Destination Seoul

one

So Umma is obsessed with finding me a date for the wedding now. Okay. She's also paired me with Dara to attend blind dates. Fine, whatever. I'll learn how to scare them off or something, so that they won't think twice about asking me for a second date, much less attending a wedding with me.

But then she established an obligation. I had to sit and suffer through this for an hour—and Dara, who's supposed to be on my side, but loves to watch me suffer—offered to snitch if I didn't. And of course, the universe has to remind me oh-so-inconveniently that I have the worst luck in the world.

I've been here for who knows how long. The date's so bad that I can't even keep track of the time.

Across the cafe—the one I've been visiting for the past week—I widen my eyes. Ten minutes left, Dara mouthes at me.

Seriously? I shoot the guy a look. Head bent, the spoon's in his mouth, but he's glued to his phone screen, thumbs tapping furiously against it. If he's not doing that, he's talking about his Mom, and how we're exactly the same.

"You still haven't answered the last three questions," he reminds me.

"I like dduk," I say.

"So does my mom!" He beams. "Do you like the Hyundai one?"

A shiver makes its way up my spine, and I let him return to the screen.

"That's it," I say, and grab the phone from his grasp. He gives me a horrified gasp, as if he can't believe my manners. I can't believe his. Who cares about Korea's system about respecting those older than you? I've been blabbering away for 50 minutes, and he's been texting his... Mom?

"What? You won't even let me text my eomeoni?"

It takes a minute for the hangul to translate in my brain, but I got the gist. Hyeri like this. Hyeri likes that. Hyeri's sipping her soda.

Oh, God. This is horrifying.

"What are you doing?" I blurt, voice raising.

"I can't call her!" He throws his hands up.

"I'm not going on a date with your Mom! I'm going on a date with you!"

Screw obligations. I slam his phone on the table, ignoring his shriek, and march over to Dara's table.

"We're leaving," I tell my cousin, who's bent over the table slamming her fist on the table. Her date shoots me a sympathetic glance, and I glare.

"Sorry," she says after a minute. "You still have a minute left."

Her cackling follows me as I walk out the door.

* * *

"I don't understand why we have to find dates to the wedding," I grumble, falling on the couch. The back of my head hits the soft cushion, and I rub my temples. "It's not like we're the ones getting married."

Might as well be just that, with how quickly these matches were happening. I swear, our mothers worked faster than Tinder. For the past week, I've been dragging myself to these meets every. Single. Day.

"It's matchmaking season," Dara mutters, spreading out on the ground. "Or wedding fever. Go figure. Are you still jet lagged?"

"Don't ask." I rub my eyes and try to fight the murky feeling. There's a distinct weight on my shoulders, but I'm too tired to wipe the makeup Umma plastered on my face off. I debate crouching into a sitting position, but don't even have the energy to lift my toes.

"I should have just chosen hagwon. How is it going on blind dates and meeting people more exhausting than studying over the summer?"

The door to the guest room creaks open, and Jiah peeks her head out, hair braided and glasses on. "Did the two of you just come back?"

"Yes," Dara answers for me, and snickers. "You have no idea how much bad luck Hyeri carries around with her. It's hilarious."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. And I do not."

I do. Dara and I divided which date we'd go on based on names. At first, I thought she was giving me all the terrible people on purpose. Like the guy that ordered me the most expensive plate on the menu—telling me that he'd teach me Korean cuisine once he found out that I was a gyeopo—and forgetting his wallet. Or the creep that stared at me eating the whole time.

"Just thinking about today makes my stomach hurt. I couldn't focus on my date because hers was such a disaster. Like who were you really going on a date on? The guy or his mom?"

"Huh?" Jiah's eyes widen, and my cheeks heat. Ugh. Nobody flushes as fast as I do. Why did I have to get all the bad genes added onto the lack of fortune?

"So they go, and this guy pulls out a list of questions to ask Hyeri that his mother gave him. Which is fine... no, never mind. No matter how you think of it, it's weird. But she didn't catch on because she's slow-witted. And then she started answering these questions, and he kept nodding and texting. Until she snapped her him and asked him what he was doing."

"Why do we have to talk about this?"

"Because you're quiet in everything in your life that involves you." Dara sends me a pointed look. "Now leave us alone to relive your embarrassing moments."

"Was he texting his mom?"

"Yes! And then she told him to stop, and—" A cackle leaves her mouth, and she clutches her stomach. "—they have a fight! Over his mom! And she tells him she's not dating her and storms out."

An incoherent sound leaves Jiah's mouth, and her shoulders are shaking.

"Maybe you'll have better luck next time."

I grit my teeth together. "Where is everybody?"

"At Halabuji's checkup."

That gets me up in a sitting position. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Jiah nods. "Yeah, it's just a checkup to see if he's healthy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes? I asked when they left, but that's all Imo told me."

Right. He was in the hospital for a few weeks last I knew—and discharged a few days ago, with much healthier results—but I rarely saw him in his weakest form. Conversations about him would be held at private, in hushed whispers.

I was seventeen, not five. I could do adult things, yet everyone left me out of them. The only thing that I knew was in the beginning, when she sobbed over how my grandfather wouldn't even go to live six months. For the record, it's been more than six months. Seven months, if we're keeping track, though I'm not really sure about the days.

Part of me wants to laugh in the doctor's face. The other part of me doesn't want to jinx it.

"How'd your date go, Dara?" Jiah asks.

"It went better than mine, obviously," I mutter.

"Oh, yours was definitely the highlight." Dara grins. "I told him that you were my cousin, and that I was here to babysit you—"

"You were not—"

"—and we spent the time watching your disaster of a date, because it was too good to pass up. It's better than getting the front row streets at some stand up—"

The door clicks open, and all three of our mothers, accompanied by Appa and our grandparents walk through.

"Halabuji!" I say, and he smiles, sitting on the couch.

"How'd your date go?" Umma asks. "Is this the one?"

The two stare at each other and burst into laughter again.