29 Dates Page 19

  “The flight must have been so long and uncomfortable. Why did you come all the way here?” Jisu sat next to him. “I even told Umma that I wanted to go to Seoul like we originally planned.”

  “I told her you should come back, too! I knew you would miss your friends and Seoul, but of course your parents didn’t listen to me,” Haraboji whispered, as if they were trying to keep their alliance a secret. He was always on her side. He was the one at home who really saw her and heard her.

  “And how could I miss an opportunity to see my Jisu! I hadn’t seen you in so long. When you’re old like me, even a week without your granddaughter feels like an eternity.”

  Jisu locked her arms around her grandfather’s and they leaned against each other. Two peas in a pod, two generations apart. It felt like they were snuggled on the couch back in their apartment in Korea. Except instead of looking out the windows at Seoul, they were looking out at the Bay.

  Despite her longing for Euni and Min, Jisu felt full and warm. She felt an urge to get up, grab her camera and photograph her grandfather on that couch, basking in the last golden rays of the day. But why ruin a good moment by trying to capture it? She stayed put, happy for once to play the participant and not the observer.

  Outside, the sun began its daily descent into the horizon. Seoul was hours ahead. It was morning there, and Jisu wondered what Euni and Min were up to. She pictured Min prancing down the street with her headphones on, practicing the latest choreography she had learned as she made her way over to Eunice’s house. She imagined the two of them walking to their favorite coffee shop and ordering hot chocolate—extra whipped cream for both—a special treat since it was the holidays. They were probably gossiping about everyone in their class. How many of the Daewon kids had already gotten into college early? Jisu saw herself walking down the street, turning the corner and stepping into the coffee shop. Euni and Min turning around, mouths agape, screaming and yelling. All three of them hugging each other.

  We missed you so much!

  I missed you guys so much, too! I’m sorry I ever left.

  Don’t leave us again.

  “Jisu?”

  It was Haraboji. He looked at her like he was waiting for her to answer a question.

  “Sorry, what were you saying?” she asked, a bit flustered, hoping she didn’t offend her grandfather.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?”

  “Just Euni and Min. I miss them a lot.”

  “Don’t you guys Kakao and video chat and all that now?”

  “Yes, we do. But it’s just not the same. If you hadn’t come to San Francisco and we only got to video chat, it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” Haraboji smiled at Jisu sympathetically. “I know it’s hard, but just a few more months and all this will be over. Your parents are doing what they think is good for you.”

  Jisu wondered if what her grandfather thought was good for her was the same as what her parents thought. Would it really have hurt to have her fly to Seoul? Wouldn’t it have been easier to have one person fly than to have three people—one of them super old—fly in the other direction?

  Seeing Euni and Min will make it harder for you to part with them again.

  Switching up the time zones will mess you up with jet lag.

  You can’t afford to have trouble sleeping when you’re back.

  This is the most important time of the most important year of high school.

  Mrs. Kim didn’t have to actually say any of this jansori. Jisu could recite her mother’s go-to advice off the top of her head. In the end, her parents were making the decisions for her sake, whether she wanted it or not.

  “So, tell me, Jisu.” Haraboji spread his hands. “What have you learned during your stay in America so far? Aside from the things you learn at school.”

  “Well...” Jisu thought back on the past several months of her life. She thought of everyone she had met. Kaylee, with her arms wide-open on the first day of school, Jamie and Tiffany seamlessly incorporating her into their diner outings, Hiba showing her around the city, Dave inviting her to his home so that Mrs. Kang could stuff her to the gills...even Austin, who’d taken her to his favorite places in town.

  “The people,” Jisu said. “When they accept you here, you just melt into their lives. You become one of them.”

  “And so are you one of them now?” Haraboji peered over his glasses.

