8
Winter in Sydney
Sydney, Australia
Helen phoned her brother and sister-in-law in Sydney.
Right away, they agreed that both girls should come stay with them for their break.
Sonya and Helen’s younger brother, who went by Kenny rather than Kyungjin, arranged for the airline tickets, and his Aussie wife, Lily, received permission for both girls to attend the school where she worked as visiting exchange students.
Lily Hughes Cho had not intended to fall in love with a Korean man, but she did, and Kenny turned out to be an ideal husband and father to their four children: Henry, eight; fraternal twins Jonathan and Neil, five; and the seventeen-month-old baby, Donna.
Lily, a laconic, no-nonsense mechanic’s daughter, met Kenny at a TAFE school for accounting and bookkeeping.
Tired of horny boys from Campsie who wanted to spend their lives watching footy and playing darts, the ambitious brunette had been drawn to the international student who wore a clean, pressed white shirt to class each day and took his coursework seriously.
They both earned their certificates, and Qantas hired Kenny straightaway.
After a number of promotions, he worked at the main offices in Mascot as a senior manager in the accounting department, while Lily did the bookkeeping in the bursar’s office at Erickson Ladies’ College, a girls’ school in Epping.
The pair worked hard, lived below their means, and raised their children with the help of a rotating cast of au pairs.
Mido and Yun arrived in Sydney in July, excited for their new adventure.
Quickly they settled into their new routines: helping Lily with the children and attending Erickson, a pleasant single-sex school, where math and science were almost easy compared to the classes at their public school in Seoul.
Lily and Kenny’s Epping home was a spacious, ranch-style house with four bedrooms and three baths.
The dwelling was modest, but its interiors were well maintained because Kenny was handy.
Through TAFE courses, he had picked up some knowledge of carpentry, plumbing, electricity, and even heating and air-conditioning, saving money on repairs.
There was plenty of room for everyone, and a small suite for Iris, the current au pair.
The children shared two large bedrooms, and Mido and Yun slept on cots in the den, which also served as a playroom.
A sturdy sectional sofa anchored the living room, and it was upholstered in a brown plaid tweed, which wouldn’t show dirt or spilled juice.
Learning from how-to books, Kenny had built two sets of monastery tables and benches—one for the children to do their schoolwork on in the living room and another for family meals in the sun-filled, open kitchen.
Each morning Lily left a stack of clean bowls and spoons, a pot of porridge, a tin of sultanas, a gallon jug of milk, and a box of Weet-Bix on the dining table, then headed to work.
Kenny, Iris, and the children fixed their own breakfasts.
Lily finished her workday before Kenny, so she cooked their simple dinners, and it was Kenny’s job to wash up and help with the children’s bedtime.
The girls didn’t miss their lives in Seoul.
There was no need to go to hagwon because schoolwork wasn’t impossible.
With some effort and focused attention, the girls were able to do their studies without extra help.
For the first time, Mido did better in her coursework than Yun.
With time to spare, the girls read English-language novels, watched television game shows with the family, and learned to bake.
Within only a week of school in Australia, Yun’s English improved: It was as if the words and phrases needed the right context and setting to make sense and come alive.
On a Sunday afternoon, after the family returned from church, the girls went straight to the kitchen and rooted in the pantry to find the ingredients for chocolate chip Anzac biscuits.
For once, the kitchen was quiet. Kenny was in the backyard with the boys, and Lily was doing the wash.
Iris had taken the baby to the park for air.
Yun loved learning a new recipe. In just two weeks, she had figured out how to bake a chocolate cake, currant scones, and Anzac biscuits. The baking pleased the children because Lily rarely bought sugary treats but did not mind the homemade goods.
“We have the main ingredients, but maybe we can get some chocolate chips at the store. I have the money Umma sent,” Yun said, feeling inspired, before her expression dimmed.
“Oh, never mind.” In her last letter from home, her mother said that she should be careful with her spending, and never to borrow.
