Page 24

JULIE

The market is buzzing today. As the holiday season approaches, especially Thanksgiving, more people are in the market. I am knee deep in orders, trying to pack them as fast as I can. Sebae is as busy as us. I see Randall working side by side with his grandmother. I try not to glance their way, but I’m not super successful.

My mom hands me more tickets. If order tickets were hundred-dollar bills, I’d be a millionaire already.

“Is forty-eight ready?” barks Tyler.

I don’t have time to scowl at him. Instead I grab the bag with that order number and hand it to him.

Ahma and Mom are on customer duty, so it’s up to Tyler and me to fulfill the requests. Normally, Tyler and I joke around and make it a competition to see who can pack the orders the fastest. But after the Halloween party at London’s house, we just exist around each other.

We move like this for most of the morning. Until we see one of our regulars talking to Ahma for a long time. Tyler nudges me.

“Go see what’s up. I’ve got this.”

I carefully weave around coolers stuffed with our packaged foods to join Ahma at the front of the booth.

“Hey, Mrs. Kalan,” I say and wave. “Where are Sammy and Gabriel?”

Danielle looks different today. Her complexion is paler, and there are circular indents under her eyes.

“They were throwing up most of the night,” she says.

“Oh my goodness. How awful!”

Ahma tugs on my sleeve and says to me in Hokkien, “I don’t understand what she’s trying to tell me.”

I pat my grandmother on the arm to let her know I got this. I step out of the booth. Danielle follows me. I find a quiet spot.

She takes an open package of our vegetarian buns out of her National Public Radio canvas tote bag. One of the buns is half-eaten from last week’s market. The other three are gone.

“I hate to tell you this,” whispers Danielle, “But I think these buns made my kids sick. They were in the bathroom all night. Elliott and I barely got any sleep.”

I’m too shocked to respond. She hands me the package. I peer into the bun like I’m somehow going to find something unusual in there.

“I heard an NPR news report this morning that said batches of fresh spinach are being recalled in California.”

It feels like an anvil hits the bottom of my stomach.

“I didn’t hear that,” I say softly.

Danielle grips my hand. “I know you and your family make all of your food fresh. Maybe your supplier has some bad batches?”

Sympathy is all over her face. Suddenly, she grips her stomach.

“I’ve got to go,” she says before taking off.

I hold the nearly empty package as panic sets in. I look over at our booth. Ahma hands out samples of our vegetarian buns.

I run over and grab the tray from her hands. Some of the buns fall on the ground.

“Shao guo, what are you doing?” demands my grandmother.

I tell her as quietly as possible, in Hokkien, about the spinach and food poisoning. Ahma goes white. She puts her hand on my shoulder to steady herself.

Quickly, I grab any packages of buns from our customers. Tyler comes over and asks what the hell I’m doing.

After I tell him and Mom, the three of us race around to collect as many containers as we can before customers go home. Ahma is alone in the booth with a look of panic in her eyes.

The Hur family is watching us curiously, but I don’t have time to think about them. Tyler tells customers that the buns might have spoiled spinach and we are happy to refund their money.

By the time we get back into the booth, Tyler, Mom, and I have collected twenty packages. I open the cooler where we store them.

“Ty, look at this.”

It’s nearly empty.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “We packed one hundred this morning.”

For the first time ever, we shut down sales at our booth before the market is over. I turn away unhappy customers. I fashion a closed sign on the back of our regular menu, using a thick black marker.

There are two hours left of the market. It’s usually our busiest time. From a distance, I see Enrique making his way to our booth. I elbow Tyler.

“Shit,” says Tyler.

Enrique approaches our booth with a clipboard in his hands. “What’s going on here? Sell out already?”

Ahma stands frozen. Mom explains the situation to Enrique.

“Who is your supplier?” asks Enrique.

Tyler grabs the iPad to look through our Google spreadsheet. He scrolls through until he finds our spinach dealer.

“Farrell Farms,” says Tyler.

“Call them and find out if they’ve been affected by the recent recall. Do you know anybody else who uses Farrell Farms?” asks Enrique.

