“Fair.” He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Then he added, “She was gone by the time I visited East End again in college.”
“Oh, so out of sight, out of mind for you then?” I said, only partially joking.
He laughed and shrugged. “Paul told me Channing was in Boston. Ishould have looked her up, but life rolls on, you know? She was a memory from childhood. Too perfect, not real, the kind of girl you dream up. Who could have done all the things she was able to do? Also, honestly, why would she be interested in me?”
He paused and I waited in silence. “I’ll say this for Kent,” he continued. “He brought Channing back to East End. And now I get to know her, and she’s even more surprising and funny and great at everything than I ever thought she could be.”
Channing came in just then, and Minjae got to his feet.
I stood, too, snapping myself out of the reverie I’d entered through Minjae’s words. “Before camp ends, you have to pick them up,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, for sure, I promise. Thanks, Dahee,” she said over her shoulder as they headed for the door.
After Channing and Minjae left, I decided I needed a really good coffee. Middle Street had some cafés. It was my first time out without my cousin or grandfather in East End. It felt exhilarating to have the morning and early afternoon free to myself in a town that I’d always admired.
In New York, you can go places by yourself—see a movie, dine out—and it’s not awkward at all. There were lots of people who did just that, went by themselves. In my twenties, there were more people to spend time with. Now it seemed that everyone was paired off in marriages or long-term relationships.
It was summer, and I knew tourists would pack the main streets. Tables were set out on the sidewalk in front of cafés. People walked dogs along the avenue. Usually in New York, I preferred hiding inside in a corner, but today I wanted to soak in the sun.
Once the school year began, my colleagues would ask about my summer, and I’d like to show them photos of East End. Whenever I mentioned the town, people would be surprised. Even those who visited this arearegularly. “Where exactly?” they’d say, and I’d describe it to them. “Off which exit on ninety-five?” they’d ask, and I’d tell them the route I took. They were intrigued, especially when I told them about the Korean restaurants. Now that I learned the Asian market had moved to Little Brookton, I wondered what else might have changed in this area since I was a child.
Chapter 17
I drove the Ahns’ SUV since it blocked my car and had a town resident sticker on its windshield to park for free in some spots around town. Sure enough, a car pulled out of a slot just as I turned onto Middle Street, so I steered into it easily and then traveled on foot, taking photos like a tourist. Instead of feeling abandoned by Channing and my grandfather, I started to make the best of it. If I lived here, I thought, I’d do this every day.
The sign for theEast End Courierwas next door to flower boxes in the window of Bike and Basket, a bakery café. Across the street were the police station and the town hall, and a bit farther down the block was the yellow sign for Mrs. Ku’s shop.
Now I saw that there were three other similar businesses on the same street. Besides Bike and Basket, there was a Starbucks and a Dunkin’. I didn’t want to run into Harabeoji and his friends at the meeting in Mrs. Ku’s bakery, so I decided to wait at Bike and Basket.
Everyone in East End was exceptionally good-looking that day. A handsome South Asian man talked loudly on his cell phone as he paced by the entrance. At a table near him, two beautiful Blasian women sat at a table with plates of pastries and ceramic coffee cups between them in light conversation. They laughed and showed each other the screens of their phones. A leashed brown-and-white dog with long hair around her ears sat under their table, looking calmly at people walking by. On the other sideof the women, an attractive Asian man sat alone bent over a laptop. He looked up and our eyes met.
It was Paul. He got to his feet quickly. “Need a steady supply of caffeine to study,” he said, leaning toward me for a hug. But I was in the middle of awkwardly saying, “Sorry… didn’t mean to… was going… have an errand…” so he swiftly reversed course. Maybe the expression on my face reflected my desire to keep my distance.
“Okay, just saying hi then,” he replied, and held up a hand in an impersonal wave. I became acutely aware of people staring at us.
How could I excuse myself? I decided the best course of action was to sit down and not stand there in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Mind if I join you for a second?” I asked.
Paul smiled and motioned to a chair at his table as he closed his laptop.
“Oh, you should keep working, I can’t stay,” I said.
“Hey, any excuse to take a break,” he said.
I didn’t have a reply. Silence fell between us. I looked around to avoid staring at him.
“Is that where Ames works?” I said, pointing to the sign for the local newspaper. I decided I might as well ask him some questions.
“Yup, she’s inside. She makes me meet her here just to get me out of our grandparents’ tiny garage apartment.”
“And what about Ames? Where does she live?”
“Up there.” He pointed above the coffee shop.
I squinted at the second- and third-story windows and made a note to check the rental listings. Maybe I could do the same one day if I got a job here.
“You’re a teacher, right? How do you like it?” he asked.
