“Kyuhyun-ah,” my father called to me as I was finishing up my dinner, “How would you like to go see your friend?” He then gave the name of someone I haven’t spoken to in a while. “I told her parents last night that you were in the area, and they invited you to come over.”

“Uh, okay,” I said hesitantly, trying to be agreeable. “But I don’t know what to say to her… it’s been too long.” Ever since I left home to pursue my career, it had been hard to keep track of the lives of my high school friends, and inevitably, some of us had drifted apart. “Where does she study, again?” Being slightly younger than me, she must be in college now, I reasoned.

“She’s not going to a university right now,” my father admitted, and I glanced up, surprised.

“Why not?”

“She hadn’t been feeling well,” my father said ambiguously. “She went abroad to stay with her relatives for a few months, and only recently came back home to be with her parents.”

It took me a moment to process his words. But come to think of it, hadn’t she gotten into a moderately decent university? I remember vaguely hearing about that last time I had been home. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t too bad as colleges went. “She dropped out of university?”

“My understanding is that she attended for some time,” my father clarified. “But then she got sick, so she took a leave of absence.”

“She got sick.” I was starting to understand his meaning. Our discussion was heading towards a dangerous topic, and I knew both of us were hesitant about stating things too bluntly. Our Asian culture kept us from discussing our shame with open words; rather, most of us would undoubtedly have preferred to keep our disgrace confined within the bounds of our minds.

“It’s—a mental problem,” my father finally said distractedly, and as my sister reentered the kitchen, I knew that was all he was going to say.

“Captain Cho,” my sister teased me as she affectionately ruffled my hair. “What do you say we watch something together tonight?” I could tell she had missed me by the DVDs she held in her hand—Jumong, my favorite historical drama.

“Ara-noona,” I said apologetically, “I think Father wants me to visit someone tonight.” I gave her the name of the friend, and her eyes widened.

“Should I go with you?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t as close to the girl as I was, due to the age difference, but at that moment, I was pretty sure it didn’t matter.

“Please do,” I urged her, “Just in case we have nothing to discuss.”

“Do you still have her number?” my father asked me as I brushed my teeth. I shook my head and spat water into the sink.

“I lost it a long time ago, remember? When she changed her number, I never got her updated one.”

He looked puzzled. “I don’t think she ever changed her number.”

I absently scratched the base of my neck. “Either way, I don’t have it.” We haven’t called each other in years, after all.

He went back downstairs to search through the phonebook.

“Do you know how long this visit will take?” Ara-noona asked me as I packed a few things. I had to MC Radio Star the next day and I still hadn’t practiced my script yet. I figured in case I ended up having a spare moment, I could use that time to prepare. Having schedules sometimes filled with activities from dawn to dusk that left little time to sleep had instilled in me the mentality of not letting a minute go to waste.

I gave her my “how-would-I-know” face, and she chuckled, fondly pulling my cheek. We then heard our father coming up the stairs again and turned to face him.

“I told her family we’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, looking from me to my sister. “So let’s leave now.”