From the sidewalk to the other side of the street,
I turned back when I heard your voice.
Is this how people normally meet?

It was a pattern for us every day
We met there, talked briefly,
Then we went on our way

At that time, I wanted nothing more than to be with you.
What got in my way were the painful farewells
Turning, waving, and bidding each other adieu.

Sweet sorrow came from parting the way we normally do
Saying goodbye then losing sight of each other
And when I went to sleep you’d be there in my dreams too.

I’m awake now, but I can’t tell what’s real. Isn’t this the same street?
Deny us this separation. Will you be there?
The place where we normally meet.
 

Day 0

My name is Lee Hyojin. My American name is Katelyn Lee. I studied as an exchange student in the United States for a year and didn’t particular like it. The culture was strange and the feeling there wasn’t welcoming. However, it was my responsibility to do my best so that’s what I did, and I made straight A’s easily. Most people would think that was something to brag about, but honestly academics come to me with ease. My American teachers used to say I was a genius. I don’t see why; I simply did the assignments and did them to the best of my abilities. I didn’t make many friends so I wasn’t distracted from doing so, but I also wasn’t given an opportunity to have any fun. Not that I ever shared the same idea of “fun” that other people had in mind to begin with, but I would have liked to have done something different anyways.

I spared no detail when telling my parents how much I hated the experience even going as far as to exaggerate my oh so horrible time there to use the word “loathe.” It meant the same thing, but the way it rolled off the tongue was more pleasing than just saying “hate.” It was a joke more than anything, but my parents didn’t seem to think so. While my dad went on about how much money I had cost him with my studies abroad (which he had insisted I go on in the first place), my mom double-teamed me with talk about my ungratefulness how I didn’t appreciate all they did and still do for me.

It was unbelievable how dramatic they were being and I told them so to their face which of course only added fuel to the flame. The fight escalated with them threatening to send me to boarding school “where I could learn what real respect was”; I laughed in their face.

Honestly, it wasn’t much of a fight now that I think about it. I went back and forth with them, but they were the ones doing most of the yelling and pulling most of the punches. I merely presented the facts and told them how I felt, and for whatever reason, that seemed to ruffle their feathers. “Honestly!” mom yelled. “I don’t understand why you can’t just be more like your sister!”

And there it was - the real reason they couldn’t stand me. They were right about one thing: my sister, Hyo-Sonn, and I were nothing alike. Hyo-Sonn was a chef just like both of my parents. She had an unyielding spirit, a natural outgoingness, and was undeniably the friendliest person you’d ever meet; we were night and day. I can’t understand why they’d want me to be like her though. She was an amazing person and all and a great chef just like them, but frankly, she was stupid. The only reason she became a chef to begin with was because it was the only thing she knew how to do. She had no ambition even for cooking, and her restaurant only just barely broke even. Even then, they seemed to hold her in such high regards that my academic achievements meant nothing. Most parents would want her to be more like me, but not this time.

As much as I would’ve loved to hear them drone on about the topic for the nth time, I interrupted their yelling to raise my voice for what I count as the fourth time in my life. “Well, since I’m such an awful child, why do you keep me around?”

They had gone silent for a few moments, and their silence was music to my ears as little sense as that made. With the air cleared, I continued on. “Don’t even worry about me anymore,” I said. “It’s obvious you don’t want me here, and I’m more than capable of providing for myself. I’m moving out.”

I could see the shift in emotion on their faces. From anger to an uncertain and confused remorse. “Move out?” my father questioned. “Where will you go?”

“I’ll get an apartment.”

“And how will you afford to pay rent? Are you going to get a job? What about school? You were always an excellent student. You aren’t honestly going to give up your education over this, are you?” Suddenly, I realized that maybe they had been paying attention after all.

It was laughable, really. It was much too late for them to act proud of me or pretend they valued me as a person. Ever since I could remember, it was the total opposite. I meant what I said, and I was going to follow through with it. “I’ll be fine,” was all I told him thusly ending the conversation.

That very night I looked online for vacant apartments that were just cheap enough for me to live in and big enough for me to live comfortably. Even if my job didn’t work out, my grandparents had been pumping money into a bank account for me since I was born. At this point, I had enough money to pay my rent for two years not counting the other basic costs of living.

The only thing to do now would be to find a school close by my new place of residence which turned out to be much simpler than I expected. In fact, it was the day I went to check everything out in the apartment that I was told of the school not too far down the road. It didn’t take too much asking around either. In fact, since everyone in the area seemed to know about it, I was actually a bit worried it wasn’t a reputable place to be being at for educational purposes, but those feelings were put to rest when I expressed them.

Apparently, it was one of the most prestigious (yet relatively unknown) private schools in the entire country, Yookwon’s School of the Arts and Superior Academics. This Yookwon fellow who founded it obviously knew it was going to be something leaps and bounds above the others schools, but I won’t give his bloated ego the satisfaction of praising the school before even getting in. It apparently costs a fortune to be accepted if you don’t pass the entrance audition or score high enough on the entrance exam. I used to dabble in the violin and can play piano pretty well, but I can’t trust myself considering how rusty I must be by now. I’m confident I’ll ace the entrance exam with flying colors.

Within the following week, I was able to find a job not too far a walking distance and move all of the belongings I still wanted and could wear to my apartment. The rest I gave away to less fortunate people. The whole while my parents continued trying to dissuade me from going on with these plans of mine and failed every time.

On the flip side, there was someone who hadn’t failed. That someone being me,and the failure being in reference to the entrance exam. As I anticipated, the proctors got back to me and were more than happy to inform me I had one of the highest scores of those who opted to take the entrance exam. My remarkable intelligence allowed me the opportunity to study in the high level classes. I didn’t see what would be so special about them though since the school was mainly art focused even with superior academic programs most of the students probably get by really easily without applying much work. That in mind, the teachers probably assign the simplest projects possible just to say they did their job.

Regardless, it was pointless to focus on that now. I had a job that I would be late for if I didn’t get ready soon and a whole summer standing between me and this school which has been raved about by the public and self-acclaimed by its founder. Time moved fast for me. I can’t say I wasn’t looking forward to it because it would be a lie.

My summer was lonely. I can’t say I was expecting any different though. It wasn’t as if I had friends or anything exciting to do. I had a job and most of the spare time I had was spent in a cooking class with Hyo-Sonn who tried to assist my parents in getting me to come home. She was bound to fail as they did. After all, why would I listen to the person who was basically the reason I left, anyways?

If anything good came from those two months of less than enjoyable irrelevance, I would have to say it was my new found experience in retail or perhaps my actually being able to cook something people want to eat. Either way, I’m probably the only person who would ever say this, but I’m ready for this school year to start.