like that.”
“I love you, Citlalli.”
“I love you, too, sis.”
***
Una was tied up with her Korea reunification group and wouldn’t be able to meet us until later. So it was just Miguel and I freezing our asses off on the subway out to Children’s Grand Park. And to my surprise, as we arrived at the subway exit—Rafael.
“Got your text.” He slouched, hands in his pockets, somehow looking colder than the chilly drafts circling around the subway exit. “Happy Birthday.”
He handed me a bag with a bright yellow hoodie inside. “It’s a zip-up track suit. You can easily slip out of it when you need to shift,” he explained.
“Thanks.” I buried my head in the bag so no one could see how much I was glowing inside. “I’ll look like a bumblebee.”
Rafael gave the smallest of smiles. “Then I’ll be able to keep track of you.”
“How do you know her size?” Miguel demanded.
“Miguel…”
“A prosthetic finger would have been a better gift.”
“They were all out.” Rafael tried a grin, but Miguel wasn’t buying it. “You don’t mind if I…tag along, do you? My break-up with Yu Li…really sucks. Young Soo got ahold of her phone last night. Left this fumbling message in English asking where I am. Breaks my heart every time I listen to it, but I just can’t seem to make myself…delete it.”
“Of course,” I said immediately.
Miguel shook his head in disbelief, stalking ahead of us. “This is a family birthday dinner,” he muttered. “Not a get-over-your-girlfriend pity party.” He shot me a warning look.
What? I mouthed. Obviously, I wasn’t going to go down the rebound road. I’d never forgive myself for—my face burned crimson—just being that to him.
I’d always loved the lively seafood restaurants with their porch side tables of clinking glasses and pleasant chatter, and the bubbling of fish tanks with eels and cuttlefish pressed up against the glass. I was only recently brave enough to eat at such places because I was finally confident enough of my Korean—and if I needed back-up, I had Rafael.
The waiter came by our table. I took one look at the stiff-backed posture of my two party pals, and immediately ordered a round of soju.
“ Jeo-ui saeng-il immnida, ” I told the waiter, and his face lit up.
“ Saeng-il? Birthday?” He snapped his fingers. “Soju I give you! Service!”
Ah, service . The national term for “free.” I grinned at Miguel and Rafael, but they seemed more interested in sizing each other up.
“So, Raf .” I winced. Miguel was on dangerous ground there. “What do you do when you’re not running around as a wild animal?”
“I’m a delivery man for Chicken Town.”
Chicken Town was the equivalent of a Korean KFC. Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? How long have you been living here again? Did your girlfriend foot the bills for you, too?”
I braced myself for a lean brown wolf to suddenly explode across the table, but Rafael only responded very cheerfully: “What do you do, Miguel?”
“I’m a manager at our family-owned restaurant in Itaewon.” Miguel put an arm protectively around my shoulder. “Family. You see, we look out for each other here. Got to. The world’s full of shitty people. You know what I mean?”
“No.” Rafael looked at me and winked. “No, most of the people I’ve met are actually very nice. It’s just that most people allow themselves to be treated like shit.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say, man?”
“Okay, enough!” I pounded on the table with my empty soju glass. “Seriously? You guys are comparing jobs a high schooler could do. And Miguel, you only got your position because Mami gave it to you. It’s not like either of you have much to brag about.”
“Delivering in a ten minute deadline or else the boss will have your ass is way more complicated than any high schooler could handle,” Rafael protested. “Have you tried driving in Seoul?”
Miguel shook his head.
“I love you, Citlalli.”
“I love you, too, sis.”
***
Una was tied up with her Korea reunification group and wouldn’t be able to meet us until later. So it was just Miguel and I freezing our asses off on the subway out to Children’s Grand Park. And to my surprise, as we arrived at the subway exit—Rafael.
“Got your text.” He slouched, hands in his pockets, somehow looking colder than the chilly drafts circling around the subway exit. “Happy Birthday.”
He handed me a bag with a bright yellow hoodie inside. “It’s a zip-up track suit. You can easily slip out of it when you need to shift,” he explained.
“Thanks.” I buried my head in the bag so no one could see how much I was glowing inside. “I’ll look like a bumblebee.”
Rafael gave the smallest of smiles. “Then I’ll be able to keep track of you.”
“How do you know her size?” Miguel demanded.
“Miguel…”
“A prosthetic finger would have been a better gift.”
“They were all out.” Rafael tried a grin, but Miguel wasn’t buying it. “You don’t mind if I…tag along, do you? My break-up with Yu Li…really sucks. Young Soo got ahold of her phone last night. Left this fumbling message in English asking where I am. Breaks my heart every time I listen to it, but I just can’t seem to make myself…delete it.”
“Of course,” I said immediately.
Miguel shook his head in disbelief, stalking ahead of us. “This is a family birthday dinner,” he muttered. “Not a get-over-your-girlfriend pity party.” He shot me a warning look.
What? I mouthed. Obviously, I wasn’t going to go down the rebound road. I’d never forgive myself for—my face burned crimson—just being that to him.
I’d always loved the lively seafood restaurants with their porch side tables of clinking glasses and pleasant chatter, and the bubbling of fish tanks with eels and cuttlefish pressed up against the glass. I was only recently brave enough to eat at such places because I was finally confident enough of my Korean—and if I needed back-up, I had Rafael.
The waiter came by our table. I took one look at the stiff-backed posture of my two party pals, and immediately ordered a round of soju.
“ Jeo-ui saeng-il immnida, ” I told the waiter, and his face lit up.
“ Saeng-il? Birthday?” He snapped his fingers. “Soju I give you! Service!”
Ah, service . The national term for “free.” I grinned at Miguel and Rafael, but they seemed more interested in sizing each other up.
“So, Raf .” I winced. Miguel was on dangerous ground there. “What do you do when you’re not running around as a wild animal?”
“I’m a delivery man for Chicken Town.”
Chicken Town was the equivalent of a Korean KFC. Miguel raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? How long have you been living here again? Did your girlfriend foot the bills for you, too?”
I braced myself for a lean brown wolf to suddenly explode across the table, but Rafael only responded very cheerfully: “What do you do, Miguel?”
“I’m a manager at our family-owned restaurant in Itaewon.” Miguel put an arm protectively around my shoulder. “Family. You see, we look out for each other here. Got to. The world’s full of shitty people. You know what I mean?”
“No.” Rafael looked at me and winked. “No, most of the people I’ve met are actually very nice. It’s just that most people allow themselves to be treated like shit.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say, man?”
“Okay, enough!” I pounded on the table with my empty soju glass. “Seriously? You guys are comparing jobs a high schooler could do. And Miguel, you only got your position because Mami gave it to you. It’s not like either of you have much to brag about.”
“Delivering in a ten minute deadline or else the boss will have your ass is way more complicated than any high schooler could handle,” Rafael protested. “Have you tried driving in Seoul?”
Miguel shook his head.
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