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“You okay?” Anna asks halfway up the second flight of stairs.
“Yeah. I’ve got it. I know I may sound like I’m a dying cow, but I can make it.” I lift the suitcase two inches off the ground.
Anna suppresses a small smile but bounds up ahead. “Sorry about Jules. She doesn’t hate all men and definitely not all Korean men. She dated a teacher for a while but it didn’t go anywhere. Her feelings are bruised.”
“I understand.” My dating history hasn’t been wonderful either. It’s not that I’ve sworn off men entirely but that there doesn’t seem to be a need for one, which is why my instant reaction to Yujun is odd. Maybe it’s because I’ve been without for so long that I wanted to jump him at the first flash of his dimples. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never been in such close proximity to male perfection. Or maybe it’s because I’m apprehensive in this new country, and his was the first kind face I’ve seen. I guess it doesn’t matter because nothing will come of it. Years from now, it’s a story I’ll tell on drunken nights back in Iowa with Kelly and Jeff.
“Here’s your room.” Anna pushes the door open to reveal a small bedroom with a twin bed, a dresser, a chair, and a nightstand. The pictures made the room look bigger, but it has everything I need. “Our one bathroom is the door at the top of the first flight of stairs. Do you have shower shoes?”
“I do.” The instruction sheet, which I’m guessing Anna wrote up, said to bring my own towels and a pair of rubber shower shoes that I needed to wear inside the bathroom at all times.
“Great. Don’t forget to wear them.” She scrunches her nose. “Jules is a stickler for it. The Wi-Fi password is ‘Seou!tast1c,’ but put an exclamation for the l and a one for the i.”
I drop my suitcase and pull out my phone. While I tap the password into the device, Anna lingers at the doorway. “Hey, I know we just met, but we are going to be roomies for two weeks, so my advice might be totally unnecessary, but some of those rich Korean boys think foreign women are kind of . . . easy. I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping my bounds.”
Heat flares in my cheeks. “No. I hear you.”
“Good.” She pats me on the shoulder. “We’re having barbecue tonight. If you want in, it’s ten thousand won. We’ll be on the back deck. Come and find us when you’re ready.”
Anna clambers down the stairs, leaving me to eye the bed with longing. I could take a quick nap, something like fifteen minutes long, and catch my second wind. My stomach grumbles in protest.
“All right. We’ll eat first and then sleep.” I’d scheduled my flight purposely this way. A Korean beauty guru had written an online article saying that the best way to combat jet lag was to fly in at six at night, go out for Korean fried chicken, and drink soju. After the meal and the booze, she’d pass out and awaken totally refreshed.
I resist the urge to sit down because I suspect if I do, the chicken-and-beer plan will be tossed out the window. I drag the suitcase to the end of the narrow twin bed and unzip it. Tucked into the corner are my towel and the new rubber slippers that are still connected by one of those plastic loops that will cut off your circulation if you try to rip them apart. I fish around for my manicure set and use the fingernail scissors to clip the plastic tie. In my stocking feet, I head down to the bathroom. The entry has a high ledge and inside the door on a rubber mat are three pairs of rubber slides. Anna wasn’t kidding. Everyone has their own shower shoes. I drop mine onto the mat and then step over the threshold. Awkwardly, I toe the shower shoes on and nearly fall on my face. This is going to take practice.
The shared bathroom is a little messy. There’s a towel on the floor near the door and a pair of washcloths draped over the side of the sink. If I was less tired or if I’d paid more for my room, I might’ve cared more about the condition, but the water is clear and hot and after a few splashes across my face, I feel more like a human and less like a crumpled piece of paper.
As I’m leaving, I nearly forget to remove the slides. Practice, I remind myself. I’ll get it in time. Back in the bedroom, I trade my sweatpants for a pair of jeans and a pale pink knit shirt that I bought at H&M. It’s a little chilly out so I find my favorite oversize cardigan sweater and shrug it on. Finally, I pull out my phone again. Flopping backward onto the mattress, I text Mom.
