Page 18

JULIE

So that’s how I find myself cleaning the bathrooms until every surface shines. Any time we have anybody over, Ahma demands that the house be sparkling. She firmly believes it is bad manners to have a dirty house when guests come over. So everyone pitches in. Tyler is in charge of vacuuming and mopping. I’m on bathroom duty with Mom. Ahma tidies the bedrooms.

My lies have gotten me to the place where I’m scrubbing the toilets, and it’s not lost on me as I flush that this idea was crap.

My mom is hunched over the bathtub, scrubbing it with a blue microfiber towel.

“Mom, why do you need to clean the tub? It’s not like the Parks are going to take a bath here.”

She stifles a laugh with the back of her hand. “You know how your grandmother is.” She drops the towel in the tub and sits on the edge of the white bathtub.

“Jules, I want to talk to you about something.”

Uh oh. I freeze with the toilet brush in my hand.

“You know I take Sunday nights off for our dinners together.”

I nod, dropping the brush in the toilet.

“Ahma wouldn’t eat dinner, but I also was upset that night that you showed up so late. My schedule is so unpredictable with the clinical hours I need to complete my NICU training.”

I feel my heart sink somewhere below my knees. I’m disappointing everyone in my family. My phone buzzes. I ignore it.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, soft and low.

“I need you to take Sunday night dinners more seriously.”

My phone will not stop buzzing. It’s on a loop.

“I will, Mom! I promise. Just a sec.”

I pull off my rubber gloves and whip out my phone. “Danger” flashes on the screen. I changed Randall’s name in my phone from Former Friend to Danger so no one will know that we’re texting.

Danger

How’s it going with the plan?

Me

Hopefully good???

Danger

Text me after?

Me

Definitely. It’s the only thing getting me through this ridiculous night.

Tyler zips by with the vacuum. He’s got his AirPods in so he sings and dances along to the song.

I put my phone in my pocket and continue cleaning the bathroom with my mom.

An hour later, Ahma peeks her head in. She gives me a thumbs-up. I smile back.

“What are you making for dinner tonight?” asks Ahma.

Normally, I pick a dish that takes the least amount of time, but today I want to distract myself as much as possible so I choose—

“Shrimp shu mai.”

Ahma nods. “I’ll leave you space in the steamer baskets. It’s also a good time for you to practice your fan tuan skills.”

As she shuffles out, I want to confess that I am not interested in London and that my real crush is on Randall. I keep my lips sealed shut.

I n the kitchen, I prep the filling for the shrimp shu mai. I devein each shrimp. I grate fresh ginger, using the edge of a spoon. I peel open a can of water chestnuts, then toss all of it in the food processor. Once the filling is nicely chopped, I add in soy sauce, black vinegar, and white pepper. Folding the paper-thin skin is a practice in patience. I try to seal the filling in, but it pops out.

“Grr,” I grumble.

“Want some help?” asks my mom.

“Please.”

She joins me and expertly puts the exact right amount of filling into the middle. She pleats the edges so that they look perfect. She places the shu mai on the bamboo cutting board.

“When I was your age, Ahma would have me make the shu mai for every Sunday dinner. My first ones were terrible. But eventually, I got the hang of it. Here, watch me.”

I mimic her movements as she fills and pleats.

“You put in too much filling. It should be one tablespoon. Anything more and it’ll burst open.”

I try again. This one is slightly better than my first attempt.

“Better?”

“Better. Fold a little tighter next time.”

We work side by side until we have at least fifty shu mai prepared.

“Thanks, Mom. I couldn’t have done it this neatly without you.”

“Any time, my baby.” She pats my hand, then leaves the kitchen.

I lay out the ingredients for fan tuan, choosing to keep them simple with pork floss, fried eggs, and youtiao. My first few are misshapen. I try to roll them slower, careful to bring both ends of the sticky rice together. Press down softly, then twist the plastic wrap at the ends to seal the sides. Not exactly perfect like Ahma’s, but certainly better.

As I continue rolling fan tuan, I think about my father. I don’t really want to see the guy who found it too hard to do joint custody for me and Tyler. But it reminds me that without my grandmother’s approval, there’s really nobody that my family would let in.

W hen it’s time for dinner, I am wearing my most presentable outfit for parents. A simple pleated midi skirt with solid pastel colors and a yellow top. Tyler pops his head into my room as I stare at my reflection.

“Cute,” says Tyler.

“Thanks.”

I give him the once-over. He’s got on black jeans and a dark blue button-down. His hair is slicked back.

“You too, Ty.”

He leans closer to me. “I know you’re not really interested in London, so what gives?”

I hate that he knows me so well. I pretend to look through my jewelry rack to find the perfect earrings, but really I can’t look him in the eyes.

“He’s a nice guy.”

“People only say that when they have zero interest in the other person. No one wants to be known as nice. It’s the kiss of death,” says Tyler.

He stands in front of my mirror, fixing his hair. I pinch his cheek.

“Can’t you just believe that I might have feelings for London Park?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t think Ahma would really like the person I’m interested in so London is a good distraction,” I say.

I say it all fast so it doesn’t have time to sink in that I am dangerously close to confessing the truth to Tyler. I can’t, but I need to tell him something because this bloodhound is on the trail, and he won’t relent until I give him a clue.

“Why didn’t you say so? You know I love a good piece of scandal. Who is this tall drink of water who Ahma would forbid?”

I waggle my pointer finger at him. “You got one juicy detail. That’s enough!”

Tyler groans. “You’re such a tease.”

