Yeju

  “One st kiss before we are banned from it all weekend,” Lia announces with a cheeky smile.

  I let her pull me into one, smiling against her lips. We are parked in the driveway outside Lia’s house; the neighborhood is a quaint suburb, charming and quiet.

  “Not being able to kiss you is the worst,” I grumble.

  But as much as I am compining, I know this Thanksgiving break is going to be a bst. It already started with a bang. Darren’s thesis defense was superb and awe-inspiring, and the party that followed his defense was wild. He popped five champagne bottles for the b—one bottle for every year in his Ph.D.—and a giant cake with the first page of his thesis written on it as decoration. I had to drive so I didn’t drink, but Lia drank one gss and that was enough for her face to redden.

  After Darren’s party, we drove to her parents’ house, and Lia sang her lungs out throughout the car ride. I didn’t even care if I hated some songs—she made them a million times better.

  Thankfully, the alcohol in her system has worn off now.

  Her parents greet us at the door, and I introduce myself as Lia’s apartment mate. Mr. Choi seems rather sweet; he fshes me an amicable smile of acknowledgment before helping Lia with her bags. Mrs. Choi, however, is a little more standoffish. Her lips press together into a strained smile as she guides me away from the other two.

  “Nice to meet you, Yeju. We prepared a guest room for you. Downstairs.”

  A guest room? I exchange a nervous gnce with Lia; she is as shocked as I am. She told me that there was no guest room and that all her previous guests had roomed with her.

  I follow Mrs. Choi down the stairs to what appears to be a repurposed storage room. Setting my bags on the floor, I scan the room I will sleep in for the next few days. A twin bed sits in the middle of three walls of shelves, looking very out of pce. There is a single slit window, but what little natural light it could’ve brought is blocked by a pile of books.

  “We’re making kimchi-jjigae and mandu for dinner. You can take spicy?”

  “Yeah, I can,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment show on my face. “Thank you, Mrs. Choi.”

  She leaves, and I notice Lia lingering at the stairs. She waits till her mother is out of earshot before muttering, “Sorry, Yeju. They didn’t use to have a guest room. I think they prepared it after finding out that I’m, well…” She folds her arms as she trails off.

  My heart sinks. I rush to her and scoop her into a hug. “Hey, don’t worry. I don’t care where they put me. I won’t compin about free housing.”

  She sighs. “But I wanted to be with you. That’s the whole point…”

  “I know, I know. But it’s okay, we will be together most of the day. Should we go up to the living room? Maybe we can help out with the food prep?”

  That seems to cheer Lia up. “Yeah, my mother will appreciate that. Let’s go.”

  We leave the gloomy cupboard-under-the-stairs room and find Lia’s parents in the kitchen. Without even a gnce at us, Mrs. Choi assigns us the task of peeling and dicing potatoes.

  I know Lia mentioned that their retionship is not great, but I was not expecting such indifference. It’s as if Mrs. Choi wanted as little to do with Lia as possible. Despite that treatment, Lia is still the adorable ball of energy that she always is, hopping over to the potatoes, already eager to help.

  And my heart aches even more from that.

  We sit next to each other on the dining table as we peel the potatoes.

  “You have a brother, right?” I ask. “Is he around?”

  Lia’s brows twitch. “Probably in his room or something. He never helps out at home.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I guess I will see him ter for dinner. I have to admit that I’m intrigued. As an only child, the concept of having a sibling sounds so fun, like having a friend for life. And if you have a younger sibling, you can guide them through the parts of life you’ve already been through. That would make the fuck-ups in my life feel more meaningful.

  I mean, I technically have a half-sibling now, but that doesn’t count. I found out twenty years too te.

  After we are done with the potatoes, we are given the next task: folding the dumplings. This time, Mr. and Mrs. Choi come out to the table to do it together with us. I’ve made dumplings before, but it seems that mandus—Korean dumplings—are folded differently. After failing a few times, I am given a different tray to put my dumplings in. I have a feeling I will be exclusively eating my ugly dumplings tonight.

