June 21, 1999

 

 

It was a rainy day when she watched the big men bring boxes into the newly empty victorian house next door. She felt bad about the men getting wet, but they didn't seem to mind, instead focusing their efforts on moving the more defenseless items through the doorway as quickly as possible.

 

She leaned her forehead against the glass to get a better view. The movers were going so far as to throw their own jackets over top of the furniture as the carried it the distance from truck to house. Tall book shelves and sideboards of rich mahogany were run directly inside by the most muscular men she'd ever seen, while smaller boxes were taken to the porch, where the shingled overhang kept them mostly sheltered from the weather. They'd obviously be brought in once the big stuff was out of the way.

 

More than once, a man would slip on the way back to the moving truck, and she'd have to fight to control her giggles.

 

 

It seemed like hours passed before the men were finished unloading the belongings of whomever would live in the house next door.

 

The last things that were carried out before the sun had completely set were a box covered in messy blue scribbles, and a small green bicycl.

 

***

 

June 28, 1999

 

She sat surrounded by her family as flashbulbs went off and she blew out her birthday candles.

 

She was officially seven years old. A massive pile of presents waited to be opened, a chocolate cake waited to be devoured, but she only waited for her new neighbors.

 

She tried desperately to have fun with all of her relatives cooing over how quickly she'd grown and how pretty she'd become. She wanted to be excited about the presents that were still wrapped in shiny pink paper. But it had already been a week, and still a mostly empty house full of belongings rest stagnant next door.

 

She'd been a bad girl and run around the vacant grounds all week long in the dreary weather, peering into the windows to make sure there really wasn't anyone home. The rain had kept up all week, but thankfully had cleared for her birthday.

 

Just as her parents handed her the first gift the unwrap, the rumbling outside indicating a large vehicle pulled her from her seat on the floor of the living room, and over to the window facing the neighbors.

 

She was disappointed to only see the burly men from the week before.

 

This time they were assessing how to get the baby grand piano through the door of the big green house.

 

***

 

August 1, 1999

 

It was night time when the car arrived next door.

 

She was playing with her new dolls, funny smelling things with plushy bodies and hard plastic heads, when she heard the tires on the gravel.

She ran to her window instantly, leaning her head against the glass as she liked to do, and watched impatiently.

 

A dark figure, a man, walked around the car to the trunk. Another figure, a woman this time, stepped out of the passenger side, and opened the door to the back seat. A small figure leapt from the vehicle, bouncing several times on the gravel before reaching for the woman's hand. The man had taken what appeared to be book bags from the trunk of the car and joined the other two.

 

As a group, they walked up the steps to the front door, unlocked it, and went inside. She continued to watch as the lights were one by one in the house.

 

When the light in the room directly across from her own window came on, her gaze only lingered for one moment before she turned away to return to her toys.

 

Her eyes had lingered on the small figure, whose gaze had also latched onto her.

 

***

 

 

August 2, 1999

 

She was digging a hole in the sandbox in her backyard when she saw the figure again.

 

He was a little boy. His eyes were oddly shaped and almost entirely black. His hair was equally as black and cut straight across his forehead. His skin was very pale and his cheeks very chubby.

 

"Hi," she said, hesitantly, pushing her hair behind her ear. She suddenly felt shy; she couldn't wait to meet the new neighbors, and now she just felt fluttery.

 

The boy only pulled awkwardly on the bottom hem of his red t-shirt and said nothing. She only thought to look down at herself, sitting directly in the sand, her mind racing for something else to say. Before she could think of anything though, the boy was in the box with her, digging his own hole. She gulped back any words and carried on with her task.

 

"I am Yoongi," the boy said, a strange accent to his words. She looked at him and smiled, replying with her own name. She thought his name sounded funny, but she wouldn't say so.

 

Yoongi hadn't looked at her since he started digging, but she could see him smile while he concentrated on his digging.

 

"I'm happy you moved in Yoongi," she said, placing all of her attention on the boy, "The old neighbors were old and their kids were old and their kids were babies. So I had no one to play with." Her face scrunched up at the thought. "There are no other kids in this neighborhood."

 

Yoongi sat silently for a moment, attention completely directed at her now. "Okay," he finally said, obviously unsure of what else to say.

 

"Where did you live before?" she asks, trying to keep the boy talking. She didn't have any friends, and she was desperate.

