by Leigh Ban
“I don’t doubt that you have photos of you here as a kid. Let’s be honest though: you’ve brought a girl here before, haven’t you?” I jabbed him with my elbow.
“Or maybe a girl brought me here as a romantic gesture.”
“Is that so?” I pursed my lips.
“No, I’m joking, Yumi. I really haven’t been here since middle school. A few days ago, while I was checking out the Seo Woo Center website, I stumbled across a recent photo of this garden on the events page. That’s basically how I found out they hadn’t switched this place up.”
Ten feet away from us was a marble pavilion with intricate pillars carved in the shape of dancing women. A florist stood in the middle of the pavilion, arranging flowers, while a couple wearing matching plaid coats watched her in awe.
“It’s beautiful,” marveled the woman in gray, clapping her hands in joy.
The florist nimbly wrapped up the bouquet, a vibrant mix of red and pink roses, and handed it to the woman. “Here are your flowers.”
The couple bowed in thanks, then came in our direction. As I checked the time on my phone, I wondered if they were going to see The Nutcracker as well.
“We better get going,” I said, tugging the sleeve of Isaac’s coat.
“Right now?” He locked his fingers with mine and smiled at the florist. “Let’s get you a bouquet first.”
“We don’t have much time.”
“We only need an extra minute,” he assured me as we went to the florist.
“Hello there. How can I help you?” asked the florist, pulling out a satin rouleau from the pocket of her apron.
“We’d like a bouquet,” Isaac said.
“Of course. What type of bouquet did you have in mind? I’ve got a couple on display here, if you’re unsure.”
While staring into my eyes, he asked the florist, “What type of bouquet comes to mind when you see her?”
The florist gave me a knowing grin and reached out for a bunch of peach roses. When Isaac saw the look on my face, he began laughing; I’d never thought of myself as a peach girl. Next, the florist added some cream roses into the mix, followed by a single red rose in the center. She then wrapped the bouquet with light pink cellophane.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, dear,” said the florist.
“Thank you,” I replied, taking the bouquet from her with both hands.
“You look so precious holding those roses,” she cooed as Isaac handed her his credit card.
Once she swiped the card and passed it back to him, he watched me curiously.
“Don’t I dress a little too vampy for a bouquet like this?” I muttered while we walked back to the main building.
“No, she’s right. You do look precious, Mimi.”
The Nutcracker was just ninety minutes long, without a break. To me, those ninety minutes felt like just twenty or thirty. The lithe yet strong prima ballerina, who’d danced as the sugar plum fairy, took my breath away with her swift, light movements; the image of her on pointe, with perfect posture, stayed in my mind as I left the recital hall.
“She was so beautiful and graceful,” I said.
“Who?” Isaac asked.
“The sugar plum fairy, of course. They were all fantastic though. The entire cast did a splendid job.”
“Right. Even the children were so professional.”
“Seeing as you’ve actually seen enough ballet shows to be able to make a comparison, what did you think of today’s performance overall?”
“Oh, well, it’s been years since I last watched the ballet.” He shrugged as we moved within the crowd.
“You’re not trying to downplay your interest in ballet, are you?” I teased.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He winked. “Actually, when I was a kid, my cousin Joodam would ask me to help her out with her ballet routine. Just between me and you, I quite enjoyed it. I even tried to lift her, but she wouldn’t let me.”
When I imagined Isaac as a little boy, trailing behind his cousin while ballet music played in the background, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
He added, “I got along with her better than my brother. Maybe because she and I weren’t as close in age, so she was more patient with me. I used to wish she could be my sister and my brother could be my cousin instead. Back then, I spent more time playing with ‘girly toys,’ whatever that means.”
“Oh, what, like pink dollhouses? I never understood why there needed to be a distinction. It’s all just a social construct anyway, isn’t it?” I pointed to a short line. “Do you think this is for the photo zone? Should we take our profile picture here?”
“Good idea.”
While we waited in line, two little girls dressed as fairies ran past.
“We’re going to the ice cream castle!” exclaimed the green fairy, the taller and presumably older one.
“Wait for me!” squealed the purple fairy, trailing behind. “I want to go too!”
Isaac and I exchanged glances and chuckled heartily, like we were the uncle and aunt of those girls. After a minute, we were just looking at each other in silence. When I diverted my gaze to the bouquet I was holding, I thought of how strange it was for the florist to have selected peach and cream roses, with only one red rose in the center.
“My friends don’t believe me when I reveal this to them, but you know, I went through a phase of wearing fairy wings and tutus on a daily basis,” I shared.
“When was this? Last year?” Isaac joked.
“More like fifteen years ago,” I said.
“So were you the only goth fairy at birthday parties? Or did you wear bright colors back then?”
“Goth fairy? No. I wanted to be Tinkerbell as a little girl. I was crazy about collecting miniature toys when I was a kid because I thought I was preparing for my future as a tiny palm-sized fairy.”
“For you, the toy aisle wasn’t simply the toy aisle, was it? You must’ve been walking down it as if you were shopping for home furniture.”
