23. Noah
23
NOAH
I took Izzy’s advice and decided that spending three days with each of my parents was better than nothing at all. When I got back to my room last night, I texted both of them to let them know, and they said they were fine with however I wanted to do it. Mina’s more flexible about this whole thing than I am, so she’s going to go back and forth however she wants to.
I packed my bags last night, splitting my clothes between two so I can have one for each house. I don’t want to risk leaving anything behind and having to go back for it, so this seemed like the easiest option.
My phone pings, and I see it’s a message from Appa.
Appa
I’ll be there in ten minutes
I’m double-checking to make sure I’ve got everything I need when another text comes through. I expect it to be Mina nagging me about something, but it’s Izzy, replying to a message I’d sent her earlier.
Noah
Do you need help getting to your car?
Izzy
It’s okay, Isaac and Violet came to help me
I’ve gotten so used to going to her door every morning that it felt weird not to do it today. Of course she’d get help from her family though. I was silly for even asking. My phone rings once before it cuts out, Appa’s signal that he’s outside. I gather my things and leave my room, tucking my phone into my pocket. Mina is already at the car when I get there, throwing her bags into the boot before she runs around to get in the front passenger seat.
I put my bags next to hers and get in the back seat, murmuring a quick hi to Appa as he starts to drive away. I take my phone out of my pocket, opening it to Instagram and Izzy’s profile.
She’s uploaded a few photos of us together now, the first set being from the ones we took the day she told me about her parents. I couldn’t believe they let her and her brother go so easily, that they still don’t communicate with them properly.
I look at Appa in the front seat and wonder if I’m making us head down a similar road. As much as I’ve been avoiding my parents, I could never imagine a life without either. Those first few days after I was expelled were difficult, and although tensions were high, they both still tried their best with me.
It all came crashing down when Appa decided to leave though. The timing was too close for it to be purely a coincidence. Maybe I’m part of the reason he’s still staying away, too. If I tried speaking to him, could it help mend his relationship with Eomma, too?
“Appa,” I say, and his eyes flash to mine in the rearview mirror.
I didn’t think far enough ahead to actually know what I want to say to him. He glances back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, and I try to figure out why I called him.
“Hope you’ve decorated since the last time I was there,” I say, an attempt at a lighthearted joke to ease some of the tension between us.
The corner of Appa’s eyes crinkle right before he looks back to the road.
“Maybe you can help me with that. We can go shopping together, Adeul.”
Last year, that would have been the most harmless suggestion in the world. We’ve been on countless shopping trips together, and it’s never been anything special. But I feel like this time, it will be. Maybe I can get him to open up about why he left to help settle some of the guilt that’s been burning me up from the inside since the day he moved out.
“I’d like that.”
Mina cuts in before I can say anything else, deciding she should get a say in decorating, too. I listen to the two talk as the conversation shifts to how she’s enjoying school much more now. It sets my mind at ease to know that she’s happier here.
Somewhere along the drive, I fall asleep, only waking up when Appa has the car parked up and Mina’s already out of it. I exit, grabbing my bag from the boot before closing it and heading into the apartment building.
It’s a fairly new building, all pristine white floors and walls. We take the elevator up to his apartment, and it looks exactly the same as it did at the start of the summer.
Appa hasn’t spent any time making the place look like he actually lives there. The walls are bare, a stark contrast to our family home, which is lined with pictures of us all together. I counted once, and somehow, there were more photos of Mina on the walls than there were of me. Considering she’s five years younger; I took it very personally.
The rest of the apartment is pretty empty too. A small dining table in the living room with just enough space for the three of us if we squeeze. The living room leads off on either side to the bedrooms. Mina and I have to share one, and even though we have our own rooms at home, we know this is only a temporary situation for Appa. Eventually, he’ll probably buy a house somewhere else, and we can settle in better there.
In the back of my mind, I’m still hoping that he’ll come home. That his reason for not decorating is because he’s counting down the days until he moves back in, and we can forget any of this even happened.
I go to our room, dropping my bags onto the floor and climbing the ladder to get into the top bunk. I claimed it as soon as we first got here because I knew having Mina above me would be dangerous. I don’t trust that girl not to throw things at me while I sleep.
I open up my phone, hoping to see a text from Izzy. Luckily, there’s one waiting for me.
Izzy
Did you get home safe?
Noah
Yep, just got in
You?
Izzy
Still not there yet
We stopped off because Isaac wanted snacks
Noah
Is the drive that long?
