I lay the vinyl on the turntable and lowered the pin on the spinning record. Rumours was a familiar, charismatic friend, popular enough to be recognized by guests, but tumultuous enough not to be basic. There was champagne chilling, a stylish Diptyque candle burning on the coffee table next to a bowl of olives. Hosting was one of the conduits through which women measured each other. Do you have everything under control? How aesthetic is your home? Are you and your partner a perfectly symbiotic team? Is he liberated from misogyny enough to cook while you effervescently keep your guests entertained? Do you have one-of-a-kind ceramic serveware by a local artist you support?
Incoming call from Baba
“Hello?” I answered.
“Your mother is very upset” was the first thing he said. No hayatim, no kizim.
“Oh no! What’s happened?” Is she hurt?
“It was Seollal on Tuesday,” Baba said, his voice gritty.
I drew my breath in quickly. God. I was so busy, I’d completely forgotten about the Korean New Year. The biggest celebration on the calendar. Where time was spent with families. I saw Omma text me asking me when I was coming home, but it was one of those texts you mentally noted to reply to, and then never got around to. Along with making the report to HR, getting the Defense in, negotiating my role parameters at Arrow, attempting to preserve my relationship, unpacking into the new flat, and a total lack of sleep, the holiday had flown my mind.
“I feel terrible,” I said. Omma didn’t make a fuss about much, but Seollal was her time to shine. I would have gone home to a table covered in tteokguk, mandu, japchae, all cooked to perfection, Omma’s face accomplished.
“We understand you are a very busy lawyer, kizim, and maybe you couldn’t take the day off work. But how could you even forget to call? She was waiting for you all day.”
My heart could have wilted on the spot. It was unwritten law that the obligation lay with children to pay their respects to their elders. On Seollal, children bowed to their elders and received money in envelopes. Baba would slip me an extra tenner to distract me from Omma’s tears for her own parents. Omma would never have messaged me to follow up.
I called my mum and profusely apologized. Blamed the stress of the job for my forgetfulness, tearing up between words.
“Don’t cry. Wrinkles!” Omma laughed softly. That only made me cry more. The soft cushioning of her voice made me want to run home.
“괜찮아.” It’s okay, Omma soothed, half laughing in confusion at how emotional I was at what I claimed was an innocent mistake. I screwed my face tautly to control the tears. Omma told me about the day, how she made her best tteokguk yet, how she ordered her rice cakes weeks in advance. My mouth salivated at the thought of the dishes I’d missed out on. I should have been there. These are the important things.
We hung up, and I gathered myself. I feverishly shopped for the ingredients for Kit to cook, tidied, hoovered, wiped mirrors, dusted shelves, and finally managed to have a few minutes to touch up my lipstick and get changed. I wore a black satin blouse, loosely tied at the waist, with buttons undone to reveal a lacey bralette, a long gold lariat chain dangling just above my breasts. I looked like the young trophy wife of a middle-aged CEO, nestling into the family home she’s redecorated to remove any trace of his displaced first wife.
Emma and Ollie, our university friends, were the first to arrive. Kit handed Ollie a Birra Moretti, while I poured Emma a glass of champagne. Once we settled into opposite ends of the sofa and our allotted gender roles, Emma asked various interior design questions, while Ollie and Kit initiated an in-depth analysis of the Welsh win at the Six Nations.
“Aw, is that you!” Emma squealed, walking toward the mantelpiece and picking up a framed photo of Omma and me, at around eight months old, having a picnic. “Look at you! Such a chubby bubba!”
I smiled bashfully, as Ollie and Kit sauntered over to peer at the photo.
“Still as cute as a button,” Kit said, pulling me in at the waist.
“Your mum is a true nineties fox,” Ollie said, whistling.
“A total MILF,” Em agreed.
“If you want to know what your girlfriend is going to look like in twenty years’ time, just look at her mum, amirite?” Ollie said, tapping his elbow against Kit’s.
“You were such an Asian baby!” Emma clucked. My head instinctively turned, my ears turning red.
“Well, makes sense!” I said lightly, trying to keep my tone playful.
“No, but like, you look more… ethnic now. You were way more Asian-looking as a kid.”
My eyes bulged as I swore internally that I wouldn’t derail the night before it had started. I was saved by the bell. I swung the door open to find Leo leaning against the frame.
