8 #2
Over the years, DH had dated many women.
However, except for the beautiful Christina Suh, his first serious girlfriend at Yale, who had broken up with him to date a graduate student, DH hadn’t been in a long-term relationship with anyone.
Conscious of money and loans, and always forecasting before taking action, DH had intended to make partner in Los Angeles first, then find someone to marry, but he had changed course by moving to Korea.
If DH wanted a wife, of course, he could find one.
However, he wanted to be madly in love when he was financially prepared for a wife and children.
Having grown up watching his mother work all the time, DH wanted to be well-off enough that if his wife didn’t want to work, she wouldn’t have to.
As soon as he paid off his law school loans, he planned to take care of his father and pay for Mido’s education; he intended to make partner at this law firm or return to the States and find a large firm that would value his experience in Korea.
At twenty-eight, DH felt in no rush to get married.
Privately he figured Mido would be the first of all of them to marry.
Since he’d arrived in Korea, it seemed like a day hadn’t passed without someone wanting to introduce him to a marriageable woman.
He declined most offers, but now and then, when he couldn’t refuse, he found himself sitting in a hotel lobby coffee shop, talking to a single woman from a good family who was interested in marrying an American Ivy League–educated lawyer.
Naturally, the dates were awkward but tolerable.
Sleeping with any of them was out of the question, because sex would imply a seriousness that DH did not yet feel.
Thus far, of all the arranged dates, he had found two women appealing, bright, and interesting: One was a surgeon and the other a sociology professor.
Neither of them seemed concerned with his housekeeping, or child-rearing, though he knew that eventually those things would matter because he could do neither well.
They could hire a housekeeper, but someone would have to take care of the children if they had any.
It was hard to think that far ahead, so he didn’t pursue either woman.
DH could imagine marrying a Korean woman, but it occurred to him that it would be easier if she were also American.
Neither the surgeon nor the professor was anything like his mother, aunt, or sister—willing to sacrifice almost everything for her family.
The women seemed like brilliant students, which attracted him, but he wondered if they would like him if he hadn’t been educated at Andover, Yale, and Columbia Law School; they both brought up his educational résumé several times during the brief dates.
Without any self-consciousness, the surgeon had said, “I could never be with someone who didn’t graduate from an Ivy League college. ”
DH thought that was weird, but he had to admit that he wouldn’t marry a woman unless she was also gorgeous and hot in bed, which might be far more superficial than his educational history.
The other thing that disturbed him about living in Seoul was how often his colleagues went to room salons.
In his three months, he’d been asked to go to them more than a dozen times.
DH didn’t like to drink, and he had no wish to sleep with a prostitute, which made things awkward when he routinely refused the invitations.
On the rare occasion when he went to the room salon, he had to learn to be careful with the hostesses.
After a few glasses of wine, one beautiful young woman, an aspiring actor, had offered to go upstairs to the attached hotel for a fee. When DH declined, the men seemed more surprised than the woman, who moved on to one of his colleagues, who was more than happy to follow her.
DH enjoyed talking to women, because he liked talking and the women seemed interesting.
Two young hostesses had told him that they were working there to send their siblings to school, and he’d been moved by them, because it had reminded him of how Mido had worked at the hagwon to pay his and Bo’s tuition.
Later, when DH relayed these stories to a fellow lawyer, a wealthy Korean who, like him, had been educated in the States, the lawyer was stern: “Don’t get played, man.”
The sad stories weren’t always true. “The girls want to make easy money pouring drinks or work on their backs servicing the johns, then nail the idiots for bigger payouts. Watch out if they start messaging you with ‘Oppa, buy me this or buy me that.’ In fact, don’t give them your number unless you like them, and no matter what, never believe their sob stories.
You can’t believe how many foreigners fall for that shit. In fact, never give them your number.”
DH passed his clean plate to Mido.
“Thank you for breakfast. It was outstanding. You are the greatest. Peter doesn’t deserve you.”
Mido laughed.
“I should just live with Peter. His place is amazing,” DH said.
“Yes, Peter’s place is also very clean.”
“He has help,” DH retorted. “Not that I begrudge him. I owe that dude everything.”
Peter had a different life from them. He was generous and worked harder than anyone, but when it came to domestic matters, his family money removed ordinary friction from daily life.
“How do you like it here?” DH asked.
Mido looked at him. “Seoul?”
“No, this apartment. Should I get something bigger? I could have gotten something else, but I was trying to save money.”
“It’s nice,” Mido said, thinking that she’d hurt his feelings. “This is way nicer than our first place in Cypress. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”
“Are you really not going to stay at Peter’s?” DH asked.
“He asked me to, but I have to be careful. Apparently the press tracks Peter’s personal life, and even Fortress Seoul is getting media attention. Dad wouldn’t like reading about me in the papers—”
“The papers? They would report on you dating Peter?”
“That’s what Peter said.”
“Besides, you’re going to marry him, right?”
Mido made a face and didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t realize what a big deal his family was until I started working at the firm. His family has a lot of money. Crazy amounts.”
Mido shrugged. “It has nothing to do with me. I don’t want to marry him.”
“What?”
“We’re not getting married.”
“Ever?”
“Nope.”
DH frowned, not having expected this, but knew better than to press it. Mido would clam up if she didn’t want to talk about something. He was curious about the media thing.
“You think if you sleep at his place, the press will find out?”
“They could.”
“But Dad can’t possibly think that you’re a virgin.”
Mido shrugged. “He has never asked, and I will never tell.”
Their father would not sanction living with a man without marrying him, and it did not seem likely that they’d get married anytime soon, or ever.
Peter never brought up the subject, and Mido no longer knew how she felt about marriage.
She liked being with him. Next to Yun, he was her closest friend.
They loved each other; however, marriage meant something different to each of them.
For Peter, marriage was a burden that would change everything.
“Dad’s never going to check if you’re sleeping over at Peter’s.”
“I know, but I don’t want to lie to him.”
“So I’m kind of a beast and you’re kind of a liar.” DH laughed, and Mido put the dishes and pan in the sink.
Renee had advised Peter that unless he and Mido were engaged, they needed to be careful.
The director of an educational center would be judged for spending the night with a woman, especially a coworker.
Every major newspaper had a reporter dedicated to the THT Corporation and the owner’s family members.
Peter had managed to stay out of the press by living overseas.
The public was curious about the only child of the only daughter of the THT family, and the tabloids served their curiosity.
“Who cares what everyone thinks?” Peter had argued only a few days ago about Mido’s refusal to sleep over. Yet Mido felt Peter’s mother was right to advise caution. The longer she stayed here, the more she could see why Peter had refused to come back.