🥀

 

When Mina took her chances and moved her parents to Korea, knowing there was a risk it could make her mother’s condition worse, I thought it was the bravest thing ever. We all knew the risk would pay off in the end, but it was still a terrifying decision for our friend to make. It did pay off, of course, and Mina’s mother lived for much longer than doctors expected—another nine years!—, so the night we got the call from Mina that her mother had passed away, it came as a painful shock.

The funeral had a date two days after her death, and in a week, a majority of us found ourselves in a funeral home.

 

There’s something so evil about rain during funerals, making them much more miserable than they already are, though I suppose this time there was no way to blame the universe for this. It was spring, after all.

It was probably the saddest funeral I’d ever been to, to say the least. The clouds, the rainfall, and the loud sobs made sure of that. But what made the funeral sadder was the fact that Mina’s father had dementia; he didn’t even remember whose funeral it was most of the time. Mina didn’t want to break his heart over and over again by reminding him it was his wife’s, so eventually she played along with his assumptions and assured him that yes, the ashes in the urn were from his long-dead aunt.

“I think Mina should let us take care of him as the funeral progresses.” Nayeon’s frown was deep and honest, pity in her eyes as she looked over at Mina, who was crying on her father’s shoulder again. When she wasn’t glancing and checking up on Mina, she was picking at the lint on her black cashmere sweater, unable to lock eyes with anyone in case she saw them cry. Nayeon has always been sentimental like that; if she sees you cry, she’ll cry too.

“I suggested it earlier.” Dahyun crossed her arms across the chest of her son, Junji, as she watched her wife miserably. “I told her maybe it was best if she took a break, that we could talk to him and explain the funeral each time he forgets, but she told me something about sparing him all that pain.” Junji sniffed during Dahyun’s pause; his eyes were just as red and puffy as anyone else’s. He loved his grandmother too. “She said that it’s how you’re supposed to do it with people with dementia, and that it’s easier this way. For her, and for her father.”

I winced, not for the first time that day. Mina was a strong woman, but she wasn’t the kind to reject help. She must’ve wanted to be alone with her father as she grieved. I turned back to those around me and sighed heavily. “You know who would know what to do? Sana. I wish she was here.”

No one responded; we all knew I was right, because Sana was the biggest empath in the group and she always knew how to cheer up damn near anyone, but she was in Japan. Sana and Momo couldn’t travel to Korea at such short notice, so they sent a wreath in their stead. We all missed those two so much that I guess they decided to ignore my comment in favor of looking over at Mina once more. I didn’t take any offense to it.

The funeral proceeded as they usually do. Lots of crying, lots of comforting, and one last goodbye. Nearing the end of it, as we helped Mina gather the urn and the rest of her things to prepare for her flight to Japan, Daeul handed her a red paper flower he’d made. I didn’t know he’d brought one to the funeral, but it really didn’t surprise me that he had. Nayeon and I visited Mina’s mother often to care for her, and she taught Daeul how to make origami cranes, flowers and butterflies when she had time. Daeul, being the sweetest boy ever, must’ve thought it was only apt to send her off like this, with something she’d helped him create. Mina took the red flower with the brightest smile she could muster and promised him she’d make sure it made it all the way to Kobe, where the family grave was.

When it was all over and we walked back to our cars, I was about to open my door when I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, Mina.” I knew it was her and shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what she wanted. I was never good at comforting people. “I’m sorry. Again.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Mina’s downcast eyes traveled up to mine and they looked so...miserable. Of course she was, we were at her mother’s funeral. Still, I hadn’t spent much time near her the whole day, preferring to give her space and let her mourn with her father; it shocked me how much pain there was in her eyes now that I looked directly at her.

“Thanks,” she said. “I know it’s been hard on you too though. You kept my mom company from time to time. But I’m not here to talk about that.” I fully turned to her, curious now. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Oh! Of course. Anything,” I encouraged, noticing the hesitancy in her voice. I gave her a warm smile. “I’m serious. Anything you want, Minari.”

“Let’s all meet up again,” Mina replied with a strained smile of her own. “Can you…set up a day for that?”

Oh. I didn’t think that that would be the reason she approached me, but I agreed immediately. Anything to help Mina feel better, I thought as I reached for my phone.

“I can do that. You want me to call everyone, right? Make arrangements and stuff?”