“Hey.” I gave him a lopsided grin and leaned forward for a hug. “Where’s Suzie?”
“Total nightmare,” he said, walking into the hallway. “She called it quits a couple of days ago.”
“What happened?” I was disappointed. I enjoyed Suzie’s company more than Leo’s most of the time.
“Haven’t the foggiest.” Leo shrugged. “She said I didn’t treat her right, packed her stuff up and left. The removal company I arranged took the last of her things today; the least I could do was make the process easier.”
“Legend!” Kit came round the corner, my eyes wide to try to telepathically warn him not to put his foot in it. “Where’s the missus?”
“Out the picture, bro. I was telling Jade: she broke it off out of the blue. Totally blindsided me.”
“Whoa. Well, she clearly had some issues in that case.” Kit slapped Leo on the shoulder. “Let’s get you a beer, mate.”
While I was closing the door I saw Adele on the other side of the street, looking down at directions on her phone.
“Del!” I waved. “Over here!” As she turned, I spied her date behind her. The two of them, both nearly six feet tall, floated across the street. Now winter was waning, the sun was setting a little later in the day, and together with the marshmallow sky behind them, they were an ethereal image fit for a seventies album cover.
“Jade, this is Gabby,” Adele said with a huge Cheshire cat smile of self-satisfaction. “Gabby, this is my best friend, Jade.”
“So happy to meet you!” I leaned forward and kissed Gabby on both cheeks. “Glad you could both make it.”
“Thank you so much for having me,” Gabby said shyly. I noticed an American accent.
“Is Eve here yet?” Adele asked.
“Nah, she couldn’t make it—she’s moving house today,” I said, walking into the living room and introducing Del and Gabby.
As the guests chatted, I sneaked off to the kitchen, where Kit was sticking his tongue out, stirring the ali nazik kebab in the pot I’d prepared for him earlier. It warmed my heart when he asked me for my family’s recipe. He wanted to get it exactly right, so he asked questions like when you say dice the onions, exactly how big should the chunks be? Wait, how do you peel an aubergine, it doesn’t have a skin like a banana does? Can I put the rice in now? Or when the water’s boiling? What do you mean by “season the water”?
I had at least managed to convince him to let me prepare the ayran—a salty yoghurt drink—when Leo came in.
“So, who’s the other girl?” Leo opened the fridge and pulled out three beers.
“She has a name,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Gabby?”
“Yeah, she’s outrageously fit.”
“You’re a charmer.”
“Oh, c’mon, you can’t blame me! I’m trying to put my shattered heart back together,” he wheedled. “Seriously, though, is she single?”
“She’s Adele’s date, you blind idiot.” I waved my spoon toward the living room.
“Next time do a better job of wingmanning.” Leo smirked before kissing me on the cheek and flouncing off in glee. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him.
Two bottles of champagne later and we were finally settling at the dining table for dinner.
“Smells glorious, mate!” Ollie said, as Kit leaned across him to set the platter of kebab—tender lamb over smoky aubergines and garlicky yoghurt—in the middle. “What are we having?”
“Ali nazik kebab,” I said, “my grandmother’s recipe.”
“And you cooked, Kit?” Emma piped up, with her hand over her heart, looking at Ollie with her brows knitted together as if to say watch this example. “Aww, so sweet!”
“Oooh,” Emma said, peering into the pot, “I think I saw this in Ottolenghi’s cookbook, what did you say it was called again?”
“Ali nazik. It originates from Gaziantep, but is pretty common across most of the east coast.”
“And that’s… Israeli?”
“No, Em.” I laughed to flood some forced lightness through my gritted teeth. “It’s Turkish.”
“Ah, I see! All those cuisines blend into each other a bit, don’t they?” She continued, “Who really invented hummus, for example?”
I smiled warmly, refusing to look up at Adele, whose eyes were boring into me. I was already self-conscious about what Adele would think about this group of university friends. Or rather, what she would think about who I was around them.
“Em,” Ollie laughed, “geography has never been your strong suit, has it?” He stood, holding up his glass. “I’d like to raise a toast first, to my dear friends, Jade and Kit, who have always been the mum and dad of our friendship group.” Emma, to Ollie’s left, nodded sagely. “I am so happy for you both that you have taken this next step in your relationship, and I wish you many happy years in your new home. To Kit and Jade!”