He follows me as I head downstairs. The scents from the kitchen are tantalizing. This smell of garlic and black vinegar makes my mouth water in anticipation.

Tyler checks on his lotus root salad. I set the table.

When Ahma enters the room, Tyler whistles. She’s dressed to the nines in her very best. Sparkly drop earrings that shimmer below her short white hair. A silver floor-length dress. She pats Tyler’s arm.

“Everything ready?” she asks.

Tyler and I nod just as the doorbell rings.

L ondon and his parents are on our doorstep. Tyler winks at me. Inwardly I groan. I want to get this whole thing over with soon.

London presents me with a bouquet of white calla lilies. I can feel Ahma beaming behind me.

“Thanks so much. They’re beautiful.”

“Here, let me take them,” says Tyler. I hand the bouquet to Tyler. “I’ll put them in water right now.”

London’s parents, Sang-Hoon and Ji-Young, are impeccably dressed. His mother wears a sleek black dress with a black and gold beaded bracelet. His father has on a black tie that has little gold dots in it. Not to be outdone, London is in black jeans, a black and gold buttoned shirt, and thick white sneakers.

His mother holds a dish that I take.

“We brought some galbi jjim.”

My mom claps her hands. “Delicious. It’s been a long time since I’ve had braised short ribs. Let’s sit in the living room.”

She leads us into the living room, where my grandmother waits on the couch. When Ahma sees London and his parents, she breaks into a big smile. Ahma stands and bows.

London goes to Ahma and takes her hands. “Thank you for having us over for a delicious meal. I’m looking forward to eating your food,” says London.

Ahma nods approvingly. London’s parents take a seat opposite Ahma. London and I sit together on a love seat. Even the furniture is conspiring on behalf of my future with London.

Tyler and Mom bring in snacks and tea. I pour the tea for London’s parents. Tyler holds out a tray with almonds, tangerines, and sesame candy. London’s mom places a few almonds on her plate. London’s dad takes a tangerine and peels it. Its citrusy scent fills the air. I don’t know what to say, so I wait for Ahma to speak first.

“We are so honored you could join us today for our Sunday family dinner. Julie mentioned that she wanted to introduce us to London. I wanted to meet his parents,” says Ahma.

London’s dad nods while nibbling on a tangerine segment. “We are fans of your dim sum stand at the Pasadena Farmers Market. Your booth is always so busy. Have you ever considered expanding?”

Ahma smiles politely. “We are happy with our customers.”

“Of course,” says London’s mom. “We have a friend who is opening a pop-up space on Colorado Boulevard. She is looking for a few food vendors to populate the space. Ones who have a solid customer base.”

Ahma shakes her head. “Thank you. It is very kind of you to offer, but we are happy where we are. We are busy enough. No need to seek more.”

I can’t help but want to know more even though Ahma has vetoed the idea.

“What will be in the space?” I ask.

London’s father pulls out his phone and scrolls through. “Let me see. She texted me that Wanderlust Creamery and Pie Day are slated to be in the grand opening. I told her to reach out to Sebae because of their stellar Korean food.”

At the mention of Sebae, Ahma sits up straighter.

“Perhaps I’ve been too hasty. A conversation with your friend would do no harm,” says Ahma.

London’s dad grins. “Happy to put you in touch with her.”

I turn to London and touch his arm. “Would it be okay if London and I took a walk together?”

Ahma nods with a big smile on her face. She thinks this is a good sign. I just want to talk to London alone.

My mom answers, “Of course, sweetheart.”

“When you two come back, we’ll start eating dinner,” says Ahma. She turns to London’s parents. “Julie made some fresh fan tuan for the special occasion.”

“Delightful,” says London’s mom. “One of my favorites.”

London follows me to the front door. We walk along the sidewalk. The sun is setting, creating a beautiful warm orange glow on the pavement. I wait until we get a few blocks from my house before I start speaking.

“I appreciate you doing this. I don’t want to lead you on,” I start.

“So I have zero chance with you?”

“My heart belongs to someone else,” I say. And it’s the first honest thing I’m able to admit.

London bites his lip. He looks down at the ground. “Not the answer I wanted to hear, but it’s good to know.”

We walk in silence for a few more houses until he turns to me.

“So what should I tell my parents?”

“In a few weeks, tell them that we’re better off as friends.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

In my favorite romance novels, there’s always a ploy of fake dating, but even I can’t keep this up that long.

I pat his arm. “My grandmother would be happier if we did date.”

“But not you.”

“It’s not you,” I protest.

London stops walking. I feel terrible that I let London get caught up in this mess. The pain on his face, the crinkle in his forehead, and the way he looks past me.

“Julie, I’d like to walk back to your house by myself.”

“I understand.”

Before he walks away, he says, “Thanks for the honesty.”

I nod. I watch him leave. Now that I have a moment alone, I pull out my phone.

Me

I miss you

Danger

How did it go?

Me

London is going to tell his parents that we’re better off as friends in a few weeks. Ugh. You should’ve seen his face, like I stomped on his tablet.

Danger

That sucks

Me

I don’t want to lie anymore. I want to come clean to our families that we’re dating.

Three white dots flash on the screen, then stop. I hold my breath, waiting for the dots to return. I start to walk back to my house so I can get back before dinner.

I’m at the front door. London is already there.

“I thought it made sense if we walk in together rather than separate,” says London.

I lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you. I mean it. I wish things could be different. My grandmother would be immensely happy if you were my boyfriend.”

“Please stop.”

I squeeze his hand. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods and takes my hand in his. Before I step in with London, I glance at my phone.

No response.