Twenty-Seven
River
Considering it’s a Friday night, the Indian restaurant we all agreed on is completely packed and of course my brother and sister wanted to eat at one of the fancier restaurants. I’m not exactly dressed for it but hey, if Dae is paying then sign me up, I guess.
I look over the menu and it seems only right that I order butter chicken. Maybe Summer and I can try to make it again at some point in the future when we don’t feel so far away from each other.
“So, Jaejoon,” Dae begins but continues to stare down at his menu. “How’s…work been?”
Bora—who is sitting between Dae and me—doesn’t even bother to look at her menu, instead finding the start of this conversation much more interesting.
Bora nudges Dae’s shoulder. “He goes by River, remember?”
Dae finally looks up from his menu, eyes wide. “Right, yeah, sorry.”
Like I said, Dae is significantly older than me.
Sixteen years to be exact. I grew up only seeing him on holidays.
That’s about it. Dae not knowing that I prefer to go by my American name isn’t all that surprising.
He wouldn’t know that I’ve grown up resenting my Korean name.
I’ve only ever heard it spoken in disappointment from our parents.
I eventually grew to resent it, so now River is the person I am while Jaejoon is who my parents want me to be.
I take a sip of my soda before answering. “Yeah, work is good.” It’s all I give because I don’t know what else to share. What could Dae possibly care about?
“Is Metric’s keeping you busy?” Dae’s question catches me off guard.
How does he know where I work? I don’t have to think of an excuse because Bora grins.
“I told you.” She nudges my shoulder. “He does ask about you.”
My eyes snap in Dae’s direction to find him already looking at me.
I’ve always wanted to be like Dae. Our parents never seemed angry or upset with him. It was almost as if he was capable of walking on water. They were only ever happy when it came to Dae’s existence.
Dae’s calling.
Dae’s visiting.
Dae opened his own practice.
I wanted to be like him, sure, but I also just wanted to be around my big brother. But why would Dae care? We’re complete strangers most of the time.
“Really?” I try to keep my tone light and not like this means everything to me. “You ask about me?”
Dae scratches the back of his neck. His chuckle comes out awkward, strange, and unlike his usual composed demeanor. “Yeah, sorry if that’s a little weird.”
“Why didn’t you just call? Or text?”
Dae looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “I didn’t think you wanted me to. I thought you saw me as a stranger.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well, yeah ’cause you never call.”
I guess I could’ve tried harder too, but I genuinely thought that he’d want nothing to do with me. The only reason I figured Bora wanted me around was because she’s only five years older than me, so we grew up together.
Bora smiles. “Sometimes Dae never shuts up about you.” Her voice drops to mimic Dae’s deep tone. “How’s our baby brother? Should I call him? Do you think he wants to talk, Bora?”
Dae sighs and shakes his head. He mumbles something in Korean that I can’t really catch over the noise in the restaurant.
“We should talk more,” I finally say and who knew it could be this easy?
“Yeah.” The corner of Dae’s mouth tugs up. “We should.”
“Thank god.” Bora opens her menu back up. “I’ve been tired of playing the middleman between you two idiots. Now let’s eat because I’m starving.” Bora pats her stomach and the weight on my chest eases a bit.
***
The Indian restaurant we’re at sits across the street from Declan’s Art Boutique and I’ve tried not to stare at it, but my brother and sister have noticed.
“Is there anything good in there?” Dae asks.
“No.” I’m quick to answer and stare back down at my half-eaten butter chicken, which I have to admit is far better than Summer’s and mine. “It’s just where smaller artists sell their art.”
That alone wouldn’t normally be equivalent to “nothing good” but I don’t need them asking to go in there. It’s just one more memory of Summer I don’t need right now. Declan’s Art Boutique is almost a symbol of yet another thing I’ve failed at.
“Bora told me that you still do that,” Dae says.
Bora flicks Dae’s hand. “River is an artist.”
Oh…I wouldn’t call myself that.
“You know, I still have a picture you drew for me when you were little.” Dae chuckles. “You told me it was the three of us on a spaceship.”
Wow, even as a little kid I never included my parents. It’s like I knew that they would be a missing piece in my life.