Mina pursed her lips and finally retracted her hand from my shoulder before nodding. “Please. I need to be surrounded by our friends right now.”

I opened the calendar app, happy to be of help to her during these trying times. “Gotcha. How soon do you want it?”

The hand that had been on my shoulder now firmly grasped at the neckline of her blouse, almost like she was keeping it from choking her. “As soon as possible.”

“Is sometime within the next two weeks fine? I know it might not be as soon as you want it, but…” I tried for a joke, to lighten the mood a little. “You know. Dumb and Dumber need time to prepare a flight from Japan to Korea.”

“It’s great,” Mina replied, a smile—a genuine smile—spreading across her features. As pride surged within me, the clouds behind my friend broke and a ray of sunshine peeked through, providing her momentary respite from the dreariness of the weather. “Thank you, Jeongie.”

 

📄

 

“Hey.”

I looked up from my journal and felt as Daeul rested his chin on my shoulder, his warm breathing tickling me. Even from the corner of my eye I could see the curious glint in his—he’d seen me writing, almost religiously, for the past month and never asked about it, but that day his curiosity won over, if his presence in my room meant anything.

“Oh, hey, what’s up?”

Nothing, he mouthed, his chin digging into my shoulder as he did so. He scanned the writing on the page, saw something interesting and raised his eyebrows, reached over and pointed at the various times I’d written his name. “You’re writing about me?”

“Yeah.” I looked over the page too, noticing his name popped up way more than I’d thought. “And about your mom—well, I’m writing about everyone, I guess. I’m writing down anything I can remember from the past ten years. I’m still on the first year, though. Just finished the part where your mom and I got married. Look—“ I lifted the journal so he could see better, “—you wanted to dance with us, so we carried you as we continued dancing. Do you remember that?”

Daeul lifted his chin and stepped away. I turned to watch and saw him counting on his fingers real quick.

“I was four. No, I don’t remember that.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” I shut the journal after putting my pencil inside to mark my spot. My hand was cramping anyway. “That’s why I’m writing all of this down, so people who forgot can remember now, and so I don’t forget too. Also, I think Grandpa Myoui would like to read it. You know he likes reading and hearing stories about the past.”

Daeul made a funny face and said, “Grandpa called me Junji one time.”

I rubbed my chin, pretending Nayeon hadn't already told me this the night it happened. “Did he? Well, you two don’t look alike at all. Your ears are bigger. Remember, though, Grandpa Myoui’s got memory problems now, so he might do it a lot from now on.”

“Bet he hasn’t called Junji by my name,” Daeul said with a cute little pout.

“I doubt that’s true. He called me Sana last week, so there’s no doubt he’s called your cousin by your name.” My phone buzzed next to me, and I raised it to show Daeul. “Maybe you should ask him! They’ll be here any moment, Dahyun just texted me that they’re here!”

The doorbell rang the moment I finished saying that, and Daeul looked at me with those big eyes of his, excitement evident.

“They’re here! Ask Junji if Grandpa Myoui’s ever called him by your name! Go!”

Daeul dashed out, probably trying to beat Nayeon to the door, but I heard her shriek and knew without a doubt that she dove for it and beat him to opening it.

Suddenly, there was a cacophony of screaming, laughing and excuses. I stepped out of my room and into the hallway and the noise got even louder somehow, with Momo greeting me first.

“Hey, idiot! How’ve you been?” Momo squeezed me with so much force I heard more popping from my back than I’d ever heard from my joints.

“Better without you around to call me an idiot,” I mumbled a little breathlessly, but when she frowned at me, I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Okay! Okay! I missed you! You happy?”

Momo let go and shook her head, her dark hair coming loose from the ponytail she had it in. “Nope! Sounded very insincere. The letters you sent me almost sound like they’re from a completely different person! Where’s the woman who said, quote: ‘Momoring, please come back to Korea, I miss you so much’?”

The conversation was cut short by Jihyo, who stumbled into Momo’s arms because she stepped on someone's shoe. “Hey, Jeong! Good to see you’re still blonde somehow. Those roots are stronger than your joints, huh?”

“Why are you acting like we’ve been apart for years? You saw me yesterday, Hyo,” I laughed, catching sight of Mina stepping out of the mess of bodies. She smiled at me before hopping over Tzuyu’s bag of gifts, so I ripped myself out of Momo’s strangling hold to approach her.

