Learning a New Language
Part 1

I stopped outside of his door, contemplating on whether I should accept his open invitation or not. I knew he wouldn’t mind, but I still felt like I would be intruding. After all, wasn’t it supposed to be his time to catch up on work or something? What did he even do this early? I glanced around my surroundings and took note of the hallway that looked too eerie when it wasn’t filled with bustling students.

Shaking my head, I raised my hand and knocked on his door, rationalizing that if he didn’t want me there then he wouldn’t have offered in the first place.

“Taeyeon?”

I smiled shyly. “Morning, Mr. Hwang.”

It took him a few seconds to get over his initial shock. “Ah, sorry, come in. I was just prepping for my morning class,” he smiled, eyes disappearing into crescents, and he stepped aside to let me in. I wasn’t used to hearing him speak Korean. Even outside of class, he would always insist on speaking English even if we just came by his room to have lunch or to ask him a question. He told us it was good practice—and it was. I learned more English outside of class than I did in it.

“So, finally decided to drop by in the morning, huh?” he grinned, smoothing out the crinkles in his blue dress shirt.

Walking past all the empty seats in the front, I settled into my usual seat near the back of the room and replied, “Thought it’d be a nice change of scenery. Plus, the library’s always cold, and there are too many people in there anyway.”

He nodded and took a sip of what I could only assume was coffee before muttering something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch. “You kids study too much,” he sighed. “Well, I usually get here an hour early anyway, so you’re always welcome to hang out here instead.”

He had slipped back into English, and I could only catch a few words. Luckily, it was enough for me to get the gist of what he was saying. Mr. Hwang was one of my favorite teachers. He had this way of making me feel comfortable around him, even when speaking in a language I barely knew. He talked to me like we had known each other for years, and as weird as it may sound, he made me feel special—like I actually mattered.

“Thanks,” I grinned. He was always in one of those infectious good moods. I think that was one of the reasons why I liked sitting in his classroom so much.

He continued to make conversation with me for the rest of the hour. I didn’t get half as much studying done as I would’ve if I had chosen to just study in the library, but my steps began to feel a little lighter that day.

By the end of the week, I realized that he had offered more than just a quiet place for me to study or catch up on sleep—he had offered his company, and surprisingly enough, I found myself enjoying our light conversations more than I did catching up on well-needed rest.

The rest of that school year, I always came to his class in the morning, and we would always talk about the most trivial things. Most of the time, the topic would revolve around school, or he’d say something in English that I didn’t know and he’d spend at least twenty minutes getting carried away and teaching me more. That was another thing I liked about Mr. Hwang; he was so passionate about almost everything he did, and it made listening to him talk that much more enjoyable. Between the two of us, he definitely talked a lot more—not that I minded much. I never really had much to say anyway. Even after the year was over and he was no longer my teacher, I still stopped by his room every morning.

He liked to talk about his family a lot. He had a son and two daughters, and apparently one of them was the same age as me. He’d always brag about them and tell me how they were doing. His son was studying somewhere in the States, his oldest daughter was already settled down somewhere in California, and his youngest—if I were to quote him exactly—was involved in so many extracurriculars it made his head spin. What I could tell from his ramblings about his kids, Stephanie—the youngest and the one that was the same age as me—was definitely the most troublesome.

But, he never once talked about his wife. I never wanted to ask because it was obvious that it was a sensitive topic. We had gotten along fairly well—more so than I ever thought I could get with a teacher—but I wasn’t sure if I could even call him a friend. What exactly were we? I didn’t know, but I did know that our relationship wasn’t anywhere close to the point where I could ask him about something so personal.

It turns out, I didn’t have to.

“Taeyeon-ah,” he called out one day, “I’m not going to be here tomorrow, so don’t come by tomorrow.”

I looked up, surprised. He was always here. It was like the guy never got sick or something. “Oh, why not?” I asked him curiously.

His jaw tightened and I could’ve sworn I saw his eyes get a little teary. It made me wish I hadn’t asked and just left it alone.

“Mr. Hwang, I—”

“My wife died.”

It was the quietest I had ever heard him speak, and it was the most somber I had ever seen him look.