The rest of the guests echoed Ollie’s sentiment, and, within a few minutes, multiple side conversations had begun. I had allied myself on the other end of the table with Adele and Gabby.
“So, where are you from, Gabby? I heard an American accent earlier.”
“I’m from Chicago originally,” she said, nodding, “but I’ve been in London for six years now.” She was pushing her food around her plate, looking queasy.
“Is the food okay?”
“Uh, sorry, I’m a vegan,” she said sheepishly.
I slapped Adele’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me!”
“Shit, I forgot!” Adele said.
“Let me quickly rustle something up for you.” I started to get up.
“No, no, no, it’s honestly all right,” Gabby said. “I ate loads of the bread and olives earlier, so I’m not even that hungry!”
I was about to insist on cooking something for Gabby when my ears pricked up as I heard across the table, “I put in an offer for the place this morning—a steal, to be honest.”
“Are you buying a place, Leo?” Bit of an odd thing to do when embroiled in a breakup?
“Hopefully, if the offer is accepted. In Peckham, two bedder for seven two five.”
“Good Lord,” I breathed.
“Is that normal for London?” Adele asked.
“I went in way over the competition,” Leo said, “made an offer they couldn’t say no to.”
“Were there many others?” Ollie asked.
“A local couple, they tried to low-ball for six thirty. Asking was six seven five.”
“You offered fifty grand over asking?” I exclaimed.
“God,” Kit coughed. “Not sure how I feel about the increasing gentrification going on there.”
Leo shrugged. “I liked the place.”
Kit didn’t press further. I knew Adele would have clocked Kit’s laying down of his markers, only to not interrogate the issue further.
“Is the bank happy to lend you that much?” I asked.
Leo played with his collar. “It’s a cash purchase. It’s more efficient that way.” I balked at the idea of Leo, with his designer trimmed beard and signet ring, walking the streets of Peckham, bulldozing a local couple’s offer for a property in their own neighborhood.
But are you going to say anything, Jade? I thought not.
By the time I jolted back into the conversation, it had moved on to the Iraq war.
“Undoubtedly Blair is a war criminal,” I heard Leo say. “But I guess I would say that as a bleeding-heart liberal.”
The evening rolled into the early hours of the morning. The champagne turned to wine which turned to whiskies. Conversations ducked and weaved: the celebrities our partners fancied (I went for Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders, Kit went for Zoë Saldaña); whether a second Brexit referendum was in the cards; whether a dog or a cat would win in a fight; the best places to visit in Boston; a group trip itinerary to Ollie’s family place in Dorset (early June was penciled in).
As we approached two in the morning, Kit and I were on opposite ends of the sofa, Kit rubbing the soles of my feet. Leo was flicking through a magazine I had left on the coffee table. Em was rummaging through the fridge for late-night snacks. Ollie was leaning against the open bay window, succumbing to his nicotine crutch. Gabby and Adele were entwined together on the armchair, in the unmistakable glow of early lust. The night had taken a lethargic pace, with everyone’s movements in slow motion. The record player had been abandoned and songs had been shuffling on Spotify for the past hour.
“Chooooon,” Ollie said, as the twang of strummed guitars came on through the speakers.
Kit pointed at the guys. “Another beer?”
Even Del and Gabby were roused from their love nest, swaying to the music, stopping to kiss every few beats.
“Great night, baby, you did an amazing job.” Kit leaned over to kiss me.
“Love you.” I smiled.
Ollie parked his ciggie in the corner of his lips as he cracked open his beer, then began singing along with Coldplay. As the familiar chords to “Yellow” reverberated around the flat, Ollie stuck his head out of the window, upturned to the sky, mimicking the song’s stargazing lyrics.
I lolled my head against the arm of the sofa, body relaxed, barely making out the tuneless crooning.
Ollie pointed at me with an inviting smile.
“Jade, this one’s for you!”
Befuddled and drunk, I didn’t understand. I looked over at Kit, who laughed in bemusement. Leo had moved toward Ollie, strumming an invisible ukulele. I laughed along confusedly.
“We came along… we wrote a song fo-oor Jade!”
