xi. “We are all broken and wounded in this world. Some choose to grow strong at the broken places.”

― Harold J. Duarte-Bernhardt

_____

It’s hard to imagine what it’s like to have so much unsaid and be unable to share it, but it’s equally as hard sometimes wondering whether or not asking about it will be even worse.

Or maybe I’m making excuses for myself. I don’t know, and it’s become a habit; quiet down every time Jongdae touches a subject that’s slightly sensitive, even though part of me knows that it’ll do him no good to keep it to himself forever. I’ve glimpsed the many things he’s piled up to himself because he’s afraid of burdening someone else with it, but I’m afraid to ask him about it.

I don’t know, though, because the more I think about it, the more it seems that I’m the one who’s afraid to share the burden, and I don’t think that’s quite right.

***

Christmas Eve rolls around, which I spend, like usual, with my parents. I’m distracted though, and one thing I’m dreading is the next day, when Jongdae has been supposedly invited to Christmas service and then dinner at my house. The former is fine, but the latter can go wrong in so many different ways that I get a headache just trying to imagine.

“Anna,” my dad starts, and I glance up from the book. “Your friend—Jongdae, isn’t it? Do you know what type of food he likes?”

I pause. “I’m not really sure. Maybe don’t make Korean food, though, because—”

“Stop speaking English,” my mother reminds me.

I mock-roll my eyes at her, though she doesn’t see it. “Well, don’t make Korean food because he’ll probably be able to taste how bad it is. Just make something you’re good at.”

My dad frowns. “I thought I should try to make tteokbokki again.”

I still remember the last time that happened, and I don’t want it repeated again. “Don’t do it,” I interrupt immediately. “I don’t know, western food? What does Canada have?”

“Poutines,” he suggests. “Maple syrup. There’s nothing… Canadian I can think of. Would Jongdae like that?”

“Alberta has roast beef,” I suggest.

My mom turns around from washing the dishes and gives the suggestion a nod of approval. “We can make steak,” she says. “I also have potatoes, though if we’re going to mash them, I need to buy ingredients for gravy too.”

I glance at the two of them. “I think I’m going to go read in my room,” I suggest. “You can decide dinner together later. Just make sure it’s not Korean food because dad can’t make that and mom, you never do and Jongdae’s probably going to be able to tell if it’s good or bad.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” my dad starts, but I’m up and running. I hear him yell goodnight before I close the door behind me, settle down on the bed, and reach for my phone to text Jongdae.

Go Anna, 10:38PM

hey are you sure you wanna come tomorrow i mean it’s a holiday and you’re going to have to wake up at like seven to get here because we’re going to service at nine and it’s going to be incredibly awkward at dinner with my parents

I send it before I can think about it properly, promptly realize that even if what I wrote is remotely understandable (it really isn’t) it’s rushed and probably sends the wrong message (namely one in which I don’t want Jongdae to come, and the last reason is because he’s unwelcome, per say, but that I really don’t think he’s going to be comfortable sitting through hours and hours with my parents). To my horror, it takes less than a couple of seconds before the sent turns into read, then the three dots appear to tell me he’s typing. Then he deletes it, then starts again. I think I’m sweating by then, nervous waiting for the response.

Finally, the text messages shows up. It’s significantly shorter than mine.

Kim Jongdae, 10:40PM

It’s not going to be that bad, is it? Besides, your parents already love me :)

I squint at the text. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to be changing his mind anytime soon, especially when the last couple of times I’ve tried to convince him have reaped similar replies (minus the your parents already love me, which, quite frankly, I don’t know what to make of). I figure it’s best to give up, because Jongdae obviously isn’t going to.

Go Anna, 10:41PM

oh really

Go Anna, 10:41PM

okay tho your just doing this to yourself don’t say i didn’t warn you :’)

Go Anna, 10:42PM

i told my dad not to quick korean food cuz he can’t so i hope youre good with western cuisine

He’s much quicker to type a reply this time.

Kim Jongdae, 10:42PM

Western sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Kim Jongdae, 10:42PM

Goodnight!

I bid him a goodnight as well before closing my phone. It feels way too early to actually go to sleep, but seeing there is no convincing Jongdae not to continue the death sentence for both of us, I can’t think of anything else to do but sleep. I can hear my parents talking quietly outside, something about dinner for tomorrow, a present (for Jongdae, too, apparently), and then I realize that I’m actually quite tired too.

I change into pajamas, and not long after, I’m asleep too, thoughts full of the Christmas tree inside, the snow outside, and a boy who looks at both with so much awe.

***

Jongdae arrives on time at our house. I’ve had a quick word to my parents about not talking about his parents and not probing too much, which they agree to, though I don’t know how much my dad will hold to his word, especially during dinner, given that he talks a lot. All I can do is cross my fingers.

He greets my parents politely when he steps inside, slipping off his shoes. He’s holding a bundle of things one of the neatly wrapped packages he gives to my parents with a quick thank you for inviting him. My mom gushes over how thoughtful he is, my dad jokes about how he’d rather have Jongdae as a son, and then he hands me a small bag.

“Merry Christmas,” Jongdae says, then gives me a slight smile. “I wasn’t too sure what to get you, but you mentioned you really liked the stationary here. There’s just a bunch of miscellaneous… well, stationary.”

I peer into the bag, though he’s covered the top with white tissue paper and I can’t see much. It’s neat, though, and he’s right about it, except I hadn’t exactly gotten him something.

It’s immediate guilt. “Merry Christmas,” I echo as I take the bag from him. “You shouldn’t have. I mean, this is lovely and yeah, I love the stationary here and I—” I break off. It sounds too much like an excuse now, and for some reason, it reminds me all the people pestering Kim Jongdae for things because of this or because of that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything and I probably should’ve—”

He laughs slightly. With a jolt of shock, I realize a couple of seconds later that I’ve gotten surprisingly used to that laugh when before, hearing it seemed to be some sort of dream. “You didn’t have to,” he tells me. “Really, it’s nothing much. I wasn’t sure. Christmas isn’t… something I celebrate, I guess.”

“Now it is,” I say, just as my parents come around the corner again.

My mom practically beams at Jongdae. I swear that she’s never given me that look. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she tells him. “It’s so nice that Anna finally has a friend. I also heard you’re doing a Languages project together. It’s really considerate of you to partner with her.”

I turn around to stare at her, offended. “What are you trying to say?”

She winks at me. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in your other courses, but the last time I checked, Languages was what you were struggling with.”

“I’m fine at it,” I protest, then turn towards Jongdae. “Right?”

He blinks, as if being snapped out of a trance, and then nods at me, still looking slightly lost in thought. “Are you?”

I scowl at him. “Let’s just go,” I say.

***

The car ride isn’t as awkward as I guessed it would be, though I suppose part of it should be attributed to the fact that Jongdae’s extremely good at striking, carrying and keeping a conversation going and I barely say anything. He chats easily with my parents, casual smalltalk, all sorts of things that I hadn’t imagined could be discussed without being awkward. Though I suppose that’s one of Kim Jongdae’s many charms, and by the time we’re at the church, my parents are definitely charmed.

My parents get out of the car first. Jongdae leans over slightly, gives me a small grin, then half-whispers, “Told you they already love me.”

I swipe at him with my backpack but miss, and he’s already climbin