“Eomma, I don’t think Miyoung has decided where she’s going to stay yet,” Somin said at the same time Junu blurted out, “Of course,” without pausing too long to consider it.
Somin’s mother let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. I was so worried about where Miyoung would go.”
At the sound of her name, the girl in question poked her head out of the bathroom. “Did you call for me?”
“I was telling your cousin I’m so glad to hear you have a place to stay,” Somin’s mother said.
“What?” Miyoung’s eyes shifted to Junu with suspicion.
“I told Somin’s mother that you’re moving back in with me, right, cuz?” Junu said, plastering a bright smile onto his face.
Miyoung’s scowl was so immediate that he wondered if it was brought about by the mere sound of his voice. “I don’t—”
“That’s such a relief,” Somin’s mother said, giving a small laugh. “I really was worried when Somin said she had no idea where Miyoung was going to live. And with our place so cramped already with Jihoon now, I didn’t know how we’d cram another teenager in there.” It was almost cute, how Ms. Moon babbled to cover her obvious discomfort with the idea. She really wasn’t one to filter her thoughts.
“Thank you for the thought. And I appreciate the offer . . . , cuz.” Miyoung bit out the last word like it was a vile curse. “But I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be a burden at all. I’d be happy to have you.” Junu added one of his charming smiles.
There was a minute of silence. Even Somin seemed frozen. But Ms. Moon, either completely unaware or willfully ignorant in the face of an easy solution to her guilt, spoke up. “I think it’s best if you stay with Junu,” she said. “Wouldn’t you be happier to be with family?”
The look in Miyoung’s eyes seemed to transmit a message clear as if she’d spoken the words. You’re going to regret this.
So, because Junu couldn’t help himself, he gave the hornet’s nest one more poke. “That’s right. Trust your oppa.”
“Sure,” Miyoung bit out.
5
AFTER MIYOUNG AND Junu had gotten into their non-fight, there was a palpable tension between them. Everyone felt it. Well, everyone except Somin’s mother and Changwan, who was so oblivious to life that Somin sometimes wondered how he functioned.
But Changwan had to leave to meet a private tutor. Without his mindless chatter, Somin could feel the tension between Miyoung and Junu no matter where she went in the small apartment. And after two hours of it, she felt suffocated. She was debating the best way to escape when there was a knock on the door.
“Eomma,” she called. “I think lunch is here.”
Somin opened the door and blinked in confusion as she stared at the men with matching T-shirts. They carried reusable moving boxes she’d seen in nicer neighborhoods and padded furniture covers.
“This the Ahn household?” the first man asked.
“Yes, but I don’t understand. We didn’t hire movers.”
“I did,” Junu said, standing up from his packing. He let out a groan and bent to stretch his cramped legs. “Come on in. We’ve still got a lot to do in the living area.” He turned to Somin. “Figured since we lost Changwan, this would be easier all around.”
“You hired them?” Somin asked as the men brushed past her into the apartment. “Wait, no, don’t touch that.” She yanked a photo frame away from one of the movers. “We don’t need movers.”
“It’s not a case of need. But why not take the help?” Junu asked.
“These aren’t just things. They hold sentimental value.” She shook the frame she still held at him.
“I hired movers, not circus jugglers. They’ll take care of the stuff,” Junu said, laughter in his voice.
Somin’s anger drove her forward. “This is so typical.” She jabbed a finger into Junu’s chest. “You come in and create a scene and then throw your money around to get what you want. Why did you even come here in the first place if you didn’t want to work?”
“Lee Somin!” Her mother’s voice echoed through the apartment, effectively freezing Somin as she was about to drive her finger into Junu’s chest again. Miyoung and Jihoon stood in the hallway behind her mother, watching the scene with curiosity. “I will not have my daughter speaking that way in front of guests.”
“Guests?” Somin asked incredulously, but she let her hand drop.
“Well, we weren’t expecting help, but it’s appreciated. Why don’t I show one of you what needs to be packed in the back room?” Somin’s mother said to the movers. “Jihoon-ah, show the other gentleman what to do in the kitchen.”
Somin waited for Jihoon to back her up, to say they didn’t need help, but he just shrugged and walked into the kitchen to help the mover.
The other man followed Somin’s mother. With a final look that clearly said behave, her mother disappeared down the hall.
“Miyoung-ah,” Somin said, futilely searching for an ally.
But Miyoung just shrugged.
With a grunt of disgust, Somin turned back but spotted Junu watching her with his arms crossed. Instead of saying something she’d catch heat from her mother for, she grabbed a trash bag and stomped out the front door.
The air outside was thick and humid, almost unbearably so, but she had to get away for her own sanity.
She took her sweet time separating out the recycling from the trash and putting them all in the correct receptacles, stopping every so often to wipe sweat off her brow. There were no clouds in the summer sky to block the intense rays of the sun. It was as if the weather knew that today would be hard and just wanted to add more suffering on top of the pain.
She upended the bottom of the bag with the last of the recycling, but a can hit the edge of the receptacle and bounced across the asphalt, rolling down the incline. Hot, sweaty, and still annoyed from her fight with Junu, she wanted to just let it go, but she’d been raised better than that and jogged after it. The can came to rest centimeters from a pair of battered loafers.
“Oh, sorry,” Somin said to the man. He had salt-and-pepper hair mostly covered by a baseball cap. His back was to her, but there was something about him that felt eerily familiar.
Why was she so intrigued by this man? He was just standing there. Perhaps it was because he stood so still, he could have been made of stone. Anyone else might turn, bend down to pick up the can for her, or at least acknowledge her, but he just stood there. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. As she approached him, she could just make out the scent of licorice.
She picked up the can, but when she stood, the man was gone. Somin could have sworn he’d been there just a second ago. She scanned the road but saw no sign of him. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps as he’d retreated. In fact, she might have convinced herself no one had been there at all except she could swear she still smelled the faint scent of licorice.
“Strange,” she murmured to herself as she walked to the trash receptacles.
As she dropped the can into the recycling bin, a cold sensation washed over the back of Somin’s neck. So chilly, it made the hairs at her nape stand. The wilted trees by the roadside stood still. There was no breeze, but she felt the chill again, a prickle against her skin.