Chapter 8
8
W hen I arrive later that night, the door to The Red Kettle is unlocked and wedged open, and I let myself in. I sit myself in the main dining room, waiting for Jae, who according to his text message is preparing some kind of mystery appetizer.
With the lights dimmed and Japanese city-pop music playing in the background, I’m momentarily glad I’ve scrunched my curls and put on a nicer outfit. I futz with the bell sleeves on my thrifted dress. I’m hoping I come off more as a sophisticated socialite, and less as a freshman going-to-the-prom.
I desperately wished I had something to do other than stare at my half-finished mural. I pray for a text message, an email to answer or even a god-awful dating app notification so I can get out of my head how much this looks like a real date.
It feels like a real date when Jae emerges from the kitchen, perfectly polished. He’s carrying a pearlescent plate of what looks like pork barbecue and steamed eggs. He’s wearing a set of thick-rimmed glasses I’ve never seen him wear before. He looks supernatural. I want to climb into his arms.
His thick hair is slicked to the side instead of falling in his face, and he wears his chef’s whites. When he takes the jacket off, revealing an olive green turtleneck underneath, anything I wanted to say is silenced in my throat.
Even though I saw him far more vulnerable last night, something about seeing him in this context makes my heart flutter just as much.
“Welcome to Dating 101.” Jae sounds like he’s rehearsed this about a thousand times, and he’s finally showing off in the recital. “First. Always have your first date at a restaurant. It has the perfect set of circumstances to see whether a guy is worth it.”
I stifle a laugh. We’re really getting into this right away. I nod without saying a word. He hands me a set of stainless steel chopsticks.
“It’s the perfect place for a first date.” Jae continues. “Rule one. Your date should put his phone away. His attention should be on you. If he looks at his phone more than you, dump him.”
“Rule one. Got it,” I repeat.
Jae picks up a piece of barbecued pork with his chopsticks and sets it on the plate in front of me. “Rule two. You get the first pick of everything. You decide where to sit. You decide what you want to eat. Don’t let him make choices for you. If he orders for you, dump him.”
“Noted.”
“Rule three. How he treats the waitstaff and how well he tips is pretty much indicative how he’ll take care of you. If he tips less than twenty percent or is a jerk to the waitstaff, dump him.”
“Should I be taking notes?”
Jae smiles as he shovels in a mouthful of barbecue as he tells me, “Go, eat!” muffling the sounds of his chewing by covering his mouth with his hand.
“What does it mean if the guy talks with his mouth full on the first date?” I needle him.
“Means dump him.” Jae smiles after swallowing, coming dangerously close to breaking the “no chewing with your mouth full” rule.
“So, what’s the practice part of this practice date?” I shovel a pile of barbecue into my mouth and—oh my—it’s so good. Heavenly, even. “This is delicious , by the way.” I enunciate delicious in a way one would say screw me.
“Well…we’re just going to act like we’re on a date. And so when you do the real thing with a guy we pick tonight, you know what to do. You’ll have your real date here, after the restaurant opens,” Jae offers me another bite of barbecue and I take it from him eagerly.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask suddenly.
Jae purses his lips together into a soft, heart-melting smile. “We talked about this already, remember? Don’t doubt my intentions.”
“I would never.” I take a bite of buttery gyeranjjim. It's my turn to talk through a full mouth.
“So. Back to the topic at hand. On a real date, you’re going to have to make small talk. You’re good—but you can do better,” Jae instructs.
“Right. So, if you were my date…” I’m stumped all of the sudden. Usually the conversation with Jae flows right out of me, but I’m caught off guard by his attitude. “I guess I’d ask how your day was. How was your day?”
“It was excellent. I had a pretty girl show me how to paint, and now I’m here with you.” Jae gives me the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. “How was your day?” He pours me a tall glass of ice water. He thinks I’m pretty.
“I had a good day, actually. I spent most of it painting. At a restaurant and at home.”
“What did you paint at home?”
“I painted the city,” I pause for a moment, thinking of the best way to describe the painting I started this afternoon. It’s the first painting I’ve started for pleasure, not for money in a long, long time. My painting is not just of the city.
“What part of the city?” Jae asks me, sipping his water.
“Only one that exists inside my head.”
“Do you have a photo?”
“I don’t,” I say to him, shaking my head.
“Describe it to me.”
I don’t know how to say that the painting is of Jae.
“It’s night-time. The moon is lighting the scene. There’s a building.”
“And?” Jae swallows, waiting for me to continue.
“And you are looking into the window of this building, into this specific apartment, and in the ray of moonlight, you can see a man standing in his kitchen, stirring a pot.”