Ahma nods. With a shaky hand, she points to the Sebae booth.

“For the japchae,” says Ahma.

Enrique nods, a sad look on his face.

“I’ll deliver the news to them. I’ll also need to check in with our other food vendors. Tyler, tell me what you find out from Farrell.”

Tyler already has his phone pressed against his ear. He gives Enrique a thumbs-up.

I watch as Enrique strides over to the Sebae booth and delivers the news. Randall is in complete shock. His grandmother shakes her head. Enrique pats Halmeoni on the arm. By the time he leaves, I watch them slowly pack up their items. Randall turns away customers as his grandmother looks close to tears.

I haven’t seen Halmeoni cry since, well, that day.

I check on my grandmother, who looks absolutely exhausted but still trudges on. I touch her arm.

“We can handle this, Ahma. Let Mom take you home.”

She shakes her head stubbornly. “No. I’m staying until everything is packed up.”

Tyler is finally off the phone. When we make eye contact, I can see the panic in his eyes.

RANDALL

By the look of things, Julie’s family got the same news as we did. Grandma stacks every single package of japchae that’s left and places them in our H Mart tote bags.

“Take and throw out,” says Halmeoni.

I finish making a “Closed for the Day” sign to hang up under our Sebae banner. Carrying the packages to the dumpster, I can feel my grandmother’s disappointment radiating from under our white tent.

Before I toss them, I hold the plastic-wrapped noodles. I poke at the offending spinach that is pressed tightly against the noodles, carrots, and mushrooms. There’s no way to salvage the japchae. All of our hard work will end up in the bottom of a stinky compost dumpster.

“Our buns are toast,” says Julie.

I’m surprised to see her toss out a package of white buns directly into the bin.

“Same with our noodles,” I say.

We stand side by side throwing out the food our grandmothers proudly made this morning. My stomach rumbles slightly. I must have forgotten to eat this morning.

When we’re done, I turn to leave.

“So that’s it? We’re not going to talk ever again?” asks Julie.

I pause but don’t turn around.

“It has to be this way,” I say. I don’t even believe what I’m saying, but I have to say it.

“Does it?”

I can’t look at her because if I do, I won’t be able to walk away. I step forward, clutching the empty tote bags and telling myself that my grandmother needs me.

Back at the booth, I see Halmeoni sitting on top of our largest cooler. She fans herself with one of our menus. She rarely sweats, but there’s a ring of sweat on her forehead. Something is not right. I place my hand on her back. I can feel her skin burning up underneath her white Sebae T-shirt.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Halmeoni tries to wave me away like it’s no big deal, but suddenly she pukes. Some of it splatters on my blue and green sneakers.

I immediately wave down Enrique, who runs over to our booth. He sees the vomit and he loses color in his dark brown cheeks.

“Did she eat some of the japchae today?” asks Enrique.

I have my hand on my grandmother’s back. “Of course, we always taste test the food in the morning before we pack it.”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” says Enrique. He hands me several plastic grocery bags. “You and your grandmother are going to need this.”

I hold one of the bags out for Halmeoni, who vomits again. I’m starting to feel queasy in my stomach. I sit down next to her, holding the Target plastic bag near my mouth.

I mumble to my grandmother that we probably have food poisoning from the rotten spinach. She grabs my hand and says, “How do you feel?”

I respond by puking right into the bag. I don’t know how long we are like this, but it feels like three hours.

I feel a hand on my shoulders. I look up and see Julie. The sunlight surrounds her figure so she looks like an angel. Or maybe she’s a mirage in my mind.

“The ambulance is here,” says Julie.

She helps me up. Tyler wraps his arm around Halmeoni, gently lifting her up. She is crumpled like a lifeless doll.

“How are you—”

I don’t get the rest of the words out. Julie holds the bag.

“Ty and I didn’t sample the buns. We were in charge of the dumplings today,” says Julie. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” I say weakly.

“I don’t mean it like that. I just don’t think you should be alone. My mom agreed. She’s riding in the ambulance with Ahma, who felt ill.”

