Chapter 12 Meatfest
Meatfest
Julia
“Happy first setup date!”
Rachel’s perfect red lip formed into a kiss through FaceTime. Julia had managed to put the date out of her mind, mostly, for
the entire day. It had been a really good one for her. A meeting with Andrew Lim of Hansuk Holdings was on the calendar in
a couple weeks when he’d be in town from Korea. Good, because recent sales were showing an unheard-of one hundred percent
increase year-over-year. And good, because they were finally able to hire the design director they wanted to work on their
new packaging and retail storefronts. Nothing was going to dampen her mood. Not the accompanying challenges these successes
came with . . .
And not a sure-to-be awkward first setup.
“Really, Jules, I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to go through this rite of passage. Most of us surrendered in our
early twenties. How have you held out? You’re an inspiration.”
“I’ve been shamed and guilted to this point. I am but a shell of my true self,” Julia whined.
“Snap out of it. Don’t count this experience out before you’ve even met the guy.
Though . . .” Rachel pursed her lips together and shook her head.
“I can’t believe this guy is taking you to a Korean barbecue place.
Hold your phone up a little bit. I want to see what you’re wearing for this meatfest. I still do not understand why you didn’t just tell him you were a vegetarian. ”
“You guys told me to not always say what’s on my mind. Remember?”
“We didn’t tell you to be a robot or a mail-order bride,” Rachel said. “You’re just not supposed to be brutally honest. That’s
different from just being you.”
“I didn’t want to have to explain all my quirks and issues with food. It’s fine. Tae helped me figure out what I can order
so that the night won’t be a total disaster and end up with me starving. This way, I’ll at least be fed before the inevitable
disaster of conversation hits.”
“Oh yes, Tae. These practice dates are the one thing that make the fact that you barely know how to feed yourself worth it.
So, tell me everything. How did it go with Tae? What did he wear? Was it form-fitting?”
“I’m hanging up now,” Julia said.
“Okay, okay, I’m kidding. Sheesh. Anyways, are you feeling ready?” Rachel asked.
“Does ready feel the same as imminent doom? It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just dinner. I’ve done the dinner thing tons of times. All I really need to do is be chill enough
for a couple hours that he doesn’t go blabbing to his mom that I’m neurotic and cruel, and word spreads to the four corners
of the Korean universe.”
“Koreans really are everywhere. Did I tell you my friend saw a Korean restaurant in some remote village in Iceland?”
“Great, so even the Koreans in Iceland will get the news.”
“Have fun, Jules. It will all be fine. You’re looking at it from the what-could-go-wrong perspective. But who knows? You could
end up talking to the love of your life tonight.” Rachel couldn’t hold back her giggle. “Call me tomorrow and give me the
rundown.”
“Thanks, Rachel. Wait. We’re not gonna set up some text alert if it’s going awful and I need you to rescue me?”
“That’s so ten years ago. You can download apps to do that for you now. Okay, gotta run. Love you!”
“Bye.”
Julia stared at the screen for a second longer, trying to remember her best friend’s smiling face, an expression of confidence
in Julia that she wouldn’t mess this up in the afterimage.
“Hey, boss, I’m taking off. I put the directions to the restaurant into the GPS in your car. Just press route 1. Oh, and hold these just in case.” Annette passed Julia two capsule pills.
“What are these?”
“They’re diuretics. Will give you the shits within minutes. If the date’s going bad, take both, grab your stomach, give a
slight groan, and tell him you have to go because you’re not feeling well.”
“Um, why can’t I just pretend to have the stomachache without taking the pills? Won’t I be stuck driving home desperate for
a bathroom?”
“Yeah, but it’ll make for a better story tomorrow for you to tell me. I’m already cracking up thinking of you squeezing your
butt—”
“Annette!”
“What? Don’t take the pills, then. Fine. It was just an option. Sheesh. Okay, have fun. Don’t be weird. It will be fine. Bye.”
It was just dinner. Dinner with a total stranger. Dinner with a total stranger she knew nothing about and who had the power
to embarrass Julia and shame her family name for the rest of time.
What ever could go wrong?
Julia called it.
Traffic on the 10 freeway heading east was a nightmare. In Los Angeles it didn’t matter what day of the week, it often didn’t matter what time of the day, the 10 was going to be bad. And always, without fail, when you were trying to get somewhere by a certain time.