“We should go in.” Bora is already pulling out her wallet but Dae is trying to beat her to the punch. I’m taking full advantage of being the little brother because I keep my wallet safely in my pocket.
“I don’t think you guys would like it,” I say for no reason other than I’m not sure I can go in there without thinking of Summer.
Bora gasps. “You don’t think we can appreciate art?”
“I didn’t say that—”
Dae interrupts, casually taking Bora’s debit card from the top of the receipt and leaving his own in place. “I’ve been looking for some things for my apartment anyway.”
“Still? You’ve been in Korea for how long?” Bora arches her eyebrow.
“I just haven’t had time. It’s not a big deal,” Dae explains.
“Alright then!” Bora slams her hands on the table, earning us a few glares. “It’s settled. We’re going in.”
It’s times like these that I remember I’m the youngest here and apparently I have no say on what we do or where we go, because after Dae pays for our food—after some more back-and-forth with Bora—the three of us are in Declan’s Art Boutique.
The same cashier is sitting on a barstool behind the register. She waves and asks if we need any help.
Bora shakes her head and smiles. “Just looking.”
Dae begins looking at the shelves of ceramics and Bora looks at the same jewelry table Summer had. My hand goes to my wrist where the bracelet she picked out for me still rests. I can’t help but run my finger along the beads.
“You said that this is where smaller artists sell their work?” Dae asks.
I busy myself with the table of small art prints, not really looking at anything in particular. “Yeah.” I nod. “Just people trying to get their art out there.”
“Is there anything of yours in here?” Bora grins. She already has at least five necklaces in her hand.
“Oh god no,” I snort.
Bora and Dae immediately snap their heads in my direction and I’m starting to think that I might’ve said something wrong.
“Why not?” Bora arches her eyebrow. “Your stuff is good.”
I wave her off. “You’ve only seen a few things I made in high school.” I look at Dae. “And you’ve only seen art I drew when I was a kid.”
Dae shrugs but goes back to looking at coasters. “I think it was pretty good for a five year old.”
That’s what most people say to kids, just to boost their ego. Then as they get older, they come to realize they’re no longer the ingénu. If they could ever call themselves that in the first place.
“I think you should.” Bora walks up and nudges my shoulder, deciding to be nosey with what I’m looking at.
“I just want you to have the things you want and if this is what you want, then I say go for it.”
Summer has always been that type of person. If she wanted it, she was going to get it. No questions asked but I’ve never been like that.
“I don’t know,” I try to laugh to keep myself from crying in an art boutique, which I guess wouldn’t be the worst place to bawl. “I’m not amazing at everything like you guys.”
I’m mediocre at best.
Dae and Bora take a quick glance in each other’s direction before their eyes land on me.
“Not true,” they say at the same time.
See, they both say that, but what do I have to show for it?
Bora is head chef at some fancy uptown restaurant in New York.
Dae is a literal doctor. They both did sports in school.
Always had good grades. Constantly brought good news to our parents.
All I could ever bring to the table was art I drew at school that day that my parents didn’t even bother to put up on the fridge.
Bora slaps my arm. “Don’t let what our parents say live in your head,” she spews out in Korean.
“They don’t matter, okay? I’m not going to let you live your life thinking that they do, because Mom and Dad are just people who should have no effect on us.
They’ve never cared about anyone but themselves. ”
Both Dae’s and my eyes widen.
Dae then adds, “She’s right. Our parents seem proud of me now, but they were upset that I started my practice in Korea.”
My eyes narrow and I disregard the art prints in my hands. “What are you talking about? Eomma and Appa seemed happy that you were going back home.”
“Oh, no,” Dae chuckles. “They asked me why I’d go back to the place they took us away from. Said I was undoing all of their hard work.” He laughs.
Bora nods. “They didn’t speak to me for two whole weeks when I told them I was going to culinary school. That’s apparently not prestigious enough for them.”
That can’t possibly be right. When Bora and Dae left the house, all my parents could talk about was how I needed to be like my siblings. How perfect they were and how Dae and Bora had never disappointed them.
I genuinely don’t think anything will ever be good enough for our parents. That’s not to say that everything they’ve ever told me still doesn’t sting, I’m now just less alone in the constant criticism.
