Twenty
In December, Umma drops a bomb on Ji-hyun and me. It’s finals week, and I feel like I’m drowning. Every second of my day is spent reading and taking notes, and my hand cramps so badly that I have to ice it at night. Ji-hyun also has a huge project for her geography class, and in the evenings after dinner, we work at the kitchen table together while Umma watches the TV on mute.
Tonight is no different. I pore over my philosophy textbook while Ji-hyun carefully works on her map, her colored pencils spread out on the table. Every now and then my phone buzzes, and I stop to check it.
, Geoffrey writes. When I open the image, I snort. It’s of an orange cat lying face down on a table.
I start writing out a response, but Umma suddenly says, “Girls? I have some news.” I look up from my phone. “George is going to move in. Just for a little while,” she adds. “There was a big leak in his apartment, so I told him he could stay with us while they do the repairs. It’ll be one month, maybe two at the most.”
Ji-hyun opens her mouth to argue, but Umma silences her with a piercing look. Ji-hyun turns to me instead.
“Say something,” she whines.
“Like what?” I retort. At that, Ji-hyun storms into our room and slams the door. There’s a pressure building in my head, and I still have seventy pages to review tonight. I can’t deal with this.
With Ji-hyun gone, my mother turns the volume up on the TV. I read the same sentence again and again until the words blur together. My aggravation is growing, and finally I shut the book with a snap.
, I type to Geoffrey.
That is ridiculous. I’m sorry. If you want, you can come and stay at my place? 
My mom and stepdad are leaving for vacation on Monday. They’ll be gone for a few weeks. You can take my room and I’ll sleep on the living room couch. You can have total privacy.
His forwardness surprises me, but I know it’s a cultural difference. Geoffrey is being kind. To American kids, this is the type of thing a good friend would do. Oh, you’re fighting with your parents? Come stay at my house. I know there are many things about Korean culture that Geoffrey would find confusing.
The next day, George shows up with three big boxes, which he dumps unceremoniously in our living room. “My new roommates!” he says jovially to Ji-hyun and me.
He immediately makes himself comfortable. He leaves his towel on the bathroom floor after showering and never puts the cap back on the toothpaste. He leaves a tower of crusting dishes piled up in the sink. He drinks all the milk and puts the empty carton back in the fridge. And in the evenings, when we’re in the living room, he gazes at us. It exhilarates and terrifies me, knowing that I’m being watched. If I glance up just a little, I know his blue eyes will meet mine.
“Can’t he get a hotel or something?” Ji-hyun fumes. “Why does he have to stay with us and disturb our lives?”
“Staying in a hotel is expensive,” I say, hoping to calm her down.
“Doesn’t he have a job? Or money?”
“He’s an IT consultant. I’m sure he has money.”
“IT consultant? What the hell does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. Installing computers or something? I’ve overheard him talking about hardware and installs. That’s what Mom said, anyway. His company is based in New York City, so he can work anywhere he wants. His hours are flexible, too.”
Ji-hyun sighs and sits down on the ground, her back to the door. “I miss Appa,” she says suddenly. I freeze. Hearing her say it brings a surge of emotion. I blink back tears.
“I don’t,” I say.
Ji-hyun gives me a hard look. “You don’t need to lie to me, you know.”
“I’m not. Are you calling me a liar?”
“Sometimes you are.” She shrugs. “I don’t call you out on it even when I know the truth.”
I change the subject. “Remember when Appa brought home those cookies, and we ate them all without giving him a single one?” I laugh, and Ji-hyun does too. “He told us we had to walk to the grocery store and buy him a new box.”
“He was so mad,” Ji-hyun sighs. “I didn’t tell you this, but on my birthday two years ago he let me stay home from school.”
“What?!” I sit up, indignant. “He never let me do that.”
“He made me promise not to tell you.” She grins, reaching over to the desk. I watch her as she taps each of the bobbleheads in turn. Their nodding accelerates until they’re a line of yes-men, agreeing with Ji-hyun’s every word. “I wanted to brag about it so badly, but I knew you’d be furious.”
“That’s so unfair! He used to tell me that if I missed a single day of school, I’d fail out and become homeless.” I snort. “Remember that refrigerator box he kept for ages? He always said, ‘This is in case Ji-won needs a place to stay if she decides to give up on school.’ Ridiculous.”
“He was,” Ji-hyun says. Her eyes sparkle with tears. “He was the most ridiculous man.” I hug her so she can’t see that I’m crying, too.