THREE:
Flash Once, Flash Twice

Jinyoung slung the garment bag over his shoulder and used his free hand to twist the knob and open the door. A gust of cold air greeted him and Minji as they entered. 

“Ugh, finally,” Minji said, kicking her Louboutins off at the door. “Air conditioning.”

He shut the door to keep the cold air from mixing with the air inside. The Parks’ home was one of the newest houses in town and was built in an eclectic western style that made it almost identical with the nine other houses on their street. But it had a very distinct smell. Slightly burnt sugar and black tea. A scent he would forever associate with home.

“Hey, kiddo,” said his second older sister, Boyoung, in the dining room. She was wearing denim shorts, an oversized white t-shirt and was sitting cross-legged on the chair. His other sister, Miyoung with her wild black hair and glasses, and Boyoung’s fiancee, Yoshiki, were also sitting at the table.

“Got your tux?” Boyoung asked, a pen cap stuck between her teeth.

Jinyoung held up the garment bag. “Right here,” he said.

“Let’s see it, then,” said Miyoung. 

Jinyoung ped the bag and held it open to show his family what the tuxedo looked like. It was nothing special, just a normal, single ed black tux. His sisters nodded their approval. 

“What are you guys doing?” Jinyoung asked, taking a step forward and looking down at the mess of papers and ribbon on the dining room table. 

“Your sister wants to rework the seating chart,” said Yoshiki, Boyoung’s very muscular Tokyo-native fiancee. He sighed as he shook his head. “Again.”

“If you had taken care of this properly the first time I told you to, maybe we wouldn’t have to do this,” Boyoung said, playfully slapping her fiancee’s wrist with her pen. Yoshiki shrugged.

“My bad,” he thought. “But doesn’t it just make sense to have your parents sit at the same table?”

Jinyoung flinched, as did both his sisters. He knew where this was headed.

“That’s a hard pass,” Boyoung said, casting her eyes down. “They’ll just fight the whole time. Separate tables.”

“But, Boyoung, if you separate Mom and Dad, people will talk,” Miyoung said. Boyoung, however, was adamant. 

“This is our special day,” she said. “I don’t need them ripping each other’s throats out at my wedding. Separate tables.”

Boyoung may have been the middle child, but her forceful personality made it seem like she was the oldest. And her word was law. Miyoung shrugged and erased their mother and father’s names from the seating chart and waited for further instructions. 

“We still have to talk to the DJ about song choices, too,” Miyoung reminded Boyoung. 

“Ugh, I forgot all about that,” Boyoung said. “Do we have time later this afternoon? Can you come with me to meet him at that Italian place?”

“I have an online class in like two hours, and it’s already—”

“Wait a minute,” Jinyoung said, a lightbulb going off in his head. “Maybe Minji can help you. She’s free this afternoon.”

Minji wasn’t the most well-versed when it came to music. She listened to whatever popped up on the radio and meanwhile, he knew that Boyoung and Yoshiki were particular about music. But he saw this as an opportunity for girl bonding time, and he was eager for his sisters to approve of his girlfriend. He wanted Minji to be able to spend more time with his family. This was perfect. 

Boyoung and Miyoung looked at each other and then at Jinyoung.

“Okay. Yeah, sure,” Boyoung said. “That sounds like it could be fun. Hey, Minji, do you want to—”

Boyoung was calling back to Jinyoung’s girlfriend, but before she could even finish her sentence, Minji had picked up a call on her cellphone and headed straight for Jinyoung’s bedroom. They all flinched when they heard the door slam. Boyoung and Miyoung exchanged looks.

“I’ll take that as a no,” said Yoshiki. Jinyoung sighed.

“She’s seemed… really upset,” Miyoung asked, adjusting her glasses. “Did something happen when you guys were in town?”

“No,” Jinyoung said, but then he bit his tongue. “Well, actually, yeah. Nothing major, just a little run-in with Old Man Kim.”

“Oh, Kim Younghwan?” said Miyoung.

“Who’s that?” asked Yoshiki. 

“He’s kind of a local figure,” Boyoung explained. “He’s Jinyoung’s old piano tutor’s father. He used to be a writer, made this place kind of locally famous for a little while after it featured really heavily in one of his books. It was a war memoir, landed on the national bestseller’s list for a couple of weeks back in the 70’s, but the hype died down quick.”

“I’m guessing the royalties aren’t bringing in much, either,” said Miyoung. “Have you seen what their house looks like lately?”

“It’s not their fault,” Jinyoung said, stepping in to defend the Kims. “That house is considered a local heritage site, it’s the city’s job to help maintain it.” 

“How is he?” Boyoung asked, trying to change the subject.

Jinyoung laid the garment back gently down over a chair. “He… isn’t as sharp as he used to be.”

Miyoung clicked her tongue. “It’s a shame what’s happened to him, he used to be so wise,” she said. “But he did always have a touch of PTSD.”

Yoshiki nodded along as the sisters explained some more local town history to him. Having been born and bred in the urban jungle of Tokyo, Yoshiki was fascinated by small town lore. Miyoung and Boyoung were known as town gossips when they were teenagers. Jinyoung remembers them excluding their little brother from their whispering sessions, but he always eavesdropped anyway. It suddenly occurred to him that he had another bit of good news to deliver, one that they would like.

“Jisoo is back from Los Angeles,” he said.

The sisters looked to him and gasped.

“No way!” Boyoung said. “Oh my god, how exciting! I love Jisoo!”

Jinyoung smirked. He knew that would get them excited.

“My god, so many inside jokes that I’m on the outside of,” Yoshiki joked. “Who is Jisoo?”

“She’s—” Jinyoung started to explain, but Boyoung interrupted.

“She’s Jinyoung little friend from middle school and high school. Those two were like milk and cookies back then,” Boyoung explained. “You would like her, she’s really cute. When they were ten, they did this children’s play of ‘Cinderella,’ and she played one of the stepsisters.”

“She improvised this entire scene where she accused Cinderella of playing the victim,” Miyoung said. “Don’t we have a video of it somewhere around here?”

“Aww, I’m so happy that she’s back!” Boyoung said, kicking her feet. “Did you see her in town? That’s so exciting! How long is she staying? I’m gonna invite her to my wedding. Do we have seat open at a table somewhere, Yoshiki?”

“We would if you would just put your foot down and tell Yeeun that she can’t bring another person.”

“I thought that was my Maid-of-Honor’s job,” Boyoung said, eyeing Miyoung as she threw her hands up in surrender.

While Boyoung and her fiancee turned to each other and started bickering over the seating chart again, Jinyoung remembered that his girlfriend was alone in his room. So he picked up the garment bag and excused himself from the dining room. On his way over to the stairs, he looked over into the living room and saw that one of the sofas still had a blanket and two worn out pillows strewn over it, messy and unmade. He supposed his father didn’t see a point in making his bed just to mess it up again later tonight. His eye also wandered over to the upright piano in the corner of the house. It sat collecting dust.

He walked into his bedroom just in time to see Minji sitting on the edge of his bed, hanging up a phone call. 

“I’ll call you back,” she whispered before ending the call. She looked up at Jinyoung with shifty eyes as he made his way over to the closet to hang up his tux. 

“Who was that?” he asked.

“A client,” Minji said, reaching behind his nightstand for a charging cable. Jinyoung closed the wardrobe and stood there for a minute, trying to decide how he wanted to start the c