I grin. “So, you two aren’t perfect at everything?”
Bora scoffs. “No, I’m amazing at everything I do, River.”
Dae and I both roll our eyes as Bora turns to look at the canvas bags. My older brother comes to stand next to me and sorts through the art prints that were in my hands. “I agree with Bora. I think you should try selling your art here.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t made anything worth buying.”
Dae sighs. “That’s not the point, River. Just focus on creating things that make you happy. Put your focus on that sort of inspiration instead of whatever level of success our parents try to shove down our throats.”
My inspiration is currently not talking to me because I told her that’s what I thought would be best. But if people like Bora and Dae—the type of people I’ve believed were the epitome of perfection—have also been belittled and told that they haven’t dreamed big enough, and still went for what they wanted, then maybe I can.
Maybe it’s okay for me to move through life and never have to be extraordinary. I can just exist. I can have things because I want them, not because I have to earn everything. Maybe this version of me can be okay.
I pull out my phone from my back pocket. I don’t let myself think. I just type.
Me: Hey, I know I said we shouldn’t but can we talk?
I wait all of a minute before sending another text.
Me: Summer? Please?
Maybe I’m coming off as desperate, but I feel like if I don’t tell Summer now then I’ll never be able to. I’ll never get the chance. Or I won’t have this confidence ever again. It’ll never feel like the right time to tell Summer I’m in love with her. So, screw it. It’s now or never.
“Hey, guys.” I shove my phone back into my pocket. “I have something important to take care of.”
I turn to Bora and Dae.
“Everything okay?” Bora asks.
“Hopefully soon.” I can’t help but smile. “When are you leaving?” I look at Dae.
“Don’t worry, River. I’m staying for a few weeks.” He smiles softly.
I’m quick to hug both of them, squeezing tight and heading back across the street to my car.
The ride to Bethany’s friend’s apartment that she’s staying at feels longer than the usual ten minutes.
Granted, I’ve only been there twice. It’s one of those fancier apartment complexes.
There are levels to the “richness” in Ellingbrook.
I park and yank my keys out of the ignition, bolting toward the front door.
I wave to Peter, the receptionist that I’ve talked to a couple of times, and run toward the elevator.
My finger jams the button repeatedly and my legs shake.
The beeping irks me and I’m wondering when this elevator got so slow.
When I can no longer take the anxiety coursing through me, I flip the elevator the bird and head toward the stairwell. My sneakers slap against the concrete and the echo of the stairwell makes the racing in my heart pulse through my ears. Louder. Urgent.
I trip over the last few steps and realize I forgot my sunglasses and the bright lights make it hard to see, but I don’t care. I’ll run to Summer with my eyes closed if I have to.
I push through the door, groaning when my shoulder slams into the metal, but I keep moving.
My throat burns. Maybe from my breathlessness.
Maybe from everything I’ve wanted to say and being this close to laying it all out.
Just one long hallway away. I run faster, if possible, and all but slam against the front door, not able to stop my feet fast enough.
I pull back and quickly tap my knuckles against the apartment door, listening for any sort of movement. Bethany answers. Her eyes are red and her hair is tied messily on the top of her head.
This has to have something to do with what Moose said back at Metric’s, right?
“My girl is moving to a whole new country and yours is right in arm’s reach. Take advantage of that.”
Bethany doesn’t give me time to ask if she’s okay or what’s going on between her and Moose. Instead, she offers me a gentle smile that doesn’t seem to match the sadness in her eyes. “She isn’t here.”
“Do you know where she is?” I try to catch my breath. “I know she probably doesn’t want to see me right now, but I really need to talk to her.”
Bethany’s eyes widen at the rate at which I speak. Then her shoulders fall and she takes a step closer. “Summer got a call yesterday. Nick is in the hospital.”
“What happened? Is he okay?” I ask frantically.
My heart is now racing for an entirely different reason.
Why didn’t Summer tell me herself? This isn’t something we’d keep from each other.
Bethany shakes her head. “I don’t know. She asked me not to say anything but…” She lets the rest of that sentence hang in the air.
I take a step back, clutching my phone in my hand. “Thanks, Beth.”
I really did screw this all up, didn’t I?