_____________________

          _____________________

Lucille was nowhere near a type-A personality, but she hated distractions. Especially when she was in the middle of a class.

She had a sixty-minute window to go over things like perspective and the elements and principles of design but the moment her class of elderly folk saw who their teacher was, suddenly art became the least interesting thing in the room.

The routine was always the same but with different faces: She’d enter the small space at the local community center. They’d notice. She’d introduce herself as the newest art teacher and then a slew of questions would come flying much faster than she could ever hope to catch them. After the sixth class, Lucille decided to take matters into her own hands and beat them to the punch.

‘Yes, I lived a good portion of my life in the States, but I am no foreigner.’

‘Thank you. I speak Korean so well probably because my father was Korean.’

‘Yes, my hair is naturally this curly.’

‘No, I have no reason to lie about being Korean.’

‘I think my weight and dark skin are just fine. Thank you. Shall we begin?’

After about twenty minutes, their curiosity was satiated just enough for Lucille to pull the focus back to art.  Sometimes they’d throw in a quip about Lucille being very talented and how surprising that was – whatever that meant – but it usually ended there.

When she saw the familiar figure looming in the back of the classroom, dark brown eyes similar to her own, watching her intently, Lucille’s mood instantly soured. She made every effort to reel her mood back into a more positive one but every time she made eye contact with her Aunt Hyori, her stomach did flips. Why was she here? They hadn’t spoken since she moved out in May.  Was there bad news? Did she come here to judge Lucille and criticize the way she taught? Lucille couldn’t shake the feeling off, so she made an excuse and ended the class early. She could hear mumbles about not getting their money’s worth, but Lucille ignored it. They were the ones who spent the first half of the class asking pointless questions, after all.

“Nice class you have here.” Hyori approached Lucille with crossed arms and an uninterested face, betraying her earlier statement. “Is this what you’ve been doing since you moved out?”

“Well, I have to make money somehow,” Lucille replied, cleaning the random paintbrushes that were left out.

“I thought you did freelance design.”

“I do that too,” Lucille stopped, looking up at her aunt. “Did you only come here to watch my class?”

Hyori, as beautiful as ever, flipped her long brunette locks off her shoulder and behind her back. Today, she was wearing a grey pantsuit paired with a baroque-style blazer, which meant she had probably come to the community center straight from work. Most people never guessed Hyori was a lawyer thanks to her beauty and Lucille always thought that a small part of Hyori relished that fact. Hyori began following Lucille, helping her clean up. “No, I came here to see how you were doing …”

There was something else. “And?” Lucille asked.

“And … to talk about umma’s house.”

Lucille paused at the mention of her grandmother’s house. “What about it? I thought we both agreed that we were going to renovate it and use it as a vacation home.”

“We did,” Hyori replied. “But you have no money. How are we supposed to renovate with no money.”

Hyori wasn’t wrong. Lucille was barely getting by. But she had hoped Hyori would front the money and Lucille could pay her back a little at a time. It was unfair, she knew that. She made the mistake of assuming Hyori would just pay. She should have known better – her grandmother taught her better. “I don’t know,” Lucille answered honestly. “I can pay you back if you just give me a little time.”

Hyori sighed. “Luci, honey, I think it’s better if we just sell the house as is and split the money.”

“No,” Lucille blurted the word out before Hyori could even finish her sentence. “I told Grandma that I would keep that house for her. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“The only way I won’t sell the house is if you buy me out,” Hyori replied quietly but there was venom behind her words.

That angered Lucille. Hyori knew she couldn’t buy her out. Still, Lucille gritted her teeth and said, “How much?”

Hyori went into the small Gucci bag she was carrying and pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding it in between her index and middle finger, motioning for Lucille to take it. Lucille scoffed. Of course, Hyori would have already written it down. She found it to be “classless” to talk numbers in public.

Lucille took it, opened it, and all but gasped at the numbers scrawled across it. “This is more than half! Grandma left that house to both of us.”

“Yes, you’re buying me out, Luci. I’m going to need more than what I’m owed,” Hyori said. Luci’s nostrils flared and Hyori shook her head, putting her hands up as if she were surrendering. “Luci let’s just sell the house and you can move back in with me until you get back on your feet. My spare bedroom is still available.”

Lucille closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No,” she said quietly. “I will find a way to get you the money. How much time do I have?”

Hyori sighed. “You have six months.”

“Six months it is.”

“Lucille, I think you’re being unreasonable.”

“And I think you’re being crass,” Lucille snapped.

Hyori looked as if she wanted to bite back but chose not to. She shook her head and her head fell, her eyes to the ground. Her lips formed into a thin line. “I’ll call you later this week.”  She began towards the exit but paused at the doorframe. “Happy Birthday, Lucille.”

Lucille watched Hyori leave, feeling a bubble of frustration rise inside of her until it burst and produced tears. She was a crier, always had been, but she’d be damned if she cried in front of her aunt. She was already the family member they treated like a leech, she refused to add ‘crybaby’ to her repertoire as well.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

She decided to walk home. A cab would cost money and as of right now, she needed to save up all the money she could if she was going to buy her grandmother’s house.  Thankfully, the chill of autumn had settled over Seoul in the last few weeks as September charged forward. The leaves hadn’t changed colors quite yet, but Lucille was thankful the heatwave of the summer was gone. In the sky, however, grey clouds began to gather, covering up the setting sun.

Lucille took her phone out of her tote bag, dialing up her landlord. Maybe if she explained her situation, Mrs. Seong would give her some time to come up with her rent for the month and she could use the money she had been saving as a down payment for her aunt. That way her aunt would know she was serious about buying the house.  The phone rang a total of five times before Lucille hung up.  She decided to text her. She was just about to hit ‘send’ when a body slammed into her, causing her to fall on the sidewalk face first.

A male voice began to blurt out apologies as a warm, thick, liquid poured out of her nostrils.

The stranger knelt beside her, still uttering apologies. “I am so sorry,” the deep voice said. “Let me help you.”

That voice. She recognized it. She had heard it just a few months ago at the airport. Lucille took the hand of the stranger, pushing herself up out of the ground, and looked into the face of the man who was responsible for her now bleeding nose.

Taehyung.

She gently touched her nose, wincing at the pain surging through her face. “Of course, it would be you knocking me down. You couldn’t stop at ruining my life, you had to ruin my nose too.”  Taehyung frowned, almost wincing at her words. Her belly ached with guilt seeing his reaction. Quickly, she offered an apology. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. My nose just really ing hurts.” She forced a laugh trying to fight the tears welling up in her eyes. The pain certainly wasn’t anything to cry over but the pressure her nose felt