“Dennis honey, did you know that this nice boy over here speaks English, Korean,andJapanese?” the family’s elderly matriarch exclaimed, having stopped at the register on her way out. “We’re hosting another exchange student for the summer, see? She’s from Kyoto and needed help ordering. Thank goodness he offered to help.”
The exchange student waved enthusiastically at Eunjae. Eunjae waved back.
“I didnotknow that, Mrs. Garza,” admitted Denny, “but it’s very valuable information.”
“You should give him a raise. He didn’t even blink when she started crying on him.” Mrs. Garza motioned for Denny to lend her an ear. “Rina’s feeling homesick. And her boyfriend sounds like an ass.”
Denny’s laser beam vision hit Eunjae right between the eyes as soon as the Garza family filed out of the restaurant. “So, Mystery Ryan. You’re fluent in three languages.”
“Um, and conversational in two more.”
“Which ones?”
Eunjae gulped. “Mandarin. And Thai.” He could also articulate the phraseWe belong to our fansin about ten more languages, but sharing this would require him to provide an explanation.
“Interesting.”
“Ryan,” hissed Jeannie, popping out of the kitchen. “Why was that girl crying into your apron? Auntie Lizzie thinks it’s ‘cause she asked you to marry her and you said no —”
“Insubordination! Back to work, Vho!”
The rest of the day flew by. Eunjae wiped down tables and washed dishes, knowing all the while that this was exactly the kind of job his parents never wanted him to have. They would deride it as a waste of the gifts he'd been given, according to their estimation: his height, his looks, his voice.
Make something of yourself. As if they’d ever trusted Eunjae to handle this monumental task. Leila had been set on dragging him into stardom since he was six years old, even if he went kicking and screaming. His father was less invested but also disinterested in opposing her. Simon echoed everything his wife said.
It wasn't until late in the afternoon that he had a moment to wonder: if this became his daily existence, would he grow weary of being Eunjae just as he'd grown so deeply weary of being Ari? From where he stood right now, it didn’t seem likely. But before he could even begin to dig deeper into that question, it was crucial to sort out whatbeing Eunjaeentailed. Who was this person he had only just begun to embody? In which direction was he headed? Every time he thought the answer was within his reach, doubt came sailing in.
These worries threw their long shadows across Eunjae’s path as he followed Jiyeon and Mr. Han up and down the aisles of a grocery store after work. They'd been sent to stock up on milk and coffee filters, vanilla ice cream by the gallon tub and many, many cartons of eggs. While Mr. Han went off on a quest for steel-cut oats, Jiyeon pushed the cart into the produce section.
“What did you do today?” Eunjae asked her. All the pondering had worn him out. He needed a break.
Jiyeon rearranged egg cartons to make room for a veritable bushel of bananas. “Hmm. I thought of you, actually.”
He froze, one milk carton in each hand. “Is that good or bad?”
“Oh, pretty bad,” she teased him, laughing. “Someone came in for a color correction this afternoon. They'd tried to go from brunette to platinum and it was a disaster. Took me hours to fix. It made me think about your silver hair, you know? Since I won't be able to cope if you do that a second time.”
Eunjae had to laugh, too. “I won't.”
“You'd better not.”
“I'm never changing my hair again. This is it.”
Jiyeon relieved him of the milk cartons, continuing her game of shopping cart Tetris. “Same haircut ‘til you're eighty, then? That's the plan?”
He pulled his mask down for three seconds, just so she could see that he was serious. “That's the plan.”
“I’d tell you to make an appointment, but Olivia would just pressure me to sell you twenty bottles of volumizing spray that won’t even work very well.” She rolled her eyes. “And when I refuse, like I always do, she’ll make a big deal out ofnotgiving me any silly trophies, bouquets, or medals.”
“Hold on. That’s why you don’t have any at your station?”
“Uh-huh. She really wants us selling, selling, selling. I won’t do it. I've had enough of that for one lifetime.” Jiyeon sighed. “I feel bad for Olivia sometimes, to be honest. I’m… really not what she expected.”
He wondered what she meant by that, but it would have to wait. This conversation topic had reminded Eunjae of something he wanted to show her. He pulled it up on his phone while they lingered near the check lanes, waiting for Mr. Han to come back. “Look at this,” he said, angling the screen in her direction.
It was the website for a new shopping center, still under construction, some twenty minutes from the Hans’ apartment on Ivy Lane. He’d remembered passing by on the way to the optometrist with Denny. Although he couldn’t remember the exact address, Eunjae was able to find it on his lunch break with a bit of aggressive Googling.
Only a few of the spaces in the development had been leased so far, with most of the buildings still under construction. Some of those spaces offered more square footage and came at a higher price than what she’d been looking for. But there was one on the corner that seemed just right, even though it was small. Eunjae liked that the architect’s rendering showed a wide front window facing west. Never mind the uninspiring parking lot views; the evening sunsets would more than make up for it, he thought.
