“I was the original charity case, okay? Me.”
“Right. Of course.”
“They’ve been helping me forever. So I’m helping them back, forever. I’ll keep doing it even though it makes me so tired. Like, I’m agreeing to work double time so I can be on your show, and I’m not making that sacrifice for you. Why would I?”
Eunjae nodded. “Ah, yeah. I’m just some guy.”
“Exactly. And I’m not doing it for Jaehwan even though he’s my bias and always will be.” Jeannie speared another bite of waffle, balancing the container in her lap. “This is a Code Violet.Again.”
“Code Violet. Don't think I've heard that one before.”
“It's when anybody with the last name 'Han' needs me for something and I cry about it. I cry about it a lot. And then I get up and help them since they've always helped me.”
Jiyeon braked for a stop sign. She was the one who’d be crying, at this rate. “So that’s what it means. I always wondered.”
“That’s so nice,” said Eunjae, turning in his seat to smile at Jeannie.
She kicked the back of his seat. “Stop that. Don’t praise me when I’m just being a brat. That’s uncalled for, you’re not even playing fair.”
“Sorry! I’m really sorry—”
“I need to roll my window down and scream.”
Before any screaming could commence, Eunjae resorted to an age-old trick that always worked with his brothers. Pulling the plastic lid off his lemonade, he passed it to Jeannie as a peace offering. “Give it a try. It’s pretty good.”
“Like I want to drink idol backwash! Backwash is still backwash even when the spit came from someone almost as hot as Jaehwan!” Swiping the lemonade, she added, “I’m not into you, Ryan. That’s not why I’m accepting this. Please be aware that I’m not interested.”
“Good to know,” said Jiyeon, trying not to laugh. “We’d have to talk if you were.”
Noises of deep disgust emanated from the back seat. Up front, Eunjae fiddled with the vents. “Isn’t it warm? Maybe I’ll roll my window down, too.”
“Oh, ‘cause you need to puke? Same.” But Jeannie took a huge gulp anyway, and by the time they parked in the lot behind Wanna Waffle, her tantrums had evaporated along with three quarters of the lemonade. Jeannie never raged for long. She wasn’t kidding about her limited energy reserves.
Groceries were stowed, bags loaded into the trunk. Evan came to shake their hands and Jiyeon promised to text Jeannie when they made it to Monroe. There was a second trip to the car; her parents insisted on sending them with enough food for an expedition to the South Pole. Then they had a moment to themselves while Denny loitered in the dining room, forevercoming up with ‘one last reminder’ about running the shop while he was gone.
Eunjae took a picture of the weathered doorstop. “Eight weeks,” he said. “Seems like plenty of time for things to go wrong.”
“It’ll go by fast. We’ll be alright.” Jiyeon had expected more resistance from Eunjae. He’d certainly objected at first, but his protests didn’t last. Maybe he was just too worried about Ezra. Maybe it was the impending arrival of Leila, or the prospect of navigating two months in close proximity to his family after years of separation. She figured it was all of the above.
Jiyeon dropped the car keys into her pocket and hugged him, hard. “I’ll kick your mom into next week,” she offered, her voice muffled by Eunjae’s sweater. It finally got a laugh out of him.
“I’d owe you five more songs.”
“Works for me. Then you’d have to stick around.”
His hand came to rest against her hair, fingers combing through the waves she’d left loose. “I’m doing that anyway.”
14
Itwasastraightshot from Lemon Grove to Monroe. Simple enough for someone with just under two weeks of driving lessons under his belt, according to Denny’s estimation. Eunjae was entrusted with the keys and promptly panicked, but the drive was uneventful. He forgot to be nervous behind the wheel.
The season had shifted, and signboards for oranges and pie now trumpeted Halloween festivities. Even so, Monroe remained largely unchanged since that first date with Jiyeon, late in July when summer was still very much alive. These were the same weathered bricks and painted benches, the same tidy squares of lawn and window boxes overflowing with flowers.
He’d greeted this morning with dread. Returning to Monroe felt less dreadful than anticipated, though. Brighter memories flickered in his peripheral vision: blueberry muffins, crates of lemons, a yellow dress. This was a place where they’d beenhappy. Eunjae felt Jiyeon’s hand on his shoulder, just her quiet way of saying that she remembered, too.
“And the baskets?” Denny intoned from the passenger seat. “What’s the rationale there?” He pronounced the wordbasketslike it carried the same negative weight as credit card debt, or termites, or arsenic.
Eunjae didn’t need to check the rearview mirror to see Jiyeon’s reaction. He could feel the force of her glare from the backseat, and she probably looked just like her brother in that moment, arms crossed and spine straight, mouth turned down in exasperation. “What’s wrong with the cute baskets? Everyone likes them. We’ve gotten nothing but compliments.”
