My family is pretty big. Like any stereotypical Asian family; my father had many siblings. Christmas alone had at least eighty attendees, including my uncles and aunts, cousins, and second-cousins. I guess this was why I pictured myself having a big family of my own. But at the same time, I felt like I was the black sheep out of us all. If my relatives had something in common, it was the ability to be well-liked. Not to brag, but my family’s gene pool was generous. Everyone was smart, good-looking, talented and ambitious. In turn, most of them were popular or had fun personalities.

I felt like I had none of what they had. My little sisters were more like them than they were like me, and like any holiday with this side of the family, I loved and regretted being here. “Chaerin!” Jessica wrapped an arm around me. “Will you go downstairs and grab me some food?”

I groaned, trying to pry her hands off my collar, “Why? Go get it yourself.”

“You were heading down there already, right?!” She cried, “Come on!”

“No. You have to eat downstairs anyway.” I managed to shake her off.

She frowned at me and muttered, “You know no one wants to go down there.”

In my family, there was a fine line between adult and child. What made children become adults was a mystery, but for as long as I could remember, my generation has been quite intimidated by our elders. I, being the anomaly, could handle their probing stares, questions and fake my way around the house far better than any of the children. I used to think that it’s because I was quite fake and people-pleasing in my younger days. “Fine.”

I didn’t want to listen to her thanks, so I just headed downstairs. Everything was different in the lower level; the voices, the atmosphere, the conversation, everything. Was that bad? This family made proclamations of being close, but we were so far apart as kids. I can’t remember…if I ever had any conversations with my elders that weren’t about nonsensical topics. “Chaerin!”

I paused and plastered on a smile. Force of habit. My eldest aunt took my hand, and she said something about me getting bigger and how cute I was as a baby. I followed along. “Aunt, I should go, Jessica wanted me to bring her something.”

“Oh of course. You’re such a good girl. Your parents must be very proud.” I couldn’t tell. Then she asked, “Oh. Do you have a boyfriend yet?”

My face twitched a little. But I held my composure as best as I could. Did all Asian people dread this the most? Was it just Asians? I never hear white people complain about this. It was getting old, “No. Not yet.” Not that I desperately wanted one…but it must be nice to date.

---

“Sorry, Dad. Mom made you volunteer with us for this.” I said while we were on the road. This volunteering job was at a church…about an hour and a half away.

He shifted in his seat, “Nah. It’s alright.” I felt kind of bad. I should do something for him later. Harin her side and yawned. I blinked to myself and thought back on the previous rendezvous.

The group leader was going on about the upcoming events when my eyes shifted. To that Asian guy standing next to the fir tree. I’ve seen him around, maybe two or three times, but I didn’t know his name… He was better looking up close. Not exactly pretty, but tough-looking, tall and mysterious. His jaw was really defined, and his body type was lean. I liked guys like that; but I was a romantic at heart who fell for guys easily. Not this time…

“Chaerin. Harin.” The youth minister, Linda, pointed to us and smiled, “I’ll have you two work the kitchen since I trust you guys in there.” Counting today, Harin and I have volunteered several other times; usually making meals for homeless shelters. It was in our nature to like volunteering, but I’m not sure why we like it so much. I mean, it was raining, cold, we knew nobody, and it was so far away. Why did we like doing these things? Why do we feel compelled to offer up our time like this? “You too, Jiyong.” Oh. It was that guy.

Harin nudged me, “You alright? Let’s go.” I followed the group into the kitchen and zipped up my jacket. I could feel Jiyong staring at me…

Another volunteer gave us our responsibilities, “We’ll be making chicken noodle soup and spaghetti today for the people coming to the food drive.” He showed us around, pulling out knives and cutting boards, and other utensils. I noticed on the stove that he had these huge rectangular metal pots.

“Are we gonna make them in there?” I asked and he laughed, nodding. Seemed like a bit much, but I liked the enthusiasm.

“You can be in charge of the veggies.” He told Harin and I. “There are bags of carrots, celery and onions here. Cans of olives here.”

I picked up the can-opener as Harin pulled a bag of carrots to her side. As she was peeling, something important occurred to me. I’ve never really…opened something using a can-opener before. I know how to do it, I’ve just never done it before… Ugh but I didn’t want to ask for help with something so stupid. Harin looked over at me. I dodged her gaze as I clamped the can-opener on either side of the lid, and attempted to twist the handle. It got stuck at one point. I gently shook it and pouted to myself. Can’t I just stab the damn thing with a knife or something?

“Hey.” I jumped a little. Jiyong stood beside me and held out his hand, “I’ll do it.” His eyes were darker than I pictured… Wait, what?

I handed him the kitchen utensil and sighed, “Sorry.” Damn. Way to be helpless, Chaerin. I felt embarrassed just standing there.

But he flashed me a comforting smile, “Nah, it’s no big deal.” So, he opened the can for me and took the others, “I’ll do these ones too.”

“…Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. Chaerin…right?” I nodded and we shook hands. That was how we met.