“Exactly. You get it.” I laughed, remembering the tiny waterlily bed and heart-shaped wardrobe I used to play with. “My dad was a big softie, so he spoiled me with toys. I had more dinky little dollhouses than I needed. My younger brother and I used to wait up at dawn on Christmas because we knew we could finally play with all the toys we’d been asking for. We weren’t even surprised when we opened our presents. We definitely took what we had for granted.”
“Don’t we all,” Isaac said. “You were just a child.”
“I was kind of bratty though, especially considering how there are so many kids whose families are struggling to make ends meet, even just within our country. Plus, both my parents grew up dirt poor. They gave me the privileges they never had.”
“Do you feel guilty?” he asked as we slowly moved to the front of the line.
“A little?” I scratched my nose, keeping my eyes low. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Well, I can think of two things you could do now.”
“And what would those two things be?”
“The first thing would be to tell your parents you treasure those memories and appreciate what they did for you. Now, I’ve never met your parents, but I’m sure it would mean the world to them to hear that from you.”
“You’re right.”
Isaac continued. “The second thing would be to give back by—”
“Do you need my help?” asked a middle-aged woman in cat-eye glasses as she tapped on my shoulder.
“Pardon?” I said, realizing we were next in line for the photo zone.
“You’re such a sweet couple. Would you like me to take your photo?”
“Oh, that would be great,” I replied.
After I handed Isaac my bouquet, I turned on my camera and passed my phone to the woman. Then I took the bouquet back from him as we went over to the red and green checkerboard wall with “Seo Woo Center: The Nutcracker” printed at the top.
“Aren’t you a wonderful boyfriend,” the spectacle
d woman remarked.
When Isaac opened his mouth, I half-expected him to correct her. However, he put his arm around my shoulder and simply said, “Thank you.”
He kept his arm on my shoulder while we stood in front of the gaudy, Christmasy wall.
“This photo zone is kind of tacky,” I muttered before I heard the shutter.
“Could you take one more photo?” Isaac called out.
The woman nodded, giving him a thumbs-up.
“Do we really need to take another photo?” I hissed.
“Come on, Christmas fairy, show us your pretty smile,” he whispered in my ear, pulling me in even closer.
For the next photo, I flashed an I-just-won-the-lotto grin. Isaac was probably going to insist on using this one as our profile picture. Clearly nobody was going to believe we were just friends now.
While the woman in cat-eye glasses handed back my phone, she said, “Your boyfriend’s a keeper. I can tell by the way he looks at you. He’s the real deal.”
When I peered into Isaac’s brown eyes, he looked at me tenderly.
Chapter Nine
After my disastrous first meeting with Seungwoo, the mere thought of seeing his arrogant face again made my blood boil. Although I thanked Professor Byun for assigning me such an insightful and accomplished mentor, I didn’t expect Seungwoo to find out what I said. So when Seungwoo messaged me, acting like a needy child who’d just heard a girl might have a crush on him, I simply refused to reply.
Unfortunately, he appeared to be tragically unaware of the glaringly obvious signs that I wanted nothing to do with him. One evening, while I was taking a break from studying by lying in bed with my feet on the floor, my phone vibrated. I expected it to be Dana and picked up right away, reading the name on the screen a split second too late.
“Hello, is this Yumi?” Seungwoo said, breathing heavily.
“Yes,” I replied with a yawn.
“Yumi, did you get my message about our next meeting?”
“Yes, I did,” I muttered, dragging out the words to convey my disinterest. Though I would’ve liked to straight-up tell him to leave me alone, I was afraid of him badmouthing me to Professor Byun.
“Great. When would you like to meet up?”
“Actually, I…” I paused, staring out the window. How was I supposed to make him get the hint when he seemed completely oblivious to the very idea of anyone not thinking he was Mr. Important?
“How about this Friday or Saturday? My class ends at five o’clock on Friday, so we could meet for dinner any time after that. On Saturday, I can do either lunch or dinner.” He made the most unpleasant sound as he presumably smacked his lips; I imagined drops of spit splattering on his copy of the Financial Times. “Should we meet on Saturday? I’d have more time to go over your essays with you if we met then.”
“No, I can’t do Saturday,” I blurted out, unable to tolerate the self-important tone of his voice.
“I suppose we could meet on Friday then. Do you want to send me—”
“I can’t do Friday either,” I snapped at him, pushing myself up from my bed.
“Are you busy this week?”
“Yes,” I grunted.
He smacked his lips again. The slobbery sound made me want to smash my window and somersault out of it. I wished I’d recorded him so I could replay how he sounded, though frankly, he was the type of guy who’d be too proud to admit how repulsive he was. While I kept quiet, a siren rang outside.
“Hmm… how do I put this? Yumi, as the current recipient of the fiercely competitive scholarship you’re preparing for, I’d like to remind you of who you’re going up against. The other students are dying to know what might give them an extra edge. I can help you become that special, enviable candidate the judging committee can’t help but be drawn to. You’ve got to stay focused. Even if you’re busy, you should be trying to find the time.”
While Seungwoo droned on, I could barely process what he was trying to say. Just as I saw the ambulance drive past, I flung my window open. The sound of the siren filled my room.
