Chapter 19
There was nothing else for me to do, so I drove to the house on Sandpiper Lane, trying to focus on the positive.
At least I’d gotten the suits to the kids.
Hopefully, they were still able to join their camp friends and swim.
I made myself some lunch and took it outside to eat.
A light breeze rustled through the full green leaves of the young poplar trees that ringed the yard.
I felt it again, the strangeness of this suspended time in this town.
In high school, after she’d moved to Boston, Channing and I used to talk about dreams we had about East End in the years afterward.
Her dreams always began in the kitchen of her house in the morning, where her mother would be drinking coffee and Channing would say, “Eomma, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead.” Her mother would say, “Oh, honey, did you think cancer would beat me? We’re way tougher than that.
” Channing would say, “Who’s ‘we’?” And her mother would reply, “You and me.” And Channing would feel relief wash over her.
She’d run into her mother’s arms and say, “I can’t believe I doubted you. ”
I dreamt of Channing’s mother when I was stressed about my job.
The part I remembered most vividly was standing in my aunt’s bedroom in her house as she handed me a book and said I should remember what it felt like to be a child.
That was the key. “They’re more like you than it seems at first. Everyone is really more alike than different.
Teach second-grader Dahee.” I looked down at the book she’d handed me and woke up.
Thinking of her filled my heart with a heaviness I couldn’t bear in that moment, so I got up and went inside.
I wanted, suddenly, to read a good book.
I went in search, but all the Ahns had were cookbooks.
On Channing’s laptop, the Kovikiflix app flashed when I touched the screen showing she was on episode six of the Chunhyang series.
I flipped through to see if another show appealed to me.
Nothing did. I closed Channing’s laptop and told myself I was ridiculous for looking for ways to kill time.
I was sure Channing could manage the boys now, especially with Minjae’s help.
They’d figure out how to deal with Kent together.
When you have a boyfriend, a real relationship, other interested parties gave up, didn’t they?
Harabeoji and I would figure out what time we’d leave East End.
Thinking of going to New York reminded me to check my school’s computer app.
With a large teaching and administration staff of a New York City public school, people commented often and regularly, so I’d turned off the notification alerts.
As expected, there was nothing urgent when I popped on, just a series of messages from my principal and assistant principal asking the staff when they’d be decorating their rooms. There was an informational session tomorrow for new faculty not relevant to me.
I wrote in a separate private message to the principal that I would be back soon.
Thursday at the latest. In my mind I imagined that Harabeoji and I would leave tomorrow or early on Wednesday.
After an hour, Harabeoji called with details about the meeting at the bakery. He couldn’t ask them directly, but he said he put it out there that young people like to arrange their own relationships. He said that Channing had expressed no interest in marriage at this time.
“Mrs. Ku, whom you met at the beach club, told me that Kent is an outstanding man, her words. She’s been advising him for years—knows him best. I told her privately that Channing is not interested in Kent.
So Mrs. Ku’s going to talk to him. I think it’s all going to be fine.
She wasn’t happy with Channing as a choice, she apologized for saying that, but she says it’s obvious without a mother, she isn’t going to be approved by Kent’s parents.
And the reputation of Channing’s father had reached Koreans in Seoul, and no one appreciated his battle with alcohol. ”
“That’s not fair for his parents to reject her because her mother died,” I said, even as I was glad Kent would have another reason to back off.
“It seems as if he had his mind set on Channing from seeing her in Boston,” Harabeoji said.
“Makes no sense. Why is he still pursuing her?”
“Mrs. Ku will help us and Kent. She wants to introduce him to a friend’s daughter from Philadelphia.”
I told Harabeoji how I’d run into Kent at the park. “He asked about Channing’s health, so I think he believes my story about her not being able to have babies. It was eerie that he was there right when I was though, at the camp, I mean.”
“It’s his project, that’s why. He wants everyone to see the mayor having a big impact. Kent wants to be mayor one day, Mrs. Ku told me.”
“That tracks. Power and all that comes with it. You know, that’s good for us. Channing would be a horrible mayor’s wife, can you imagine? We have to remind him of that.”
“Good point. He’ll need someone who wants that, too, a public life. But there’s one more thing—”
“So then we can leave, tomorrow? What time would you be ready?” I asked.
“Ooree Dahee-ya.”
My heart dropped. When Harabeoji said my name like that with the Korean word our before it and the little endearment ya at the end, I knew he was about to tell me something important.
It was his way of taking a breath and preparing himself.
My hands tingled with nervousness. I clasped them together, and I replied immediately with, “Should I drive over there? Should we talk about this in person?”
“Is Channing with you now?” he asked.
I told him she was still out with Minjae and swiped my phone’s screen to find her location. She was thirty minutes away. It was getting close to the boys’ pick-up time from camp. She’d have to hurry to make it.
“About Minjae,” Harabeoji began.
“Go ahead.” Not only was he going to tell me something important, I knew it was going to be bad news by the hesitation in his voice.
“Mrs. Ku said he’s engaged to a woman in Korea. The families are very close, it happened in their twenties, they’re still engaged, and everyone’s wondering when they’ll be married.”
“That can’t be right,” I said. “He’s all about Channing, you should see them together.”
“Mrs. Ku is usually right,” my grandfather said. He sounded the way I felt, loaded down with worry.
“She was wrong about Kent’s engagement to Channing,” I offered.
“Yes, but this is different. She’s known about Minjae’s engagement for years.”
We were both silent for a while. It didn’t make sense unless Minjae was planning to break off his engagement now that he’d met my cousin.
I shared my reasoning with Harabeoji, who considered the possibility.
The situation had become more complicated, but it wasn’t as dire as his voice led me to believe. I offered him reassurance.
