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“It’s not that bad. I eat there all the time. Almost every day.”
“Hara, please,” he groans in dismay. “I take you to different delicious places every week, but you return to that food truck? You will get a bad idea of Seoul and become unhappy, and when Yujun comes home, I will hear nothing but complaints from him.”
“It reminds me of ho— Iowa,” I quickly correct, but it’s too late. A flash of pity zips across his face.
“Should we order?” he suggests, without commenting on my slipup. One thing that Sangki and Yujun have in common is good listening skills. They don’t badger you for details you’re not ready to share, and I really appreciate it. Home for now is Seoul, not Iowa. If I start fantasizing about how good Iowa was, I’ll never allow myself to view Seoul as anything but temporary.
Our food comes quickly. Sangki carries the corn and two beers and I follow with the two servings of rice-cake soup to the table that Lee has saved for us. When Sangki sets down his cell phone between us to pick up his chopsticks, I notice a new charm dangling off the case. I touch the familiar blue turtle with my finger. He has a key chain with this same character. He even wore Crocs one day with the blue turtle buttons.
“You’re very fond of Squirtle.”
“Not really,” he says between bites.
“But you have so much of it. I’ve seen you wear T-shirts and hats with the mascot. You have shoes with the same design.”
“I made an offhand comment on a show once about how Squirtle was cute, and now that’s my whole life. All my fans buy me the stuff. At this point, I own more Squirtle stuff than they have at the Nintendo headquarters in Kyoto.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and continues. “You have to be careful. Once I said I didn’t like mint chocolate, and now I’m branded as one of the celebs that is an anti. Every article on Naver about mint chocolate calls me part of the banmichodan. You know who else is on that team? My nemesis Dave Kim. I can’t be on the same side of anything as Dave Kim.”
Dave Kim is almost as well-known for being a virulent homophobe as is he for his singing.
“The only solution is to kick Dave Kim out of our anti–mint chocolate army.” I take a break from the spicy rice-cake soup to pour some water down my throat. There was no false advertising here. The soup is hot.
“Oh, you hate it, too?”
“I don’t have any strong feelings about it, but I’ll be an anti with you so that you aren’t alone in the squad with Dave Kim.”
“That’s the spirit.” Sangki pumps his fist. “What do you hate? I want to repay the favor.”
“Soy— Work.” I grimace. I almost said her name out loud. I don’t really hate her, do I? I thought I was doing so well in being understanding, but the first thing that I associate with hate and nemeses is Soyou? I’m not in a good place.
“So it is work. I thought so. Tell oppa everything,” Sangki invites.
I shake my head. I don’t want to give voice to my petty feelings. Plus, verbalizing will only give those feelings power. I change the subject. “Yujun says that I can only use oppa with him.”
Sangki rolls his eyes. “That violates all rules of Korean language. Oppa is used for any older male who is close to you. We’re friends. You should call me oppa. My baby cousin calls me oppa.” He waits. I stare at him. He sighs in disappointment and returns to his soup. “Fine.”
To Sangki, the use would be me acknowledging that we’re close friends and that I can rely on him like a big brother, but to Yujun it’s a romantic word. “If it makes you feel better, I tried using you as bait for my coworkers today.”
“In what way?”
I explain that Chaeyoung was tempted to have dinner with me when she learned that the two of us were friends. “I figured you would approve.”
“I do. What else can I offer? Tickets to a show? I have one coming up, you know.”
“Yes, the Banpo Music Fest. I bought tickets.” Two of them, in case Yujun shows up.
“I could give backstage passes. I’m also performing at the End of the Summer Splash Party at the Banyan Tree this weekend. It’s sold out because the social media influencers love this event, but I’ve a few extra passes.”
“This sounds like a party where I’d have to wear a swimsuit. I don’t know if I want to make friends with my coworkers that badly,” I groan.
“It’ll be fun.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “Some of Yujun’s friends will go, and if that would be uncomfortable, you could sit with Taehyun-ie over there.”
