Daughter

I had visited my father again yesterday. As much as I didn't want to, I felt like I owed it to someone—whether that be myself, my mom, or my father, I still wasn't sure.

There was actually one customer when I came in, an older man, but he seemed upset by the quality of food.

It made me feel bad to see how much this family was struggling, I thought all this time that my father was a rich asshole who didn't send my mom and I child-support money because he didn't want to. Turns out he can barely make enough money to take care of himself. This made me feel like shit whenever I looked at him. Maybe that's why I came, to make up for my assumptions of him.

When I was helping him wash dishes he finally decided to acknowledge the fact that I am his daughter.

"I still remember what you looked like when you were born." He looked at his hands as he washed a plate.

"You had a mop of black hair, it looked like a wig," he chuckled. "And your eyes were already so big. It was as if you were trying to take it all in, trying to see all of the world at once."

I stopped scrubbing my plate at this point, soaking my hands in the sudsy water and zoning out.

"You didn't cry right away when you came out, like you were still sleeping. But once you did cry, my God you were loud. Your poor mother was too tired to even plug her ears."

My mother.

"Why did you divorce?" I asked, my eyes fixated on the wall so intensely that it blurred.

He sighed heavily. "It was a hard decision. Your mother was homesick. Very homesick. She wanted to move back to Canada but I wanted to stay here which caused a lot of arguments, and my parents also wanted me to stay here."

I began to scrub the plate again, despite the fact that it was already clean.

"This caused a fight between both of our parents too and tension between your mother and me. She wasn't happy anymore, so one night after thinking really hard I told her she could leave me. I didn't like to see her so sad, so unhappy with where she was living."

He dried the plate he was washing, "Unfortunately that not only meant losing her, but you as well."

I felt my body grow cold as I heard the sincerity in his voice, the sadness of the years that he had lost.

"How did you meet?" I had heard the story once from my mother when she was drunk. She never liked talking about my father. Maybe because all that time she missed him. This realization makes my stomach churn in pain.

I hope I'm wrong, I can't stand knowing my mother missed him all that time.

"I had some family in Vancouver and my parents and I would sometimes visit. I had remembered seeing her around the neighbourhood. It was hard to not notice her with that red hair. Then I ended up going to university there and I gathered the courage to ask her out."

His smile was distant, his eyes fixating on a time before my existence. "When we married she insisted that we move to Korea to make my parents happy. And she loved it... until she didn't anymore."

"How long did she live here?" I felt a bit bad asking all of these questions, but this was a part of my mother's life that she never spoke about. A secret period of time that she hid away in her distant memories, barely letting me get a glimpse.

"Three years. We were married for three years before she left. You were two."

I was two.

I knew I was born here because I have a Korean citizenship, and it says so on my birth certificate. Hell, that was partly why I was here. I didn't know I was two when we left though. That's old enough to start learning the language, to grow accustomed to my surroundings, to understand my culture.

And then I was ripped away and was never exposed to it ever again.

I hate being angry at my mom, especially since I can't fight with her about it anymore and then make up like we use to.

I had left that day with a new taste in my mouth, a new perspective on the life I've been living up until now. It was terrifying, learning about this whole other side of me, but I did my best to embrace it.

I tell Taeyoung about all of this when I see him next.

***

We're at a restaurant now, a barbecue. The atmosphere is great, with people talking and conversing loudly and cheerfully. Meat-smelling smoke filling the air, employees carrying a vibrant energy with them as they tackle the busy restaurant.

"I can't believe you're half Korean and haven't  had Korean barbeque," Taeyoung says to me for maybe the third time.

I shrug my shoulders at him, watching him flip the meat on the grill.

"Here, watch me first." He grabs a leaf of lettuce, takes a bit of rice with his chopsticks and places it in the middle of the leaf, then adds a bit of kimchi. After taking a small piece of beef and dipping it in the bean paste, he places it in the leaf and wraps it up.

Then it disappears completely inside his mouth.

