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I stomp into the dressing room and dig around for my old suitcase. I swing it up onto the center island of cabinets and begin packing. My old jeans, the one polka-dotted dress I brought, my cardigan, all get tossed into the case. I’m leaving everything else here. Wansu can live in this marble tomb of a place by herself. I am going to be with Yujun. I’m going to—a sob catches in my throat.
Sometimes Wansu will talk about her job and her love life. . . . She’s lonely.
I clasp my hands on the edge of the suitcase and sink to my knees. The metal edging bites into my hand. Wansu is my mother, too. She carried me for nine months. She tried to keep me, but she couldn’t. Her family didn’t support her. There was no government aid that could feed me. She made the ultimate sacrifice. She gave me up so that I could have a better life, and now I want to take everything away from her.
What would Bomi put in the margins of my dating profile. Demanding! Confused! Irrational!
Selfish.
I will not be the older brother that comes to ruin. There has to be a way. There has to be a way to make this work. Yujun believes there is. We can’t see it clearly right now, but if we give it time . . .
I push to my feet and walk through the sitting room and into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. What we need is time, I decide. Time for Wansu to get used to the idea of Yujun and me as a couple. We will go through Chuseok and jesas and whatever else she said Yujun would not be invited to, and she will see how her worries are for naught.
Dinnertime rolls around. Completely composed, I join her at the dining room table. If she’s surprised by my appearance, she doesn’t show it. Dinner is hand-packed spinach ravioli with a mixed green salad, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and feta cheese. Red wine is the drink of choice. I have two glasses.
Wansu speaks of the weather—the cool weather is nice; the pollution—I’ll need to carry a mask with me in case the air quality grows bad as it does in the late autumn months; and even the drama she’s watching—it’s outrageous.
It’s the most verbose she’s ever been. At the end of the meal, having eaten everything on my plate and tasted nothing, I let her know that tomorrow night I will not be home for dinner.
Her mouth tightens, but maybe because she doesn’t want to know the answer, she doesn’t ask why. She wouldn’t like my response.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
There’s a small sushi bar near Yujun’s apartment. According to the Naver profile, it only seats ten. I reserve one table and send a text for Yujun to meet me there after work. I take a leaf out of Bomi’s book and arrive fifteen minutes in advance. As I wait for him to arrive, I am assailed by second thoughts. What if I’m being too impulsive? What if we end up arguing? There are other places that are less public. Maybe we should go to the river. That’s where we first kissed. Where I first cried in his arms. Where we had our first breakup. I stare at my phone screen.
Then he walks through the door.
I remember the first time I saw him at the Incheon Airport. He was standing to the side of the kiosk where I was leasing my internet modem. Dressed in a blue suit with one hand scrolling through his phone and the other stuck into his pocket, he looked more like a model for some expensive clothing brand than a traveler who had disembarked from an international flight. I had to fix my tongue against the roof of my mouth so it wouldn’t fall out. Tonight, I’m struck speechless again at his male beauty.
There are only two other people in this small restaurant—a couple, but they both turn and stare at him for longer than is polite. He’s that attractive. But Yujun has eyes for no one else. He never has, not since I’ve been with him. His face lights up when he spots me.
“Hara, have you been waiting long?”
“No. I just arrived.”
“You should’ve had the cab drop you off at my place. We could have walked over together.” He pulls out his chair and settles in.
“I wanted to make sure there was a table available.” I wonder if I should’ve brought a gift. Do people do that for breakups? And what is an appropriate breakup gift? A tie? A book? A journal? Before I decided to live in Seoul, I bought him hand-painted notecards to write to me. Conversely, what is the right present for a “stay with me even if I ruin your life” request?