“Channing’ll work it out. And if he’s cheating on his fiancée with Channing, it’s better to know now,” I said.
She’d had one boyfriend who lied about being separated from his wife that devastated her.
She’d stayed with me for a few weeks in New York after that discovery.
This was different, I told myself. There was a chance Minjae had told her by now. They’d met three days ago.
Just then a text came through from Channing herself: Bad traffic, please get the kids? You’re closer.
I was irritated enough not to reply. She’d see my location and know I was on my way. But I couldn’t be upset with her, not when I’d have to share this fact about Minjae.
At every red light, I kept wanting to pick up the phone and tell Channing.
I knew, however, that we couldn’t talk while she was in the car with Minjae.
It would take time to explain how we’d found out.
Their relationship was just starting out.
And maybe when she returned from this excursion with Minjae, she’d tell me there was nothing between them.
She could have learned something about him she disliked.
Harabeoji was right about me. I hated conflict.
Once again, I pulled into the town camp parking lot.
Counselors in bright purple T-shirts were leading children one by one to the line of cars and helping them into each vehicle.
I inched the SUV forward every few seconds, close enough to see the heads of Edison and Austin bobbing up and down in a large group of children.
I rolled down my window and waved to them.
After several long minutes, it was my turn and the boys surged forward, only to be halted by the same counselor who had prevented me from delivering the swimsuits directly to them earlier.
She had a clipboard tucked under her arm and held Edison and Austin each by the hand as she walked them toward me.
When I opened my door, another counselor marshaling traffic shouted at me to stay inside the vehicle until the children were brought to me.
As Edison reached for the handle of the car door, the counselor ordered him to stop. She looked at me, then glanced inside the rest of the SUV.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Dahee Shin. You helped me earlier with the suits, remember?” I replied. The expression on her face remained the same. I was getting flashbacks of the police, so I took my wallet out of my bag and held it out to her.
She compared the name on my driver’s license with the form on her clipboard. “It says here that Channing Shin is the guardian for the month of August, signed by the parents of these two campers. There’s no other name on the permission form,” she said.
A car honked behind us. I hit Channing’s phone number, silently begging for her to pick up. I held up the phone so the counselor could see I was calling my cousin. The skin on my palms went numb, and then I felt the prick of a hundred pine needles against them.
Austin started to whine, “I’m hot, I’m tired. Can we go now?”
Edison said, “Dahee’s not a kidnapper.”
I appreciated his attempt and gave him a smile.
The counselor handed my wallet back to me. “Please come back when you have Channing with you.”
“Wait, let me try again,” I said, and rapidly sent Channing a message that she had to call me back immediately.
There was no reply. It remained unread and my call went to voicemail.
Where was Channing? Why didn’t she reply to me?
And why didn’t she tell me the camp was so strict?
I tapped my hands on the steering wheel to make the pricks go away.
Just then, a white woman walked up and pointed at her car behind us. It was Nora, from the Leeward Beach Club.
“Stacy, is there a problem? Can I get my kids while you work this out?” She addressed the counselor and then looked right at me.
“Nora, it’s me,” I said. “Channing’s cousin. We met at the beach club?” I pointed at myself.
She pulled her chin back in shock and then her eyes widened. “Right! Hi!” She smiled at the boys, who looked hopefully at her.
“I’m not on the list to pick up,” I told her.
“Of course,” she replied, and then turned to the counselor. “Stacy, this is definitely Channing Shin’s cousin. I know her.”
Stacy scowled. “Go back to your car now.”
“But—” Nora began.
“Rule number one: Parents and guardians are not supposed to leave their car,” Stacy said to the sky, but Nora got the message.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t help,” she said. “Tell Channing to call me for a playdate.” Then Nora sprinted away.
I tried a different tack because I didn’t have the boys’ parents’ number. “Look, I’m a teacher during the year, second grade, so I get it; what can we do to get these boys home?” I asked.
Stacy slid the clipboard under her arm again and picked up each boy’s arm.
“Return with Channing. We need you to move along now.” She turned the boys around with her. She was holding them by their forearms and tugged. Austin cried out, “Ow!” I wanted to jump out of my seat and rip the boys away from her but stopped myself. I called Channing again, but it was futile.
Cars honked again behind me. Another counselor in a town park shirt knocked on the hood of my car and waved me ahead.
The boys were being taken away, looking back at me with worry.
I drove forward and parked in a space in the lot.
What could I do? I looked up Channing’s location on my phone, and it didn’t show up.
That’s when a text from an unknown number appeared: It’s me from Minjae’s phone.
We got a flat. Sorry, waiting for a tow.
I texted her that they wouldn’t let me pick up the boys. How long until you get here? I wrote.
She typed back: Truck says they’re coming.
Why doesn’t he have a spare? I replied.
There was no answer. What were my choices? I thought about helplessly waiting for her to arrive. In the parking lot to my left was the same group from earlier. A clump of five men and women in suits with folders in their hands stood around Kent. I tried to duck and hoped he hadn’t seen me.
Too late, Kent strode over. “It’s okay, Kent, we’ve got this. Channing is on her way,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage.
He took one look into the car, scanned the group of children with the counselors waiting to be picked up and said, “Again, Dahee? Channing is failing to do her job again?”
“It’s not like that, she—” I began, but he wasn’t around to listen. I would have said she wasn’t feeling well. He walked off. I was about to text Channing about Kent when he returned with the counselor and the children.
“You’re lucky Kent vouched for you,” Stacy said, and helped the boys in.
Edison and Austin made a big show of sighing and putting on their seatbelts. “Finally,” the older boy said. Austin added, “Can we get home now, jeez. And blast the AC in the back.”
I thanked Kent but he was busy furiously texting on his phone. Was he telling the children’s parents?