He grins. “Well, you’re not exactly known for your cultural sensitivity.”
I laugh. “Okay, you got me there. I was totally crazy and judgmental. But I’m working on it!”
Young Jo takes us out of the downtown part of the city into a more secluded neighborhood with quieter streets and more residential buildings. We pull up to a two-story white house that’s been built into the side of a hill and pass through a gate. Young Jo parks in front of a path that climbs up the hill to a porch which I suspect is the route to the front door. He helps us get all our luggage out and carts Sophie’s and my suitcases up the path.
We climb the stairs onto the porch, and I follow behind Sophie as she pushes open the door.
“Omma!” she cries, kicking off her shoes in the entryway and sliding on a pair of slippers before rushing into the living room.
The plush room has a modern theme, with white walls and carpet, square wooden shelves that divide the room from the kitchen, and a black couch that looks too angular to be comfortable. Sophie sits beside a woman on the sofa, and a sudden batch of nerves twists in my stomach at the sight.
Sophie and Jason’s mom sports a Chanel dress I saw online a few months ago that probably costs more than half my wardrobe. But while all the women I have experience with who wear these kinds of dresses are anything but maternal, Ms. Bae oozes warmth.
The way a mother should.
She looks up when I enter with Jason, and a smile spreads across her face. Getting to her feet, she holds her arms out for her son and says, “Hyun Jun-ah.”
He hugs her. “Hi, Mom.”
“And this is Grace?” Ms. Bae directs her smile at me.
I drop in a bow. “Thank you so much for allowing me into your home.”
“You’re welcome,” she says in perfect English.
“Mom, Grace is the best roommate ever,” Sophie says. “I even think Jason likes her.”
Jason’s face wipes of all expression, though the slight reddening of his cheeks betrays him. Ms. Bae just laughs.
“She must be a wonderful girl, then.” She waves me forward. “Come. Sit.”
I drop down onto the couch and find it only slightly more comfortable than I originally thought.
“Sophie has told me this is your first trip to Seoul,” Ms. Bae says. “What do you think?”
“It’s great!” I respond, my nerves infusing a little too much excitement into my voice. “I mean, I’ve only been here for an hour or so, but everything seems awesome!”
Okay, since when does my voice sound like a chipmunk? Chill out, Grace. It’s not like you’re meeting your future mother-in-law, or something.
“I’m going to take her to the market later,” Sophie says. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Ms. Bae responds with proper enthusiasm, something my mother would never do. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”
We spend the next hour talking with Sophie and Jason’s mom, but it never veers into awkward territory. She asks about Tennessee and my college plans, and besides the polite questions about family, she doesn’t pry—which I appreciate.
Before dinner, Sophie shows me to her room, where I’ll be sleeping for the next month. With fuchsia-colored paint and giant posters of her favorite actors and cartoon characters plastered all over the walls, it’s like stepping into the room of a preteen, but it somehow fits her. Her bed, covered in a fuzzy pink blanket over a silky comforter, is big enough for both of us, and I set my suitcase beside her dresser.
We migrate to the kitchen for supper, where I find Ms. Bae has cooked bibimbap, a traditional Korean dish of white rice with lots of sautéed vegetables and a fried egg, mixed with chili paste. Now that I’ve mastered chopsticks, I don’t feel completely inept eating with their mom, but I can’t hide my shock after the first bite, when my mouth feels like it’s on fire.
I suck down a drink of water, and Sophie giggles.
“Spicy?” she asks.
I toss Ms. Bae a glance, not wanting to offend her. “No, it’s great!”
My mouth still burning, I pick up a piece of cabbage with red paste rubbed all over it, a dish that’s always served at school but that I’ve thus far avoided. But one bite and I realize it’s even spicier than the bibimbap.
After draining my water glass, I ask, “What is that?”
Sophie points to the cabbage in question. “Kimchi. Good, no?”
“Uhh … yeah, but it’s really spicy.”
Note to self—bibimbap: good. Kimchi: a little too intense for me.
Beside me, Jason snorts a laugh when I swallow hard and discreetly pushes his drink toward me with the back of his hand. I’m caught between glaring at him for laughing and hugging him, but I settle with finishing off his glass, as well.
Once we’ve all finished eating, we turn in early. It feels like we’ve been traveling a long time, although the drive only lasted a few hours. But I couldn’t sleep last night, the argument with my mother replaying over and over in my head. She’s probably complaining to Dad about me right now, sending me evil vibes across the Pacific. I wouldn’t put it past her.
My phone pings with a message, interrupting my depressing thoughts, and I open a picture message from Jane. She’s standing behind Momma and pretending to hang herself. The text below reads, kill me now. an entire month without school. alone, with our mother. you better be having fun.
I suppress a laugh but allow Jane’s words to sink in. I can’t let myself worry about Momma’s opinions of me or let them weigh me down. I’m in freaking Seoul for the Christmas holidays. It’s time to have fun.
*
The next day, Sophie and I lounge around the house in our pajamas. Jason is conspicuously absent, and when I ask about him, Sophie says, “He had to go to the studio today to talk to his manager about the drama. They start shooting in a few days.”
She flips through TV channels, stopping on a celebrity gossip show. Although I can’t understand anything, I can decipher enough to know the candid shots of stars don’t come with flattering commentaries.