Chapter 21
Those dark half circles under Channing’s eyes were noticeable again that chilly and gray Tuesday. The confidence she’d had the day before in her relationship with Minjae seemed to have vanished. I could tell she was suffering from doubts. She was lost in thought, gazing off into the distance, not meeting my eyes and refusing to eat anything before ushering the boys into the car for the drive to camp. They complained about the counselors who would force them to swim in the cold pool, but Channing said they didn’t have a choice.
“Blame your parents,” she said, and spoke rather harshly to them to hurry along. I assumed we’d have a chance to talk after she returned, but an hour later, her location showed she was on a road near the beach club. I texted her a reminder that she had to pick up the children at three and that I’d be busy and couldn’t do it. I was worried that when she was with Minjae she might forget again or get lost in the clouds or whatever.
When I called Harabeoji, he told me he was going fishing with Mr. Yun and invited me along, but I declined. There was the possibility that the children would need something or Channing would forget, and I’d get an emergency call from her again, so I decided to drive back to that café by the newspaper’s office and get a good latte. This time I brought my laptop to return emails and set up some appointments for work.
It was overcast with humidity in the air that threatened rain. Paul’sfamiliar figure was hunched over his laptop at a table outside, and he welcomed me to join him. This time I offered to buy him coffee, and he accepted without a fuss. For good measure, I got us two kinds of scones to share. “We can’t keep meeting like this. Mrs. Ku is going to find out about these pastries,” he joked.
We worked in comfortable silence as people walked in and out of the café. I read through emails while he studied for his test. By noon, I needed to stretch my legs. Paul still had a sample test to finish, so I left him there along with my laptop.
I noticed small details as I walked along: flyers taped to lampposts announcing a knitting club meeting, a 5K race for diabetes, job seekers sharing their phone numbers and email addresses with those who needed lawns mowed or piano lessons. I wandered into a bookstore with a dog bowl filled with water tucked in a nook by the shop’s front door. People smiled at me and greeted each other with affection. A tiny gold bell jingled when I entered. After browsing a bit, I bought a couple of books each for Edison and Austin and a new cookbook on Korean food to add to their parents’ collection. I’d seen several on Korean and other Asian cuisine on their shelves, so I thought they might like this latest one. A thank you gift for them for allowing me to stay at their house. Back outside, I put my purchases in my tote bag, slung it on my shoulder, and followed a cobblestone alleyway to a row of art supply stores and a nature center on a side street.
At the end of that short block, I turned right to return to the café. I headed down a street devoid of people. I thought they must be inside the restaurants and stores. As I walked along, I was surprised to find signs taped to glass doors stating the businesses were closed. The empty storefronts continued to the end, where an avenue was in similar shape. The properties looked abandoned. Crushed cardboard boxes and cracked plastic bins, upturned garbage containers with debris littered the entranceways and alleys between the buildings. It seemed to go on forever. I quickened my pace. When I checked my phone for directions, it hadpowered down. I’d forgotten to charge it and had left my extra battery in the house on Sandpiper Lane. I tried to dismiss the panic that tumbled in my gut. All I had to do was retrace my steps, I reasoned.
I made a mistake though. While I found my way back to a busy commercial street, none of it looked familiar. I was about to stop a white woman walking a tri-colored Shetland sheepdog, but she held a cell phone to her ear—obviously talking to someone. A Black couple swung a giggling child back and forth between them as they crossed an intersection. They walked too fast for me to ask them. However, the man held a Bike and Basket tote bag, so I followed that family to a wide street with a large parking lot full of cars, hoping the lot would lead me to the main thoroughfare. I pushed on.
