by Anna Premoli
“Then you will work at our house. Everybody has a computer and an internet connection nowadays – hey, this is South Korea, we are always all connected. Come on Mark, you know that if you don’t they just won’t leave you in peace until they’ve driven you crazy. You might as well give up now. Better the easy way than the hard, right?”
Mark sighs and starts walking round in circles. He will end up wearing a hole in the floor if he goes on like this. Suddenly he stops and looks at my gloomy face. “I promise you, you won’t have to eat only Korean food.” That wasn’t exactly what I was expecting to hear from him.
I jump to my feet.
“No way. Please, go to your family, God bless you. I’ll be fine on my own and if necessary we can always speak on the phone,” I say, trying to worm myself out of it. He can bloody well forget about me agreeing to go to his family. There is a limit to my masochism which I have always promised myself never to exceed.
“I could never leave you alone at Christmas,” he insists, with an almost excessive determination. It’s impossible for him to hide his obstinate streak. It’s always a mystery to me how he can be so stubborn.
“I’ll be fine by myself,” I repeat, equally decisively. Now I that have a few months of practice behind me, I know how to stand up to him.
“Maybe, but how will we manage with all the work we have to do? There’s some stuff we have to go over together. I can’t spend all day on the phone. You might as well come with me.”
Of course he doesn’t actually care about my solitary Christmas – he just wants to exploit me for the job at hand. I try to swallow the bitter feeling caused by my disappointment.
“We can work together perfectly well from a distance,” I reply.
Mark glances compassionately at his brother. “I’m quite happy to accept, but only if she decides to come too. So now you don’t just have to convince me, you have to convince Maddison as well… good luck!” And he walks away from the discussion. An unexpected change of strategy, I must give that to him.
Tae Min focuses all his attention on me, smiling as though he’s certain I’m a pushover. “Come on Maddison, you wouldn’t want Mark to spend Christmas Day without his family, would you? Our poor grandmother is old, this could be the last Christmas we spend together…” he begs.
“Look, she already met our grandmother when we were in New York, so don’t think that there’s any chance of her falling for the ‘poor little old lady’ story,” the elder brother warns him with an amused smile on his face.
“Nice try, though,” I say.
“Ah! So you’ve already met our grandmother? Okay, this is a serious matter then!” teases Tae Min giving me an exaggerated wink.
“I met her by accident…” I hasten to point out.
“I know she seems tough, but she has a heart problem. Really,” he adds, turning serious. If he’s lying I swear he could win an Oscar for his acting.
I ponder what to do as I attempt to decipher the expression on his face: is he teasing me or not? The question haunts me, because his eyes remain sad and hopeful. Well he’s certainly playing his cards right!
“All right, all right. I give in!” I tell them, throwing in the towel. I’m used to horrendous relatives, Mark’s can’t be any worse than mine.
Tae Min beams. “You see how easy it is to convince women, brother? You just don’t know how to handle them…” he smirks.
Mark snorts, pointing to the door. “Come on, you might as well go back to where you came from. We’ll come for lunch tomorrow and we will stay one night. Tell Mom and Grandma. But not one minute more,” he warns.
Tae Min walks towards the door, but not before turning round to ask a final question.
“So do you two usually sleep together or separately?”
Mark slams the door in his face. “They should have sent you to boarding school, I knew it.”
“And now I’ll feel so alone!” his brother responds hammily from the other side of the door.
Mark rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. He and his brother seem about as similar as day and night.
I feel a little uncomfortable – the idea of spending Christmas with his family does not appeal to me at all.
“Do I have to come?” I ask with my last glimmer of hope.
Mark sits down on the kitchen chair. “Yes, I’m afraid you do, you said yourself that you were coming.” In his eyes I can see a sort of warning.
“I only said that to get rid of your brother. But I hoped that you would help me to get out of the invitation…” I say.
“Well, no,” he replies, going back to studying the papers he had been looking at before his brother arrived.
I stare at him for a moment and I can see the corner of his mouth almost turning into a smile.
“You know I always say stupid things when I’m anxious, and the atmosphere tomorrow would make me very anxious. Do you really want to risk that?” I warn him.
He pulls a face. “Believe me, nothing you say you will be able to dramatically change the picture that they have of you in their petty bourgeois minds. You are already the scarlet woman – at worst you could become the scarlet woman with no brain. Does that change anything?”
I reflect for a moment, before facing the evidence before me. “I suppose not.” It’s strange but that’s what I really think.
Mark looks satisfied. “I told you so. Come on, let’s call it a day. Pack your suitcase for tomorrow.”
“What should I bring?” I ask as I turn off my laptop and clip the sheets of paper together.
“What a question! You have to bring a nightgown, as decorum dictates!” he chuckles, winking at me.
I swear, when Mark tries to be funny I start to get scared.
“By the way, does your grandmother really have a heart problem?” I ask him, before leaving his apartment.
“Who? My grandmother? You’re kidding – she will see us all buried before her turn comes…” he says, getting up from the table.
Ok. I’ve been conned.
*
I had heard that in Korea the winter was particularly harsh, with polar temperatures and frequent snowfalls, but I thought that seeing as I was English, I would have enough antibodies to see me through it. Let’s face it, our beloved island is certainly not known for its good weather. Yet I was wrong: the cold in Korea is bitter and the wind is cruel and we are only at the beginning of the winter season. I hope I’ll be able to survive for the next three months. Mark parks his car in front of his parents’ house and when I open the door I’m frozen by a burst of cold air. It hasn’t started snowing yet, but we can expect it to, very soon. Pulling my jacket, which would be suitable for an expedition to the North Pole, tight round myself I look up and am amazed: This isn’t a house, it’s a bloody palace!
