Chapter 5
Mrs. Yun handed me a glass of cold white wine, and I sat back in the chair.
Alice and Jesse had lived in New York before the baby was born, so we talked about which restaurants were still open and which had closed.
They said their lives were easier in East End and marveled at how much space they had in their new house.
Most importantly, they were glad to live near family again.
“We couldn’t wait to get away from here after college,” Alice said. “But now, it’s really nice, you know?”
Jesse pulled her close to him. “We get free babysitting. You even love having your sisters around,” he teased.
Alice rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, but it’s Paul who’s the biggest help,” she said to me. “They’ll be here soon. They’re always late.”
I reasoned that Paul must be a boyfriend or husband of one of her sisters as I listened to the couple in front of me chatter on.
To me, Alice and Jesse seemed to be living the dream.
I wished for exactly what they had: living with relatives, in a community that was familiar, not the loneliness of a vast city where I lived now or the small towns without other Koreans where I’d grown up.
Usually, couples loved to share how they met, so I asked them about it, assuming they’d tell me a boring story about growing up together in East End.
Instead, they said they’d gotten together on an Amtrak when they were racing home during the pandemic. “Jesse had a glow-up,” Alice said.
Mrs. Yun asked what she meant, and I explained that Jesse became better looking, and Mrs. Yun waved at her granddaughter as if shooing away a fly. “He’s a good boy, why do you care how he looks?”
“Yeah, like you didn’t marry the most dapper man in Seoul?” Alice said.
We watched Mr. Yun and my grandfather walk over to the grill with a large platter of meat. Mr. Yun’s long red shorts definitely were a choice.
“He owned only two pairs of pants back then,” Mrs. Yun said.
“I was the lucky one on the train that day,” Jesse said, and kissed Alice. Even though it was on the cheek, there was a tenderness that made me look away.
On the far side of the yard, Austin jumped on the trampoline.
His head wobbled in a jerky fashion each time he landed.
Should Channing tell him to take it easy?
I was about to hurry over when an Asian trio entered the yard.
A petite woman and two men of average height sauntered in from the direction of the street.
They looked lost, but also like they had no place they had to be.
Wearing sunglasses and crisp pastel cotton clothes, they looked like an ad for summer tourists coming to East End.
Mrs. Yun called out “Paul!” and one of them turned.
The one named Paul and the woman headed our way, but the other man hung back.
He stood turned in the direction of the trampoline.
Before the pair reached the table, Mrs. Yun intercepted them and ushered the young woman toward the house.
“Why do I have to always help? Why not Alice or Paul?” I heard her say in an exasperated voice to Mrs. Yun.
“Because you’re her favorite,” Alice called to her. Paul and Jesse laughed. Th other man remained transfixed. I followed his gaze and noted that Austin had slowed down. His head was steady now.
I relaxed into my chair. It was easy and safe here with Harabeoji and his friends, with the wine and light conversation. Nothing to worry about. I was in East End. I’d always felt it was what a home should be. I took a breath in and exhaled slowly. How comfortable it was to be part of this group.
The evening sun cast a deep warm light across us, made everything a little more orange, a richer saturation of colors.
I’d heard of such light but never seen it before, like a translucent sunset that drenched the landscape with warmth and moved like a current sideways through me.
If I had to compare it to something I knew I’d say it felt like a low-wattage version of Manhattanhenge—the portmanteau of Manhattan and Stonehenge—the phenomenon where the sunset burst dramatically through buildings down an avenue twice a year, perfectly lined up with the street.
The difference was that this was an ordinary summer evening, and the sun wasn’t about to set for another hour and a half.
“What are we talking about?” Paul said, taking the empty chair on the other side of me.
He had a wide smile and smelled of cinnamon.
I wondered if he’d been baking or had a bag of cinnamon rolls somewhere.
It was my favorite dessert, minus the cream cheese frosting to which I had a dairy intolerance.
Jesse reached across and grasped the hand Paul extended in easy camaraderie. Alice said, “Just in time for the food, of course.”
Paul pointed to the man he’d arrived with. “Blame him—for work.” Then he called to his friend and waved him over. “Come say hi.” To us, Paul said, “This is Minjae. Our grandmothers are from the same town in Korea. He’s here for the summer from Seoul.”