Izzy
No, he’s just annoying
I can’t hold back my laugh, but unfortunately, that’s the moment Mina decides to enter the room.
“If you’re going to act like that the whole time because of your girlfriend, I’m telling Appa to make you sleep on the sofa,” she says, standing with her hands on her hips.
“Won’t happen again,” I tell her, climbing down from my bed. “How did you even find out about it?”
I was well aware that Izzy and I were a hot topic in our own year, but I didn’t think it would spread so quickly to the others. Mina blindsided me when she barged into my room that day, and it slipped my mind until now to ask her.
“A boy in my class was talking about it. His brother is in the year below you. Can’t believe I had to find out from Ilyaas of all people,” she huffs, rolling her eyes at the last part. I don’t know who she’s talking about, but I should find out to make sure they’re not causing any trouble for her.
“We didn’t tell people, it just kinda got out of hand.” Not a complete lie, but I am omitting the part where that was the whole point of us dating.
I stroll past Mina to leave the room, wanting to grab something to eat after Izzy mentioned it. I didn’t have breakfast this morning and feel the effects now.
I go to the kitchen, opening the fridge to find leftover boxes of takeaway food. I close it, heaving a sigh at the lack of fresh food in this place. At home, Eomma keeps the fridge stocked with fresh fruit, bringing it to my room whenever I lock myself away to study.
I suppose Appa has no reason to do that, though. He’s only taking care of himself now. It must be harder to make an effort to cook when it’s only for one person.
“Appa,” I call out.
He’s either in the bathroom or his bedroom. The few times I stayed here before I went to Korea, he spent most of his time in his room. I think he wanted to give Mina and me more space to move around the apartment, but I wish he had spent time with us instead.
His bedroom door opens, and he steps out, closing it behind him. I haven’t been in his room yet. Back at home, it was never a big deal to go into my parents’ bedroom, but for some reason it’s different here.
“Did you need something?” he asks, coming over to lean against the worktop in the kitchen.
“Can we go to the supermarket? I want to get some fruit,” I say.
His eyes widen, jaw slackening for just a second before he fixes his expression. Have I really been that distant from him that asking to go to the store together is surprising to him?
“Of course, Adeul. Ask Mina if she wants to come, too,” he says, moving to pull on his coat.
“Mina,” I call as I make my way back to our shared room. I open the door and pop my head through to see her lying down on the floor, her phone held above her face. “Do you want to come to the store with me and Appa?”
“Nope,” she says, still typing away on her phone.
“Do you want anything?” I ask.
“Chocolate.”
“Do you know how to speak in full sentences?”
“Nope.”
I roll my eyes, closing the door before I go to where Appa is standing near the front door.
“She doesn’t want to come. Guess it’s just you and me,” I say, shrugging on my coat.
Appa smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Let’s go, Adeul.”
We don’t speak on the short drive to the grocery store. I think we’re both trying to figure out how to start the conversation that desperately needs to be had. But the car is too much of a confined space for that, so we’re quiet as we listen to the old ballads that Appa likes.
I grab a basket when we get inside, following closely behind him as he goes to the fruit section. He picks up some apples, inspecting them before placing them in the basket. When he moves on to the oranges, I take an apple from the stand, trying to figure out exactly what he’s looking for when choosing.
“What else do you want?” he asks once the basket is already stacked up with every fruit I enjoy.
I don’t want to remind him I’m only staying for three days, and he’s added far too much.
“That’s it,” I tell him, passing the basket from one hand to the other so I can walk closer to him.
The short window of time to have this conversation, while we’re alone and not in a confined space, is closing in. I switch to Korean, hoping it might make this easier. “Can I ask you a question?”
It’s never a good way to start a conversation, but I don’t know how else to. Appa keeps walking, his hands behind his back.
“Anything.”
“Was it my fault?”
The question stuns both of us. Appa stops in his tracks right before I do. I didn’t let myself think too much about how I wanted this conversation to go, but that was definitely not how I intended to start it. But I suppose it’s better to get it out of the way now that I’ve said it.
“Adeul,” he lets out a heavy sigh, bringing one hand forward to pinch the bridge of his nose before he swipes it down his face.
“You have to see it from my point of view. You left right after I got expelled. I never saw you and Eomma even argue before that happened, and then all of a sudden, you left?”
It’s all coming out now. The guilt I’ve been carrying since that day spills out of me as I finally confront him.
Appa looks around warily at the other shoppers, all of them inspecting the fruits and vegetables much like he did. There’s no chance any of them can understand what we’re saying, so I don’t know his hold up.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, finally letting me hear the words I’ve wanted to since the day he left. But then he guts me with his next ones. “But your actions made me think a lot about myself. I had to leave for that reason.”