“Hey, Minari.” I spoke quietly to keep from attracting attention to us. “How are you feeling?”

Mina didn’t look at me; I followed her gaze to the sight of Dahyun and Sana hugging it out in my living room. All of our friends were embracing each other, making promises to get together more often over the sounds of squeals and ‘I missed you’s said over and over again.

“I’m feeling better already,” Mina whispered.

At that moment, the rest of my friends all pulled themselves apart to greet me at the same time.

“Whoa, okay, hold on, I know I’m popular but one at a time, please,” I cried out with my arms in a protective stance. I got exaggerated sighs and booing as a response and I think Dahyun even threw a couch pillow at me.

After getting a few head pats from Tzuyu and back-breaking hugs from Sana, Nayeon led us all to the dining room like a pack of kindergartners and sat everyone down in their designated seats.

Now, here’s a secret: Nayeon and I meticulously set up their seating arrangement only hours before, putting them closer or farther to us depending on different variables, such as whether they replied to the group chat, how often they visited and whether they laughed at Nayeon’s memes. It was for fun, not really anything deep, but we were kind of excited to see if anyone noticed the weird seating.

As we sat down, Nayeon elbowed me, her eyes saying it all—‘I can’t wait to see Momo’s face when she realizes she’s dead last.’

Junji was, of course, the closest one to us. He sat to Daeul’s right, because they were best friends first, cousins second. If we sat him even a centimeter farther, Daeul would go nuts.

After Junji would be his mothers. Mina got top spot because Daeul’s love for his favorite aunt Mina never diminished; her constant visits and bright smile made sure that his love for her only grew. When it came to Dahyun, I told my wife that I had to sit her close to us. I was really into gardening at the time and Dahyun was my top supporter, helping me set up the backyard and sometimes even helping me with the gardening itself. The whole project had gone so well, better than I could have imagined, and I knew I couldn’t have done it without Dahyun.

Nayeon and I decided to sit Jihyo near us because we loved her to bits. Gone was the shy girl that gave me a weird first impression; Jihyo and her wife came over so often, the guest room wasn’t even the guest room anymore, it was pretty much Jeonghwa and Jihyo’s room. Those two left their farmhouse every Friday and spent time watching movies or playing games with us. (Unfortunately, that day Jeonghwa couldn’t come, so we had an empty seat next to Jihyo.)

After that were Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, the celebrity couple. Chaeyoung, by that time, was a model for possibly the biggest clothing brand in East and Southeast Asia, putting her face on nearly every billboard and ad space. Tzuyu had started a glassblowing YouTube channel two years prior, and while it had somewhat of a slow start, at some point her videos got so popular that she was constantly on the trending page. Tzuyu made so much money off ad revenue that she started donating 100% of it to humanitarian charities. I personally wanted Chaeyoung and Tzuyu to sit close to us so that their wealth would rub off on us but Nayeon was still mad that Chaeyoung’s contact name for her was “Ancient 👵.”

Sana and Momo sat the farthest away from us, mostly as a jest, a way of grounding them for moving to Japan. We couldn’t really blame them; Sana got so good at Korean that instead of teaching Japanese at a Korean university, she now taught Korean at a Japanese university. Momo would follow Sana to the ends of the Earth, so of course she followed her genius wife to Osaka, where she could easily open up a dance academy of her own. Another reason they were placed so far away was that they were terrible at replying to the group chat; it was the reason I eventually resorted to writing Momo snail mail. At least like that I could get a response, even if it took weeks for a letter to arrive.

It took everyone an hour to start asking why the seating arrangement was the way it was and another two for Nayeon and I to explain in depth why, exactly, Momo was dead last. There was lots of shouting (Momo being the most guilty) and lots of Tzuyu asking if we could please break our record of most-consecutive-minutes-spent-in-silence. Eventually Tzuyu gave up and did that thing where she closes her eyes and meditates to keep from judo-flipping us into submission.

“You’re both horrible,” Momo said before taking another bite of her dessert. “But whatever, the farthest I’m sitting from Jeongyeon, the better.”

“You were crying in the car on the way here because you missed her so much,” Jihyo said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m sick of you two. Can the both of you please just admit that you can’t live without each other so that the rest of us may live our lives peacefully?”

“Not even in her wildest dreams,” Momo said in disgust exactly as I cried out, “Eugh, over my dead body!”