 

Yoongi hesitated, eyes rolling as if he'd been browsing the air in front of him for the answer. With a slight stutter, he muttered, "Korea." She giggled at the way he annunciated every syllable of the word.

 

"Where is that?" she continues, now burying her hands in the sand, shaking it all off, and repeating.

 

Yoongi only shrugged, kind of pouting at her.

 

"What's wrong Yoongi?" she pries, actual concern lacing her words.

 

"I don't know," was his answer. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a shrill sound.

 

"Yoongi-ah!" The female voice said more than that, but it was in some gibberish that she couldn't understand. Yoongi's eye grew very large and he looked over his shoulder in the direction of the voice.

 

"Eomma," he yelled back, but didn't move from his spot beside her in the sand box.

 

The woman who ran towards them was the prettiest woman that she had ever seen. Her face was a perfect oval, her glossy black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her small eyes shone at the sight of the children. She'd completely ignored her and went straight for her son, fussing over him in that weird gibberish again.

 

"You're pretty," she said before she could stop herself, and immediately covered with her hand. The woman seemed to have only just noticed her existence, and her expression grew very soft as she smiled.

 

"Thank you," she sighed, the same accent as Yoongi had evident in her words. "And thank you for taking care of Yoongi."

 

She smiled very wide at the pretty woman, while Yoongi only carried on with the sand. "Can Yoongi play more?"

 

"I'm afraid not," she says, shaking her head. "We're still unpacking, and I need him to stay in my sight." The ending of that sentence was very pointedly directed at the boy, but he pretended not to care.

 

She only pouted and said, "Okay."

 

--

 

Later that night, during dinner, she asked her parents about Korea.

 

 

Her father explained to her about different countries, and Korea being one of those.

 

"Do all people from there talk so weird?" She asked, genuinely confused. Her mother and father looked at each other in awe before her mother answered.

 

"They have their own language, honey. They don't speak English, like we do. They speak Korean." She nodded along with her mother's words. "Why are you so curious about this?"

 

"Yoongi said he came from Korea," She said, shoveling some carrots into . She chewed slowly and swallowed before continuing, "I'm going to learn Korean so that I can talk to him more."

 

 

 

***

 

August 20, 1999

 

 

Over the past weeks, the kids had been nearly inseparable.

 

Her parents had been very welcoming of her friendship and had even grown quite close with Yoongi's parents. She would spend rainy days watching his mother play the piano in the living room of their house. They would play hide and seek and tag in their backyards while the weather was nice.

 

Yoongi had tried his best to help her learn his language, and she had done the same; This resulted in a nonsensical Konglish way that they would speak with each other, and it truly delighted their parents.

 

On this particular night, the Min's were obligated to attend a gala for work, and Yoongi was left at her house to stay the night. Her parents loved the boy (though she believed they only really loved that he was quiet and she was always smiling with him around) and were more than happy to let him stay the night.

 

The two were sitting in a blanket fort they'd spent the last hour constructing, eating mini marshmallows straight from the bag while watching Thumbelina.

 

She always enjoyed imagining a future in which she fell in love and lived happily ever after. Of course, now that she had a friend to spend her time with, she spent much less time in her own romantic dream land. It had been a while since she'd watched this movie, and she caught herself swooning and leaning her head on Yoongi's shoulder at the end.

 

"What's the matter, Noona?" he asked slowly, eyes still focused on the now rolling credits. He'd started calling her that nickname shortly after they'd met, and she still didn't quite understand the meaning of it, and Yoongi hadn't really been able to explain it properly. But she liked it all the same.

 

"I love that movie," she sighed, taking another marshmallow and popping it into . Yoongi nodded in understanding, taking a moment; she'd learned that he needed a little extra time processing her English, and so never spoke until he seemed ready. She was, after all, trying to help teach him.

 

"Why?" he asked finally, after a moment.

 

She giggled, removing her head from his shoulder, and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her mother had fixed her long hair into braids, but it proved too unruly for even the tightest knots. "I can't wait to fall in love like Thumbelina and the Fairy Prince. I can't wait to be old enough for dancing and kisses."

 

She lifted herself from Yoongi's shoulder and hastily crawled over to her movie collection. As she searched the shelves of VHS tapes for another princess movie - Beauty and the Beast this time - He watched her instead of the blank screen.

 

He promised himself, right then, that he would be the one to kiss her.

