Page 16 of ASAP
I must have been exhausted because I sleep the entire night through, only waking when my phone chirps with a message. Bleary-eyed, I roll over, stuffed animals tumbling off my bed as I reach for my phone on my nightstand. The message is from Secretary Lee, my father’s secretary: Your luncheon with Assemblyman Min and CEO Kim is scheduled for 13:00 today.He’s also provided the location—an upscale Japanese restaurant in Apgujeong—and a reminder to dress in suitable attire.
With a groan, I toss my phone across the bed. The last time I met my father and grandmother together was shortly after I returned to Korea following my father’s scandal, when my grandmother had contacted a reporter to come to her home for an exclusive interview. The experience was altogether unpleasant as I had to lie through my teeth, while enduring numerous insults against my mother from my grandmother, aunt, and cousins.
I take a deep breath and toss the memory to the back of my mind. The luncheon isn’t until this afternoon, and since I’m to meet Hyemi after her practice, I have the whole morning to spend exactly how I wish.
Is Nathaniel awake? My body feels oddly light, like there’s a balloon in my chest. He’s so close; only two doors and a hallway separate us. I feel more awake than I have all week, possibly all month. My mind races with ideas for the morning. He’ll definitely be hungry. Digging through my stuffed animals, I find my phone on the bed again. More cascade off the side as I slide from the mattress, scrolling through SNS for recipe ideas. I can picture it in my head: Japanese soufflé pancakes served on porcelain plates; a white flower plucked from the garden in a crystal vase as a centerpiece, and maybe another flower for my hair.
After a quick shower, I change into a collared pale cream one-piece, the skirt swishing above my knees. In the bathroom, I apply eyeliner and curl my lashes. I’m only excited because I’ve never had a guest all to myself before. Ajumma was here both times Gi Taek and Angela visited, and Jenny as well. She’s not here now because it’s Monday, which means she won’t be at the house until later this afternoon. I’d be excited for any visitor, truly.
When I leave my room, the guest room door is slightly ajar. “Nathaniel?” I call out. When he doesn’t respond, I knock lightly on the door, then push it open. A double-sided shelf in the middle of the room blocks the bed from view.
Remembering our conversation from last night about pajamas, or the lack of them, my breaths turn shallow.
I clear my throat. “Nathaniel? I’m coming inside. You better be dressed.” Walking around the shelf, I raise my eyes to the king-sized bed situated on an elevated platform.
It’s... empty.
For a moment, I just stand there, confused. Then I check the bathroom, only to find it empty too.
My heart thumps heavily in my chest as I leave the room, walking downstairs and opening the cabinet in the entranceway. Inside are the guest slippers where Nathaniel had left his shoes the night before.
The balloon in my chest pops. He’s gone.
I’m still thinking of Nathaniel when I show up for the lunch with my father and grandmother. When did he leave? Why didn’t he say anything? I checked my phone, but he hadn’t left me any messages.
A waiter pulls back the sliding door and I slip off my shoes before entering the private room. “Good afternoon, Halmeoni, Abeoji,” I say, bowing to each of them—seated on either side of a low table—before sinking onto the silk floor cushion beside my father, who greets me with a warm smile. My grandmother doesn’t look up.
The soothing sounds of the bamboo water fountain drift from the back of the room as the hollow chute fills with water, then drops, pouring into a basin. I feel soothed, almost.
A server pours tea from a clay pot into a teacup; steam lifts from the surface as he hands it to me. I accept it with both hands, and my father’s eyes crinkle in approval. Though my mother is a renowned beauty, acquaintances comment on the physical attributes my father and I share. We have the same straight nose, arched brows, and thick black hair, though his is silvering at the temples.
“It’s highly irregular that your father must schedule times to have a meal with you,” my grandmother says, her loud voice penetrating the tranquility of the room. “This wouldn’t be an issue if you just came to live with your father and me. My house is much more comfortable than that gaudy monstrosity Min Hee had designed. A waste of your father’s money. And I have a professional cook, not a charity case, like the woman your mother employs.”
I count to five in my head. I learned years ago not to argue or talk back to my grandmother, not just because she’s my grandmother and that would be incredibly disrespectful, but because doing so only makes things worse, and ultimately my mother is the one who’s blamed for my bad behavior. It’s because of her blood that Sori is acting this way.
“Ajumma takes very good care of me, Halmeoni,” I say, in the sweetest voice I can muster, “and I couldn’t leave my mother in that big house, all alone.”
I also learned, a long time ago, not to feel bad about lying to my grandmother, especially if it’s to protect my mother. She doesn’t need to know that I basically live alone.
My grandmother sniffs loudly. “You should show the same consideration to your father as you do your mother, and to myself.”
There’s a soft knock, followed by the sliding door opening. Servers enter with handcrafted wooden boards, artfully arrayed with pieces of sushi, placing one in front of each of us. Over the course of lunch, my grandmother and father discuss matters of which I have no interest, and so I do what I always do in these situations: I think of something else entirely.
Nathaniel must have left because he felt uncomfortable. I’d practically dragged him to my house in the middle of the night. Maybe he thinks the risk in staying at my house is too great, or—as I’d thought the night before—maybe he’d rather stay alone in his apartment, where he’ll have it to himself without the other members around.
Then I’m struck with a horrifying thought. What if he thinks I still have feelings for him? He’d asked me if I did at the karaoke room. And the reason he left this morning without telling was to spare my feelings.
“You’re not seeing that boy again, are you?” my father asks me. “From that idol group.”
I almost drop my teacup. “O-of course not,” I say, glad for the steadiness of my hands. What prompted him to ask such a question?
“Good. Because there’s someone I’d like for you to meet, the nephew of one of my supporters. His uncle is someone very important to my campaign.”
