Start-Up

2010

Han Ji-pyeong strode across campus, shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulder. 

Being in the States was still taking some getting used to. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to prove he wasn't dreaming. That he really was here to pursue a Master's degree after putting himself through college in Seoul. He'd gotten a full scholarship, but of course he had to put a roof above his head and food in his belly. He stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. On a day like today, Korea suddenly seemed so far away.

"Han Ji-pyeong?"

His eyes flew open at the sound of a familiar voice, one he hadn't heard in eight years.

"Han Ji-pyeong, is that you?" the girl standing in front of him said, and he blinked.

"Seo In-jae!" he exclaimed as he recognized her. "What are you doing here?"

In-jae smirked, "It's Won In-jae now." She raised the books she was holding, "Studying. You?"

He gave her a bedimpled smile, "Same. Are you on your way to class?"

She shook her head, "I'm done for the day. Do you want to grab a bite?"

He shrugged, "Sure."

They fell into step together as they walked to a nearby restaurant.

"So, did you end up writing to Dal-mi regularly?" In-jae asked casually.

Ji-pyeong laughed, "Gosh. Dal-mi. I haven't heard that name in a long time. No, after a few letters, I decided to give her one last letter before I left for college in Seoul. I haven't heard from her or your grandma since then."

"Good. So I was your only penpal then."

Before Ji-pyeong could say anything, In-jae pushed her way into the restaurant and led the way to a booth by the corner.

They placed their orders, then Ji-pyeong looked at her from across the table. "Yes, you were my only penpal," he said seriously.

In-jae felt her cheeks flush as she remembered the day his first letter had arrived. It was hardly anything, really, you could tell that he had been struggling with what to say. After all, what do you say to a girl you barely know?

She wasn't planning to reply, but that night, she found herself sitting at her desk and writing to him about how lonely she felt in the States. Then he wrote her back with stories about her grandma and she felt a bit better. Back and forth their letters went across the ocean, as In-jae opened up to him about being adopted by her stepfather, and Ji-pyeong told her about how his struggles in Seoul.

And then, the letters stopped.

"We had moved. My stepfather set up a business in another state," she said softly.

"And I got evicted so I moved," he said simply.

They stared at each other across the table now, studying how they had changed from eight years ago. They were no longer teenagers who didn't know anything about the world. Both In-jae and Ji-pyeong had an edge to them, as if they knew that the world was not always brimming with positivity and opportunity. They both knew that the world and the people in it could disappoint you, fail you, abandon you.

But as Ji-pyeong watched In-jae stare back at him, there was something inside him that was saying he could let his guard down with her and it would be okay. And from across the table, he could see a hint of the vulnerability she seemed to be trying to hide.

He broke their gaze by reaching into his backpack, pulling out his notebook and pen, and scribbling something down. He ripped the piece of paper from his notebook and pushed it across the table to her.

In-jae picked it up and saw an email address.

"For when you want to write someone who knows the real you," he said softly.

In-jae opened her mouth to say something, but their orders arrived, and Ji-pyeong quickly set about preparing the dishes in front of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw In-jae fold the piece of paper and slip it into her purse, and he smiled.