  Jisu thought of everything she’d done in the past few months. She had learned how to surf, helped children learn to ice skate and attended rallies, gallery openings and random town hall meetings to find inspiration and take photos; she had made new friends; she had even attended new seons and gone after a boy she liked. Although who’s to say how he felt about her now...but still. Within the confines of being sent away to Wick, she had managed to live life as it came at her, as she wanted. For once, she wasn’t meticulously mapping things out, weighing which friendships would be most beneficial down the line or comparing which hobby would be most effective for her college applications.

  “I’m still me. Jisu, the girl from Seoul. But something about this place is changing me,” she said.

  “Do you have more pictures to show me?” Haraboji asked, but without the accusatory, concerned tone her mother usually took on. If anything, he seemed hopeful that Jisu had continued her passion for photography.

  She pulled her laptop from her bag to show her grandfather all the photos she had taken in the last few months but hadn’t sent him: Crissy Field, Dolores Park, Mission District and City Lights.

  “I took my camera on a swing and almost fell off trying to get this photo! Do you see how the city looks like it’s right underneath your feet? Like you’re a bird looking down.” Jisu zoomed in on the cityscape.

  “You should see the way you light up when you talk about your photos,” Haraboji said.

  It felt good to be seen the way Haraboji looked at her. Jisu could hear her parents busying themselves in the kitchen. She’d share her photos with them, but she wouldn’t show them everything. It would just be more ammo for them to throw back at her. Where did you find all this time to take photos? Make sure you don’t stay out too late. Don’t take too many strangers’ photos—what if they get upset and try to get into an argument with you?

  “I think doing more of this has made me happier. At least it helps with all the stress,” Jisu said as she clicked through the rest of her photo library.

  “Jisu-ya, I’m glad you continued. School, grades, college—that’s all very important. I’m not worried about you in that sense. You’re a smart girl. But you need to use this time to find out what you like, what you don’t like, what drives you. Or else, what do you have?”

  Jisu nodded. The affirmation felt replenishing. Like she was a wilting plant unaware of how parched she was.

  “You know, I see a lot of similarities between my generation and yours.”

  “Mine? Not Appa’s?” Jisu asked. She looked over to her dad. Mr. Kim was on the phone, pacing up and down the hallway. Business call, she assumed. It was early evening here, meaning it was the start of a workday in Seoul.

  “No, not your father’s. My generation—before the war and even during it—we sought out what we wanted. We went into the world and made of it what we could. Maybe it was because we had no other choice—Korea was still a very poor country ravaged by war. But then came your parents’ generation. They are all very concerned with money and success.” Haraboji looked solemn. “Their generation had to bear a lot of scars as we recovered from the war. It created a fierce determination that helped the country get back on its feet. But now that’s all your father and his generation is obsessed with. Making sure that his family is secure no matter what may happen.”

  Haraboji motioned to his son, inviting him to sit down with them. Mr. Kim held up a finger, promising to join them with his ea
ger gesticulation.

  “See?” Haraboji laughed, but Jisu sensed he didn’t actually find real humor in the situation. “But, Jisu, I see that genuine curiosity in you. When you show me your photos or tell me about your new friends.”

  “I think I’m just not the bookish type,” Jisu said sheepishly.

  “No, no. Listen to your grandfather,” Haraboji said, his tone more serious. “Don’t ignore your passions. Don’t ignore that voice in your head. You know, the one that talks with your heart. If you ignore something like that long enough, it’ll eventually explode and just make a huge mess!”

  “Okay, Haraboji. I won’t,” Jisu said obediently.

  “I’m serious. Your parents have worked so hard to give you these opportunities. I know they’re hard on you. And you are a good daughter. But you’re not like them. You see the heart of the world and want to be a part of it. And the biggest tragedy will be if you find yourself years into a job that you don’t even want. At the end of the day, all of us want the same thing for you. We want you to be happy.”

  Jisu let the words sink in. She must have heard a thousand iterations of Your parents are doing it for you, but this was different.

  Mr. Kim got off the phone and walked into the kitchen, where Mrs. Kim was cutting up fruit and placing it on a plate. He hugged his wife from the back, kissed her on the cheek and sat next to her. Jisu watched as her father took another knife and helped her mother cut the fruit. They looked tired—a ten-hour flight would do that to you—but happy and secure. And Jisu knew what her grandfather meant. Of course Haraboji would be the one to hit her with the hard facts.