Jesse repeated the handshake with Paul’s friend and said, “Oh right, I heard you were here. Alice and I did a whole Korea trip before the baby came.”
“You are…?” Paul said to me, which made it easy to tell him and Minjae my name.
Like Alice and Jesse, Paul eluded my memory.
All the children back then had seemed like an amorphous group I’d felt too shy to get to know.
Paul seemed intent on trying to remember, but I could tell he couldn’t quite place me.
Minjae took the seat Mrs. Yun had abandoned and moved it close.
His eyes had a glimmer of humor in them, and he leaned forward with interest at all of us.
I was intrigued by his great complexion; clearly someone had advised him on skincare.
Smooth and dewy. I was wondering what to say to him when he turned his head close to mine and spoke to the patio stone at our feet, “Hey, who’s that? ” He pointed his chin across the yard.
I followed his glance. Channing was standing on the bed of the trampoline with her arms out to Austin. They were slowly jumping together.
“You know her,” Paul said to him. “We went to her house when we were kids.”
Minjae tilted his head to one side as if to jog his memory. “She moved away?” he asked.
“In high school, yeah,” Paul said.
Alice was looking at Paul with amusement, and I guess I was thinking what she was thinking—that Paul seemed to know everything about my cousin. Did this mean something to Alice that I wasn’t aware of? I decided to help him out.
“Paul’s right. Channing’s only back for the summer,” I said.
“Like me, I’m only here temporarily,” Minjae replied. “I remember her. She was fun.”
His English didn’t have a hint of an accent, and I told him.
“He’s one of those strangely talented language people,” Paul said. “Tell them how many you speak,” he coaxed his friend.
“Don’t listen to him. I went to boarding school near here since I was ten years old, that’s why,” Minjae said, and then he motioned to the trampoline, and we all turned our attention to my cousin.
I didn’t realize I’d gasped until Paul said, “You okay?” I nodded, my gaze frozen. Austin was now sitting on the rim with Edison, and Channing was jumping by herself in the center of the trampoline.
Her arms were extended on either side of her, like wings.
With each bounce, she rose higher in the air, even reaching above the height of the netting.
Nothing would keep her from falling off and landing on the hard ground if she didn’t land straight.
The children’s voices traveled across the cut grass, urging her to go higher still.
I was already on my way across the yard in case she fell, and I was surprised to find Minjae beside me when I heard Mrs. Yun call out, “Eomeona! Watch out, Channing!” I looked back at her.
It was the awe and worry in her voice that mirrored my own, the expression my mother had used often.
Mrs. Yun and the young woman who had walked into the yard with Paul and Minjae were standing near the table with trays of food in their arms. Nearby, Harabeoji and Mr. Yun were also watching Channing, their hands holding long chopsticks.
Paul was running to catch up to me and Minjae.
I turned back to the trampoline just as Channing reached the pinnacle of her jumps, bent backward, tucked her legs in, flipped once, twice, and landed with her feet safely before vaulting up again and turning backward, this time with her long legs extended.
Channing was five nine to begin with, so she had to reach really high to turn multiple times on her way down.
I was a handful of inches shorter than her.
We were right by the netting by then. “Unbelievable,” Paul called out.
Channing leaned back into another series of combination rotations. The children clapped when she was done, and she gave them a wave, dismissing their applause, before quickly parting the netting and stepping forward down the short ladder. “Your turn,” she said to them over her shoulder.
“No, wait—don’t tell them to try that,” I called out. I needn’t have worried. Austin jumped up once and then landed on his back gently. The springs of the trampoline eased his collapse. Edison claimed a turn and arguments ensued.
It took me a second to notice that Minjae was waiting at the bottom of the ladder.
“Not so bad,” he said to Channing, and offered her a hand.
Their eyes were locked on each other, a little longer than was casual.
I looked away, embarrassed for them. Paul had walked around the trampoline toward the children.
He encouraged them to jump safely, bending his legs to show them how, and then he called Minjae over.
As soon as Minjae was out of range, Channing whispered, “What just happened?” And I said, “What do you mean?” and she said, “I know him from somewhere.” She seemed nervous. Excited and nervous.