“And?” he says again, his voice mighty quiet.
“And that’s it. That’s the painting.”
“I’d like to live inside that painting,” Little does he know it’s him inside the painting.
“Maybe you already are,” I answer with a coy smile and sip on my water and take a bite of my dinner. He’ll never know.
“Would you draw me?”
“Only if you cook for me,” Two can bargain.
“I already have!” Jae gestures to my plate.
“Oh…I guess you have.” I have a niggling feeling I’m going to get bullied into doing a drawing. “Do you have pencil and paper? Or a pen will do. I didn’t bring any supplies.”
Jae stands up and motions for me to follow him. We walk down the long hallway at the back of the restaurant, and towards the end he opens a door to what can only be his office. It’s a small, cramped room with no windows and a dim light bulb. There’s a desk with about a thousand papers and a cup with a few pencils.
“Go ahead, sit,” Jae stands in the doorway while I make my way around the desk that practically takes up the entire room. He leans on the doorframe in a way that makes me want to draw him even more.
“Stay right there,” I instruct him. “Don’t move.”
I pick a pencil from the cup on a whim. It’s wrapped with white casing and purple unicorns. How cute. I finally take a long, intentional look at Jae. Drawing is an important part of painting, if not more important than the painting itself. Drawing is understanding how to break things down into shapes and how to reconnect them again.
Jae has a heart-shaped face with a straight, slightly snubbed nose. I lightly sketch the lines to his face, adding in thick lines for his eyebrows and upturned shapes for his eyes. I add in his full lips and lines for his neck. I shade in a shape for his lush, thick hair.
I look back to see him smiling. I feel the classic Riley blush starting in my neck and I hurriedly draw a generic figure for the rest of his body, leaning on an imagined door frame.
“There.” I hand him the sketch. Jae studies it dutifully.
“Again, amazing. I don’t know how you do this.”
“I studied for a long time, you know.” I did. I have a degree and years of experience after that. “I’ve been drawing and painting since I was a kid,” I lean back in the old office chair. “I don’t know how you cook like you do.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice, too.” Jae looks solemn for a moment before he says, “Let’s go back to the dining room.”
“Who taught you how to cook, really?” I ask, curious about how he knows how to make such fancy food.
“My appa—my father—taught me the basics. He passed away when I was a kid,” Jae answers.
“I’m sorry.” Of course, I am.
“It’s okay. It’s been many years now.” Of course, it has.
“I also learned a lot from my mother. And now she doesn't cook much at all anymore.” He shakes his head. We walk back down the hall, Jae folding up the sketch I handed him and tucking it away somewhere I don’t see.
I know that shake of the head all too well. It’s one I’ve done many times myself. The one where you feel like there’s nothing left to do, so all you can do is shake your head and hope it’s over with soon. But I know how to respond to this. I’ve been in his shoes. Grieving someone who is still alive is often harder than grieving someone who’s already gone.
“Do you cook for your mom often?” I say, trying to redirect him into a happy memory.
“I do. My mom still says I make my kimchi the wrong way,” Jae says, giving me a light chuckle in response.
“I’m sure she’ll get over it one of these days.” I elbow him.
“That is if she can remember who makes it. Her memory is kind of going these days.” Jae laughs at his own joke. “Humor is how I cope.”
“I totally understand.” I give him a gentle smile as we sit back at our table.
“You do? Have you lost a parent?”
“I haven’t, but…” I trail off. I’m not ready to talk about Grant with Jae. I don’t want things to change just yet. Then I think better of it, remembering he’s already lost his father. “I’ve lost others close to me. But I guess I don’t truly understand what it's like to lose a parent.”
“It really puts life into perspective when you have to take care of the people who are supposed to take care of you,” Jae tells me, putting a hand up to rub his temple. “Sorry to be a downer on our date.”
Our date. “Our practice date,” I correct.
“Yes, of course,” Jae quickly agrees. “Let’s find you a new guy.” Jae holds out his hand, and I assume it’s for my phone. I unlock it and open my dating app. I haven’t looked since earlier when I saw that Ethan unmatched and blocked me.
I’m happy to let this be out of my hands. Not just because of my guilt about dating again. I’d been working hard on not feeling guilty, repeating to myself: I deserve love. I deserve love.
“You pick him out. You even do the messaging. I’m hands off this time.” I hold my hands up in a surrender. “I clearly need help.”
Jae stares intensely at my phone. “You only talked to this Ethan guy for like two sentences before agreeing to meet him. You need to talk to them for like, at least a paragraph. That’s three sentences.”