“Yumi?”
“Looks like I have to go,” I said before ending the call.
Date #4
I was overjoyed to find out that Isaac and I would be going to the Seo Woo Center for Performing Arts for our fourth date. Watching the ballet at the center is the type of activity that would be on my bucket list if I had one, so I suggested we see The Nutcracker. The evening was even more perfect than I expected. Although I enjoyed the performance, my absolute favorite part of the night was our stroll in the rose garden. There was a gorgeous pavilion where we had a bouquet made by a talented florist.
During the second-to-last week of November, Professor Lim gave our class a surprise announcement as soon as we sat down at our seats.
“The semester is almost coming to an end,” he said through the mic while he opened his laptop. “I’ve been enjoying the process of checking your profile pictures. I may not know all of you individually, but I can see the chemistry between some of you. Of course, there’s still time for an unexpected turn of events. By that, I mean both heartwarming and heartbreaking moments. Honestly, I’m curious to find out how many real couples there will be. Anyway, there’s a small twist for your last partner assignment.”
“Are we about to find out we’re on the Truman Show: College Edition?” I muttered.
“That or the professor’s going to tell us he actually planted a chip in our brains on the first day of class to check whether people were legitimately falling in love,” Isaac whispered in reply.
Professor Lim continued. “For the last assignment of the semester, you and your partner are free to decide on where you’re going and what you’ll be doing, as long as you’re not staying on campus or hanging out in Sinchon. I don’t want to see half-assed library dates where you’re just meeting up to complete your homework for other classes.”
Laughter broke out and students began talking among themselves.
I turned to Isaac and said, “Seriously? That’s it? That’s the surprise?”
Isaac smiled. “Are you disappointed he’s not sending us to the set of a television show for our last date?”
“He’s clearly out of ideas for our fifth date. I thought he’d have a better twist, though I guess I already got the biggest surprise of my life on the second week of classes.”
“I take it being paired up with Isaac Bong, campus heartthrob, was the best surprise of your life?” he teased.
“Yeah, because I’ve got to confess, like millions of other girls in the nation, I’ve been preparing to catch your eye since the day I was born. Except wait, you’re a sophomore and I’m a junior. I was born a year before you. Ha, I guess this doesn’t add up.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he said, giving me a mischievous grin. “By the way, I just thought of a great idea for our date. Oh man, this is going to be awesome.”
Professor Lim tapped on the mic. “Could everyone quiet down? Please discuss your plans for your partner assignment after class. Now, I’d like to start today’s lecture on matchmaking agencies and the strategies they employ.”
The moment class ended, Isaac asked, “Are you free tomorrow?”
“It’s Friday tomorrow, right?” I said, zipping up my leather backpack. “I have Behavioral Economics, which ends at four. I’m free after that.”
“Perfect. My last class of the week finishes at three. Do you want to meet up around four to discuss where to go for our last date? We could go to a café.”
“Discuss? Does that mean you’re open to suggestions?” I cocked my brow. “What about that awesome idea of yours?”
“Oh, you got me. I was really just dying to tell you my idea, which we’re definitely going through with, whether you like it or not,” he joked as we got up from our seats and made our way toward the back of the lecture hall.
“Then can I at least choose the café we’re meeting up at?” I said, playing along.
He chuckled.
“Sure, why not? I’m not a total tyrant.”
“Let’s meet at Café Crazy Cozy,” I proposed. It was one of Dana’s favorite cafés, a place that was the epitome of sweater weather, although it was more sweater-with-a-big-puffy-parka weather now.
“Where’s that?” he asked, holding the door for me.
“You’ve never been to Café Crazy Cozy? You barbarian.” I giggled.
“Remember, I’m a lowly sophomore, not a wise junior like you.”
“It’s only a short walk away from campus. I’ll send you a link with the location later. The café’s famous for their Crazy Cappuccinos, although I usually go for—”
“Let me guess, black coffee? You like your coffee like you like your clothes, don’t you?”
“Yeah, either black coffee or an espresso,” I said, wondering how he’d known.
When I was a mere twenty feet away from Café Crazy Cozy, gritting my teeth as a cold gust of wind struck my face, I spotted Isaac’s tall, athletic frame clad in a black coat. To my surprise, he was standing outside, not inside, the café’s glass double doors.
“Hey, Yumi!” he called out, waving at me.
“Should we go in?” I said, pulling my hands out of my pockets and blowing at them.
“That’s the plan, isn’t it? Unless you want us to stay out here in the cold.”
“Touché.”
When I jabbed my finger into his chest, I was startled by how firm his body was underneath his cashmere sweater. As my cheeks burned scarlet, I darted inside to hide the flustered look on my face.
“Gee, is Café Crazy Cozy always like this or is today International Coffee Day?” Isaac remarked as we stood at the back of an S-shaped queue that occupied the entire area between the counter and the entrance.
“Should we go somewhere else? Would you prefer to go somewhere quieter?” I asked.
“But you wanted to bring me here, didn’t you? I want to try the Crazy Cappuccino.”