  “Just a few bites to tide us over until dinner,” Mrs. Kim said as she entered the living room with her husband, a full tray of fruit and Korean snacks in tow.

  “But don’t eat too much or you won’t have an appetite once we get to the restaurant,” said Mr. Kim. He had made reservations at a Korean BBQ restaurant downtown.

  “Don’t you guys want to eat anything but Korean food while you’re here?” Jisu asked, even though her taste buds were just as homesick as her heart was for the motherland.

  “We want to see if the food here holds up to the food back home. We need to make sure it meets our standards for our daughter!” Mr. Kim joked, just like a dad would.

  Jisu nibbled at a slice of apple. There were other snacks, including chips and cookies that her mother had brought from Korea. She’d brought all of Jisu’s favorites: shrimp chips, honey sweet cakes, Choco Pie and Pepero sticks.

  Jisu broke open a box of Pepero, and the chocolate-covered cookie sticks immediately transported her back to lunchtime at Daewon High. Min always kept herself on a strict diet in hopes of achieving the ideal pop star’s S-line figure, but her weakness was Pepero. She always had a box of them on her at lunch and shared them with Euni and Jisu.

  Here. Take these away from me. I shouldn’t be eating this, she’d always say as she finished off one slim Pepero stick with three big bites.

  Min, the best way to not eat Pepero is to not buy them, Euni would tease her. And then the three of them would laugh and indulge. It only ever took five minutes for them to finish off a box.

  “Jisu-ya, are you feeling okay?”

  Mrs. Kim cupped her daughter’s face in her hands and looked at her with concern.

  “I’m fine,” Jisu said, her mind returning back to the present. “I’m happy you guys are here. I just really miss home.”

  “I know, I know,” Mrs. Kim said. “Just a few more months and this will be over. Be strong, my Jisu.” She pushed a slice of persimmon onto Jisu’s plate. “Eat this, it’s perfectly ripe and delicious.”

  “Yes, make sure you eat some of the persimmon,” Mr. Kim chimed in. “I just read somewhere that they’re excellent for your immune system. Gives you a real boost.”

  Jisu obediently lifted the persimmon slice to her mouth. As much as her parents’ constant hovering annoyed her, it was nice to have someone take care of her this way. The persimmon was just as boldly colored as the sun that was setting outside, a bright shade that all other oranges and tangerines would envy. It was soft and crunchy at the same time. The flavor was sweet and honeyed. She thought of the persimmon Dave’s mother had meticulously peeled and fed her.

  “So, Jisu. How many are left?” Mr. Kim asked.

  “How many what are left?”

  “She’s gotten nearly all of them in—eight, right, sweetie? And she’s working on the last two over the break,” Mrs. Kim answered. “UChicago and Harvard.”

  It was only a matter of time before the conversation went back to Jisu’s college applications. UChicago and Harvard. Of course her parents would be happiest if she got into an Ivy, but they would be almost equally thrilled to see her go to UChicago. But these two names were going to hang over her head all winter break and weigh her down until the moment she hit Submit on the applications. All the pressure that Haraboji had managed to take off her came rushing back. The tidal wave was coming for Jisu and dragging her by the ankles into the deep sea of college application uncertainty. Not a great way to spend the holiday break.

  “No matter what happens, our Jisu will do great. Wherever she goes,” Haraboji said authoritatively, like he was marking the end their conversation.

  “Aigoo, your Haraboji has spent less than twenty-four hours here and he’s already been infected with that foolish American optimism!” Mrs. Kim retorted.

  But Jisu was not annoyed by her mother’s words. That foolish optimism, the willingness to simply do what you can and trust the universe to handle the rest, it was neither American nor Korean. It was simply who she was. And Jisu saw now, in the old man sitting across from her, where she got it from.

