The First Time I Learn What It’s Like to Live Without Korea 

“The usual, babe?” It’s the same woman every day, which is what I’m sure she thinks when she sees me. She’s a few years older than me, with a boy of about seven who sits with me and tells me stories or reads a comic book while I eat. In the beginning she always made him leave me alone and apologized profusely, but when I told her that I’m here alone, and I enjoy his company, she just brings him a large Dr. Pepper and takes my order.

The order which has been the same since the first morning I came here. A cup of coffee, orange juice, two chocolate chip waffles, extra hash browns and three sausage links. Sounds like a lot—and it is—but it’s so good.

I smile up at her, “Thanks, Missy.”

Her name isn’t actually Missy. She lost her name tag a few months ago and hasn’t found it yet, so she borrows whoever’s off’s nametag and becomes them for a day. Yesterday she was Ronald.

I’ve been here two weeks. I’ve explored every crevice of the city, gotten Bourbon faced on street, I’ve spoken to Cheondung twice, but not Sunbae since the first day. Cheondung says he left for California last week.

Along with all this, I’ve developed insomnia. And during a particularly long night yesterday, I decided something.

Joon had his own secrets, which I shouldn’t have exposed. I need to apologize to him. Then I need to focus on my work. I have too much at stake to worry about someone else—especially someone who has even more at stake than I do. Then maybe, a long time from now when he and I are old and wrinkly, will we be together. Okay, maybe not that far away, but you catch my drift.

I’m on my first bite when Matthew sits in the booth across from me. Matthew’s her son. He’s in plaid shorts and a t-shirt today, with flip flops. His hair is curly and black, and he’s missing his front tooth.

“Hey Lucy,” he says, thanking his Mom as she slides his soft drink on to the table while she makes her way to another table full of customers.

“Hey Kiddo,” I smile. “How’s it goin’?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, “You look sad today.”

I quirk an eyebrow, “Even more than usual?”

He nods. “Yup.”

I snort, “Thanks, Squirt.”

“What’s his name?”

Now I laugh, almost sending snot-sausage everywhere. “What do you know about relationships?!”

“Lots,” he says firmly.

“Oh?” I lean back, tilting my head and folding my arms, going into fourth grader mode. “Like what?”

“Well,” he continues on, taking a napkin and folding it. “I know you like whoever this is. And I know you probably messed something up. But you haven’t apologized.”

“Why not?” I say, offended that he thinks I haven’t. Which, I haven’t. But, that’s not the point.

“Because that’s not you. You don’t apologize even when you’re really wrong. You’re really stubborn.”

Did I mention that he’s stupid smart? Two days ago he read Pride and Prejudice and started complaining about the movie’s bad portrayal of the book, ranting for almost five minutes.

“Well am I going to apologize?” Okay, yes, I am using a seven year old as a fortune teller.

He doesn’t even blink, “Of course. You love this guy way too much to not apologize.”

I resume eating, thinking. “How do you know I love him?”

He laughs now, standing and walking over to help his mom carry a large set of plates. “You’re crazy if you don’t know.” 

***

It’s the end of my third week here. 

It’s about ten at night, and my mental clock tells me that it’s noon in Korea. 

The balcony is cold tonight, but I sit on the cement anyway, despite the chair beside me. My computer is open, playing the performances from the most recent episode of Music Bank. Things feel better, my mind does.

I don’t look for her face anymore; I just know that she’s someone I have to accept. I think she’s someone I want to accept. I apologize to her every night before I sleep, and I think she and I have both accepted that as enough. 

I lean back against the window, enjoying 2NE1’s new single. My phone rings, Mighty Mouth’s “Tok Tok.”

 I snatch it from my feet and answer, knowing who it is. “Hello, Thunder. How are you?”

 “Lucy,” G.O. says, voice urgent. Immediately I’m ripped from any and all thoughts. Why is G.O. calling me from Cheondung’s phone? 

“What is it? What happened?” I manage to stutter out in Korean.

 He sighs. “You need to come home. Now.” 

“Why? Is Cheondung okay? What happened?” 

“Cheondung’s fine,” he says, allowing my lungs some air. Before I can even chastise him, though, he says, “Joon isn’t. We’re performing in a few days, and he cannot be on stage like this. You need to come back and fight with him. Your actions affect more than just yourself, Lucy-yah.” 

I know, Byunghee, I know. “Ne, Oppa. I’ll be home soon.” 

And I will, but I’ve got one thing to do first. 

*** 

I catch them in the nick of time, still in my pajamas, with slippers on my feet, running faster than I ever have to get to them. 

He’s riding his ripstik around the empty parking lot while she locks up the restaurant. Wow, she owns it. That makes sense. 

“LUCY!” He runs when he sees me; I missed breakfast this morning. I hug him, squeezing as tight as I can. Somehow, these people I’ve known for such little time have become my best friends. 

She walks over and smiles sweetly. “I thought you’d left.” 

“Tonight,” I admit. “But I have something for you two,” 

I pull the first note out my pocket, sticking it to his forehead. “You’ll need this later in life, kid. Use it wisely.” 

And then to her, the woman whose name I still don’t know. It’s a sticky note too, written in the neatest handwriting I’ve had in my whole life. 

She reads it and smiles, thanking me—aware that the words mean more than she could ever imagine. 

We hug again before I’m running again, back home, ready to face my fears of hurting a man I immensely care about. 

To The Mysterious Woman Who Has Helped Me Greatly,

I believe in you, so you should too. I know you’ll do great things—so don’t disappoint me wherever I end up, okay?

~Lucy 

To Matthew,

Take care of your mom, yeah? Even the greats need someone to lean on. Don’t forget all she’s done for you.

~Lucy 

Now it’s just time to “practice what you preach” right?