Chapter 4 #2
“I was born here,” Dahye said, staring at her plate.
She sawed off a piece of steak, and the white ceramic flooded with blood.
The sight of it made her stomach churn. She had asked for the meat to be cooked medium well, but there had been some mix-up in the kitchen, and her plate resembled a murder scene.
Despite Hyukjoon’s suggestion that they send it back, Dahye had refused, not wanting to seem like a nag.
She took a bite and fought back a heave.
Quickly, she took an enormous glug of wine, and it spilled—a dark red line running down her chin.
“Here,” Hyukjoon said, passing her the napkin from his lap. He seemed to be fighting a smile.
Her face burned. She cleared her throat.
“Like I was saying, I was born in Seoul,” she said.
“I went to school here, too. Hanyang-dae.” She handed the napkin back to him, the stains from the wine blooming across the white.
He nodded absentmindedly as he used the same napkin to wipe the corners of his own mouth.
“Good school,” he offered.
In that instant, it became clear to her how badly she had misjudged the situation.
Hyukjoon wasn’t just out of her league; he was on another planet entirely.
She excused herself, pushing away from the table.
The vase between them teetered and then fell with a loud crack onto the floor. Water spilled across the tile.
Dahye crouched and began picking up the shards with her fingers.
In a flash, Hyukjoon was kneeling by her side, his hand on her wrist. He held it up to the light, and she saw that her thumb was bleeding.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the entire restaurant had turned to watch them.
“Are you alright? You’re hurt,” Hyukjoon said, his voice gentle.
“I’m fine.” She waited a moment, then pulled herself out of his grasp. “I have to go to the restroom.”
She rushed away, keeping her head lowered. People were whispering. She thought she heard someone laugh. Her face grew warm.
In the women’s restroom, she looked at her reflection and then pulled up a picture of Hyukjoon she had saved on her phone.
She held it up to her face. It was obvious they weren’t a match.
She wasn’t ugly; she just wasn’t attractive enough to be with someone of Hyukjoon’s stature.
Her hair was frizzy and flat, her skin greasy and dull.
In elementary school, her classmates had called her “frog face” because of her far-apart eyes.
Her finger accidentally touched the screen, and the image of Hyukjoon disappeared, replaced by an old photo of Eunhye.
Side by side, Dahye’s dissimilarity from her sister couldn’t be more obvious.
Eunhye’s eyes were almond-shaped, and her face was perfectly oval.
She had high cheekbones and silky dark hair.
Dahye stared at herself in the mirror until her vision blurred.
Until Eunhye’s features were transposed over her own.
She wasn’t Eunhye, but for one night, maybe she could pretend.
She would march back to the table and act like everything was okay, just like Eunhye would have done.
She would laugh prettily, make jokes, bat her eyelashes.
She didn’t have a chance with Hyukjoon anyway.
At least this way she could go home with her dignity.
By now, her thumb had stopped bleeding. Dahye put her hands under the faucet, letting the sensor turn on a gentle flow of warm water.
She washed them carefully. Once she was done, she took a deep breath and returned to the table.
The glass had been swept away. Someone had replaced the broken vase with another, even replacing the pink peonies she had destroyed.
“Do you need a Band-Aid?” Hyukjoon asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, showing him. “It’s not bleeding anymore.” She sat down.
“I asked them to bring you a new steak,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I asked them to cook it medium well this time. Like you wanted.”
She wished he hadn’t asked for another steak. “That was kind of you,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
They fell silent, and Dahye thought he seemed annoyed. No doubt she had embarrassed him. Earlier, he had been garrulous; now he said nothing. He stared at his wine glass, swirling the contents around and around.
What would Eunhye do in this situation?
Eunhye had loved cooking, reading, and watching romantic movies. She had loved the color pink. She had been obsessed with the ocean and tide pools, swimming, water lilies, jellyfish, all of it.
“Sometimes, on the weekends, I go to the aquarium by myself,” Dahye blurted out, and Hyukjoon looked up. “I know it sounds silly, but it’s such a peaceful place. I can spend hours there, just wandering around from exhibit to exhibit. Have you been?”
“Once. A long time ago.”
“Do you remember it?”
