All I want for Christmas is Yoon

“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—”

“No, this is America. They don’t phrase things that way. We must respect our culture but adapt to our new surroundings.”

“Yes.” My stomach twists and growls. I can’t look ignorant in front of others. It’ll upset Sang-Hoon and the company. We’re here to make a good impression.

“Try again,” Sang-Hoon insists.

I clear my throat. “What I’ve seen of it has been beautiful, and you’ve all been very welcoming. Thank you.”

“Good.” He grunts. “Do you have a significant other?”

“No, my work keeps me very busy. Currently, my main focus is on making the best show I can for my fans.”

The manager gives me a thumbs-up. “Excellent. What do you look for in a woman?”

I fight the urge to flinch. It’s such an invasive question. Hollywood here seems to have an obsession without the romantic relationships of stars.

“I enjoy a woman with a sweet spirit who likes music and reading.”

“Very nice. Continue to keep it vague, so anyone out there can picture themselves as the one who gains your attention.”

The pilot gives the fifteen-minute warning ’til landing, and blessed silence falls as Sang-Hoon begins to gather his things.

The plane lands. Flight attendants in peacock blue dresses and pointed hats begin to unbuckle their flight seats. We come to a stop. They’re immediately on their feet, flashing blinding white smiles as they stow their seats. Black heels accentuate their shapely legs, and the dresses highlight their slender frames. Their beauty does nothing for me. Working in a world built around an image, I’m trapped by expectations and craving someone real.

A dark-haired attendant with olive-toned skin and a round face sends me a suggestive look and winks. I avert my eyes, ignoring her subtle invitation. I won’t find a sincere connection hooking up with a stranger I’ll never see again. I’d be a feather in her cap she can brag to her friends and coworkers about. I’ve seen lives ruined by bad press and rumors. My career means more to me than that. I refuse to put myself in another comprising position again. My stomach sours as I think about her.

I always had strong emotions buried deep inside of me. First music, and later drama allowed me to express them acceptably. After six years as an idol in a K-Pop group, where I was told when to wake, how much I could eat, and the proper way to act, I wasn’t sure who I was.

The door lowers, and people scramble for their things, hurrying to the aisle way, where they line up to deboard. I tense, bouncing my leg as I lean forward in my seat. Traveling through public places makes me nervous. Wide-open spaces make it easy for crowds to get out of hand.

Our stylist, Cho, clucks her tongue from the seat across from me.

“Neither of you can be seen like this. Let me give you a quick touch up.” Spritzing water onto my costar, Jiwoo Park’s hair, Cho begins to work through it with a wide paddle brush. “We must always look our best in public.”

“It seems to me that you are right, Cho,” Jiwoo agrees.

“We owe them a great debt. Their love for you makes this possible,” Sang says.

As if I needed a reminder.

“Yoon. Wipe your face with a calming cleanser wipe to prepare it for hydration and concealer,” Cho commands.