“So?” I’m not sure what the problem is.
“He could have been a total creep! You need to vet these dudes more.” Jae scolds me like a little kid.
“That’s why I’m having you help me!” He just shakes his head at me, as if he’s had enough. I see him swipe furiously for a moment or two, before he shows me:
IT’S A MATCH!
Mason, 27, I’m a firefighter... I run into burning buildings to save complete strangers, imagine what I would do for you!
Mason looks like a firefighter, all right.
“Message him,” I advise Jae, much to his dismay. He winces.
“Are you sure? He’s a firefighter.” Jae’s hand hesitates over the screen.
“Exactly, because he’s a firefighter.” I’m perturbed by his sudden unwillingness to help me with this.
“Give it to me. I’ll message him. Yeesh.” I roll my eyes in a circle wider than the Earth. Jae grimaces and sets the phone on the table. I send Mason a flirty “Heyyyyy” and wait for his response. “The more y’s the better, right?”
“Yeah,” Jae answers flatly. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t be so focused on this app.”
“What? Why? I thought you wanted me to get laid.” I look him in the eye.
“I think you should be more careful, honestly.”
“What? Why do you say that?”
“There’s too many creeps on there. I don’t want you meeting up with those kinds of guys.”
“He’s a firefighter, not a mafia boss,” I’m annoyed. I thought he wanted to help me get this ball rolling. But at the same time, I’m filled with butterflies. At least he cares enough about me to not want me murdered.
“I care because you’re my friend and I don’t want you roofied and stuffed into a duffel bag.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do?” I ask Jae, growing frustrated.
“I’ll set you up with a buddy of mine.”
Is he serious?
“Murphy?”
“Fuck no. Someone different. Rishi.”
“Rishi?” I ask, skeptical of this plan. “Fine, set me up with Rishi, I guess—” Jae and I both jump. There’s a sharp rap on the window, and I grow wide eyed to find an elderly woman with a straw hat staring at me. “Who—who is that? Do you know her?”
“Fuck,” Jae mutters under his breath, getting up from the bench. “That’s my mother.” He heads towards the door, and opens it for her, stepping out onto the street.
“Why did you lock the door on me?!” I hear Jae’s mother shout, tapping her cane on the ground
“I didn’t know you were coming, Ma,” Jae helps her inside. “Speaking of, what are you doing here?”
“I thought I would come by to see my son who never visits home anymore,” She takes off her hat, and Jae takes her light jacket.
“I saw you this morning, Ma. Let me get you something to eat and drink,” Jae moves around her while I watch from our table. He disappears into the kitchen, leaving his mother and I alone.
“Who are you?” Jae’s mother asks me. I see where he gets his bluntness from.
“I’m Riley,” I stand up, and make my way over to her, offering my hand. “I’m the artist painting the mural.” I point to the mural behind me.
“Oh,” She says. “You do this as your job?”
“Yes—” I’m not sure what to say, and I’m thankful Jae makes his reappearance with a plate of fruit when he does.
“Don’t bother Riley, Ma,”
“I was just saying…she has a better job than you!” She crosses her arms, not looking at all at her fruit plate. “You can call me Young-mi.”
Something about Young-mi is vaguely threatening and makes me feel like I ought to start doing my chores and visiting my parents more often.
“What are you doing here, Ma? You’re not supposed to be out walking this far.”
“I told you, I came to visit you, because you never come to see me anymore!” She gives an exasperated sigh.
“Ma, I saw you last week at your appointment with Dr. Ryan. And I’m coming to family dinner tomorrow, too.” Jae rubs her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy finalizing things for the restaurant opening later this month.”
“You and this restaurant—will be the death of me,” Young-mi sighs loudly again. “Why can’t you be a nurse?”
“I’d be even busier if I was a nurse!” Jae sighs louder than her. I slink back to the table where Jae and I were sitting and try to make myself as invisible as possible.
“Don’t talk back to me,” Young-mi picks up a piece of mango from the plate Jae brought her and inspects it. “This is not even ripe. How are you going to run a restaurant if you can’t even make your mother a proper fruit plate?”
“Yes, it is,” Jae takes a bite of mango to confirm. “Juicy and perfect. Try it.” He encourages her kindly, even after she’s been rude with him. “Are you coming to the opening?”
“No,” She shakes her head. “I can’t watch you embarrass your mother like this.”
“Ma, please, it would mean a lot to me if you came and tried the food.” Jae whispers to her. I can’t fathom how she thinks this is embarrassing. I’m so proud of Jae.