Before her father lost the business, with bottomless pocket money, Yun had never thought about what things cost. If anything, she had been the one to buy yogurt drinks for her classmates, or lend money without expecting repayment.
Her mother habitually bought too much of everything and was always giving things away.
Yun felt bad for being stingy about the chocolate chips, which she knew the other children would like.
Mido sensed that Yun was thinking about the cost of the chocolate, which would certainly be a few dollars.
“I have money, too. You always pay. It’s my turn.”
Yun looked ashamed and Mido wanted to take it back, having hurt her friend’s pride.
“Uncle Kenny doesn’t like chips in his Anzacs,” Mido said. “There’s enough ingredients to make dozens of large ones. Let’s start now.”
Yun stayed silent, wiping down the counter with a sponge.
“Your dad will get a good job,” Mido said.
“Appa is older now. It will be harder,” Yun said without looking up from her work, repeating what her mother had said.
Yun washed the last frying pan, and Mido dried the plates and returned them to the cupboard.
On Monday afternoon, Iris picked up the girls from school, then drove them to the boys’ school, where she asked the girls to get Henry while she remained in the car with the twins and the baby, who was fussing.
In no time, they spotted Henry bolting from the gates.
He ran into Mido’s arms and hugged her. Then, remembering himself, he pulled away slightly, glancing around in case his classmates had seen him.
“We brought you something,” Yun said with a smile, removing a large biscuit from her plastic lunch container and holding it up high.
Like a puppy, Henry jumped at it. “Yes!”
“Hey, Henry Cho!” An older boy patted Henry on the back.
“Hey, Tek!” The boy’s black hair was cut short on the sides and kept longer in the front. His uniform navy blazer was unbuttoned, and a rep tie hung askew across his tall and lanky frame. His dark eyes were playful, like he was game for anything.
“Your sisters?” he asked.
Mido caught herself staring, then looked away.
“Nah, mate. Mido’s my cousin, and Yun’s her friend. They’re visiting us from Korea.” Henry pointed at Yun. “And she’s about to go live in America.”
The boy said this with a mouthful of biscuit, and with awe.
Thanks to his father’s job at Qantas, Henry had been on an airplane several times, but he had never gone as far as the United States, a place as mythic as any in a storybook.
It was Henry’s dearest wish to go to Disneyland, which was located somewhere in a place called Anaheim, California.
He had looked it up in the encyclopedia.
“Have you been to Disneyland, Tek?” Henry asked him.
“Nope. Haven’t ever been to America,” Tek said. He glanced at Yun, impressed that this girl would go somewhere so far away. “Hey, Henry, what’s that you’re eating?”
“Anzacs. The best.” Henry snapped off a large corner for Tek, who popped it whole into his mouth.
“Oh, these are really good. I always get the homemade ones at the bake sale. Store-bought is not the same,” he said.
“These are good because they’re not completely crunchy.
The middle’s still chewy. Key factor.” Tek concentrated and pronounced: “Buttery. The coconut ratio is amazing. Mom never bakes. I didn’t know Koreans baked. ”
Mido felt happy that this boy liked their baking, while Yun thought he was dumb to think that Koreans didn’t bake just because his own mother didn’t. That was poor logic, Yun reasoned.
“I’m Korean, too,” Tek said to the girls, hoping they’d say something. “Can’t speak it much, though.” He shrugged. “I’m going to pick it up when I go to uni.”
Yun furrowed her brow, unable to understand how overseas Koreans didn’t speak the language.
“Henry is my little brother here. He was assigned to me a while back. We’re still buddies.
A school tradition,” Tek explained. “The older boys at Queen’s are supposed to be role models for the little ones, you see.
Teach them how to study, behave, and do sports.
I guess you’re not so little now.” Tek mussed up Henry’s hair.
“Tek’s in Year 11. He watches out for me,” Henry said proudly. “Hey, Tek, you want more biscuits?”
“You have more, mate?” Tek brightened.
