He swooped down, fast like an eagle claiming his prey, a smug smirk tugging the corners of his lips. Somewhere, through a muffled veil, he heard his daughter squeal in embarrassment and he let out a shiver of a laugh that vibrated through the pits of his stomach when he felt his wife jerk back in surprise.

“Yes,” he replied, the word sounding perfectly normal to his Korean ears but seemed to be a term that befuddled the natives. “One basket of golden, fried, battered fish, of 2 cods and one hoki please, along with the chips.”

He watched as the brows of the seemingly untrained counter girl knitted together in strange concentration as her lids blinked quickly and randomly as through she needed that extra strength to understand his perfectly trained English.

Beside him, his wife tried to hold her snicker in with little success as the daughter that she was carrying became interested in the cheap plastic figure of a fish that was far too happy for one who was supposed to encourage consumption of his kind. To him, that figure was a mirror of sadistic pleasure found from advocating cannibalism. And he wasn’t sure if it was allowing his daughter to play with it was advisable.

“So, two cods and one hoki along with chips, sir?” the girl before the cash register repeated with a heavy accent while rapidly punching the keys on the machine before her with a terribly manicured finger. He attempted to reply but the boy in his arms seemed to dislike the idea tremendously and was smacking his mouth with his tiny hand repeatedly. Thus, he only nodded.

“So HyungWoo,” his wife scolded and took the naughty hand in her larger one.

“That will be thirty dollars sir, thank you very much,” the disagreeable girl smiled at him. He shifted his son to his right arm and rested his heavy bottom on his waist, doing a balancing act as he reached deep within his jeans pocket to fish (no pun intended) for his magical wallet of cards and cash.

His wife walked over to his other side and scooped the wriggling mass of discontent away from him, freeing him from the one whom he loved but exasperated him the most.

He turned his head and saw them walk out the door and into the sunlit jetty, the light bathing them, cleaning them free from the miserable darkness of the dingy little shop.

Absentmindedly, he took his receipt and change and murmured a non-committal word of thanks and sent a half-hearted smile at the young lady before turning and following them out.

Breathing in the fresh salt-scented sea breeze, he revelled in the way the welcomed sunrays hit him like a blast of cold water in sweltering heat as it popped the bubble of oil and smoke that had formed around him, wind weaving through the thin fabrics of his almost-tight-fitting shirt. He scanned the numerous picnic benches that lined the mock-jetty, his eyes easily passing by couples sipping from the same drink, young, y teenaged girls clad in nothing but the tinniest of bikinis (he gulped though) sitting together with half- sun-baked boys and families of screaming children and mothers. Soon enough, he spotted them, his family, his girl playing with her Samsung Galaxy Note 2 and his boy clawing at his mother like some kitten on drugs.

“So HyungWoo,” he sighed, lifting the super-active child high and away from his mother. And while the little squirt wailed, there he saw, right before his eyes, his love, his darling, still beautiful and enchanting, in all her mangled glory.

She laughed lightly and brushed away the messy strands of hair that had been pulled out of her hastily tied pony tail while he dealt with the squirming little idiot.

“What is wrong with you, boy,” So YiJeong huffed.

“I’m hungwy!” he screamed, as though he doubted his father’s auditory capabilities.

“Can’t you wait for five minutes? Food takes time to cook, stupid.”

“So HanYoung, don’t call your brother stupid. Apologise.” Chu GaEul ordered.

“Sorry that your learning capabilities are not as strong as mine,” the young girl chirped, tongue in cheek.

“HanYoung!”

“Sorry.”

YiJeong sat his son right beside him, admonishing him about his previous conduct. So HyungWoo sat still, his little arms propping up his fat cheeks as his elbows rested against the table. His faced scrunched up in the frowniest-frown ever, his mouth pouting with the intensity of all the displeasure his three-year-old body could muster.

GaEul looked exasperatingly at her son, only to look up straight into the eyes of the bigger version.

“Chu GaEul, why did you have to turn our second honeymoon into a family vacation?” those eyes questioned her.

“Why not?” hers fired back.

“Appa! I got through level thirty five of candy crush!” a little girl’s voice broke their connection.

“Cool,” he simply replied as she waved her newest gadget around.

GaEul smiled and turned to look at the sparkling clear waters of the Pacific Ocean, under which lied a wonder of immense diversity and harmony that was visible from the top. Waves rode the surface like running mice under Persian silk, only frothing with bubbles when they crashed into statues of hard, dead corals. Red, yellow, orange, green, pink, blue, grey, turquoise flashes of colour darted through similarly colourful hiding places. As she looked under her feet, just between the weathered boards, she saw the same rippling clear glass hiding waving, green seaweed behind it, it’s brilliance only barely dimmed by shadows of the boardwalk.