“No,” She declines. “The reason I’ve come here tonight is to try and convince you not to go through with opening the restaurant. It’s not too late for you to go to college.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, Ma. College isn’t for me. This is where I want to be.” Jae holds her hand. “Nothing you can say will convince me otherwise.”
“No nice girl will ever marry you if you don’t get an education. You are destined to smell like fish and live by yourself forever!” Young-mi shouts angrily. “You know, 60% of restaurants fail in the first year! And within five years, 80% of them have closed. What makes you think you are any different?”
Jae doesn’t answer, and I wince. She’s too harsh on him.
“This is not the life I wanted for my son!” She wipes a tear out of her eye.
“This is the life I chose for myself, Ma. What about what I want?” Jae says.
“What does it matter if you have a failed business on your record?” Young-mi asks. “No one will give you another loan. And no nice girl will want to marry you, either!”
“You don’t know that,” Jae shakes his head. “I think I should call you a cab now.”
“I do know that. Riley, would you marry him if his restaurant failed?”
“I don’t—” Is she really asking if I’d marry him? I don’t know how to answer this hypothetical. I can’t picture marrying him right now, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t at all, right? Regardless of his restaurant surviving or failing. “I don’t think?—”
“Of course, you young girls these days don’t know how to settle down anyway.” She doesn’t know I was engaged before.
“It’s time for you to go, Ma. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jae stands up from his chair, and helps Young-mi up. She doesn’t fuss. After he hails an uber from his phone, they go outside.
I’m left sitting alone in The Red Kettle. Of course she doesn’t know my fiancé died. Why would Jae tell her that? I sit for a moment, trying to figure out what on earth I’m going to say to Jae as soon as she leaves. His own mother comes here just to shit all over his career path?
I watch out the window, and they’re still talking until a black SUV pulls up. Jae helps his mother into the backseat. As the car pulls away, he turns his back to the car, rubbing his face. He takes a deep breath, before pushing the door open. I head over to meet him in the doorway.
“Riley, I’m so sorry about that, she can be a bit abrasive but once you get to know her?—”
“Jae, there’s nothing to apologize for,” I say. “If anything, I think she should be apologizing to you. I’m worried about?—”
“That’s just how she is,” Jae says.
“I want you to know I’m proud of you,” I say. “I see the work you put into this place. Your restaurant will do well.”
“I’m glad you think so…but maybe she’s right.” Jae sighs, leaning on the wall. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
“Jae,” I say quietly. “She’s not right. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I think she might though,” Jae laughs, pushing his hand through his hair. “She certainly has some statistics.”
“You have to take your chances. And this is one of them.” I say firmly. “I would know.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Jae gives me a soft smile before turning away. “It’s late. I’ll call you a ride, too,”
“I can walk,” I say.
“You sure? I have to close up.” Jae says.
“Yep, I’m all good.”
He holds the door open for me, and I step into the night.
“Wait, Riley,” Jae stops me, and I turn around. “Will you wait for me? We can walk back together.”
“I can wait,” I say after a moment, and he dips back inside. I wait outside while Jae turns off the lights and locks the door. We head south down 6th avenue, the city air chilly. After walking for a bit in silence, I try to think of something to say.
“So, do you have any other dating tips?” I ask.
“Use a condom?” Jae says and I bark out a laugh, not expecting that.
“No, seriously,” I try again. “What should I do? I don’t think I’ll ever make it through a real date.”
“Just be yourself, Riley,” Jae answers as we stop at a crosswalk.
“I’m not sure who I am these days,” I say, watching the light.
“You’re—you’re really?—”
“I’m what?” I ask.
“You’re really lovely.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I laugh. “We’re talking about me, right?”
“Yeah, we’re talking about you,” Jae laughs, his chuckle airy and light. “You’re not so bad once you open up a little.”
“I was a total bitch when I met you,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but you had a good reason,” Jae reminds me. “It was kind of endearing.”
“What a winning recommendation that is. I should put that in my dating app bio.” That really makes me laugh .
“So, what are you looking for in a guy?” Jae asks me.
“That’s a good question,” I think about it. “He’d be sweet and kind, and has a cute smile…but he’d still be incredibly sexy,”
“Actually, I don’t want to know,” Jae says, laughing.
“Hey, you asked!” I retort. “Wouldn’t knowing help you help me practice or whatever?”
“I changed my mind, I already know your type.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I saw you looking at me the other day.” He says, and I stop walking. Jae takes a few steps ahead of me, and turns around when I don’t follow. The twinkling city lights illuminate him. Standing in a golden street light, he looks nearly angelic. “I’m your type.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“In my towel,” He recalls. “You couldn’t take your eyes off of me.”
