Italics = In Korean

I feel grateful to my brain for letting me learn an entire language in a month and a half. It’s a miracle, truthfully, as I can actually speak more fluently in the Korean language than Spanish now despite the fact that I’ve been learning the latter since first grade. Maybe this is a sign from my late linguist mother telling me to do well in life, but who really knows?

“I think she likes you!”

“Hey!”

My train of thoughts screech to a stop as extravagantly loud laughter invades the quiescence, making even Mr Hwang burst out laughing, an infectious laugh as they call it. The tallest of the lot rubs her arm while making absurd faces at the much shorter girl, albeit not too short as I am the same height as she is.

I know that they’re talking about me as an earlier incident still remains in my head. Right as I was about to measure Tiffany Hwang, my hand, unintentionally, d her. Funny thing is, I don’t really know why they’re assuming that I’m fond of her. Wouldn’t they have called the police if they knew I had intentionally ‘felt’ her?

“That picture of you is very pretty though, no wonder!”

Tiffany’s hands instantly went together, clapping and clapping as she laughed like a little girl would. In spite of my aching knees from kneeling down to measure them, I manage to jump up, excuse myself and sprint to the bathroom. Cold water meets my face, a cooling sensation lowers my temperature though it doesn’t have an effect on my red cheeks. How can these appealing girls actually live together in one dorm without doing something together? And here I am, blushing.

“Hehe! Are you okay?”

It’s been a month since a ‘Valley-girl’ accent greeted my ears. Surprisingly, even though she’s been in Korea for about ten years, the accent’s as thick as that of y valley girls on those American TV shows. I wonder if she is one of those people when I get to talk to her one-on-one.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Lies.

Looking up at the mirror again, I see her approaching, her serious yet somehow warm aura still in place. With a single touch on my shoulder, my body heats up and it seems as if the cold water droplets that once were hanging on my chin had evaporated, with just that touch. Nevertheless, I am not bewildered nor assured that I have a ‘crush’ on her, having been practically isolated for more than half of my life plays a part in this.

“It’s seems like you’re blushing though.”

She lets her hand run along my neck to my jaw and finally to my cheek.

“And, you’re heating up. Oh yeah, that blush is coming back too.”

My tensed muscles try to obstruct me from taking her hand, but with sheer force, I do so. With that startled look on her face, it was hard not to let my grip loosen and fortunately I did. Otherwise, she could’ve sued me for battery or assault. I blame both my iron grip and my sudden burst of impulse. Guilt grips me and squeezes me tightly, as if trying to push me to apologise. I comply, of course.

“Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. I’ve just-“

“I get it, you’re just shy. But I can’t blame you, if a stranger had caressed me, I would’ve been shy too.” Well then why did you do it to me?

Her shoulders go up and down as she makes her way to the other sink, beside me.

“You know, judging from what you’ve said earlier, I can tell that you’re a very humble celebrity.”

“How so?”

“When you said that you knew I was just shy, I thought that you’re going to say something along the lines of ‘because someone as beautiful as I can definitely melt anyone’s heart’.”

I don’t know if it’s her thing but she covers , laughs and claps, just like she did before. Her legs carelessly go back and back even more until she hits the wall on the other side. She brings her hand in front of her face and yelps.  Oh God no.

“Ouch!”

Having no other choice, I dash to her and check up on her. You know, in case she tries to sue me for a ‘witnessed near-death experience and eventually doing nothing to help’ kind of crime.

“What’s wrong?”

She holds up her pinky finger and shoves it right in front of my eyes.

“Huh?”

“I think I broke it!” It doesn’t seem possible.

“God.”

“Hey! It’s not funny!” Oh well.

“Fine, I’ll help you.”

Of the little times that I’ve ever ran a long distance in my life, this has got to be for the most stupid cause. It’s a pinky! A finger that we barely even use! And yet, I’m checking every room in this amazing maze of a building for a first-aid kit. Is she even bleeding? It might probably heal by the time I find one of those white boxes.

“Yah, what are you doing there? Trying to find a way out? Your friends are already off work, they’ve exited the building about ten minutes ago.”

I turn around and find Taeyeon right there, wearing those black, frayed shorts of hers that make her legs seem longer than usual. It’s actually quite astounding that such a powerful voice can come from something that tiny. Not to offend her, of course. From what I’ve encountered earlier, she’s quite defensive.

“No, I’m just trying to find a first-aid kit for…Tiffany…”

“First-aid kit? What has she got herself into this time?”

She crosses her arms and questions me. Or perhaps she is the y one!

“She broke her finger when she tripped backwards and hit herself against the bathroom wall.”

As in the countless videos I’ve seen of her, her ‘ahjumma’ laugh revealed itself to me. But seeing the pure form of cluelessness labelled all over my face, she composed herself and walked closer towards me. Her hands slid into her jacket’s front pockets though I don’t know if it was done unconsciously or deliberately. That baby-doll face is comparable to a mask; it hides what is underneath, the true Taeyeon. My colleagues have encountered a good amount of rumours about her attitude, saying that Taeyeon’s personality on screen might not be parallel to what it is in reality.