She arrived at the restaurant by seven fifteen, but there was no parking. This was clearly one of the newer, trendier places
in K-town, and every Korean under forty within LA proper who fell into a certain income level was trying to get into the tiny
parking lot of this small strip mall. She found a parking garage a block away and hustled to get to the restaurant. It was
7:26. Shit.
She walked in the door and immediately realized she had no idea what Michael Lee from Fullerton even looked like. Why hadn’t
she suggested he wear a blue sweater and have a book with a rose on it sitting on the table? As she scanned the uncomfortably
packed restaurant, Julia could swear she felt the breath of every patron and employee mixing in the air and settling on the
fibers of her clothing. She shivered in disgust. Too many people in one small space.
Her eyes finally settled on a man sitting by himself, looking incredibly impatient. Bingo.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I really do think seven thirty would have been a better time for us to meet. The traffic was just—”
“Dangshin, who is this girl?”
Julia looked up to see a woman standing next to her looking down as if she wanted to tear her to shreds. She looked over to
the startled man sitting at the seat across from her.
“I don’t know. She just sat down and started talking about traffic. Miss, I think you’re in the wrong—”
Julia stood up quickly. “I’m so sorry. Case of mistaken identity. Please forgive me.”
Julia walked away, mortified.
A hand suddenly grabbed her arm, and Julia jumped and screamed, “I take kickboxing!”
A few heads turned as she whipped around to see who grabbed her. “Julia? Are you Julia Song? I’m Michael.”
“Michael. Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry. The traffic. And that man was sitting alone. And it’s so busy in here. And I didn’t know what you looked like.”
Michael smiled at her. He didn’t look mad. He looked . . . charmed by Julia. She pulled herself together in relief. “I’m so
sorry. Can we start over?”
His smile spread, and Julia snuck a longer look. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, straight nose, a few errant eyebrow hairs.
Good. Handsome, but not in that overly manscaped way.
“Sure. Our table’s over here.” He led the way, and Julia followed.
When they were both seated, Julia took a second to look around the restaurant. It was just too crowded, and servers were shimmying
out of the way of patrons in the aisles, precariously holding trays filled with . . . raw meat. A wave hit Julia with the
smell of the flesh, and she felt slightly nauseous. She grabbed the glass of water sitting on the table and drank the whole
thing. She just needed to calm down. She could get through this.
“It’s nice to meet you, Julia.”
Oh, right, talking. Pleasantries. A date like regular people who are not-like-Julia go on.
“Nice to meet you too. This place is, um, very hip.”
Michael smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty much the most popular restaurant right now. I know the owner. He goes to my parents’ church.
So he set us up to with a table. They don’t usually take reservations.”
Julia noted that she’d not likely ever return here until the buzz died down. Oh, and until they stopped serving trays and
trays of raw meat. She just didn’t like places that forced you to wait outside for hours for food. She kept this all to herself,
of course. She was a reformed conversationalist.
“I apologize, again, for keeping you waiting. The traffic was rough. I think seven thirty might’ve been a good call after
all.”
“Oh, I didn’t hit much traffic on the way. But I left a little earlier just in case.”
Julia nodded. Good for you, buddy. Must be nice to be so prepared.
Be nice, Julia, she rebuked herself for her inner snarkiness.
“Since you’re late, I took the liberty to order for us. I got us the chef’s special with the wagyu and kobe. It’s the best
here. It will melt in your mouth.”
What was currently in her mouth was bile. If she didn’t say something now, politely, she would likely be vomiting on the table
later, impolitely.
“Oh, um, would you mind if I looked at the menu? I’m a vegetarian. Which shouldn’t be a problem despite this being a barbecue
restaurant. I know there are plenty of things for me to enjoy.”
Michael looked stricken. Poor guy. Yes, it was a faux pas. But he shouldn’t beat himself up over it. The date could still
be saved.
Julia patted herself on the internal back at her positive outlook.
“You don’t eat meat? Is it a political thing? Are you a liberal, Green New Deal, Medicare-for-all type?”
Julia bit down on her cheeks. Hold it. Hold it. She pasted a fake smile on her face. She took a good look at Michael. Lawyer,
from Orange County, smug smile all equaled likely Republican. This didn’t have to be a deal-breaker. Okay, so she could cross
off marrying the guy. Julia tried not to feel disappointed that date number one was already going to be a bust when it came
to love and longevity. But she could still salvage her parents’ good standing in the community by surviving the date and showing
him a decent time.