“What?” I ask again, stunned at his accusation. While true, I didn’t want to admit it.
“Do you need me to refresh your memory?”
“No! No, I remember now,” I say, my mind flashing back to the sight of his bare chest. Fuck. I’m caught with my voice in my throat
Jae takes a few steps back towards me, to stand right in front of me. We’re almost toe to toe. He’s so close, I could stretch my fingers out and touch him. His eyes are big, and brown. His lashes are long, and delicate. I want to smack the grin off his face.
I lower my eyes to his lips.
Holy shit..
Pink and full, his lips are slightly parted as he watches me flounder, embarrassed.
I think I want to kiss him.
“Who was your first kiss?” I ask him.
“Jenny Westwood from 8th grade.” He answers.
“Who was your last kiss?”
“Trixie Beaucourt from Unit 101.” Jae confesses. “Why are you asking?”
I want to say aloud it should be me. He should kiss me. It’s a practice thing, right? Maybe I’ve forgotten.
“Could…” I start to ask, but I stop myself. “Would you?”
“Would I what?” Jae cocks his head to the side.
“Do you think Rishi will try to kiss me?” I ask. That gets Jae to laugh.
“I don’t know, Riley, maybe?” He says strongly. “We don’t discuss his gameplans before going out.”
“Would you—would you let me practice kissing you?” I ask.
Jae stands still for a moment. “When was your last kiss?” He asks.
“It was Grant. Three years ago.” I confess. “I fear I’ve forgotten how.”
“And you want to practice on me?” Jae asks and my heart flutters. “And you think this is a good idea?”
“I just thought—maybe—since you go on a lot of dates, you’re a good kisser,” I stutter.
“Oh, no, I’m a good kisser, but?—”
“Nevermind—” I say quickly, “Just forget it.”
“No, no, here,” Jae takes my hand and leads me to the wall of a nearby building. “We can practice if it’ll make you feel more confident on your real date.”
“Okay,” I whisper, wondering what hot water I just got myself into. My back against a brick wall, Jae now holds both my hands. His touch is invigorating, and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. It’s dim, and his face is barely illuminated by buzzing street lights.
“To be clear. This is practice, only. Means nothing. Yes?” Jae asks me.
“Yes,” I agree.
“Okay,” Jae says, squeezing my right hand. “Your real date might ask you to put your hands somewhere.”
“Like where?” I ask.
“Like here.” He brings my right hand to his waist, and my left hand to his chest. I instinctively hold onto him, not quite squeezing, but not letting go either.
“Leverage,” I decide, and a smile twists on his face.
“Close your eyes,” Jae instructs, and I do so. I’m pushed into a dark world, where all I hear is the rumble of the cars in the city, and Jae’s quiet breathing. “Your date might do this, so be prepared.”
Jae’s soft hands brush the sides of my face ever so slightly, for just a second. He’s hesitating, but I’m bristling. My skin is on fire. I need more of his. He pauses for a second too long.
“I don’t bite,” I whisper, and he firmly places his hands on my face, with his thumbs just before my ears. The contact makes me fucking feral.
“Are you sure about that?” He asks. “Because I do.”
And he swoops in with a nip of my bottom lip.
The contact of his teeth with my skin makes my heart sink through my chest straight to my feet, through to the sidewalk. The sensation of his bite radiates through my body in waves, and I’m taken aback. I thought I was ready for this. A simple kiss. I could handle that. But this wasn’t a kiss. This was something else, something far more carnal and real than just a practice kiss.
“Was that something my date might do?” I ask timidly.
His lips are hovering just over mine, and before I can react further, he presses a tender but wickedly hot kiss to my mouth. I kiss back automatically, my body reacting without another thought. Jae remains reserved, but I press back, my mouth open and our tongues swipe one another briefly.
Oh, god.
What am I doing?
Jae must sense that I’ve grown hesitant, because he pulls back immediately with a step. It was one kiss—okay, maybe two, I guess—but we’re both panting. It was a fucking hot kiss, and neither of us can deny that. But was I ready for it? I don’t know.
“Fuck. I think—I think you remember how to kiss, Riley,” Jae says, awkwardly blurting out a laugh. “Let’s…let’s just keep walking, okay?” He shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Okay,” I take a long exhale.
“Are you okay?” He asks. “Don’t freak out on me now.”
“Yeah, I—I’m fine,” I sigh. He’s right—I remember how to kiss just fine, and he’s ignited something in me that makes me want to kiss him for real. Before I can panic, which I’m sure I’ll do later, I agree. “Let’s walk.”