Restaurant

I'm sitting on the bus, the second one so far on this somewhat confusing journey to find my father's place. My eyes are glued to the map app on my phone, I prepare to get off at the next stop. He still lives Gyeonggi-do, but it's almost two hours out of west Seoul.

As I get off the bus I start wondering what kind of life he has. For some reason, I imagine him to be well off. Maybe I'm delusional, but my tuition was paid for. It certainly wasn't my money. Also, his messages always seem very formal, as if a secretary wrote them or something.

These speculations carry through my mind as I follow the way to his house.

Is it going to be big? Or maybe he has a penthouse.

The area around me is very dense, jam-packed with little apartments and complexes. Maybe I have to walk far out of this area? But my phone says I'm three minutes away?

My thoughts become more and more confused, reaching their brink when my phone leads me to a small, shabby looking restaurant. I stand in front of the building with a flickering sign that says something in Korean, a restaurant sign fit for a bankrupt place. The windows are covered in flyers and advertisements, the opening and closing times posted on a meek piece of paper that hangs—halfway torn apart—on the door.

"This can't be right," I say to myself.

A group of loud ladies push their way past me as if I don't even exist. I open the restaurant door reluctantly, the small chime of a bell going off as I step in.

The place is small, dimly lit, and with cheap decor. The floors look shabby, the kitchen looking meek and dirty in the background.

A lady cheerfully yells out from the kitchen, making her way to the front, untying her apron.

She looks like she was very pretty when she was young. Her hair is still black and shiny as it curls around her round face. Her skin looks sunken in, pale and wrinkled. Her eyes are small but a pretty shape, and with a glint in them which gives away her not-that-old age.

"어서오세요 [Welcome]," she says to me in Korean, a sweet smile on her lips. I stare at her in confusion, and her face drops as she takes in my perplexed expression. Then I see her looking at my features more intuitively. Her jaw slowly drops from her face. She calls out someone's name while still looking at me.

A man appears from the back of the store, wearing a polo shirt and jeans. Just like the woman, he looks as though he was once handsome. His height towers over the woman, his hair a dark brown. His skin is a lovely colour—a light olive tone. But his eyes are tired, drooping down at the ends from exhaustion. His full lips are pale and chapped, his fingernails are almost black.

He stares at my face much like the other lady, in pure astonishment. I grow uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the next, adjusting the backpack on my shoulders.

"Summer?" The man asks tentatively. This causes me to look back at him.

It can't be. This can't be my father. He isn't supposed to be in a broken down, old restaurant, he's supposed to be a CEO of some company. He's supposed to be handsome and youthful looking, not broken down and struggling. I'm supposed to hate him for being rich and not taking care of me and my mother.

"Yes," I barely let out the word. He hesitantly walks towards me, looking at me as if he's trying to memorize every feature.

"Is that her?" I understand the woman asking.

"네 [Yes]," he says to her.

"그녀 너무 아름다워 [She's so beautiful]." The woman responds quietly.

"Please, come with me, take your stuff inside." He breaks out of his trance, hands gesturing for me to walk to the back of the restaurant. Very carefully, I walk forward, past the kitchen until I see a set of stairs. I look back to see both of them watching me, smiling and nodding for me to go up. I climb up the stairs to meet with their living quarters. I take off my shoes and walk into the tiny living room. There isn't even a kitchen, I guess they use the one downstairs.

"It's nice to meet you," the lady says to me in broken English in a way that suggests she's been practising.

"Yes, nice to meet you too," I respond sheepishly. As much as my instincts tell me I should hate this woman for not being my mom, her soft features and sincere tone break down the angst inside of me.

I end up bringing my backpack to a small room covered in K-Pop posters and stuffed animals.

"This is Seulgi's room. She is our daughter." The man I assume has to be my father says.

Our daughter.

"She will be home soon."

This whole situation is awkward. I'm not able to bring myself to say anything. Instead, I look around the room and put my bag down. I hold my phone in my hand as if it's a way of escape.

"Um, we are just preparing dinner. You can explore if you'd like."

I don't respond. His nervous smile slowly falls as he leaves the room in a hurry.

Finally able to breathe, I check my phone.

A message from Taeyoung: Did you make it okay?

Yes, I reply, It's so awkward.

T: Don't worry too much. By tomorrow it'll be over

***

After a while of sitting in this room, texting Taeyoung and trying to get used to the smell of the house, someone comes into the room.

A girl in a school uniform stares at me in shock before running out and down the stairs yelling. I stand up and follow her, my heart beating a mile a minute. When I get down the stairs I almost bump into her again.

"Seulgi, this is Summer. She is your half-sister, I talked to you about her before." To my surprise, my father tells her this in English.