  * * *

  The Kims and Murrays were hit with the strong smells of onions, garlic and marinated meat the moment they stepped into the restaurant. By the time the two family units made their way to their table, Jisu knew that all the scents had seeped into every hair strand and the fabric of her sweater. Getting KBBQ automatically meant having to smell like your food for the next few hours until you washed your hair and clothes. But it was always worth it.

  “It smells amazing in here,” Mandy said as she marveled at the plate of raw meat and vegetables that the servers immediately placed on their tables. They cranked up the gas and lit up the grill at the center of the table. Linda’s motherly instincts kicked in and she pushed Mandy away from the table with a guarded arm.

  “Have you ever tried Korean BBQ before?” Mrs. Kim asked.

  “We’ve gone once or twice. There’s a place on the other side of town that we’ve tried, but it’s our first time here.” Jeff opened the menu and traced his hand up and down the options. “But clearly you’re the experts, so I’m going to leave the ordering up to you.”

  The Murrays and the Kims chatted away politely about their respective lives in San Francisco and Seoul. And how did you guys meet? How long have you lived in San Francisco? How was the flight over? International travel can be so grueling at times, at least you’re here long enough to make it worth it. Mandy stared with her mouth agape as the servers quickly cut the slices of pork belly and placed them onto the grill.

  If there was one way to briefly cure Jisu’s homesickness, it was by eating the pork belly straight off the grill. Jisu lifted a still sizzling piece of meat with her metal chopsticks and gingerly placed it onto the perilla leaf that rested in her other hand. She added a smear of hot chili paste and some thinly sliced raw green onions. Then she wrapped it all up in a tight ball and ate it. The mash of the herbal leaf, pungent onions and marinated meat covered in flame-licked grease was heavenly.

  Jisu’s father spoke enthusiastically between bites, recounting some story to Jeff about a coworker who drank a little too much soju and embarrassed himself at the company party. Haraboji chuckled at each development of the story. Mrs. Kim was busy taking photos she could
send to the Kakao group chat with her girlfriends.

  The bell tied to the entrance door jingled when another group of patrons entered. Jisu glanced toward the door. She did a double take.

  Was that...?

  It was Dave Kang.

  He was with his family, too. She didn’t know why, but she hoped he didn’t see her. It would be different if she was there with Hiba, Jamie or Tiffany. Or if he was there with one of his buddies, or even Sophie. But Jisu was out with her elders and he was with his, too. And nothing was more tedious than a gaggle of Korean adults making nice and trying to figure out who they knew in common and how many degrees they were apart in knowing each other.

  “Oh, isn’t that Jisu?”

  Mrs. Kang spotted Jisu before she could duck and be hidden by the smoke. Jisu’s gaze met Dave’s. He smiled and waved. Jisu smiled back meekly. He was with a large group of people—cousins and other relatives, it seemed. Mrs. Kang shooed the rest of her family away and tugged Dave by the sleeve of his jacket toward Jisu and her family.

  “Who’s that?” Mrs. Kim nudged her daughter.

  “Isn’t that Dave?” Mandy whispered so only Jisu could hear. But before Jisu could answer any of them, her mother had already flashed a welcoming smile and Mrs. Kang was already making a beeline to their table.

  “Hey, Jisu,” Dave said quietly as he ran his hand through his hair, like he was shy all of a sudden.

  “You must be Jisu’s family!” Mrs. Kang clasped her hands. She turned to the Murrays. “Both biological and host!” She gave Jisu a hug and extended her hand to everyone at the table. “I’m Mrs. Kang, Dave’s mom. Jisu and Dave go to the same school. She was over the other day when they were working on a project. You have such a well-mannered daughter!”

  “Jisu is very well-mannered,” Linda chimed in. Jisu pulled a napkin apart in her lap. All of this attention was unsettling. Jisu’s parents and the Murrays all got up from their seats to properly shake hands with Mrs. Kang. A simple hello, nice to meet you and goodbye would have sufficed. This whole overture of greetings was too much.