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Yujun makes an unhappy noise at the back of his throat. He does not like this compromise. “Yes. I’ll promise.”
I hesitate and he caves completely. “I really, really promise.”
Before I can spill the details, the food arrives. Yujun impatiently watches as the waitstaff delivers the bowls of fried mushroom fritters, Korean thistle rice, root chips, salted bellflower root, and cold soybean noodles. There is a moment when I think he will stand up and distribute the bowls himself. Finally, the food is set and the waitstaff is gone and I’m at center stage. I don’t like it.
“Bujang-nim does not give me much work. My coworkers are understandably resentful that I’m there, especially when I don’t know the language and all of the customs. I suggested we do some team-building exercises and everyone got supercompetitive. Yes, I know. You race across a sidewalk and so it’s normal to push your coworker’s chair over in order to prevent him from scoring a fake point in a trash can basketball game. We ended the day at a hweshik and the alcohol unlocked some gate in my brain. Suddenly, I could understand everyone. That didn’t go over well and now I’m getting frozen out again. I’m sure things will eventually get better as time goes on, and I received three more projects today, so the logistics one is probably next.”
“Hmm.” Yujun is unconvinced.
“Hmm nothing. It’s fine, and even if it wasn’t fine, you coming down from the fourteenth floor isn’t going to solve any problems. My connection with you and Wansu is why they are unhappy in the first place. I’m a big girl and I can handle it. Do you trust me?”
Yujun clenches his jaw once more but nods brusquely. I ignore his lack of enthusiasm and finish. “Bujang-nim is not going to jeopardize this obviously very big project.”
And that actually might be the problem. He doesn’t trust me to do the work, so he’s not going to send anything my way, but I do have a better command of the English language than any of them and they should use me at least in that capacity. Tomorrow I’ll finish those three projects and then press my boss for more work, specifically the LA project. I’m not sure how I will do this without appearing like I’m relying on my mother or Yujun, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. “Trust me,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel.
“What team-building exercises did you do?” Sangki is intrigued and so is Yujun by the way he leans forward.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Bomi warns.
“You’re not on my team, Kim Bomi-nim. Don’t worry. Tell me the activities you did,” Yujun half demands, half encourages.
“Don’t tell him, Hara. If he does them, all of the team managers, including mine, will believe that this is a good idea.”
“Sorry. Siding with Bomi here. No one should be forced to do team building. We already have the hweshik.” I drink my soju. Bomi reaches across and pours me another glass, her way of thanking me, I guess.
“I didn’t realize our hweshiks were so reviled.” Poor Yujun looks slightly peeved. Out of all of us, he has the highest position and has treated people to the most meals.
“Everyone wants to have hweshik with you, baby.” I pat his hand.
Bomi and Sangki both roll their eyes. Bomi knocks her fist on the wood tabletop.
“We cannot have meals together if you are making love to each other at the table.”
“I patted his hand,” I protest.
“You called him baby,” Bomi points out.
“You don’t have terms of endearment in Korea?” I glance around the table. Yujun called me aegiya at times in the sweetest tones.
“Yes. Of course.” Yujun flashes a dimple in my direction. “Call me whatever you like.”
Bomi groans. “We need more soju if this is how the night is going to go.”
“More? I don’t think there’s enough.” Sangki waves down the waiter.
By the end of the dinner, there are more empty green glass bottles on the table than there are people left in the restaurant. Yujun and I make it to his apartment, but we’re both too far gone to do anything but collapse on the bed in a drunken stupor.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My plan to get the LA work from Bujang-nim takes a small detour later that week. I finish the projects, but my manager is gone so I can’t pester him for more work. The atmosphere in the office is still chilly. No one is getting over my sudden comprehension of Korean anytime soon. I try to explain to Chaeyoung and Soyou that it was a onetime fluke thing where the barrier in my brain came down for a brief—very brief—moment, but they don’t believe me so I give up. I’ll rock this LA project and my hard work will win them over. Otherwise, maybe I’ll ask for a transfer to the mail room, where I’ll sort packages or run coffee errands.