“This is their way of admitting it,” Sana said as she fought a fit of giggles. Ever the observant one, Sana saw Tzuyu fidgeting before anyone else. “Oh? Chaengie and Tzuyu look like they want to say something.”

“We have the invitations printed and ready,” Tzuyu said sourly, “but I wanted to show them to you when the commotion died down.”

“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead and tell us. We’re all ears,” Mina said on behalf of all of us. She looked around as if to ask, we’ll all behave for them, right guys? We all nodded, which satisfied Tzuyu enough to earn us a smile.

Despite the excitement that buzzed around the room, we managed to keep our volume at a Tzuyu-and-Daeul acceptable level when Tzuyu pulled out the wedding invitations. They were a simple but gorgeous cream color with a small photograph of Chaeyoung and Tzuyu looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. It came as no surprise to hear that it was Tzuyu’s idea to add the photo, being the cheeseball she is.

“Tzuyu,” Nayeon sniffled as she held our invitation to her chest. “As your best friend in the entire world, will I be sitting next to you at the wedding? It’s only customary for the bride to seat her best friend next to her.” She batted her eyelashes for effect, something that never worked on Tzuyu.

“Are you really asking such a bold question when you seated us across the room from you?”

 

🌕

 

Nayeon pulled the sheets up to her chin and sighed deeply, letting the tiredness slip away with it.

“Whew. Damn. We’re old huh?” She asked as she snuggled closer to me. “We can’t party like we used to.”

“We?” I put my glasses down on the table next to me. “Please speak for yourself. I'm not quite that old yet. Talk to me in a year, when I’m your age.”

Nayeon harrumphed and wrapped her arms around me in protest. “Jeong, tonight I heard your joints pop more than I heard Chaeyoung tell us she loves Tzuyu. And it was their wedding day. You can’t tell me that it was the wooden table groaning—I’ve been married to you for ten years now, I could recognize the sound of your joints anywhere.”

Instead of giving her the satisfaction of knowing she was right, I quickly switched the subject.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmm. Nice topic change. But fine, I’ll humor you since I know I’m right.” She hummed again before answering. “How am I feeling..? About the wedding? Or about Sana and Momo coming back?”

“Both.”

Nayeon snorted. “The wedding was great, of course. Jihyo is probably the best wedding planner there is. Tzuyu and Chaeyoung took a while, but I’m happy to see them married. And well, you saw me cry when Sana told me they’re coming back.”

“I did. I even took some pictures.”

“No way! I must’ve looked awful. I got tear stains all over Momoring’s dress.”

“Yes way! I thought you looked cute! I’ll show you all the pics I took tomorrow. I’m too warm to move right now.” I snuggled deeper into the bed to prove my point.

“Gotcha.”

Just when I thought that was the end of the conversation, Nayeon shuffled even closer and threw a leg over my waist.

“Hey. Did I ever tell you that you guys are the best thing that ever happened to me?” she asked, her voice soft and airy, the way it got when she said cute, cheesy things. “You, Daeul, our best friends. The best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You haven’t. But you don’t need to,” I said, stifling a yawn. Nayeon being impossibly close meant more warmth, more comfort; dangerous stuff when you’re having a conversation at one in the morning. “I can see it in your eyes. In your smile. I also love them, you know. I’m glad we’re all still friends after so many years.”

Nayeon made a happy sound and buried her head into my chest. Her voice came out muffled when she said, “Okay but. Am I the best thing though?”

“What?”

“Am I the number one best thing that’s ever happened to you?” The question came with a little squeeze.

I rolled my eyes, but it was dark and she couldn’t see me when she had her head buried like that anyway. “Let’s sleep.”

“Jeongyeonnie. Am I your number one?

“Oh god, Nayeon, you know you are. I tell you every day!”

“It's not enough,” she whined. “I wanna hear it again. Tell me I’m your number one.”

I let out a big sigh, but I made sure to say it with a smile so she could at least hear it in my voice.

“You’re my number one, Nayeon.”

“Goodnight, I love you,” Nayeon finally said, and pretended to snore, as if me saying that was all she needed to sleep.

I could feel her face heating up, though, meaning she really really liked hearing it, and I decided not to end it there. There was a very particular phrase that always drove her crazy…

“You really are my number one,” I whispered. “Goodnight, Nayeon. I love you.”