I feel like I haven’t drunk water in several years or else I’d respond. Julie brings me over to the ambulance. The EMT responder lifts me onto a stretcher.

“Where is my grandmother?” I ask.

“Tyler is riding with her. I called Mercy. She’ll meet us at the hospital.”

The ambulance doors close. The siren shrieks loudly. Julie sits down, holding my hand in hers. The EMT takes my temperature.

“One hundred and two,” he says.

He presses down on my veins.

“Just a little pinch,” he says as he injects an IV into my arm.

“I’m really cold,” I say hoarsely.

Julie pulls a thin white blanket over me. My teeth chatter. She pets my hair softly, soothingly. I close my eyes. I feel so awful inside. My stomach muscles ache.

Julie whispers into my ear, “You’re going to be okay. I’ll be here with you.”

I just want to sleep, but I crack my eyes open to look at her. She’s so pretty. For a second I am grateful that if this had to happen, Julie is by my side.

A second later, my stomach makes itself known.

I am completely and utterly embarrassed that Julie is next to me to witness this. I wish I could erase this from her memory.

“Please don’t look at me,” I mutter.

I have no way to cover myself, so I turn my face away from her. She pats my shoulder.

“I was there when you used to pee your pants during scary movies, so this is nothing,” says Julie. She starts laughing. “You told me it was just apple juice you spilled.”

Despite the fact that I feel gross beyond compare, I laugh with her. The memory floods back. Hanging out at Mercy’s house with all four of us.

“Fourth grade. That movie with the haunted doll,” I mutter.

“The exact moment when the doll’s eyes opened and she started laughing as she chased her victims.”

“It was creepy as hell. I can still hear her cackling,” I say.

The EMT says, “Oh, you mean, ‘Victoria.’ That shit is scary.”

“See! He knows what I’m talking about,” I counter.

“Maybe I should pull up that clip,” says Julie.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Found it,” says the EMT.

I am horribly embarrassed and yet I’m somehow also the happiest I’ve felt in a while. The EMT holds his phone above me. Julie leans in to watch. Her long black hair sweeps into my face. I move it away with my hand.

She looks down at me and smiles. She touches the edges of my hair.

The old clip plays. The three of us watch the iconic scene where Victoria, the possessed porcelain doll, shoots straight up out of a doll-sized crib. Her blue eyes blink unnaturally. She hops out of the crib. Screams are heard.

The EMT puts his phone away. He says, “My older brother used to play that clip before he went to bed. We shared a room.”

“Absolutely terrifying,” I say.

“You’re telling me. I used to hear that doll’s laugh and legit I’d hide under my sheets.”

“See!”

Julie laughs deep. Her hand touches my cheek. “Well, nothing about you will ever scare me away,” she says softly.

She grasps my hand—the one without the IV in it. I wish I could say something meaningful, but my brain feels fuzzy. All I can do is squeeze her hand.

We arrive at the Huntington Memorial Hospital. The EMT wheels me to the emergency room. Julie matches his stride so I’m not alone. I’m tucked away into a small room with a curtain.

“Please find out where my grandmother is and let her know I’m okay,” I plead.

“Of course,” says Julie. “I’ll be right back.”

She leaves and a nurse replaces her. I tense for a moment, being alone with a stranger, until I see the blonde nurse’s small pride flag pin and a pronouns she/her button underneath it. I answer the nurse’s questions, but my mind is on Halmeoni. A woman who prides herself on never having to go to the doctor. A woman who swears Korean ginseng and an orange can fix any ailment. She’s here, and I’m not with her. Worst of all, she’s with Tyler. She must be going out of her mind.

“The on-call doctor will be with you soon. We’re slammed so it might be a bit. If you need anything, buzz this and speak to the nurse’s station,” says the nurse. She hands me a remote control.

I nod. She leaves, pulling the curtain to the wall so I’m alone. I hear the beep of medical machines. I’m still cold and wrestle with the thin, white blanket on the hospital bed.

“Let me get that,” says Julie.

She covers me with the blanket. I feel warm again when she tucks her hand under the blanket to hold my hand.

