Jihoon—I read your messages. All of them, many times. I didn’t reply because I didn’t know what to say. I’m going to try now because knowing you’ll never see this makes it easier to say what I’ve been thinking about since I came home.
I know you’re sorry for what happened. I don’t like it but I understand. You felt you didn’t have a choice.
It hurt, though. It really, really sucks to be told you’re first and then to find out that you’re not. That I was more like eighth, after the members and band and fans and music. When you wanted to say I was nothing but an acquaintance, I felt dismissed. I was insignificant, and I’d never felt like that with you.
But you’re part of StarLune. I expected you to make decisions based on us as individuals but you considered the impact on everyone else as well. I thought in islands and you saw the ocean. It wasn’t wrong but I couldn’t see that.
I made some big changes in the past few months. My life is going okay now, actually. I quit law. I’m going to be traveling. I’m doing what I wanted but it seems empty without you. It’s not going as well as it could because I miss you. I think of the Jihoon I met here in Toronto and I miss us. I’m glad you found your music again. I know you’ll write the songs people need to hear.
I wish we could find our way back to what we had but I don’t know how and it’s too late.
Ari
“Pass the char siu bao.” Dad doesn’t look at Mom, who mutters about sodium intake.
We’re at our usual dim sum restaurant, since Mom wanted a family lunch and Phoebe and I privately agreed that a neutral and public place would be preferable. It’s the first time we’ve been together since I told Dad I’d quit at Yesterly and Havings. My other news, given over the phone, that I was now what he called a glorified tour guide, had gone over equally well.
Phoebe passes him the BBQ pork buns as I pour another cup of jasmine tea, dark leaves swirling in the bottom of my cup. So far, the conversation has lurched from the weather to my work to Phoebe’s work. Mom must have put the fear of God into Dad, because I swear his lips began to form theYinYesterlyand her gaze snapped to him like a laser. He shut up.
Mom’s excited to tell us about her new exercise class that’s “like Zumba but better, with poles.”
Phoebe looks at her curiously. “Ski poles?”
“No, stuck in the ground. I’m learning to swing on them.”
I choke. “You’re taking pole dancing?” Phoebe pinches me under the table.
Mom nods happily. “It’s very good for muscle toning. I’ll need it for the beach.”
Phoebe’s eyes narrow. “What beach?”
“We’re going to Mexico for a week. Your father can explore Mayan temples while I snorkel in the ocean. They have barracudas and sea turtles.”
My sister and I stop eating. “Vacation,” I say. “You, Dad?”
He shrugs and doesn’t look up from his rice. “It makes your mother happy.”
Phoebe’s mouth hangs open. “Whoa,” she whispers. I agree. It’s like witnessing a unicorn prance along the dim sum carts. I do my best to keep the conversation going so he doesn’t clam up.
“What temples are you thinking of visiting?” I ask.
Dad’s chopsticks waver over the deep-fried shrimp dumplings before he turns to the steamed ones with a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure yet.”
“I can help you out,” I offer, trying to keep my voice casual even though my heart jitters. “I’ve done a few itineraries for friends going to Riviera Maya.”
He nods, attention on the food. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I was ready for a rejection, so it takes me a minute to absorb this.
“Might as well put your knowledge to use.”
Phoebe winks and sends me a discreet thumbs-up, but I barely pay attention.
I’m going to plan Dad the best freaking excursions ever.
And find a pole dance studio for Mom while I’m at it. As long as she never makes me watch.
The notification on my phone announces that Jihoon’s about to start a new livestream. I can recognize his name, Min, in Hangul now. A glutton for punishment, I pull out my laptop to see his face better. It’s been three days since I sent that email, and I haven’t checked it again. Part of me is glad to have gotten it off my chest, but most of me is psychically wallowing in an overflowing pool of loss that will hopefully drain over time.
