Taeho:

  “She’s a pretty thing!” My mother blurts out.

  You can always count on her to never hold back.

  While on my drive to Haebyeon, I managed to connected with the car’s entertainment system to call her just before I stopped for breakfast.

  “Eomma, why are you letting people into my house?” I ask, slightly annoyed.

  I really shouldn’t be surprised by my mother’s antics. She grew up poor so she’s always finding ways to make a quick buck, usually through hospitality. She’s great at it, there’s no doubting that, and old habits die hard. But this? I can’t believe she’d list my house on a vacation home website without my consent.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t blame her. She’s learned to hustle at every opportunity, and as I put her name on the deed, maybe she thinks that gives her the right. I only did that so she could take care of the house while I was gone—which is always. I get that I should own it outright, but this was the deal I made with my parents before moving to the states.

  Buying the house was more of a promise than an investment. It was my way to let them know that after I finished my degree, and got fully credited and licensed, then I would come back to share my success with them in their retirement. I didn’t think much about the implications, since I just wanted to leave and experience America—I wanted freedom. I figured that having my parents’ names on the legal documents wouldn’t change anything, even if I chose to come back to live in Haebyeon. Because when I did it would be customary for them to come and live with me so that I could take care of them in their old age.

  Plus, the house was the only way to convince them to let me go quietly. I kept telling them every year after I got my medical degree that I’d come back. But I kept pushing the date because I didn’t want to come back. I never thought I’d want to.

  But now… it’s different. Now I’m feeling the pull back to my quiet hometown. I want to slow down. I want to start a family of my own and I want my kids to know their roots. It’s only now, when I’m so close to marriage, that I’m seeing all these things more clearly.

  When I became a permanent resident in California, my mother was more than happy to keep the house up-together. However, I’d told her specifically not to rent it out since I’d be coming back throughout the year and I might have to do it spontaneously depending on work commitments. So, this new scheme of hers is an unfortunate circumstance of this deal.

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  “I told you not to rent out my place to strangers,” I say to my mother through the car’s speaker phone.

  “Well, it’s not like you’re ever here. Besides, she’s only staying for six months so how could I refuse?”

  “Wait, six months? Why would you let it out for that long?” I can see my mother trying to sneak through a few short stays, but six months? That wasn’t going to slip under my radar.

  “She’s taking Korean language classes at the college.”

  Knowing that locals wouldn’t need to learn Korean, I’m taking a guess she’s not from the country.

  “So, she’s not Korean?” I ask.

  “No. She reminds me of an old Hollywood actress. Oh, what’s her name?” She trails off. I’m sure she’s trying to come up with some old-timey Hollywood actress she’s watched long ago. If it’s not a k-drama actor, then my mom isn’t caught up in the whole modern celebrity schtick.

  “Eomma, are you telling me I have to share my house with a random foreigner?”

  “No, not at all. I locked your section. So, you’ve got your bedroom, studio, and gym at to yourself. So, you don’t have to see her unless you use the kitchen. And if you want, I can come make your food, that way you don’t have to see her at all,” she says.

  I let out an audible sigh of defeat.

  “Eomma, I’m not there long enough this time so you don’t worry about me.”

  I’m caving, because all I want is to get off the phone with her, too, now. It seems all my morning phone calls are bringing me down.

  When our conversation ends, I take deep breaths to calm my frustration—it doesn’t work.

  “FUCK!” I strike the steering wheel to vent my anger. This isn’t the outcome of the vacation I was anticipating. Why would my mom do this? And if she thinks I’m going to entertain a complete stranger on my time off, she’s got another thing coming.

  ***

  It’s a long drive to Haebyeon and once I finally turn into my driveway, it’s evening and I’m absolutely exhausted. Nothing physical, just my conflicting emotions taking their toll.

  I don’t want to deal with anything or anyone right now, so I decide to take the private entry directly into my quarters. I let myself into the small foyer before turning left to an open concept bedroom-studio. I drop my carry-on on the freshly made, king-sized bed before flopping next to it, my body suddenly lifeless.

  There’s some random student somewhere outside this space, I know. But right now, all I want is the complete serenity that comes from a hot shower and maybe some of my mom’s banchan.

  When my stomach starts to growl, I cut my time washing up short. Once out of the shower, I throw on a fresh pair of sweats and a clean crew-neck Henley shirt before unlocking the big sectional door that leads into the kitchen.

  The lights are on, so I know the student has to be here. My mom would never waste money by leaving the lights on after she’d left. This thought barely processes before I notice a woman sitting at the kitchen island wearing familiar bulky headphones, a book held in front of her.

  Suddenly, my heart stops.

  What the… It can’t be.

  “Anya?”

  ?Sky Mincharo