“She died—two years ago, actually,” he smiled sadly, “Well, almost two years ago. It’ll be two years tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what else to say.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Don’t be,” he told me. He stared at me for a couple minutes, and I shifted uncomfortably under his melancholic gaze.

“Um, Mr. Hwang?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to figure out what to say next. It was odd to see your favorite teacher at such a loss for words. “Can I…can I ask you for a favor?”

I knew he was serious because he had slipped into Korean. I nodded, “Of course. What is it?”

“Would you be willing to listen to me?”

I was confused for a few seconds. Hadn’t that been what I did every time I went to go see him? But then I saw the pleading look he gave me—he wanted to talk about his wife.

“It’s been a while since I’ve talked about her,” his voice wavered, “My kids…I can’t speak about her in front of them, especially my girls. They just…they look so much like her.”

It was hard for me to watch him break down so willingly in front of me. For some reason, he trusted me, and it was then I realized that I cared about him more than just as a favorite teacher. To have so much trust in me for him to speak about something so personal, he deserved more than just that title from me.

“You can tell me whatever you like,” I spoke softly, feeling like my voice disturbed the silence too much.

He told me all kinds of stories about her, ranging from how they met, to when they got married, and to dealing with their three children. There was a different kind of light in his eyes, and I wondered how much brighter they would’ve been if this conversation had taken place two years ago.

“It happened a few months before we moved to Seoul. Me and her had gotten into this huge argument about whether or not I should accept this teaching job. She…she wanted me to take it. I wanted to stay. So when it happened, I decided to move here. For her.”

I tried to hide my shock. He always seemed so happy when I saw him. I couldn’t imagine him not wanting to be here.

“Don’t get me wrong Taeyeon,” he quickly got defensive. I guessed that he took the expression I had on the wrong way. “I’m happy that I’m here now. I mean, I got to meet so many wonderful students, including yourself.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Hwang. You don’t have to justify your decision with me,” I reassured him, “I get it.”

He smiled and took a breath before continuing. “Michelle was already settled down, and Leo only had a year left before he graduated high school, so I let him stay with a close family friend. Stephanie was the only one that came with me. She’s actually the one that convinced me to come. I think she wanted the move more than I did—which is funny because the whole reason I wanted to stay was because of her. I didn’t want her to leave all her friends…I didn’t want her here. Michelle and Leo would’ve been fine…but not her. And I think…I think if her mother knew what I knew then she wouldn’t have pushed me to take this job so much.”

That was where I had lost him. I wasn’t sure what he had meant. What would’ve been so wrong with one of his daughters living here in Seoul? What was so different about Stephanie that would’ve given her trouble here?

“If Stephanie knew herself what I knew then she wouldn’t have pushed me so much either,” he muttered.

I tilted my head to the right in confusion. “What’s so wrong with her living here?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

He blinked and looked at me as if he just noticed that I was sitting there. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that!” his voice rose and startled me, “I just mean, Stephanie…she…she…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” I told him when I saw that he couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

I listened to the clock tick for five minutes before his sigh broke the silence. “Thank you, Taeyeon.”

“For what?”

He chuckled. “For listening to me. What else?”

It never once crossed my mind that he found comfort in our conversations as well. Just as much as I enjoyed listening to him, he enjoyed having someone listen; just as much as I enjoyed his company, he enjoyed mine.

I smiled at him. “Mr. Hwang…are we friends?”

He raised his eyebrows, amused. “Well…yes, I believe we are.”

“Then I hate to use such a cliché line, but,” I grinned and slipped into English, “what are friends for?”

I was disappointed when I heard he wasn’t going to be able to be there for my graduation. Apparently, his daughter’s—who didn't attend the same school—graduation, was the same day. I understood, of course, but the disappointment was still there.

I had no idea where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. The future was a topic I always tried to avoid because I didn’t like feeling so lost. I opted to go to a university nearby. My mom wasn’t happy because she thought I could do better, but she pretended to be happy for me anyway. Just like how I pretended not to hear her talk to her sisters about how much more she thought I could be doing with my life. Maybe she was right, but who was she to tell me that my choices weren't valid?

My brother understood though, and my sister was just happy to spend some time with me. I was happy to have them, at least.