Then I realized. I stood up. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t look away either. My feet were welded to the floor. Leo and Ollie put their heads together, using their beer bottles as microphones, eyes shut and shouting, “And she was so yellow!”
It was like a record scratch scraping through my layers of sensibility.
“Whoa,” Adele said, mouth agape and looking between me, Kit, and the guys. “Surely they don’t mean—”
Kit was looking intensely at his beer bottle, presumably hoping the situation wouldn’t escalate.
They hadn’t noticed Adele, and were continuing their humiliating serenade, both pointing at me while I willed the ground to swallow me whole. A pounding had begun in my ears, stamping out my hearing.
“… She was all yellow!”
Gabby sat up and switched the speaker off, her previously soft American twang replaced with hard Chicago dialect. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” Ollie held up his hands. “It was just a joke, chill. Jade doesn’t care!”
“She’s obviously not okay!” Gabby shrieked.
“Haven’t you just met her tonight? We’ve known Jade for years.”
“Jade, are you okay?” Adele said.
I stared at the floor, squirming to be out of this situation. I may have smiled. I’m not sure. I looked at Kit.
“All right, guys, that was stupid,” Kit waded in, the authority figure. “Everyone’s drunk, let’s not get too heated, shall we?” He nodded at me to play along.
“Kit,” I said. The evening was already decomposing at a rapid pace. “Is that all?”
“It’s okay, Jadey.” His voice was warm in a forced way. “They were just singing along to a song.”
I stood still. Emma and Ollie exchanged uh-oh glances. Adele and Gabby each took a step to flank me.
Kit quickly glanced at the boys with an embarrassed smile that suggested he was doing his best to manage me. “Jade, it was a joke! A stupid one, but we’ve had a nice evening. Let’s all move on, shall we?”
“Is that the best you can do?” I said.
“I’m not the one who said it, Jade! Why am I in the firing line?”
The memory of Leo and Ollie doing a Borat impression when Baba came to my graduation burst to the surface. Their laughs as they said izzz nice and exclaimed wa wa wee wa! I’d smiled then, too. I’d failed to protect the best person in my life. I couldn’t fucking take this pretending anymore.
“Why aren’t you defending me!” I yelled. Why, all these years, have you used me as your personal soapbox but won’t stand up for me when I actually need you to.
“Jade,” Kit said softly, “our friends have the right to sing along to songs without getting yelled at.”
“So I’m the problem now,” I said quietly, my insides ballooning with humiliation.
I felt Adele and Gabby watching us.
“I’m just trying to ease the tension, Jadey. No need to take things so personally, okay?”
“Look, I don’t want to cause a domestic here.” Ollie stood up. He turned to Gabby and Adele, his hand over his heart, and said, “I’m sorry, sincerely, if you both felt like what I said was offensive. It was not my intention at all.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Adele said, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t tell my boyfriend to fuck off!” Emma squealed. “You’re so rude!”
“Well, I tried apologizing.” Ollie laughed as if to say hey, I’m the bigger person here.
There was a stagnant, silent moment that mushroomed, filling the room with awkwardness and sobriety. I wanted to stand with Adele and Gabby and walk out of here. This is exactly what I was worried about happening tonight. Adele seeing me fold, to avoid causing a scene. Her seeing me brush past things because the alternative was walking out on the life I’d constructed.
I picked up the salad bowl and threw the wooden servers inside it. They clattered loudly, which only made me look churlish. Del and Gabby started to fuss around me. Leave it, we’ll clear up. Seeing my best friend and her date pick up Ollie and Leo’s crumpled napkins was too debasing for me to bear.
“Please, Del,” I said. “I’m okay. I’ve got this. Let me order you a cab.”
I got their coats together and headed toward the door as they trailed behind me.
“I’m so so so sorry,” I pleaded in a whisper.
“I’m not leaving you,” Adele concluded. Gabby nodded.
“Del.” I held her hands, ashamed at my weakness, mortified by association. I held her gaze, pleading with her. “Please go. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”
She understood, and nodded.
“Call me if you need me, okay?”
“Yeah.” Take me with you, please.
“Love you, Jade.”
“Love you.” I squeezed Adele’s hand. “And really good to meet you,” I said to Gabby.
I walked back into the living room to see Kit, Ollie, Emma, and Leo around the coffee table, laughing.