Seoulmates (Seoul 2)

“Too many. Finished it off with mango tau huay.”

“The cold kind?”

“Yes. It was that kind of night.”

“As it always is in Singapore,” murmurs Wansu.

Their ease, their shared memories, are showing me that they’re a unit in a way I hadn’t envisioned before. I’m happy they have this, like I have with Ellen, but I won’t lie. There’s a sliver of resentment, too, because I overthink every interaction I have with Wansu, questioning whether I’m wording even a compliment appropriately.

But I can push the peas around my plate or jump in. I jump in. “I’ve never had any of this food, and now I want to eat it all.”

“Bak kut teh is a pork bone broth soup,” Yujun explains. “There are some places in Seoul that serve Singaporean food, although, bak kut teh is more Hong Kong cuisine.”

I had never heard of it, but Koreans love their soup. Almost no meal is complete without a bowl of soup, often served at the end before the fruit. Even Wansu’s Western meals will include some sort of soup, even if it is only a broth with a few green onions and peppers floating in the liquid. “Is it like seolleongtang?” One of the food trucks serves cups of ox-bone soup ladled out of a huge iron cauldron.

“Sort of, but a different flavor. Seolleongtang has a milky color from the boiling of the bones, whereas bak kut teh broth is made like a tea with a spice packet. Everyone makes it differently.”

The chicken is beginning to taste like rubber. “Like banchan and limoncello.”

A wide smile breaks across Yujun’s face, like the sun shoving itself out between two clouds. “Exactly like limoncello.”

“What is this?” Wansu is the one who feels left out now.

“When I took Hara out to eat, I told her every restaurant has its own banchan like Italian chefs have their own limoncello.” Yujun will never allow someone to feel excluded.

The mention of my date with Yujun dims Wansu’s pleasure, and her lips flatten. I clench the back of my teeth together. Yujun pretends nothing is amiss.

“Should we go to the Banyan Tree tonight?” he suggests. “Sangki is doing a short set. We could invite Bomi and your friends from the Airbnb.”

Wansu and I are the two clouds in Yujun’s life, squeezing the sunshine behind our dark glowers. I resolve to do better. “For the Summer Splash thing? I forgot that was tonight, but yeah, that sounds like fun. Now that you’re back I won’t have to sit with Mr. Lee.”

“Mr. Lee? Oh, you mean Sangki’s manager. I don’t think he ever sits, does he?”

“Only in the car.”

We share a small smile, which goes on for too long, because Wansu clears her throat. “It will be nice for Yujun to introduce you to some of his friends. Perhaps you should invite Lee Sikook.”

Yujun cops immediately to Wansu’s plans. “Lee Sikook is dating Ryu Sooyeon these days.”

Wansu spears a piece of a cantaloupe. “Is that right? They would make a nice couple. Ryu is a pharmacist, isn’t she? And Lee is a biochemist. What about—”

“I don’t think anyone you would like will be at this party, Eomma. It’s an influencer crowd.”

“I see.” The edges of her nose flare in obvious disgust. The influencer crowd must not be one she approves of.

Yujun is unperturbed. “We will have fun.” He pulls out his phone. “I’ll text Sangki and let him know to put our names on the list. Who else?”

“Bomi and Jules.”

“Kim Bomi?” Wansu interjects with a narrowed glance. “My Kim Bomi? That is not a crowd to which she belongs.”

“It’ll be fun for her and Hara. It’s not like either of them are going to start a YouTube channel. Are you?” He looks to me.

I shake my head vehemently. “No. Never.” While I watch a lot of videos, I can’t imagine starring in one myself.

“There.” He nods to his mother. “No one is joining the influencer crowd. We are going to have drinks, eat food, and listen to good music.”

And that was that.

* * *

• • •

“YOU DON’T SEEM to be in a party mood,” I murmur to Jules over the noise. “Maybe this was a bad idea. We should’ve invited your other roommates.”

I pull the calf-length sheer sweater closer around my frame and tuck my wedge-clad feet against the leg of the black stained rattan bench. Half the girls here are wearing less than me, but fancy pool parties are outside of my experience, which was mostly bars with sticky floors and dozens of big screens blasting the latest Hawkeye or Cyclone sporting event.

Since we arrived, Yujun has been mobbed by a bunch of people who exclaimed that he had been gone a decade. Right now, he’s on the other side of the banquette having an in-depth discussion about the flight of international businesses from Hong Kong to places like Shanghai and Seoul due to the political unrest. It’s an interesting topic, but while it started in English, they’ve unconsciously slipped into Korean.