She closed her eyes and smelled the familiar salt-ish smell that seemed to ade every sea, though today’s was a little different. Today’s smelt of fried fish, charming teenaged girls raging with hormones and hunk-a-dory buff guys. There was a tinge of healthy perspiration mixed in that cacophony of olfactory crowd and there was the woody smell of the boardwalk, a pinch of paint, someone’s fart (she gagged) and live mussels and clam chowder.

Then someone’s familiar hand took hers  and as she was about to open her eyes and smile at him in contented happiness,  a shadow cast over her, its appearance visible even through her closed lids.

“Sir, your fish and chips,” A young male voice travelled to her ears. “Enjoy your meal.”

She opened her eyes just in time to see the love of her life passing the guy some tip and utter a heavily accented “thanks”.

And she snickered, again. She couldn’t help it!

“Yah, is your English that good?” he retorted, irritated, his demeanour changing in an instant.

“Yes, yes it is,” she laughed openly at him. “At least I can speak better than you, oh you ShinHwa-trained elite.”

“FWOOD!” their three-year-old announced with incredible fervour as he charged headfirst for the basket of golden-brown steaming hot fish.

“Ow, ow!” he soon complained.

“HyungWoo, use your fork and knife,” YiJeong said, passing him a pair of plastic, disposable cutleries.

“Ha! If you’re so good, why don’t you try!” YiJeong retorted back at his wife once his son was settled and happy.

“Oh don’t you cry later, So YiJeong,” she challenged.

“Really now, boys can be such a handful, don’t you think?” she turned to a Caucasian lady sitting at the next table and asked casually, her words thick with that English accent that So YiJeong hated because he couldn’t copy as accurately.

“Why yes, they are. Michael, SIT DOWN!” she hollered at a young kid circling their bench. “Well, I must say that you’ve done well with yours.”

“Well… it took a lot of work,” GaEul laughed. “And he still rushes head first into food like a Viking.”

“Boys,” the other mother laughed. “I don’t think you can take it out of them. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking back then.”

So YiJeong sat at his spot, stewing in irritation, poking his fish over and over again with his fork, as if it caused and owed him a lifetime’s worth of grievance.

“So HanYoung, stop playing and eat your food,” he snipped.

He saw his daughter pass him a displeased look and his wife smirking at his expense.

“Well, we just have to deal with it,” she laughed, still talking to the Australian with her perfect English accent.

“You’re from Korea, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Wow, you speak English very well.”

“I learnt well, ha ha.”

“Hope to see you in Korea, if I ever survive long enough to go there,” the other mother joked. “Michael, really now!”

“You are so very welcomed to come!”

Chu GaEul turned back to face her husband with a triumphant grin, laughing inside at his indignity.

“So? Mr So?”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

Of all things; he was talented in pottery, talented in sweet-talk and even talented in finance and management but his ancestors could not be considerate enough to gift him with a talent in languages and auditory and oratory accuracy.

“HA! Remember that time you were trying to sweet talk the Caucasian waitress in English at that high class restaurant? It was so awkward! Ha ha ha!”

YiJeong himself cringed at the memory. Why must this woman discolour his beautiful memory with her reality?

“Oh high-class education and private tutors,” she poked some more.

“Shut up,” YiJeong muttered.

“Oooh, appa said shut up,” HyungWoo accused.

“Sorry,” YiJeong muttered.

“Extensive lessons and countless meetings with foreigners,” GaEul continued.

YiJeong rolled his eyes.

“And they all can’t beat cheap, good constant radio play,” GaEul concluded.

“Happy Valentine’s day! Would you like to buy some roses for these special ladies here?” A cheerful teenage blond suddenly stood before their table, dressed in all-pink with a basketful of pink roses to go with it.

He saw HanYoung eye those sweet-smelling flowers and so he bought two, making three people happy.

“Really GaEul-yang,” he sighed as he passed a rose to her. “Must you make fun of me like that on Valentine’s day?”

GaEul reached out a hand to cup his cheek in hers, feeling slightly guilty for repeatedly poking his sore point.

“Why’s this day any different from the rest?” she asked, smiling.

“Everyday’s Valentine’s day when I’m with you.”

He saw that gleam of playfulness her eyes betrayed and he decided to do unto her what she did to him.

He half-stood and leaned across the table, over the fish and chips and kissed her full on the lips, in public, in the middle of a huge crowd of people.

He smirked as heat from her cheeks passed the small distance between them to his and leaned forward even more when she attempted to break off. He knew she was embarrassed with PDA, but he didn’t care and continued his way, the wonders of the Great Barrier Reef beneath his feet and cool sea breeze dancing around them both.