That’s it. We’re dismissed. She turns her back and rifles through papers on her desk, and the rejection is sharp. Yujun opens his mouth to argue, but I don’t have the stomach for it. I grab his elbow, and when he looks at me, I shake my head as well. No more, please.
He gives in and follows me out. The assistant is so well-mannered, she doesn’t even look up from her computer monitor when we pass by her desk, but she has to be curious. Or maybe she isn’t curious. Maybe she’s watching the video. I want to drop to the tile and army crawl out of the building and all the way back to Wansu’s house. All the warm feelings from last night are eradicated, and what had been a fun, sexy memory is now tainted. The whole thing has gone from quirky hijinks to sordid hookup.
“I’m sorry,” Yujun says quietly as I wait for the elevator.
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have peeled me away with a razor.”
“I should have protected you. I knew there were cameras.”
“Forget it.” There’s no point in recriminations.
“Go home and try to put this out of your mind the best that you can. I’m going to talk with Eomma. We’ll work this out.”
“Sure.” I don’t believe him and he knows it. This is the river-park date all over again, but this time it isn’t some random girl who I will never see again. This is the woman who gave birth to me. This is my mother, and isn’t that the damned problem? How do we work this out as Yujun says?
The prospect of going back to my desk to get my purse and phone is daunting, but I manage. Wansu has conveyed some message to Bujang-nim, because as soon as I appear in our division, he jumps to his feet.
“Choi Hywejang-nim says the car is waiting. It is nothing serious?”
“No, nothing serious,” I echo.
My coworkers watch me with varying degrees of envy for getting off work early or suspicion that I might’ve ratted them all out. I do nothing to clear up misconceptions because the truth is worse than anything they can think of. I’m being sent home like a child because I was caught boinking my mother’s stepson in the bathroom. There’s security footage. You might get to see it! I slink out as quietly as possible. Downstairs, Park, the Chois’ regular driver, is waiting. Does he know? Does he think I’m disgusting?
I hide in the back seat, sinking out of the line of sight of the rearview mirror. Mrs. Ji isn’t at the door to greet me, so at least I don’t think she knows. She does come out of the kitchen, however, as I stumble down the hall to my bedroom.
“You need anything?” she asks.
A redo maybe, but what point in the past do I want to go back to? Yesterday, before I mauled Yujun in the hallway? Or to the minute I spotted him at the airport? Or to Pat’s funeral? Or to the moment that Wansu met Lee Jonghyung? I run my knuckles down the center of my forehead and order myself to stop feeling sorry for myself. My mind is racing, going in circles until I burst out of my room, unable to be alone one second longer.
Nurse Park startles when I open the door.
“I’m going to sit with Sae Appa,” I tell her. “I’ll call you if he needs anything.”
She gives me a brief bow and slides out of the room. I collapse in the chair next to his bed.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need the distraction. I’m going to pretend nothing happened this morning and that this is a normal workday. What should I read today?” I pick up the folktale book. It falls open to the story of the two brothers and the goblins in the forest. I swallow a scream and throw the book to the side. “Let’s watch television.” I search for the remote, finding it tucked next to Sae Appa’s leg. “Yujun says Wansu watches dramas with you. There aren’t any subtitles so I have problems understanding everything they’re saying but who cares.” A slightly hysterical laugh escapes. “Do you know what I’m saying? You speak pretty good English, though. You would hate that Yujun and I are together, wouldn’t you? Do you know the story of the two brothers and the goblins? The oldest brother got greedy and was nearly beaten to death. That’s me. I’m the eldest brother. I want all of it. Ellen, Wansu, Yujun . . .” I pause. “You, too. I want to live here in Seoul and speak like a native. I want to be able to go back to Iowa and not feel like I don’t belong. I want my boat of life to always sail calm waters. How do you stop yourself from wanting more? Wanting too much?”
I bend over and scrape my fingers through my hair. The answer to my problems is right in front of me. Give Yujun up. I can have all of it—or most of it—if I give him up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“No.” Yujun slaps the blue padfolio against his thigh. “I’m not going on any blind dates and neither is Hara.”
The two came home a half hour ago. Yujun’s jaw was tight and Wansu’s mouth was flattened into a straight, unhappy line. She asked for me to come into the living room, and when I arrived, there were four of those cursed blue folders on the table.
“Don’t you think Hara should make her own decisions?” Wansu cocks her head. “I’ve spoken to Ellen about this. She thinks it is a good idea.”
“You’re talking to Hara’s American mother?”
There’s something halfway gratifying about the fact that Yujun is as taken aback by this nugget of information as I was when I learned of it. “They talk all the time,” I supply.
Yujun arches an eyebrow. Really? He silently questions.
Really. I nod back.
“What parent who cares for their children does not do this?” Wansu spreads her hands innocently in front of her.
“Many, Eomma.”
“As I told you previously, when I first shared Kim Seonpyung’s profile with you, he is not your only option. Only one of several who I think would be a good match for you.”
“She is not interested,” Yujun repeats.
“It is understandable if you do not find a lawyer appealing.” Wansu pretends Yujun didn’t speak. “I have heard they can be difficult partners. Perhaps you might like this one.” She pushes two blue folders aside and selects a third. “Chang Doyun is an assistant producer at CBC, one of our terrestrial broadcasting channels. You and Ahn Sangki-nim get along well and so someone in entertainment might be better suited.”
“Eomma, enough!” Yujun explodes. “Hara does not need this.”
“You mean you do not want this,” she snaps. “You wish to carry on an illicit affair that will result in your social ostracization and the disapprobation of your family. Your grandmother would not allow you into her home. Your cousins would close their doors to you. No Chuseok. No Seollal. No jesas.”