  Despite what Lia said, her brother shows up a few minutes ter to help, trudging down the stairs and slumping into the seat next to mine. His stark resembnce to Lia is shocking; the only difference is that he is a dude, and he has none of Lia’s enthusiasm. In fact, he looks as if life sucked all his soul out. I instantly rete to him.

  And when he adds his ugly dumplings to my tray, I know I have to befriend him.

  “Romeo, right? I’m Yeju. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hi.” He casts me a shy gnce. “You’re Lia’s… new roommate?”

  “Yeah.” I turn around to see if Lia wants to add anything to the conversation, but she is focused on talking to her parents and folding the most perfect-looking dumplings. I turn back to Romeo. “I’m from New Jersey, and I didn’t feel like traveling too much this week. That’s why Lia invited me here.”

  “That’s so far. Why did you choose to come to UCLA?”

  “Well, I wanted to work for my professor.” I see his perplexed expression and add, “I’m a Ph.D. student, not an undergrad like Lia.”

  “Whoa.” Romeo stares at me. “You must be very smart.”

  “Not really. It’s just learning a niche skill, like going to business school or medical school. Except I don’t have to go into debt—I actually get paid for this.” I wink at him. “What about you? You’re still in high school, right?”

  “Yeah.” His head droops again. “I’ve been working on my college apps.”

  “Oh, nice. Where are you thinking of going? UCLA like your sister?”

  A dark cloud passes over his already sullen face. “I don’t think I can. My grades aren’t as good.”

  His sour mood makes more sense now. “Hey, that’s fine, just apply to wherever you can. You don’t have to worry too much about where you end up for school, Romeo. It’s what you do with your skills and degree after that counts. You know, my professor went to a community college. Now she’s a full professor at UCLA. It goes to show how much you can still achieve without going to the best schools, you know?”

  There’s a long pause as Romeo tugs at his dumpling. He has taken too much stuffing for the wrap, but I doubt he is worrying about that.

  “That’s really cool,” he whispers. He is not looking at me, but I can hear his appreciation.

  We fold our dumplings silently after this. On the other side of the table, I hear Lia talking about our research to her parents. I tune into the conversation, waiting for some follow-up questions, but there aren’t any. Their exchange is so one-sided; Lia is trying her best to engage, while her parents are giving her one-word answers. It’s painful to hear.

  I wish she would talk to Romeo instead. He’s so much easier to talk to. For the next ten minutes, I ask him questions about his high school life, and he asks me about my Ph.D. life in return.

  When we are done with the dumpling-folding session, Lia’s parents take the trays to the kitchen to cook. Romeo escapes to his room, while Lia stalks off to the living room. Excited to be alone with Lia again, I follow her to the living room and wrap my arm around her.

  She wiggles away. “You’re bonding well with Romeo.”

  “Huh?” I blink. “Oh, yeah. He’s nice. A little stressed out, but a good dude.”

  “Of course you like him,” she snaps.

  “What?”

  “He always gets all the attention, doesn’t he? First, my parents, and now, even my girlfriend, give him more attention.”

  My mouth drops. “What are you saying, Lia? I’ve never met him before, so there’s a lot to talk about. I wasn’t ignoring you or anything.”

  “Then why didn’t you talk to my parents with me?”

  I wince at the question. I avoided talking to her parents because I didn’t like them and their attitude toward her, but I don’t think I should say that.

  “Sorry, Lia. I’ll try to next time.” I sigh. “Why don’t you talk to Romeo instead?”

  “Why should I? He doesn’t ask me anything.”

  Neither do your parents. “Well, he seems stressed out about college apps. Maybe you can offer some advice or something?”

  “Yeah, advice.” Lia snorts. I’ve never heard such resentment in her voice, and it scares me. “It’s always about him, isn’t it? I exist only to help Romeo, only to teach him how to get to where I am, and that is my only purpose in life. My successes are to be his stepping stones, right?”

  My mouth drops. “Wait, what? Lia, that’s not at all what I mean—“

  There are tears in her eyes. I reach my hands out to comfort her, but she shoves me aside and runs up the stairs.

  And just like that, I am alone in an unfamiliar living room, accompanied only by the smell of kimchi and the sizzling sound of frying from the kitchen.

  What the hell did I do wrong here?