“We have them at home. Come over. We can do homework and eat ’em with milk,” Henry said. “We have lots more, right?”
Mido nodded, not knowing if it was okay to invite Tek to the house, although there were neighborhood children over all the time.
“Race you!” Henry shouted, and started running to the parking lot. Tek counted five-four-three-two-one, then flew down the road and cleared well ahead of Henry, who did his best to keep up with Tek’s long strides.
At home, Henry brought out the large tin of biscuits from the pantry, and Tek ate five Anzacs and drank two large glasses of milk with ice.
“Homework time, Henry. C’mon, mate. Let’s get serious. We are scholars. We must earn our biscuits.”
Tek pulled out his books and did his work with great concentration. He finished his English assignment in less than an hour, then began his problem set. Henry imitated the boy almost twice his size and did his work quietly. While they worked, Yun and Mido did their assignments.
“Break,” Henry announced before going to the washroom.
“Hey, Yun,” Tek said, “you excited about going to America?”
She shrugged and continued with her English grammar exercises.
“What’s school like? In Korea,” Tek asked the girls, and Yun didn’t reply. It was odd because normally she wasn’t afraid to talk with anyone. Mido pulled out crisps from the pantry and poured them into a thin wooden salad bowl.
“School there is hard,” Mido said.
Tek smiled at Mido, wanting her to talk. He didn’t know many girls, since he went to a boys’ school.
Mido slid the bowl of crisps toward him, noticing that his dark eyelashes were much longer than hers. Like her brothers, he had nice clear skin and a straight nose, but he was much taller than they were, and he slouched when seated.
“I had a difficult time adjusting when we moved back from Sydney to Seoul. Yun helped me a lot,” Mido said.
Yun smiled. “Mido is smart, but our teacher last year, Mr. Na, was not good. Mrs. Lim, our teacher this year, is good,” she said slowly, feeling awkward speaking in English to a Korean boy.
Tek smiled. At last, he had gotten them to say something.
“There are no Koreans at the Queen’s School, except for me and Henry. He’s half Korean but you know he’s a Cho—”
Henry had returned to his spot next to the older boy and elbowed him jokingly as if they were the same age, and continued with his astronomy worksheet. He felt proud that he had brought a cool guy like Tek to the house.
“Tek doesn’t have brothers or sisters,” Henry said. “Isn’t that weird?” he remarked to Mido, who made a reproving face.
“Yun is an only child,” Mido said. “That’s not weird. Her parents just chose to have one.”
“You are?” Tek said, delighted. “I guess you get everything, too.”
Yun continued to read her grammar book.
“I have two brothers,” Mido said to Tek.
“Nice.” Tek said it like he meant it, then reached for more crisps.
In the evening, the girls washed up for bed and collapsed on their cots. It had been a long day, filled with school, kids, then a guest, who had ended up staying for dinner and talking to Kenny and Lily about Queen’s and all the Year 11 teachers.
“You like him,” Yun whispered.
“Yeah, he’s nice,” Mido said before realizing that Yun had meant romantically.
“Mido has a boyfriend,” Yun teased, pulling her blue camp blanket all the way up to her chin.
“We’re too young to have boyfriends,” Mido said.
“Well, he’s at least a year older than we are.
Boys do lots of things earlier than girls.
You have to be careful or else you can get pregnant.
My mother said you have to avoid boys until after college.
” Yun didn’t understand what her mother meant by this.
It was just better not to talk to them or give them any encouragement, she’d said.
“Pregnant?” Mido tapped Yun’s arm.
“You like him.” Yun laughed. “You were talking a lot. For you. Many, many words.”
Mido blushed. She didn’t know how to explain that it was easier to speak when Yun was with her.
There were occasions when she wanted to talk more, and she was also in Australia, where she could speak English.
Then it occurred to her that soon, they wouldn’t be together anymore, and Mido forgot about Tek.
In a few weeks, the girls would leave Sydney, and Yun would go to California, and the color and warmth Yun brought to her life would be gone.