My fingers tighten around the handle of the basket, my knuckles turning white as I grip on to it. So it was because of me but it wasn’t my fault?
“How does that make any sense?” I ask, trying my best not to sound as angry and hurt as I feel.
“We’ll talk about this in the car,” he says, extracting the basket from my hand. I give it to him, and he walks away from me to the checkout.
He’s all but admitted that I am to blame for why they separated. My actions made him leave. One foolish, out-of-control, emotional moment tore our family apart.
I feel detached from myself as I follow after him, lingering behind as he pays and bags all the fruit up. I’m numb as I make my way to the car, my arms hanging loosely at my sides, each step feeling like heavy weights are tied around my ankles.
Appa unlocks the car, putting the bags in the back seat before he gets into the front. I open the passenger door, steeling myself for whatever explanation he’s going to give to try and make me believe it wasn’t my fault. I get in, closing the door and keeping my hand curled tightly around the handle. We’re not too far from home. If it gets too much for me, I’ll get right back out and start walking.
“Adeul, when everything happened with your sister…” He heaves out a sigh, propping his elbow against the window as he rubs his hand across his forehead. “It took me back to when I was at school.”
The admission surprises me. Appa never really talks about what school was like for him, so I assumed it was unremarkable. Finding this out just makes me wonder how much I don’t know about him. I don’t speak as I wait for him to continue.
“I didn’t have many friends, and I would walk alone to school every day. It was never a problem for me, though, until my second year of high school, when I was around your age. A new boy transferred in from a different school in the neighbourhood. I don’t know what I did to offend him, but from that first day, I was his target.”
The story is all too familiar. I look at my dad and try to imagine him at sixteen. I erase the grey streaks in his hair, smooth out the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, and drop him into a classroom. Instead, I just see myself. I put my hands into my lap, twisting them together as my jaw tightens.
“He ruined my life that year. My grades dropped, and my parents scolded me every day. I felt like there was no point to living.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, struggling to imagine the man beside me ever feeling like that.
“But I knew if I gave in to those thoughts, it would be a signal for that guy that he could get away with doing whatever he wanted. So I refused. Instead, I started planning a better life for myself. I couldn’t escape that way, but I could by working hard and leaving him and all the others behind. So I studied hard. I went to university, and then I started making plans to leave Korea. It was hard at first, but coming here was one of the best decisions I ever made. I met your mother the same day I landed in London. It felt like fate.”
He uses the word inyeon. A word that can mean fate or destiny but goes deeper than that. It’s about two people who have met in all their past lives, their paths constantly crossing in every single one of them, so it’s impossible for them not to find each other.
“I loved your mother from the first day I met her, and that hasn’t changed.”
“So why don’t you talk anymore?” I ask, my voice thick with emotion.
“We do. My problem has never been with her. There’s too much about myself that I need to fix, so I can be the best husband to her. And I want to be the best father I can be for you and Mina.”
I let his words sink in as I start viewing their separation in a different light. I figured I was the leading cause of it, but it’s clear Appa has been going through a lot. Perhaps I was just the tipping point.
“When I found out what was happening to Mina, I’ve never felt more ashamed. How could I let my daughter go through the same thing I did? How could I not see what was happening right in front of me? And then you, Adeul. You did something I couldn’t have ever imagined.”
Shame washes over me, my stomach twisting into knots. I knew I reacted badly as soon as the fight was over, but I couldn’t stop myself at the time.
“I understand why you did it,” he continues, reaching over to place his hand on my shoulder. “But I wish I could have done something more so that it had never even reached that point.”
I nod as he squeezes my shoulder, my eyes stinging as I stare at my lap.
“We thought it would be good for you both to move further away for school and get a fresh start. But once we finalised everything and you went to Korea, I realised how much everything had gotten out of hand. I didn’t think that it would cause such a distance between us, too.”
Appa moves his hand underneath my chin as he gently grips it, forcing me to face him.
“Even though I wish things had happened differently, it gave me the chance to reflect. I realised I need to work on the issues from my past so that it won’t affect our present and our future. So I’m getting help now.”
“Does that mean you’ll come back?” I try to hide the childish tinge of hope in my voice.
“That was never a question you should have had to ask, Adeul,” he says. “Once I’m deserving of being back in our home, with our family, then I’ll be there.”