On the other side of that asphalt was a concrete building connected to a majestic red-and-brown Italianate townhouse. A crowd spilled from the parking lot toward a marble fountain centered on the walkway. Kent stood with a group of people by the spouting water. When I inquired, a Filipina woman with a toddler in her arms told me it was a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a children’s center and café, a new addition to the town library. We watched as Kent stepped forward with a portable microphone and introduced Mayor Reynolds. He was a man my parents’ age with hair so blond it was white. He clasped Kent on the shoulder and waved to the crowd. Dressed in a dark windbreaker, khaki pants and boat shoes, he had a ruddy and deeply sunbaked tan, as if he spent all his days on a boat rather than in an office in town. His speech was short and garbled, which eluded my comprehension, but everyone clapped as he handed the mic off to a South Asian woman who introduced herself as the director of the library. She then stepped up to the glass doors, which instantly opened, and waved everyone to follow her. As if at the start of a race, people rushed past me.
“Dahee, over here!” Kent called, with a hand raised in the air. He left the group he was with and approached me. “Good to see you.”
His smile seemed genuine, but I remained suspicious.
“Love libraries getting bigger,” I told him. I intended to keep the conversation neutral.
“Glad we stuck with it. There was a lot of opposition. Most of the town wanted to increase the police force. I’m for supporting families, as you know. Also, we’re working with donors to enlarge the pediatric wing of the hospital. It’s a personal issue for me and the mayor. He has four children, and I plan to have a large family myself, as I’ve confided in you,” he said.
I braced myself for what he’d say next. His chin dropped in that characteristic way it did, right to his chest, and then he raised it toward me. “I want families to thrive here in East End. We’re planning for our future. And we’ve designated a special collection of books on Asian history and Asian American contemporary literature, with a focus on Korea.”
As he spoke, people interrupted us, offering him their hand to shake, clapping him on the back and thanking him for his hard work, and introducing him to their children. I gave him space to talk with them. It was the perfect chance to leave. I watched him nod and listen as he expressed confidence in his commitment.
Seeing him here in this setting where he was having a positive impact on the way people lived in East End softened him in my eyes. He was in his element, not standing at the door on Sandpiper Lane desperate to be loved by Channing. Could I blame him for being in love with my cousin? Knowing Ames had dated him made him less threatening. She had dismissed him as just another man. Maybe the story he’d been told about how to get what he wanted was to be relentlessly persistent. Did he understand how offensive he could truly be? The palms of my hands tingled, but I thought it was because of all the people that surrounded us at that moment. I backed away.
“Wait, excuse me, Dahee, I need to talk to you,” he said, and closed the gap between us. “Will you tell Channing about this?” he said. People continued congratulating him, but he ignored them now. I stared at hisshiny shoes because I didn’t know where else to look. “I admit I came on too strong at first,” he said.
“That’s one way of putting it,” I said. Here was my opportunity to advise him that he should leave Channing alone, so I said it. I told him to stop coming over and asking to see her. I felt myself relax when he seemed to take my advice.
“You’re right,” he replied. “And those emails I sent her weren’t meant to make her uncomfortable, and I bought her clothes and stuff I thought she’d like since you and I know she can’t afford nice things.”
This was the second time he’d mentioned emails. “What did you send her?” I asked.
His face went stony for a second and then softened. “Those dresses, you know. Ames seemed to like them; I thought Channing would. Anyway, everything all right at the day camp today? They probably won’t give you any more trouble about picking up the boys. I explained that you were helping Channing.”
I pushed my discomfort away. “All good. Channing will handle it from here on out. Thanks again.”
He nodded. “I won’t bother her anymore.”
Could I believe him? His honesty disarmed me. I wanted so much for his delusion with Channing to be over. There was nothing more to say after that, and so I was trying to figure out how to extract myself when he added, “So I should let you go, but I have a question for you.”
I waited for him to continue.
“Do you think it’s ever too late to throw a housewarming party? Like eighteen months?”
“Eighteen months is fine,” I answered. It was a simple enough question and had nothing to do with Channing.
“Good, at least I’m not embarrassing myself then. I’m throwing a party this Friday night. I told everyone it was a housewarming. It’s a family-friendlydinner sort of thing? Korean families getting together with others in the community, some important people everyone should know.”
It sounded like the parties Channing’s parents used to host. I hesitated and then told him the truth. He’d find out we’d left one of these days. “I’m sorry, my grandfather and I won’t be here.”