“The first-aid kit’s just outside the restroom, didn’t you notice? Unless you were planning on doing something else…”

If I have nothing particularly sinister schemed in my head, why do I feel cornered? My nose gets a tingling sensation, no, I’m not going to get sensitive over this situation. Feeling the dryness in my throat, I gulp. I just hope that’ll help me gulp down my sensitivity as well. I can’t just tear up in front of her. God, the times when I thought she was as innocent as an angel…Yes, I do have a girl crush on her.

“What? Gulping? That won’t help at all if I find the dirt in you. That is, if there is that little stain, if not, well sorry for wasting your time here.”

Her anger makes her look hot though. She walks into the light, that is, the other side of the corridor. The only thing I can do right now is to look up at the stainless ceiling. A sigh leaves my mouth, yet reaches the eardrums of that ‘angel’.

“Yah! Just daydreaming? Fix Tiffany up, will you?”

Scared to say anything else in absolute fear, I flee. The one good thing is that I won’t have to listen to Taeyeon’s upcoming reprimanding. I can hear her voice, that one voice that I remember hearing into the night, spouting uncontrollable words followed by nearly silent cusses. Her voice, I don’t think I’ll be able to liken it to a lullaby anymore.

I don’t bother looking at my watch; all I know is that I’ve been taking too long to find a decent first aid kit for Tiffany. Being back at the bathroom, or at least near where Tiffany is, gives me a sense of relief and safety. It’s funny; I’m speaking as if Kim Taeyeon is the Devil from the eighth hell. Now I might have been so blind before, that I couldn’t even spot that hilariously big red cross on the kit. Well what’s done is done, all I have to do now is to help Tiffany.

Unclasping the kit, I see red appearing on my fingers probably from the immeasurable force I used to take the thing off the wall. I let my shoulder push against the door and heave the heavy kit into the restroom while Tiffany lunges over to my side. As she holds up her pinky finger yet again, I see the swelling has doubled up. It almost looks like an abnormally grown chilli, mainly because no other words can describe how red that finger is compared to the rest.

“It hurts…”

“Yeah, sorry about taking too long.”

First, I open the first aid kit and take out a metal finger splint. I thank my doctor sister for teaching me about that trick, though. Then, I take out a bottle of painkillers and offer one to her.

“Thanks,” she says with a pout.

I try to limit my blushing but it is unbearable now as she pulls me into an embrace. Now this, this is worth that hell-like incident. Blushing is as unbearable as the tears that stream down my cheeks. I admit that this is one of the worst times that I’ve cried in my life. Standing in front of a superstar, crying, it’s ludicrous. It’s obvious to her that I’m weeping, so will she think that I’m one of those stereotypical fan girls?

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t really know why. These eyes just leak tears like no tomorrow.”

I blew it.

“Oh, so you’re highly sensitive? No wonder…”

This scenario is basically a nightmare. After years of trying to hide the fragile me, I just blew my cover just because of this celebrity I’ve only met today. I wouldn’t let bullies or corporate giants or roughly anyone break down my walls, but she just did. I hate how I’m different. If I were less sensitive, I wouldn’t be stuck in this situation that I’m i-

“But why did you cry? Is it because you’re in love with me?”

She pokes my cheek. She’s teasing me…

“No. I guess I’m just…not used to hugs.”

She raises her brow.

“Aww…Poor Jessie…”

And she gives me another hug which I refuse solemnly with a little push although that nearly trifling intimacy made me feel a little better.

“How do you know my name?”

It’s not like I ever introduced myself to any of them and neither did any of my workmates tell them my name, nor did they even mention their own names.

“My uncle told me about you and how you came all the way from America, just like me.”

“Does your uncle tell you everything that happens to him each day?”

She looks into my eyes and smirks playfully while she shuffles closer to the restroom’s exit, yet still keeps her eyes on mine.

“He tells me just enough, Jess. Now come on, it’s getting late.”

Watching her fingers wrap around the handle, I move closer and take control of the handle. She swirls around and gives me a look.

“You don’t want to hurt your finger any further than this, right?”

I open the door and let her pass through before I do. Mouthing ‘thanks’, she rushes to their practice room and leaves me in disbelief. Is this considered an impolite goodbye? Well, nothing else I can do. I shrug as I amble to the elevator. I just felt a brief sense of disappointment and a tiny pain in my chest, but it’ll be gone soon.

The annoying ‘ding’ of the elevator went off once I had hit the button to go to the first floor. My view gets occupied by the deeply unappealing grey metal walls. To my pleasure, greenery, that is a potted plant, welcomes me to level one. Not caring any less, I stroll out the building feeling a little more freedom in me. Or perhaps I feel lighter now. Has history repeated itself? And how can that be? Nonetheless, I trudge on.

“Ugh.”

On the other hand, my hunger overpowers any sort of willpower to get home. It’s either eating some damned street food or nothing. It’s not like I have something against street food, it’s just that most store owners are grumpy during the night. Just one false move and they’ll force you to clean your own plate or even take your own food. It’s shockingly true. I can’t blame them though; they’ve been manning their stores since the early morning.