I blink back my tears, the release of so many months of pent-up emotions finally wanting to spill out. He’s answered every question I’ve had without me even asking, but it’s a lot to take in.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” I tell him, and he simply nods. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t been speaking to you.”
“It’s my fault, too,” he says. “Let’s do better going forward, okay?”
“Okay.”
Appa swipes a thumb across my cheek to catch a stray tear before he starts the car. We drive home, and for the first time in a while, I feel like I have my Appa back again.
* * *
Heading back home after spending the past few days with Appa feels different this time. There’s a tiny spark of hope that he’ll be walking in alongside me and Mina next time.
As soon as I get through the door, I understand why Appa hadn’t even attempted to decorate his apartment. There’s no way he could replicate the years of pictures framing the walls, the memories that line every room of this house. The kitchen where Mina took her first steps during a summer Sunday breakfast as we all watched, the chip in the wood of the bannister from when I fell down the stairs and managed to bounce off every single one of them.
Even if he did frame some pictures, it wouldn’t be the same as walking into the living room and seeing a picture of my parents on their wedding day, bright hopeful smiles lighting up both of their faces. I look at the two people in the frame and think about how much they’ve grown since then—how they’re still growing now.
I had this warped idea that because my parents were adults, they had everything figured out. But now I realise I don’t think that ever happens for anyone. It’s impossible to never make mistakes, even if you’re a grown-up. I’m learning that the important thing is how we move on from it and how we don’t let it happen again.
I make my way up to my room, my steps feeling lighter than they have in months as I throw my bag down and immediately go back down the stairs.
Eomma’s already in the kitchen making dinner, so I help her with it by getting the table ready while Mina lounges on the sofa. She’s made my favourite dakgalbi, a spicy stir-fried chicken dish I could eat for every meal. I slice up sweet potatoes while she gets the batter ready to fry them. We work in silence, but it’s best to have this conversation now while Mina isn’t in the room.
“I spoke to Appa,” I start, focusing on the knife in my hand as it slices through the potato. “He told me why he left.”
I sneak a glance at Eomma in my peripheral, her hand stilling at my abrupt admission. I keep going.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I haven’t been fair on either of you.”
“You don’t have to apologise, Noah,” she says, placing the fork down on the counter. She puts her hand over mine, silently asking me to stop and look at her, so I do. “We should have explained it to you. We just didn’t want to worry you while you were already going through so much.”
I understand why they didn’t tell me. They probably saw me as volatile after the incident and didn’t want to do anything that would set me off again. But I would have liked to know, instead of Appa just leaving. It could have saved me so many months of blaming myself and feeling terrible about it.
“I get it.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” she says. “But I hope we can all be back to normal soon.”
I hope so, too.
She puts an arm around my waist, tucking herself into my side as I lift my arm around her shoulders. She gives me a soft squeeze as she speaks.
“We’ll always be your parents, no matter what. I’m sorry we weren’t considerate enough of how you felt about this. From now on, if you want it, we’ll be more open about these things.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “I’ll be better at talking to you guys, too.”
“My wonderful son,” she says before she steps away from me.
My wonderful mother , I think.
She gets right back to cooking, taking the slices of sweet potato from me and coating them in batter before she fries them. When it’s all done, she gets the banchan out of the fridge, and I carry them all to the table and open the containers. I go back for the pan of dakgalbi, placing it in the centre of the table so we can all reach it as Eomma yells up the stairs for Mina to come and eat.
It’s one of the best dinners we’ve had in a long time. There’s no tense silences, the conversation flowing easily as we talk about how school is going. Mina fills us in on the friends she’s made, telling us that she gets on well with pretty much everyone in her class, apart from one boy. It’s the same one she mentioned before who told her about me and Izzy. I definitely need to make sure he’s not giving her a hard time when we get back to school.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Eomma asks, a glint in her eye.
“She’s good,” I tell her, my lips curving up before I can stop them. I bite down on a piece of chicken to stop myself from smiling too widely.
I spend every night on the phone with Izzy. While I was at Appa’s, we didn’t even talk much because I had to be quiet so I didn’t disturb Mina. Instead, we looked at the sky together. We can’t see the stars most of the time, but it’s nice to look at the moon together. I like knowing that we’re looking at the same thing even while we’re far apart.
“Any chance we’ll meet her?”
I hope Eomma’s use of the word ‘we’ stands for her and Appa. The idea of Izzy meeting my parents has my stomach doing flips until I remember that it’s probably never going to happen. There’s only a few months left of school and even less until the end date we’ve set before exams start. If they do meet, it’ll be purely by chance.