I must make a face because my father says, “I wouldn’t have asked except that this young man especially requested to meet you.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“You made an impression on him, from your recent appearance on a show.”
I’m confused until I realize he must mean The Woori and Woogi Show since Catch Me If You Can won’t air until Wednesday.
“Won’t you consider meeting him? It would please me.”
I sigh. What’s one more date?
“I’ll have Secretary Lee send over his information,” my father says.
I arrive at Joah just as Hyemi is finishing up her first practice with her group members. Unlike XOXO, ASAP is a six-member group, with Hyemi joining as the youngest member. They exit the practice room, from youngest to oldest, bowing to the dance instructor who gives them each words of encouragement. Hyemi appears exhausted, her shoulders slumped, but spotting me, her eyes brighten. “Seonbae!”
“Hyemi-yah,” I say, taking her aside to let the other girls pass, “I’ll meet you in the practice room in fifteen minutes. I need to speak with Sun Ye-eonni first.”
She nods, then hurries off toward the bathroom with the others.
The last member—and leader—of ASAP waits for me, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “You called?”
I grin. “Kim Sun Ye.” Although we never grew close enough to hang out outside of Joah, we’ve been friendly over the years. Besides me, Sun Ye is the trainee who’s been at Joah the longest. She had chances to leave—most significantly an offer from KS Entertainment, Joah’s biggest rival—last fall. They’d offered her the “center” position in their newest girl group, but she turned it down, though I never learned why. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Sun Ye nods and we move to a quiet corner of the hall.
“How is she doing?” I ask.
Sun Ye doesn’t have to ask who I mean. “Better than expected,” Sun Ye says in her calm, measured voice. Sun Ye was the right choice for leader, not just because of her age—at twenty, she’s the oldest member—but also because she’s level-headed. While my mother had offered me the position, Sun Ye was always more suited for the role. “She’s a quick learner. I’m surprised she’s never had any training.”
“And the other girls. Are they treating her well?”
“They wouldn’t dream of upsetting her,” Sun Ye says with a teasing smile, “not with Min Sori watching over her.”
I roll my eyes. “You can tell me the truth.”
She pauses, thoughtful. “Just the normal stuff. Six girls together for long stretches of time in a high-pressure environment? Lots of bickering. Some hair pulling. Just kidding.” She laughs.
Hyemi must not have told the other members about how her father’s involved. Though, now that I think about it, she probably doesn’t know the extent of it. Which means I’ll have to make sure to keep it a secret from not only the members—who might grow to resent her—but also Hyemi herself, who might feel self-conscious that she didn’t earn her place in the group.
“She’s an amazing rapper too,” Sun Ye says. “It makes sense why Joah signed her on last minute. Our diamond in the rough.”
That’s a relief to hear. “Thanks. I feel reassured that you’re looking out for her.”
“I know. It’s a lot of pressure. I practically acquired five younger sisters overnight.”
Sun Ye speaks as if she’s long-suffering, but there’s a twinkle in her eye. “I’m happy for you,” I say. This is a big moment for Sun Ye. After ten years as a trainee, she’s finally debuting.
“Thanks, Sori.” Her expression softens.
I change into workout clothes and join Hyemi where she’s stretching on the floor of the practice room.
“Sun Ye told me practice went well,” I say, extending my legs out and reaching for my toes.
“Sun Ye-eonni is kind,” Hyemi says. Like before, I notice how tired she looks. Not just physically. If I remember her schedule correctly, she was up at five this morning for practice, after having returned late from the variety show recording the night before.
“I know we’re supposed to go over the choreography, but we can take a break.”
Hyemi shakes her head. “I don’t mind working hard for the next two weeks, and then sleeping afterward.”
Even if she hasn’t been a trainee for very long, she definitely sounds like one.
Later I’ll have to tell her that it’s better to pace herself, and that things will only become more difficult after she’s debuted, but for now, I’ll let her hold on to that belief a little longer.
“Okay,” I say, rising to my feet and moving toward the side of the room to turn on the music. “Walk me through the steps.”
The dance is difficult, but luckily Hyemi’s positioned mostly in the back or to the side during the majority of it, only coming to the front when she has her lines. She’s had some formal training, having gone to a dance studio in Toronto all throughout elementary and middle school. As I go through the steps with her, I offer her tips and corrections.
Hours later, we’ve gone through the choreography so many times that I’ve memorized it myself. Her dancing still needs a lot more finessing, and she’ll have to put the time into practicing so that she can perform it flawlessly on a live stage, but she’s improved considerably from when we began.
“I’m nervous about how I’ll appear on the episode,” she says as we’re packing up to leave the studio.
“The episode of Catch Me If You Can?” I ask.
She nods. “I feel like I wasn’t completely myself. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, so I tried to be on my best behavior, but I think I might have come across stiff.”
I consider her words. “You don’t have to show your whole self to people. In fact, you should keep a part of yourself just for you.”
“Is that what you do, Seonbae? Your image is very glamorous, but you’re also glamorous in person.”
“I’m really not.”
“But you are,” she insists.
“I can be self-conscious and mean-spirited. And annoyed and ticked off.” I think of Nathaniel leaving this morning without telling me. “And maybe one day I’ll be comfortable showing those sides of me to strangers, but right now I want to keep that hidden and only show the glamorous side.”
“I hope to see all the sides of you one day, Seonbae,” she says with a grin, and I laugh.
It’s four o’clock when I step off the bus in my neighborhood, the sun setting over the mountains to the west. For a moment I just stand there, breathing in the cool night air.
The street is quiet, the occasional car lumbering by. An elderly couple walks their dogs around the block.
Instead of going straight up the hill toward my house, I head over to the convenience store at the corner. As I approach, the door opens and a boy steps out.
Nathaniel.