There was always this weird tension with my parents, and I knew that part of it had to do with the fact that we never really talked. I couldn’t remember that last time I had sat down with them and told them about my day or how school was going for me. Communication was never really our strong point. For some reason, I never really felt obligated to make that extra effort to get along with them. I was thankful for all that they had done, of course, but I just didn’t feel all that connected with them. It made me feel guilty. Why couldn’t I put in that extra effort? Hadn’t they deserved at least that?

I never told anyone about how I felt towards my parents because I feared that most would look down on me and consider me an ungrateful child. Disrespectful, a disgrace to my family…I could already hear it.

After high school, I realized just how lonely I really was. I would go to class mindlessly and go home and lock myself in my room. I got so depressed that I even stopped talking to Hayeon, who had a knack for barging into my room when I was in a bad mood. Though, I supposed that being in a bad mood ninety percent of the time didn’t help much.

“Unnie!” she ran in yelling one day. I was lying on my bed, trying to nap before getting started on the mountain of homework I had.

“Whatever it is, I’m tired.”

“But…”

“Just leave Hayeon.”

She walked out dejectedly, and a few minutes later Jiwoong replaced her.

“Taeyeon-ah,” he said sternly.

I turned around so I was lying face down and groaned into my pillow. “What do you want, oppa?”

I heard him sigh and felt the bed sink down. “You’re scaring Hayeon. She came to me crying saying that you didn’t like her anymore.”

The guilt finally set in and I let out a muffled sigh. “I’ll go apologize,” I mumbled. I felt him rubbing comforting circles on my back and I relaxed a little. It wasn’t until then that I wondered how long it had been since I talked to him.

It was sad that I lived with them and I could still go days without seeing them.

“Taeyeon-ah,” he whispered soothingly, “what’s up with you lately?”

I wanted to cry because I didn’t know what was wrong. I just felt so lonely all the time and I wasn’t sure how to fix it. “It’s just school getting to me oppa. Don’t worry about me. I just need some more time to adjust.”

“I’m just worried about you, you know? Hell, even Hayeon knows something is wrong with you and she’s barely eight!” He paused and I knew what was coming next. “Mom and dad are worried too.” His hand fell off my back. “I know you and them are all…weird, but they still care.”

I turned around and seeing his concerned face only made me feel more guilty. I wished I could fix myself so they would stop worrying so much. Especially Hayeon. She didn’t need this. “I know, I know. I’m trying, okay? But…” I looked away and stared at the ceiling, “I’m just so lonely, you know? Even when I’m around my old friends I still feel so lonely.”

Part of me hoped that when I looked back at him he would have this look of understanding and say that he felt the same at one point, but when I did, he looked more scared than anything. That knot in the pit of my stomach, the one laced with dread and anxiety and fear, only tightened. “Taeyeon-ah…we’re here for you. There’s no need to feel lonely. We’re here, your friends are here.”

I shot up in bed, angry. “You don’t understand!” I yelled. I didn’t care if our parents heard, but I immediately quieted down when I thought of Hayeon. “I know that. I know that you guys are here, I know that my friends are here, but I still feel this way. I just can’t help it, okay? I’m just…just leave me alone, oppa.”

He didn’t leave. “I think you should talk to mom and dad about this.”

I scoffed, growing even angrier, and stood up. I paced back and forth in front of him, not missing the frustration on his face. “If you can’t understand, then what makes you think they will?”

“Hey, they’re more understanding than you think,” he tried to reason with me.

“Easy for you to say,” I rolled my eyes, stopping in front of him.

He furrowed his eyebrows and glared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means they treat you differently. And before you go on to say that just because we’re treated differently it doesn’t mean they love me any less. I already know that. I know they love me, okay? The bottom line is, you’re the only son and you’re the eldest. They treat you like you can’t do anything wrong! Everything I do, they compare to you. Because apparently we’re close enough in age for me to do just as well as you. And don’t even get me started how differently they treat me just because I’m a girl.”

I ran my hands through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh. He was looking at his lap and remained quiet.

“Go talk to Hayeon,” was the only thing he said to me before he stood up and left the room.

I shook my head and decided to listen to him for once. I didn’t think I could stand not being on speaking terms with my entire family. My parents were sitting out in the living room when I walked out. My mom made eye contact with me, but neither of us said anything to each other and before I knew it, she looked away.

I knocked once before walking into Hayeon’s room.