“Now, now. My mother raised me to never talk politics or religion at the dinner table,” she said. At her family dinner table,
they reserved the time to talk gossip about everyone in their town instead.
“Fair. Maybe not necessary for first-date conversation.”
“So you’re a lawyer? What kind of law?”
“I do mostly corporate contracts, some mergers and acquisitions,” he answered.
Julia nodded as she kinda sorta listened. “That sounds incredibly . . .” She couldn’t come up with an appropriate word. Her
head screamed boring! and then snoozer and then crooked. She finally settled on “. . . necessary.”
“Oh, it is. Companies could not do work without these contracts reviewed and redlined and signed. I don’t think it would be
overstating to say that it’s one of the most important steps to the American economy today.”
Well, it’s good that you didn’t want to overstate, Julia thought. She forced her eyes not to roll back in her head.
“Let’s order drinks while we wait for our food, and then I want to hear all about your little makeup company.” She didn’t
feel it necessary to tell him that her little makeup company brought in more money than he’d ever see. Though, she really, really wanted to.
Michael called over the waiter.
“Yes, sir. What can I get for you?”
Julia still hadn’t looked at a menu yet and was starting to get hangry.
“Can you bring us your best cabernet to go with the chef’s special, something to pair perfectly with the wagyu and kobe. Also,
please bring out extra banchan, especially the fish. Oh, and extra rice, brown.”
“Yes, sir, right away,” the waiter said and left their table. Julia hadn’t even had the chance to order.
“Wait—”
“Julia, I promise it will be more than enough food. Was there something else you wanted?”
“I’m a vegetarian,” she said once again. This time with more force than before.
“You really have a lot of . . .” He waved his hands around in the air, trying to find just the right word that would get his point across without offending . . . too much.
Julia waited. Let’s see. Which word would he choose? Issues? Complaints? Opinions?
“. . . challenges . . .”
Ahhh, that was one Julia hadn’t heard before.
“. . . to ordering. But don’t worry, there will be a lot of vegetables in the banchan. And trust me, this isn’t meat. It’s
wagyu.”
Julia stared at him. Was he for real? What, was he going to force the meat down her throat just because he thought there was
a difference? The nerve. She didn’t eat meat. How hard was that for him to understand? Neanderthal.
Julia wanted to cry. That or she wanted to punch Michael Lee from Fullerton in the face. But physical violence certainly wouldn’t
follow Tae’s Guide to Dating. She reached into her purse to get an antacid. Her reflux was coming on strong. Julia suddenly panicked that the pill she
was holding was one of Annette’s diuretics. Maybe she’d pass on the meds and live in burning agony instead.
Julia thought back to her practice date with Tae. He told her that if she’d ever found herself in a situation during the night
in which she wanted to scream, she should hold her breath and count to three before doing anything else. Tae held her fingers
lightly in his hand. “Breathe in, Julia,” he said softly. She closed her eyes and did as he said. “One, two, three,” he counted.
“Now breathe out.” One, two, three she counted in her head.
She’d tried the technique a couple times at work that week, and it did, in fact, work to settle her emotions.
Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out.
It was fine. She could survive the night on just rice and banchan. Never mind that she didn’t like brown rice. And never mind
that she was starving.
“I didn’t know there were any Koreans who were vegetarians.”
“It surprises a lot of people that most of Korean food actually is vegetable-based. They usually only associate barbecue with
Korean food,” Julia explained.
“Yes, but most of the vegetables are there as a compliment to the excellent meat,” Michael Lee insisted.
“Actually, many Koreans historically couldn’t afford meat, and not just wagyu, which if I’m not mistaken is from Japan.”
Why was she even trying to get into it with him? Was it worth throwing a potential suitor out the window just to argue about
meat? But he wasn’t even listening. He hadn’t listened to her about the traffic. He definitely hadn’t listened to her about
her dietary restrictions. And . . .
Now he was head-down in his phone, the blue Facebook logo reflecting off his glasses. Who still used Facebook? Moms, book
clubs, and Korean lawyers in Orange County, apparently.
Julia stared at the top of his head. She began counting the few gray hairs she noticed. She was up to fourteen by the time
he looked back up at her.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
His widened.
“Forgive me. A lawyer’s work is never done.” He laughed as if lawyer jokes made by lawyers themselves were the funniest things
ever.
Julia laughed too . . . a strained, agonized chuckle begging for this night to be over.