"What is a half-sister?" She asks, probably not knowing the English words. He responds in Korean. She looks back at me. "But I look nothing like her. Her eyes are not Korean and she looks like a ghost."

I sheepishly look down at my pale arms and feel myself cave in a bit. Are all high schoolers here this mean?

He responds to her in Korean again, saying something about my mother. She continues staring, almost dissecting my facial features. Then a nasty expression forms on her face.

"싫어 [I don't like it]." She says before moving me aside and climbing upstairs. Her parents yell after her. The sharp word cuts me like a knife, despite me not knowing or really caring about who she is.

"I'm sorry about that. She is merely 16 and this is still a shock to her." My father rubs the back of his neck, sweat beading down his temple. It is warm in this kitchen. "She'll warm up to you soon."

"Dinner is almost done. You can sit over there if you'd like."

A table is pulled out into the centre of the restaurant's dining area. I notice they don't even turn the open sign off, likely because no one is expected to come in any way.

Again awkward and not knowing what to do with myself, I text Taeyoung, mentioning the girl I saw.

T: Does she look like you?

S: Not at all, I type feverishly.

Someone takes a seat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I can see it's Seulgi, her arms crossed over her chest.

S: She's taller than me, I type to Taeyoung, rather annoyed by the observation.

He sends back a laughing sticker, and my annoyance grows deeper.

"Is that your white boyfriend?" The girl's head peeks to look at my phone, her tone full of mock. I close my screen quickly.

"No," I reply all too quickly, aware of my father's eyes on me.

"Hmm." She turns her head away in a sneer. Her hair is in a short bob, black like her mother's. Her eyes are like her mother's and her full lips like my father's. Why couldn't I have gotten his height and full lips? Her skin-tone is like my fathers, and like my own but with much more colour than me. I admittedly didn't get out much this Summer. Of all things, I guess only our skin tone and noses are similar.

Eventually, the woman comes to the table, putting downside dishes upon side dishes. My father follows with even more.

We begin eating. The food is interesting, to say the least. Very traditional Korean food, with a good taste but clearly made in bad conditions. I could almost taste the fridge in some dishes, and the rice was a bit crunchy from the rice cooker. Despite all of this, I find myself enjoying the food a lot. If they had newer appliances, maybe their restaurant wouldn't do so bad.

We're finally all done eating, me not saying one word and the conversation instead being run by Seulgi and her mother. That's another way we're opposites, she talks a lot.

***

It's now dark outside. After a few awkward words between my father and I, I head upstairs. I find my backpack outside of Seulgi's room and head to the small bathroom to change.

Where do I sleep?

The mother follows me with a blanket and pillow, placing it beside the mattress in Seulgi's room. Seulgi begins to complain to her, saying she doesn't want to share the bed with me. Her mother calmly responds.

Seulgi jumps over the blanket on the floor and onto the mattress, which lays without a bed frame. She pulls the covers over her head, turning her back on me. I also pull the blanket over me as I try to get comfortable on the wood floor. The woman says goodnight to me hesitantly, my father soon doing the same.

This whole situation is awkward. He never even formally introduced me to his wife. I just kind of ended up here, with no explanations as to why.

I pull out my cellphone from under the blanket, light shining on my face.

S: There's no way I can sleep tonight

Just try to imagine you're somewhere else, Taeyoung soon replies. My thoughts immediately go to that night I slept in his bed, with him holding me. My cheeks get hot as I wish I was with him again.

Are you going to sleep? I ask.

T: Not yet I'm just lying in bed

S: I wish I was with you

I blush even more as I type this, almost deleting it before sending. It takes a while for him to respond.

T: I wish you were too

A smile attacks my face, a squeal threatening to come out of my mouth.

I try to sleep for a bit, but now it's 1 am and I still haven't been able to.

S: I can't sleep.

All of a sudden, Taeyoung calls me, and I sigh in relief that my phone was on silent.

"What are you doing?" I ask in a whisper.

"Trying to help you fall asleep." His deep, groggy voice sends shivers down my spine. All of a sudden I hear a piano playing, a slow melody taking over the phone.

"Taeyoung." No response. "Taeyoung!" I whisper yell. I hear the phone get lifted up into his palm. The piano stops.

"Yes?"

"You don't have to do this. You should go to sleep. And the others, don't wake them up."

"I want to do it. And Minjun is out."

"Junwoo?"

"He's playing video games right now." I hear a voice yell out hello in the background.

"Don't stay up too late," I tell him.

The phone is placed back down and the melody continues.

The sound of the piano keys and the thought of him playing this for me slowly calms my mind, easing me into a dream-like state, and eventually into sleep.

. . .

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Love,

Sooaura