The man in the red shorts turned out to be Mr. Yun. He and my grandfather bowed to each other and clapped each other on the back. Mr. Yun accepted the squash and peaches as if they were a treasure he’d never imagined existed. And then he said what I roughly understood to be “Finally, I’ve been asking you to come, and now because of your granddaughter, you’re here. I told my wife this morning I feel like a young man. Seeing your friends reminds you of the old days. Oh, my heart is warm because you’re here.”
The children made a beeline for a trampoline up on short stilts with tall netting around it on the other side of the grassy yard. Channing had been walking with me but changed direction to follow them. I watched them for a while. Edison and Austin leaped as they ran as if there were invisible hurdles in the yard, while my cousin strolled in her dancer’s stride, toes pointed outward, after them. She’d taken lessons in everything when she was a child: ballet, gymnastics, swimming, ice skating, riding horses. As the boys increased their speed, she broke into a sprint. I was going to join them but I suddenly needed a drink, so I trailed Mr. Yun and Harabeoji to the terrace instead.
A short woman whose wavy white hair looked identical to her husband’s chattered away with Harabeoji. She was clearly Mrs. Yun by the way she directed me to sit near her on a teak chair with what I could now see were purple-and-orange flowers patterned on the cushions. She held a sleeping infant in her arms, wrapped in a rosebud-dotted quilt, and told me it was her great-granddaughter. Just then, an Asian woman and a white man walked out of the house with their arms around each other. They scooped the baby out of Mrs. Yun’s arms and made cooing sounds over her together. Mrs. Yun introduced them to me as Alice and Jesse, the parents of the baby. Alice was Mr. and Mrs. Yun’s granddaughter.
“You’re my sister’s age,” Alice said to me when I explained that I was Channing’s cousin. “Jesse and I were four grades above you.”
I nodded as if I knew her sister. I wanted her to say more so I could pick her out of the groups of children at Channing’s house in my memory. Before I could reply, Harabeoji greeted Alice and Jesse with enthusiasm and commented on how their child was flourishing. They seemed to know my grandfather well and branched off into mentioning mutual friends who were married or engaged. “So many weddings now, every year three or more,” Mr. Yun said, and Mrs. Yun told us he secretly loved them even though he complained. Mr. Yun chuckled and raised his phone toward us.
“Always taking pictures to post on social media,” Mrs. Yun said, shaking her head.
“I want to remember special days,” he replied.
“Every day is special to my grandfather,” Alice said with a lean toward her husband, who squeezed her shoulder.
“Hey, smile,” Mr. Yun called, and snapped a photo of them.
I was glad my parents weren’t with us that day. They’d have a lot to say about how they hoped I’d be married soon based on conversations I’d overheard, even if to me they said they didn’t mind as long as I was happy. I had trouble figuring out if they were being honest with me.
Chapter 5
Mrs. Yun handed me a glass of cold white wine, and I sat back in the chair. Alice and Jesse had lived in New York before the baby was born, so we talked about which restaurants were still open and which had closed. They said their lives were easier in East End and marveled at how much space they had in their new house. Most importantly, they were glad to live near family again.
“We couldn’t wait to get away from here after college,” Alice said. “But now, it’s really nice, you know?”
Jesse pulled her close to him. “We get free babysitting. You even love having your sisters around,” he teased.
Alice rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, but it’s Paul who’s the biggest help,” she said to me. “They’ll be here soon. They’re always late.”
I reasoned that Paul must be a boyfriend or husband of one of her sisters as I listened to the couple in front of me chatter on. To me, Alice and Jesse seemed to be living the dream. I wished for exactly what they had: living with relatives, in a community that was familiar, not the loneliness of a vast city where I lived now or the small towns without other Koreans where I’d grown up. Usually, couples loved to share how they met, so I asked them about it, assuming they’d tell me a boring story about growing up together in East End. Instead, they said they’d gotten together on anAmtrak when they were racing home during the pandemic. “Jesse had a glow-up,” Alice said.
Mrs. Yun asked what she meant, and I explained that Jesse became better looking, and Mrs. Yun waved at her granddaughter as if shooing away a fly. “He’s a good boy, why do you care how he looks?”
“Yeah, like you didn’t marry the most dapper man in Seoul?” Alice said.
We watched Mr. Yun and my grandfather walk over to the grill with a large platter of meat. Mr. Yun’s long red shorts definitely were a choice.
“He owned only two pairs of pants back then,” Mrs. Yun said.
“I was the lucky one on the train that day,” Jesse said, and kissed Alice. Even though it was on the cheek, there was a tenderness that made me look away.
On the far side of the yard, Austin jumped on the trampoline. His head wobbled in a jerky fashion each time he landed. Should Channing tell him to take it easy? I was about to hurry over when an Asian trio entered the yard. A petite woman and two men of average height sauntered in from the direction of the street. They looked lost, but also like they had no place they had to be. Wearing sunglasses and crisp pastel cotton clothes, they looked like an ad for summer tourists coming to East End.
Mrs. Yun called out “Paul!” and one of them turned.
The one named Paul and the woman headed our way, but the other man hung back. He stood turned in the direction of the trampoline. Before the pair reached the table, Mrs. Yun intercepted them and ushered the young woman toward the house. “Why do I have to always help? Why not Alice or Paul?” I heard her say in an exasperated voice to Mrs. Yun.
“Because you’re her favorite,” Alice called to her. Paul and Jesse laughed. Th other man remained transfixed. I followed his gaze and noted that Austin had slowed down. His head was steady now.
I relaxed into my chair. It was easy and safe here with Harabeoji and his friends, with the wine and light conversation. Nothing to worry about. Iwas in East End. I’d always felt it was what a home should be. I took a breath in and exhaled slowly. How comfortable it was to be part of this group.
The evening sun cast a deep warm light across us, made everything a little more orange, a richer saturation of colors. I’d heard of such light but never seen it before, like a translucent sunset that drenched the landscape with warmth and moved like a current sideways through me. If I had to compare it to something I knew I’d say it felt like a low-wattage version of Manhattanhenge—the portmanteau ofManhattanandStonehenge—the phenomenon where the sunset burst dramatically through buildings down an avenue twice a year, perfectly lined up with the street. The difference was that this was an ordinary summer evening, and the sun wasn’t about to set for another hour and a half.
“What are we talking about?” Paul said, taking the empty chair on the other side of me. He had a wide smile and smelled of cinnamon. I wondered if he’d been baking or had a bag of cinnamon rolls somewhere. It was my favorite dessert, minus the cream cheese frosting to which I had a dairy intolerance.
Jesse reached across and grasped the hand Paul extended in easy camaraderie. Alice said, “Just in time for the food, of course.”
Paul pointed to the man he’d arrived with. “Blame him—for work.” Then he called to his friend and waved him over. “Come say hi.” To us, Paul said, “This is Minjae. Our grandmothers are from the same town in Korea. He’s here for the summer from Seoul.”