“Maybe,” I say, the food suddenly feeling tasteless in my mouth. I move the conversation away from Izzy, not wanting to dwell on my complicated feelings for her. “There’s a trip to France in February.”
“Don’t you want to go to Korea?” Eomma asks, placing some bean sprouts on mine and Mina’s plates.
“I do. I spoke to Halabeoji about it already. I think I can make it work if I fly straight from France to Korea. It’ll be a short trip, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Have you asked Appa?”
“Yeah, he said he was okay with it.”
She nods, placing more chicken on our plates.
“Then so am I. We can look at flights later. What’s the trip for?”
A relieved sigh escapes me before I explain the details to her. Mum tilts her head to the side as I speak, watching me with an emotion in her eyes that I can’t read. She stacks chicken, ssamjjang, garlic, and rice on top of a lettuce leaf before folding it together and leaning over the table. I open my mouth and she feeds it to me, smiling gently as she watches me eat.
“Eomma, make one for me,” Mina says, and I glare at her. Eomma gives in immediately, though, making another wrap and feeding it to her, too.
Once we’ve finished eating, Eomma says that Mina has to help with cleaning because I helped with the cooking, so I retreat to my room. Right as I enter, my phone pings.
Izzy
How’s it going?
I sit on the edge of my bed and call her. She answers on the first ring.
“Hi,” she says. Her voice brings a smile to my face instantly.
“Hey.”
“How are you?” she asks, and the first thing I want to say is that I miss her.
“I’m good,” is what I settle for instead. “You?”
“Me too,” Izzy says, but I think she’s hiding a secret just like I am. “Did you speak to your parents?”
“Yep, and I’m going to France.” I lie down, stretching one arm above my head before tucking it underneath as a makeshift pillow.
“That’s great!” Izzy sounds genuinely excited for me, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve never been to France before.”
“Really? But it’s so close.”
I stare at the ceiling and try to imagine how Izzy looks in her room right now. I have no idea what her bedroom at home looks like, so I can only picture her in her dorm. I wonder if she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, or lying down like I am. I wonder what that bed looks like, if it’s got pale pink sheets dotted with hearts like at school. I imagine photos lining her walls, all the happy memories she shares with her friends and family documented forever. I wonder if she thinks of me while she’s there as much as I think of her.
“I usually go to Korea whenever there’s a break, so I haven’t travelled to a lot of other places.
“That makes sense. I’ve been to Paris a few times. Isaac and Violet even took me a few months ago. It was their graduation trip, but I kind of gatecrashed it.”
I struggle to hold back my laugh but then I hear Izzy laughing too, light and airy, and a balm to my soul.
“Would you go back again?” I ask her, my mind once again going to places it shouldn’t. I can’t let myself imagine sitting by the Eiffel Tower with her, strolling down the narrow streets, sitting in cafes and people watching.
“Probably? There’s a couple of other places I want to see, so I think I want to travel a bit more before going back.”
“Is that what you’re going to do before uni?”
She’s silent for a moment, and I realise I’ve said the wrong thing. She’s already told me before that she doesn’t want to go to university, and that it was a decision she struggled with.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I apologise. I wish we were having this conversation face to face so I could comfort her, hold her hand to show that I’m here for her.
“No, it’s okay. I know it’s the normal thing for people to do.”
“Normal is boring anyway.”
Izzy lets out a soft laugh and I’ve never been happier to hear it.
“I still need to talk to Isaac about it. He has no idea. But he’s proposing tomorrow, so I don’t want to ruin their moment.”
“You can tell him whenever you’re ready. From everything you’ve said about him, I’m sure he’ll understand.” I hope I’m saying the right things.
Izzy goes quiet again, and I know she’s retreating into herself. It’s something she’s been doing a lot more recently, and it’s such a contrast to the girl I first met.
“We’ll figure it out, Izzy.”
I don’t know exactly how, or if she even wants me involved in this, but I want to help her.
“Thanks, Noah. I’m going to get ready for bed. Big day tomorrow.”
“I hope it all goes well. Let me know what happens.” I tell her, feeling deflated.
“I will. Goodnight, Noah.”
“Goodnight, Izzy.”
I drop my phone next to my ear as soon as she hangs up and cover my eyes with my hands. Usually, after I talk to Izzy, I feel lighter, and as if maybe she could like me as much as I like her. But tonight, it’s the complete opposite.
Izzy has enough problems on her plate without having to deal with me confessing my feelings for her, which are more than likely unrequited. So I force them down again, lock them inside me, and open up my phone to try and find some solutions for her problems.