“Hayeon-ah?” I called out softly. I knew she was still scared of me. There wasn’t a response, but I saw her curled up in bed, sniffling. “Are you okay?”

“Are you going to yell at me too?”

“What do you mean?” I walked over and sat on her bed with her.

“I heard you yelling at oppa.”

The guilt increased ten-fold. “Oh gosh, Hayeon-ah,” I pulled her into a hug, “That was just a misunderstanding, okay?” I felt her nod against my shoulder. “And I don’t hate you, okay? I’m just…having a hard time right now. But I don’t hate you. I would never.”

I felt her nod again and we stayed like that for a while.

“Unnie.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t look happy anymore.”

I frowned and she pulled away.

“I just want you to be happy again.”

I went to go visit Mr. Hwang as often as I could. My visits averaged to about once a week. I would talk a little more now, since we usually had a lot to catch up on now that we didn’t see each other every day. He asked me about school a lot, curious about how I was doing and if I was keeping up. I never really told him outright that I never really made any friends, but I knew he knew anyway. I guessed it was implied in what I had told him.

We started to talk about more personal things. Stuff like how I was dealing with being away from all my old friends and how I felt like my parents were disappointed in me. He talked about his kids a lot. It made me wonder if he had anything else to talk about.

He told me that one of his kids, Leo, was dealing with depression. I asked what that was when he told me; the word in English was unfamiliar to me. When he described it, it sounded a lot like me. I think he knew that I could relate because there was always this look in his eyes that told me that I should be listening carefully to him whenever he talked about it.

It was all completely new to me. I wasn’t used to things like depression being talking about so openly.

“I was so caught up with dealing with my own stuff when she died that I didn’t see how hard he, or any of my kids, were taking it. I didn’t even know he was depressed until after I left, and it kills me that I wasn’t there. Part of me wishes that I stayed or that he would’ve came with me…I must have called him every night after I found out for almost six months, just to make sure he was still there.”

I wondered how my own parents would react if I told them I was depressed. Sad to say, but I didn’t think I knew them well enough to be able to guess their reactions accurately enough.

“The family that he was staying with kept me pretty updated though. He got better, and despite how he kept telling me that I was calling too much, they all said he secretly loved my phone calls.”

“Mr. Hwang, you’re a really good father.”

The words left my mouth before I knew it, and he smiled softly at me. Thoughts of my own father were brief as I silently wished that I had a father like Mr. Hwang.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how’s your relationship with your parents?”

I wasn’t sure how to tell him that it was practically nonexistent.

“You've mentioned it a little before...I take it you're not on good terms with them?”

I hesitated before deciding to nod. “It’s kind of complicated...”

He stopped me. “It’s okay. Tell me when you’re ready.”

I let out a sigh of relief and he skillfully changed the topic.

A few more visits and we had broached the possibility of me studying abroad. He told me that he thought it’d be good for me to get away. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of being away. I’d miss certain people, like my old friends, Hayeon and Jiwoong oppa and Mr. Hwang, but I knew they’d understand. I couldn’t stay, they all knew that.

One day he handed me a stack of papers.

“It’s the same program Stephanie has been looking into. It’s a chance for you to study in California. I know money might be an issue, that’s why there are some scholarship offers in there too. If you play your cards right, I think you have a good chance.”

I leafed through the papers he gave me with my mouth wide open, shocked that he had gone through all this trouble for me.

“Mr. Hwang…I don’t…”

“We’ve talked about this before, and we both agreed that it’d be really good for you,” he smiled. “You’re a smart kid, you shouldn’t run into too many problems over there.”

I laughed. He was already talking about it as if I was going there for sure. When I finally agreed to give it a shot, he grinned and began grading papers again. He asked how I was doing, and I finally confessed to him that it had been really lonely since I graduated.

He was frowning when I told him I hadn’t made any friends, and he said something to me that day that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

“You’re an amazing person, and people deserve to know that.”

He was too busy rearranging a few papers that had fallen off his desk previously to see that my eyes had teared up. An overwhelming amount of gratitude filled me up and was practically spilling out of me. He said it so simply, like he really believed it—as if it were a fact that I was indeed an amazing person. Just knowing that there was at least one person that thought so made me happy.

And for a second, I believed that I was an amazing person.