As my favourite street food is ddeok kochi, I travelled all the way to Mister Grumpy voice’s store. His name was created by a bunch of teenagers and I think that it suits him perfectly. Not counting the fact that it has no finesse to it. And as always, he sits there, fanning himself, his beady eyes watching my every move.

“Yes?”

“Two sticks of ddeok kochi please.”

He pulls a paper bag out of a container and drops two sticks of the spicy food in it. He then hands it to me and motions for the money like an expecting loan shark. I reach into my pocket with mildy trembling hands under the pressure of his judging eyes. You know what? Never mind, I’m a dead woman. I’m dead, I’m dead and lastly, I’m dead.

“Oh…I…”

“You what?”

“I…I think I left my things back at-“

“What did you say?!”

He pulls my shirt’s collar and tugs me right in front of him. Those eyes stare me down, they make me feel so tiny, so insignificant. I shudder and feel this weird sensation in me, as if I’m about to die, again.  I know that it is not possible but this…this is terrorising me.

“You little rascal!”

My mind’s reeling, swirling, going crazy as I close my eyes, the last picture I see is of that fist. Awaiting the incoming impact is just too much. But-

It should’ve hit me by now. Am I really, truthfully dead? I’m too scared to look. Well that defeats the purpose of being dead, I’m still thinking.

“Don’t do that to the girl, I’ve left my things in all sorts of places before. Just let her wash your containers. Don’t wreak havoc.”

Opening my eyes, an elderly lady comes into view. She bears an oddly sweet smile and she might actually be Mister Grumpy voice’s wife. She doesn’t seem to be a Missus Grumpy voice, though.  At least I hope so. It’s amazing how he could get such a woman and I’m still single.

“Yah, you heard her, get to it!”

He pushes me to the sink. There, I did as I was told. I scrub and scrub as I watch the couple talk about their day and, not surprisingly, how much the store had made for the week. I do give credit to him though, these stains are hard to get off, or maybe it’s because I got used to using a dish washer now. I used to be able to get tough grime off of things without a sweat when I was in the States, but now, I guess working in Korea for a famous company has gotten to me.

I have changed in a few aspects, I admit that. I admit that I have shifted to a more ‘luxurious’ lifestyle compared to my older one. Wow, it’s been how long? One and a half months since I left (insert town name here). Yes, that measly length of time and still, I’m starting to miss home a little even though it’s crap.

“Hey, what’re you doing here? Washing dishes for Mister Grumpy voice?”

The girl who made me cry has come back.

“Why did you come here?”

“You’re so stupid, Jessi. But I’ll forgive your stupidity. Sometimes, I just leave my huge bag around and not even realize it as well. In fact, sometimes I non-intentionally leave my brain at the dorm and forget about it. What did I just say? Never mind, ignore the last line.”

Ignoring her blatant sarcasm and sudden dose of nonsense, I look down at my soap-covered hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold it. I’d probably spoil it in the process of doing so.”

“Come.”

Tiffany takes the sponge from my hand and scrubs those Tupperware down two times the speed that I did. For someone with such a high status as her, that’s very impressive. Then again, her friend could catch chickens.

“For a singer, you’re really good at this.”

Accidentally, I let that slip out. She scoffs and looks at me with an expression of complete disapproval which I shamelessly disregard. My guilt might build up a little bit, but I don’t want my mood to go completely sour tonight.

“Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes, she throws the sponge at me. It lands perfectly onto my shirt, staining it and most likely costing me five dollars at the laundry mat to remove it.

“Hey!”

“You get what you deserve. Ahjussi, we’re going now! We’ve finished washing all your containers!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Goodbye, Mister Grumpy voice!”

That was quite a fatal move as he punches his fist into the air, threatening and warning us to never come to his store again lest we suffer dire consequences. Tiffany and I run for it, it being my home. And I have no idea why she is following me. I halt to turn around and question her, but something else got in my way of asking her that certain question.

“Ow…”

She groans and moans as a result of her washing those containers. I should’ve remembered right then and there, but somehow I forgot that she had broken her finger despite that having been my greatest challenge for the day.

“Does it hurt a lot? We can go to the doctor’s.”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. Clearly she’s in great pain and doesn’t want me to be troubled by her needs.

“If you really say so.”

I try not to interfere with other people’s decisions as much as possible and I see that she’s still contented despite the agony considering the genuine smile of hers.

“Yeah.”

“Oh and why are you following me back home?”

A long pause follows wherein she glances from left to right, a little bit stupefied.

“Oh. I don’t really know.”

“Well then…”

She shyly looks down and bites her pink lip yet again.

“Well then, bye.”

As if a gun had been fired, her head goes up fast and a shade of pink settles on her cheeks. She manages to crack a smile and I do the same, my hand lifting up and waving to her. Seeing me wave, she lifts her undamaged hand and bids me goodbye.

“Bye,” she says in an insanely sweet voice.

She turns back and wanders back to the SM building.

After a while, I realize that my hand is still up. It feels a little hard to say goodbye to her for some reason. I’m just bad at letting go. She’s not that y after all, in fact, she’s as sweet as honey.

***