IU POV

Sobremesa (Spanish)

(n) the time after lunch or dinner spent talking to the people you shared the meal with.

I am driving down Apgujeong, following Ji Yong oppa-nim’s directions to our meeting place. We decided to meet at 12:30 and the clock on the dashboard says it’s already 12:20. I’m not gonna make it on time, that’s for sure, as I need to find this place in the first place.

“…We’re friends now, like you said, right?” That’s what I said that last night before Ji Yong oppa-nim answers, “100%”.

So if we are going to be kind, let it be out of simple generosity, not because we feel guilty or feel obliged that’s what I wanted to say to him afterwards, but I didn’t, and that floats my mind right now. Why I didn’t said that, you ask? Because I don’t want to sound like I’m lecturing him on how to make a friendship with another human. And because I’m partly sure if that will make our talk last night turned awkward. I don’t know why. I just have this thing with awkwardness. Another thing is, I realised that Ji Yong oppa-nim also have this thing with awkwardness. We both need some seconds to think before talking and thus we always talk in a slow-kind-of pace, discernible rhythm, like we are reciting poetry (besides some occasion where Youngbae oppa topic came up, because that gets in my nerves. Oh. God. Why.)

By the time I finally found the place, I’m already 10 minutes late. I walk fast to the entry, the waitress greets and immediately ushers me to the 2nd floor after I mention Kwon Ji Yong’s name. I only glance a little but this place has a nice ambience, a little Victorian with full-fledged classic English decorations. It’s a bit dark and no one has recognized me so far. In the corner I found Ji Yong oppa-nim staring out to the window, with a cup of tea in front of him. He turns his head when he hears my steps.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry. Annyeonghaseyo.”

“Annyeong. Sit.”

“Hmm… I should’ve come sooner as I asked…”

“You don’t have to explain, I’m sure you have your reason. Besides I don’t seem to give you a good direction.”

“No no, it’s…”

“What?” He cheekily smiles.

“Are we playing what again?”

“What? Hahahaha okay okay.”

I open the menu book and flip some of the pages. They have various kinds of tea, a bit limited selection of coffee, lots of choice for something to nibble on, several choice of salads and sandwiches, some main entrees, specials of the day, and many options of dessert. But to be honest I’m overwhelmed by the selection cause it all seems so delicious in my head. In other words, I’m confused. But here’s him, who seems to be a regular here. So I ask, “What’s your recommendation, oppa-nim?”

“The tea’s good here, any kind of tea, and most of the food are home made. Their salad’s is the best, though, especially the beef-avocado-spearmint one. The veggie option, the zucchini & lotus root combination is also killer, if you’re more of a veggie. Besides we can share, so you can taste mine.”

“Cool, then the special tea and beef salad it is, for me. Oppa-nim?”

“Just the usual salmon-zucchini Panini, for me. And for the dessert,” he glanced at me, “two chocolate fondant cake please. It would be perfect if you can serve it after we finished our lunch. Thank you.” He smiles as he gives the menu book back to the waitress.

“So you’re a regular here, oppa-nim?”

“Kind of. I like the ambience. They have another store down there, but I prefer here.”

“Really? They sell same stuff or…”

“The menu are the same but the other store has more garden area, more lighting.”

“Dark suits you,” I say.

“You think so?” He asks. I shrugged. “Dark suits you too, more than white,” he says.

“But my concept’s is vanilla,” I say, after contemplating for a few moment.

“And mine’s fashionista.”

“But you are fashionista. Dark and light both suit you.”

“Several seconds ago you just said that dark suits me.”

“And I’m not saying that only dark suits you.”

“That’s a point I missed.” And we laugh. The waitress brings up our food. The salad is fine, it’s fresh and has zesty kind of sauce. I try some of oppa-nim’s panini too. The home-made bread is the winner.

“So you say you’re not vanilla?” he asks, still continuing our last convo.

“To be honest, I’m blander.”

“Like water?”

“Water glass. At least water can change shape. I’m more like water glass: bland, transparent, and stiff.”

“Whoa. Isn’t that exaggerating tho? You’re not that bland, as far as I know you by now,” he stops for a bit, seems hesitated to continue, then, “besides, you say it poetically, like million won lyrics you’re writing. You’re certainly not that bland.”

I chuckled, “I don’t know if that’s a compliment, but thanks, I’m flattered.”

“You should be, IU-ssi, coming from me.”

“Of course, G-Dragon-ssi, of course.”

“But you dislike vanilla?”

“Hmm I’m not sure but I think so? Cause it always reminded me of milk.”

“You dislike milk?”

“Yes, and I’m sure about it.”

“No wonder you’re short.”

“Oppa-nim, you’re not that tall either.”

“Alright alright Ji Eun-nim. So you’re working on an album, I suppose.”

“Yeah, it’s been taking a tool on me. But I’m excited, nonetheless, elated even.”

“Seven years into your debut, eh?”

“I’m glad you checked on me on Naver. Makes me not the only one between us who checks on each other.”

“You are so cheeky. Any good collaboration that I should anticipate?”

“Just wait and