“Your grandmother is doing okay. She’s in a hospital room on the second floor. The nurse said after you’re checked out by a doctor, you can visit her.”

I sigh with relief. It feels like a small weight has been lifted from my chest. I pat the space beside me on the stretcher.

Julie sits next to me. She strokes my hair and pushes the longer strands away from my sweaty forehead.

“I’m going to check on Ahma and then I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” jokes Julie.

She leans to kiss my forehead. Her hair spills around me. The soft scent of her vanilla shampoo fills me with a moment of calm.

I want to beg her to stay, but that would be selfish of me. She checked on my grandmother. She has to check on Ahma too. Once she disappears, I close my eyes. Then, I remember that I need help with something I’d rather do when Julie is gone.

I press the nurse’s button. I wait until I hear someone say, “How can we help?”

“Can I please have a hospital gown?”

Not that I’ll be cute in a formless hospital gown, but it’s better than the soiled clothes I’m rocking right now.

JULIE

I hit the elevator button to the second floor. When I step out, I hear the unmistakable sound of Tyler’s laugh. I follow the throaty laugh—the one I’d recognize anywhere as my brother—because that’s where my grandmother must be. But when I enter the hospital room that he’s in, it’s not hers.

Halmeoni is reclined in the bed with an IV attached to her thin arm. She smacks her palm against the mattress as she laughs. Tyler is wiping tears from his eyes.

I pause, struck silent by the scene in front of me.

“Hey,” I say tentatively, wondering if the moment will die if I interrupt it.

But they continue to laugh. When the giggles subside, Tyler glances at Halmeoni and they lose it again. I can’t help but smile.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

Tyler opens his mouth to share, but instead he vibrates with laughter so no words come out. Halmeoni pokes Tyler in the side, which only provokes hysterical laughter. When Tyler is like this, his laughs turn silent and it’s replaced by a goose honk. You can’t get a word out of him.

I stumbled into some alternate universe because there’s no way that Halmeoni and Tyler are getting along. She practically ate me alive the last time I saw her.

But I don’t dare to interrupt because watching them together gives me a sliver of hope that maybe this family feud will finally end.

When they finally stop laughing, both of their cheeks are red and stained with silly tears.

“How are you doing?” I ask Halmeoni.

She glances my way and nods. “Better.”

Tyler makes a fart sound with his lips against the palm of his hand. Halmeoni and Tyler dissolve into another fit of giggles like two kids who discovered fart jokes for the first time.

When they recover, I ask where Ahma is. Tyler motions for me to follow him out of the room. I do.

We sit in seats in the hallway. He wipes his eyes again.

“Man, I forgot how funny Halmeoni can be.”

“You two used to be as thick as thieves,” I say.

He nods. “I checked on Ahma. She’s napping right now. It’s best to let her rest. Her body needs it. I know if you step in there now, she’ll wake up and want to talk to you.”

“Where is she?”

“Believe it or not,” he says, pointing at the room right next to Halmeoni’s.

My eyebrows shoot up. “And they haven’t murdered each other yet?”

“Hard to commit murder when you’re sidelined with food poisoning,” says Tyler.

“Have you reached out to all of our customers?”

“Enrique said he’d help.”

I nod solemnly. I reach for his hand. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?”

I point at the doorway of Halmeoni’s room. He waves my hand away.

“I’m not a heartless jerk. She needed help. I wasn’t going to leave an old woman who’s sick as a dog. It’s not like Randall was going to be able to be with her.”

“Who are you calling an old woman?” hollers Halmeoni from her hospital bed.

We chuckle. I forgot she has the hearing of a bat.

I hug him tightly. He struggles to get out of my grip. “Stop it. People might think you like me.”

I smack his arm. “I love you, doofus.”

“That’s the Julie I recognize. How’s Randall?”

He says the name without spite. A small part of me claims this as victory.

“He is weak and cold, but better than when I found him.”

Tyler nudges me. “You can go back. I’ll text you when Ahma is up.”

