? Ji-hyun curls up next to her; Umma puts her arm around her shoulders. I stand a few steps away, my hands shoved in my pockets.

“What is it? What do you want to tell us?” I ask.

“I’m dating someone,” Umma says with a girlish shyness. Her Korean is excited, high-pitched. The words lilt upward, singsong. “I’ve been seeing him for a little over a month now.”

“You are?” Ji-hyun asks, feigning surprise. “Is it serious?”

“Very serious,” Umma says. “I wouldn’t tell you otherwise. He knows all about you and your sister, and he’s excited to meet you both. We were thinking about having lunch together. The four of us. What do you think?” She pats Ji-hyun’s back.

Ji-hyun stiffens. “Who is he? Do we know him?”

“No, no.” Umma’s cheeks turn a dark red, the color of the gochugaru flakes she uses so often in her cooking. “I met him at work.”

“At work?!” Ji-hyun and I blurt at the same time. When I turn to Ji-hyun, her mouth is hanging agape.

“Please tell me it’s not Mr. Lee,” I groan.

“Of course not. Don’t be silly. He’s a customer.” Before I can address this shocking news, Umma babbles on. “He was shopping for groceries and asked me to help him. Before he left, he asked for my number and we went on a date. His name is George. He’s a wonderful man. He has a good job, and he’s so charming. You’ll love him. I promise.”

“I’m sure we will.” Behind her, Ji-hyun rolls her eyes so that only I can see.

“Oh. And another thing. . . .” Umma hesitates. “He’s white.”

“What? Way to bury the lede!” Ji-hyun shouts. Her voice is deafening. I clap my hand over her mouth. She bites down, leaving my palm slick with her spit.

“How did you meet a white man at the Korean market?” I ask, wiping my hand on my shirt. There’s a crescent imprinted on my palm from Ji-hyun’s teeth. I make a mental note to get her back later.

“I know it sounds crazy, but George is a very special man. He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. He’s appreciative of all cultures, but especially Korean culture because he was stationed in Seoul when he was in the military. He can speak our language, too! Better than you or Ji-hyun, at least. Isn’t that amazing?”

“If you say so,” Ji-hyun says.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and in the ensuing quiet I feel myself floating away from my body, circling it like an untethered balloon. The apartment seems foreign. Dizzy, I glance at the cracked walls and popcorn ceiling. Was that water stain always there? Has the carpet always been this discolored? Why is everything we own broken? The vase, the scratched-up coffee table, the dying plants that Umma gave up on a while back. In between the missing slats of our window blinds, the sun’s setting rays flicker through weakly.

“Are you happy?” Ji-hyun asks our mother abruptly. Her question brings me back. I shake my head and return to myself.

“Very,” Umma says, smiling.

I don’t know what’s worse, the feeling in my chest or the look on my sister’s face. It’s fleeting, passing so quickly that Umma misses it. In that second, though, Ji-hyun’s sorrow and anguish—all of it—is written so clearly in her expression that I have to fight the urge to grab her and hold her tight. Then the shutters come up again, as though nothing is wrong.

“That’s great,” she says. “Really, really great. I’m so happy for you, Umma.”