He hesitated. “Kind of.”
“The light makes everything look blue. If you go right by the tanks, or stand in the middle of the tunnel, the glow from the water makes you look like you’re some creature in an aquatic city.” Dahye closed her eyes, remembering the way her sister would stand there, motionless, a hand held high.
This seemed to distract Hyukjoon. After another bottle of wine, he was happy again.
He told her about his two cats and how he was closer to his sister than he was to his brother.
Even though he was twenty-nine, his mother still called him aga.
Baby. He loved any movie where the protagonists went to space.
Armageddon was his favorite. His dream was to go to the moon someday.
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t even consider it?” he asked Dahye, astounded. “An all-expenses-paid trip to space with no strings attached. You would still turn it down?”
“I don’t know. Space seems too scary.” She paused, considering. “What about aliens?”
“What about them?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather go to the deepest part of the ocean,” she offered.
“The Mariana Trench?”
“Uh-huh.” Dahye had learned about the Mariana Trench from Eunhye. In her head, she saw her sister waving around a printed image of a new discovery. It was a fish found at the bottom of the depths that had a transparent head. Eunhye had talked about it for days.
Dahye paused, thinking. “I bet there’s all kinds of weird stuff down there. Fish with ten eyes. Octopuses with twenty legs. Anthropomorphic seaweed.” She wiggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue at him, and Hyukjoon cocked his head.
“You’re afraid of aliens, but not anthropomorphic seaweed?”
She made a face. “It’s not like the seaweed is going to probe me.”
A look of shock passed over his features, and then he burst into laughter. “Here I was, enchanted by your pretty face. Turns out you’re funny, too.”
“Am I?”
“Funnier than most women I’ve met.”
They reached for their wine glasses at the same time and both smiled politely.
“You never answered my question,” Hyukjoon said after a sip.
“What question?”
“Do you have any siblings?”
Dahye’s blood ran cold. Eunhye’s face, bathed in blue light, appeared in her mind. She shivered. Pushed the image away. “No,” she said, a little too quickly. “I’m an only child.”
+
They said their goodbyes outside of the restaurant and parted without any trace of lingering.
He didn’t try to kiss her or hold her hand.
He didn’t say anything about a second date, either.
She assumed he didn’t want to be seen with her in public and hurried in the opposite direction, darting into the first subway station she came across.
The trains rushed past. She listened to their rumbling and screeching, getting her bearings, before calling Bora.
“How was it?!” Bora shrieked. “Did he talk about his family? Is he going to introduce you to Kim Mingyu? Free tickets to next month’s concert? A tour of the YS Media building? Anything?”
Dahye groaned and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Calm down,” she said. “It didn’t work out.”
“Why not? Did you wear the dress like I told you to? Did you show a little skin, flash some boob—”
“Shut up. I’m coming over to your apartment.” Dahye looked at the screen hanging from the ceiling. Four minutes until the next train arrived. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Pick up some soju on the way!” Bora said. “And an order of chicken, if you can. And some tteokbokki. I’m starving!”
“Fine,” Dahye said. She hung up without saying goodbye.
A short while later, when she walked into Bora’s apartment, Dahye found her friend sitting on the floor, knees to chest. Bora was painting her toes an awful shade of orange. Her hands were shaky.
“Give me that,” Dahye said, snatching the little bottle from Bora’s hand. Bora obliged. They sat there in silence, Dahye carefully working on each toe, until Bora gave her an inquisitive look.
“Be realistic,” Dahye said without glancing at her. “There’s no way it would have worked out.” She shrugged, keeping her voice light. “You know people like him don’t end up with people like us.”
+
Three days passed. Five. Ten. Whatever latent hope she had been holding on to crumbled away. She pushed Hyukjoon out of her mind, thinking of it as a fond memory she would be able to talk about someday. But on day thirteen, he called her.
“Work has been crazy. I’ve been in New York for the last week and a half,” he said apologetically. “Otherwise, I would have called you sooner.”
Dahye felt like her heart would leap out of her chest. She listened hard, pressing the phone against her cheek. He was in a car. She could hear the air rushing by. A distant honk. Maybe he was heading back from the airport now.
“Would you like to see me again tonight?” he asked.