I smile and hug him again. I head back downstairs to check on Randall. The whole time I’m smiling to myself. My cheeks ache from smiling. The wish I made four months ago is finally coming true. Of course, I didn’t think it would’ve taken food poisoning to get my wish for our families to find peace, but who I am to be picky with the wishing tree?

RANDALL

The nurse on duty hands me a big plastic bag labeled PERSONAL BELONGINGS .

“For your soiled clothes,” she says.

I nod, taking the bag and holding it against my chest. I wait for her to leave, but I can see she wants to help me.

“I’m fine,” I assure her.

She offers a blue cloth hospital gown that has yellow rubber duckies on it. The nurse notices me staring at the pattern.

“Sorry. It was the smallest hospital gown we had on this floor.”

“It’s better than what I had on,” I say.

“You can clean yourself up in there,” says the nurse, gesturing to the nearest bathroom.

She rolls the IV stand and I follow. Julie is in the hallway. Cool. I always wanted the person who I am crushing on to find me nearly naked in a hospital gown with ducks on it.

I wave weakly at her.

“I’ll wait for you right here,” says Julie.

“Buzz the nurses’ station if you need anything, hon.” I’m relieved the nurse is finally leaving.

“Thanks,” I say as I go into the bathroom. I wipe myself clean with wet paper towels. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m pale. My lips are chapped. My eyes are ringed with red. My dark brown hair is matted against my forehead. I basically look like a zombie baby in a diaper.

“Great,” I mutter to myself.

I pat a wet paper towel against my cheek in a vain attempt to wipe the vomit off my face. I step out of the bathroom. Julie smiles at me. Again, this is my nightmare and also my dream. To see her again without hiding from our families. It’s not exactly how I pictured us getting a moment alone though.

“I saw your grandma. She’s in good spirits. Definitely looking better than when I saw her at the market. Get this. I found her and Tyler laughing together.”

“Wow,” I say.

Julie takes ahold of the IV stand and rolls it as I walk in my blue hospital socks back to my sectioned-off space.

“Did you walk into another dimension?” I ask.

“I witnessed Tyler laughing so loudly that he turned into his bird sound.”

Despite feeling like I’m crawling, I crack a smile.

“And your grandmother was smacking the bed and shaking with laughter.”

“Pigs must be flying outside.”

“If you listen carefully, you can hear oinking.”

We share a smile. “Has the doctor arrived yet?” asks Julie.

I shake my head, then shrug my shoulders. “I’m feeling better, so that’s good.”

Julie drags in a metal chair from the hallway and pats the hospital bed.

“Come sit,” she says.

“Are you going to subject me to more ‘Victoria’ videos?”

“How else are we going to pass the time?”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t resist when she pulls out her phone. She scrolls through until she finds the clip she wants to torture me with. She leans her head against my shoulder.

I move closer to her. I’ve never been more happy and scared at the same time.

“How can you love this movie?”

“It makes you snuggle closer to me,” she says. “So what’s not to love?”

She has my heart in her hands. Is it possible to swoon over a scary movie? We watch some of the scenes that used to terrify me as a kid. I can’t look away when there’s a scene of Victoria leading a group of possessed dolls to walk down a city street, chanting, “We’re coming to get you.” The music, on low, sounds like nails scraping a chalkboard. I get a little chill down my back.

“Are you cold?” asks Julie.

I nod. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me tightly. I inhale her vanilla bean shampoo. For the first time since this whole awful ordeal started, I can finally relax. My grandmother is okay. The girl I like is right by my side.

I snap back to attention as the dolls begin to run at an unnaturally fast pace.

“Okay, this is genuinely terrifying,” I protest, “Imagine if you actually saw this outside. You would run.”

“I’ll let you know if I ever see a group of devil dolls running army-style down the street. I’ll be there to protect you from them.” She squeezes my hand. “You’re cute when you’re terrified.”

Okay, I am swooning. Straight-up blushing, all the way down to my toes. I can’t think straight. She pulls me closer to her so that I can feel her breath against my face. I’ll watch this movie a thousand times if it means I get to be this close to Julie.

Julie’s eyes are glued on the screen, but my eyes are only on her.