I stare at him wide-eyed. "Why would you eat that whole?!"

"That's the way you have to do it." He smirks at me, mouth full as he talks.

"My mother would have a heart attack if she saw you right now." She despised it when people spoke with their mouths full. How did she live in Korea for three years? Then I realize that that may be why she hated it so much.

"Your turn," he says, swallowing the last bit.

I take the smallest leaf of lettuce and place about ten grains of rice in it, Taeyoung laughs at me. I glare at him as I take a crumb-sized piece of kimchi, and a piece of beef. Wrapping the contraption, I glare at him again before shoving it all in my way-too-small mouth.

He starts laughing hysterically, eyes turning into crescents, as I try to chew this.

I cover my mouth with my hand, finally getting a grip on the food in my mouth. Once a respectful amount remains in my mouth, I move my hand away. Then I glare at him some more as he looks at me with his goofy smile.

"Why did I do that," I ask myself. He quickly leans over, thumb touching the corner of my mouth. He takes off a grain of rice that somehow stuck there and puts it in his mouth. Then he carries on grilling the meat as I just stare at him, heart going crazy.

I'm about to say something when someone calls Taeyoung's name.

"Oh? Hyung?" Taeyoung says. I look at him in shock when I hear this. Hyung?

Then I just about lose my jaw when I see Max looking back at Taeyoung with a smile.

They're friends?

Then all of a sudden everything makes sense. The reason why he looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable when Koko was talking about Taeyoung that day. I guess Koreans on campus who are fluent in English flock together or something.

Beside Max is a guy with a lovely face. I'm not sure how else to describe him. His skin looks like porcelain, big half-moon eyes sparkling with energy, cheeks popping as he smiles, and he has a bright, lively demeanour.

Taeyoung stands up, leaving me and causing me to just shrink away, trying to become invisible. The three of them embrace, handshaking and doing whatever it is that guys do when they meet after a long time.

The unidentified boy is loud, his voice dominating every other voice in the room quite comfortably. I'm observing them when Max notices me, his eyes freezing for a moment before recognition flashes over them.

"Hello!" He turns his body towards me. I grow uncomfortable as I nervously laugh.

Do I stand up too?

"Taeyoung, you haven't introduced us." Max's English seems to halt the other boy's enthusiasm as he finally notices me.

Taeyoung looks at me, reaching out a hand.

So I do stand up. I get up hesitantly, grabbing his hand. He pulls me towards him, his arm around my waist. I feel like an ant with these three around me, towering over me, and all staring at me.

"This is Sohee, 내 여자 친구 [my girlfriend]."

I blush at his words. I haven't heard him say it aloud to anyone yet, not in English or Korean.

The bright man oohs at Taeyoung, slapping his arm with a smile. He introduces himself in very broken English, slightly bowing as he speaks. 

"안녕하세요 [Hello]," I shyly say back.

Taeyoung gestures towards Max, "This is—"

"We've met before," Max says.

"Oh?" Taeyoung looks down at me.

"I'm dating her friend Koko. Actually, interestingly enough when I met her she was upset about a boy who didn't want her to be his girlfriend."

My face burns up and I cower into myself a bit. I don't need to look at him to know that Taeyoung's ears are red.

"What?"

Max smiles at him. "It's nice to see that you took my advice," he says while gently tapping his arm.

Now it's my turn to say, "What?"

"I visited Taeyoung after I met you." Max looks at me. Why does he look so cool? Like he has all the answers?

"You knew?" Taeyoung asks at the same time I say, "What did you tell him?"

"I told him he should stop being so afraid to live his life to the fullest."

"I knew something was off for you to randomly show up, giving me advice." Taeyoung begins talking to himself in disbelief.

"Thank you." I smile at Max, he returns the gesture.

"Now we should go before your meat overcooks. I'll see you guys around." The other man who has been patiently standing there, oblivious to the situation, says bye before following Max.

We sit back down, proceeding to eat when I say to him, "You have interesting friends."

. . .

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Sooaura