 

 

***

 

September 3, 1999

 

The morning dew had settled in a damp fog surrounding their feet as they walked to school hand in hand.

 

According to Mr. Min, they chose the old green Victorian house specifically because of how close it was to the school, and they wanted Yoongi to be able to walk on his own if they were busy working.

 

It was just a nice happenstance that his best friend would live next door and walk with him every morning.

 

 

Yoongi kept pulling awkwardly at the crisp collar of his polo shirt, staring at the dispersing mist as he shuffled his sneakered feet. "What if my English isn't good enough?" He mumbled, pout evident in his voice.

 

Neither of them were happy about school starting, but she continuously squeezed his hand to reinstate that they would be there together.

 

"If you have a hard time," She hummed, smiling brightly before kicking a pebbled with her new white Keds, "Tell Miss Garner, and she'll understand."

 

Her biggest confusion over this summer was the age difference she and Yoongi shared. She'd just had her seventh birthday, and the boy claimed to also be seven. But he was a year behind her, attending class with the teacher she'd had the year before. When she'd asked Yoongi's parents, they'd explained to her about Korean age, and Yoongi being in his seventh year.

 

She was still confused, so she just believed that Yoongi was confused. He wouldn't lie, not to her.

 

The school she'd been attending since the earliest days of pre-school was a large private academy, consisting of four large brick buildings positioned around a large square. To the left, sat the two buildings meant to be the middle school and high school. To the  right were the elementary school and pre-school, separated by a small playground. At the center of the square was a small hedge maze and lots of Japanese maples, and, currently, a series of adults surrounded by groups of students, all clad in the same uniforms as the pair.

 

"Miss Garner is the pretty tall lady with curly hair," She pulled Yoongi towards the crowd, pointing at the blonde now rounding up her rambunctious students.

 

This was a normal thing each year, the students would be dropped off and sent to find their own teachers instead of having their parents them. It was the school's way of teaching independence. Luckily, every student who attended this school usually attended from start to finish, so they would grow to be more in tuned with who everyone was after only a few years.

 

She marched straight up to the pretty blonde teacher, addressing her with a wide smile. They exchanged greetings, and Yoongi was surprised at this teacher treating his best friend as an equal. This was an entirely new concept.

"Miss Garner," She squeals excitedly, "This is Yoongi Min and he's in your class this year."

 

Miss Garner laughs, saying hello to the boy, who was looking everywhere but at her. "How nice of you to drop him off! I'm sure I can handle it from here." But she doesn't let go of his hand yet.

 

"Miss Garner, Yoongi is still learning English, and I want you to know that he's trying," The teacher is taken aback by this, but nods in understanding. She'd been told about this new student, and his peculiar circumstances.

"Thank you honey," She smiles at the children. "Run along to your teacher now, I'll take good care of Yoongi."

 

She beamed at her old teacher before pulling the boy into a hug.

 

"Good luck Yoongi," She whispered in a broken konglish that made him grin.

 

--

 

Yoongi was crying when she joined him to walk home from school. In the month that she'd known him, she had never seen him cry, and the action worried her immensely.

 

She spent the whole walk home trying to make him laugh with funny faces and dance moves, to make him smile with warm hugs and Eskimo kisses, but the boys eyes just continuously got redder and more swollen. By the time they reached home, she was positive he couldn't even see anymore.

 

The boy ran away from her without even saying good bye and slammed his front door shut behind him.

 

Her heart broke.

 

--

 

Yoongi had his head buried in his mother's lap as she sat at the piano, endless sobs wracking his small body.

 

"They called me stupid," He screamed out for the umpteenth time, his voice going hoarse.

 

She shook her head in defeat; if the neighbor girl hadn't been able to calm her little boy, there was absolutely nothing she could say to do any different. She would have to call the school tomorrow. This was meant to be a long term arrangement, and there was no way they could change schools now.

 

"Eomma," Yoongi whimpered, curling his tiny fists into his eyes to wipe away the tears.

 

"Omo!" She put on her aegyo voice, trying desperately at this point to stop her son's tears. "Has my boy come out of hiding? Does he want to play the piano with Eomma?"

 

Yoongi didn't hesitate to climb onto the bench, on his mother's lap, eyes, while still tearful, in happy little crescents.

 

They play all afternoon, until Yoongi tired himself out and she carried him up to bed.

 

***

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