Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

“I haven’t worn that in years.”

“Mmhmm.” She holds it up to me. “Hold this.” I press it to my body, and she pulls down my hat boxes. Resting the pink and white striped bins on the bed, she riffles through them. She chooses a straw hat with a ruffled edge and a pink strip of leather around it with a buckle. Plopping it on my head, she gathers my hair in two fists. “With pigtails and light, fresh make-up, but highlighted freckles.” She hums. “Shoes. Shoes. Shoes.” Turning, she moves to the bottom of my closet. She holds up a pair of white canvas shoes. “This is it.”

I glance down and frown. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I feel it.” She grabs her breast, referencing one of our favorite movies, and I laugh.

“Oh yeah? Your tit is tingling, and it’s saying this is going to earn me a spot on the show?”

“Yes, it is.” She bobs her head, cartoonishly.

“Lies,” I say in a sing-song voice.

“Facts.” She taps the end of my nose.

“Fine,” I concede.

“Excellent.” Rubbing her hands together, she beams. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Brat.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “This is how I feel when you use your common sense and logic on me.”

“That’s different.”

“Seems like a bit of poetic justice to me.”

“Evil woman.” I carefully fold the dress and place it into my bag. “Happy?”

“Very.” She starts to put back the clothing, and I repack the essentials.

“Are you guys going to make a weekend of it?”

“I think getting away for a bit would be nice. The walls here hold ghosts. Every corner is a trigger for a memory, and each person looks at us with pity.” I glance at the family picture that rests on my dresser from happier times. “It’s hard to move forward when it feels like your surroundings are keeping you in the past.” I place my hand over the top of the clothing piled in the bag.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I’m here to help, however I can.”

I look at her and smile. “You do that by continuing to treat me the same and never judging me.”

“This will always be a safe space.”

“And I love you for that.”

“I love you back. Are you sure you’re up to doing this?” Concern leaks into her voice.

“Yeah. It just ... hits me all at once out of nowhere sometimes.” I blink back the tears and inhale. “You sure you can’t get out of your shift on Saturday?”

“I think this is a trip you and your baby sister need to take alone. It’ll be good for both of you. Plus, we have a gig that evening.”

I swallow down the words that will voice the doubts and concerns about not being enough for Fiona. The tiny part of me that feels my mother’s shoes are too big for anyone to ever fill.

YOON

Being in America should be exciting. Yet, all I can feel is bone-deep exhaustion. Our filming schedule on top of promotions has us bustling back and forth. It takes a lot of energy to smile, charm, and look good, all while attempting to interpret. It’s more than a language barrier. I speak English adequately. It’s the manners and traditions that are difficult to master. Americans are very different from Koreans. Comprehending what they’re saying doesn’t equate to what they may mean. It makes me appreciate the obvious hierarchy of my country.

“Yoon, how do you feel about Austin?” My manager, Sang-Hoon, holds a pretend microphone up to me.

“It would seem—”