“Tell me something, you aren’t rich by any chance, are you?” I ask a little uncomfortably. Basically he lives in an apartment provided by the company and drives a company car. I imagined that his family were of similar means.
“Not me, but my parents are,” he answers seriously, as he opens the car boot.
“That’s not true, Mark!”
All of a sudden I hear Tae Min, who has materialized out of nowhere and is standing next to us. “You didn’t tell Maddison how rich you are?” he teases.
Mark throws his bag at him to silence him. “Come on, at least make yourself useful,” he scolds, and locks the car. I lean over and I notice that my bag is lying on the ground. He doesn’t seem prepared to pick it up for me. Typical – how ignorant.
“Mark, get Maddison’s bag immediately!” thunders his grandmother, as she walks down the driveway. “Maddison dear, over here. Let the boys deal with the suitcases.” She welcomes me with the soft voice and strong American accent that I remember.
I follow her with a hint of admiration, because up to now she’s been the only person I’ve met who knows how to keep Mark in line. I have to ask her the secret.
“Did you have a good tri
p?” She asks, smiling at me. She has a way of looking at me that seems to imply a lot. I’m almost afraid to guess exactly what.
“Y-yes…” I stammer, realising that I feel quite nervous. For some reason I feel like a cow on display at a cattle fair. I am afraid that someone will end up asking me to show them my teeth.
The entrance to the house comes to my rescue, even if it is only from the weather. Mark’s grandmother takes my jacket and invites me to take a seat in the hall. I sit on the couch with my back straight, hardly daring to breathe. I am reminded of our last topic of conversation in New York and begin to blush visibly. Where the hell is Mark?
“Soo Young! Tom! Come and say hello to our guest!” Mrs Kim calls the rest of the family to order.
In no time at all, those who I imagine to be the son and daughter-in-law appear. Mark’s father really is a handsome man. His features, even though exotic, are more reminiscent of a westerner than of a Korean: his hair is wavy just like his mother’s and his dark eyes are intense and sparkling. Mark’s mother is tall and slim, with long hair that is still jet black: a classical Korean beauty. She doesn’t seem too pleased to see me. Her beautiful face is hardened by eyes that I definitely wouldn’t call friendly.
By agreeing to come here I knew that I would be an easy target for criticism from Mark’s mother, but I was hoping that the much vaunted Korean hospitality would get the better of her prejudice. Looks like I was hoping in vain…
“I see that you have already met everyone,” says Mark, interrupting the exchange of glances. He seems very relaxed, unlike me. It is obvious that he’s using me to his advantage to hit his family where he thinks it is most vulnerable.
“I’m really glad you brought Maddison with you,” coos his grandmother. “My dear, it’s always good to see you,” she repeats with the intention of letting her daughter-in-law know that we have already met.
I blush in spite of myself, feeling as though I’m caught between two fires.
“Come on, Grandma, Maddy is shy,” Mark takes it good-naturedly.
How dare you call me by my nickname in the midst of these people? It implies a certain intimacy that we most certainly don’t have!
“Of course she is, she’s English, and the English are quite reserved,” says his father. “We’ll make sure she feels comfortable, though.”
Then send me back to my apartment in Seoul!
“Why don’t we sit down at the table? We were waiting for you so we could have lunch,” Mark’s mother suggests glacially in an attempt to divert attention from me.
“Today we’re having a British speciality!” exclaims Mark’s grandmother. I smile at her, gratefully. I really appreciate her attempt at making me feel almost at home.
The way the table is laid looks a bit over the top – as if the Queen were attending in person: an antique dinner service, silver cutlery, crystal glasses. I have a sneaking suspicion that my presence here is the reason for this excess of elegance. Without mentioning the fact that the menu is truly from an English Christmas. We start with an appetizer of smoked salmon canapés on bread, then to follow, soup and finally we get to the main course of the day: roast turkey with roast potatoes. I’m really impressed, almost moved.
I don’t know where they procured all the ingredients, but I am happy that they did.
Lunch is progressing quite well. Mark’s grandmother, who insists on being called Joey, is very friendly. She asks about my family, the work I do, how I am finding Korea now that I’ve had more time to get used to it, and my difficulties adapting to the new culture. Tom, Mark’s father, is equally hospitable. Actually the only one who ignores me without caring if anyone notices, is Mark’s mother. But you can’t please everyone, right?
At the end of the meal my stomach is pretty much ready to explode. The food was very good and the company interesting.
“And so you’re not intending to go on any more blind dates, then?” Mark’s mother suddenly asks. Her question comes totally out of the blue, interrupting all the other conversations. An uncomfortable silence falls on the table. She must have been keeping the question to herself for quite some time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to launch it at her son.
He puts the glass of wine he was drinking down and looks at her rather irritably. “No, of course not,” he replies, trying not to get annoyed.
But she won’t give up. “So you mean that you’re getting married, right?”
To my right I hear Mark’s brother cough. What he was drinking must have gone down the wrong way.
Looking around, I realize that all eyes are on Mark, waiting for him to come up with something. I begin to understand where he learnt to withstand stress.
“It’s none of your business,” he replies.
Before the situation can get any worse, his grandmother decides to intervene. “Young Soo, don’t be so aggressive. Leave the kids alone. It’s not like in our day, when one had to get married right away. Girls nowadays work and get married much later.”
“How old are you, Maddison?” asks Mrs Soo Young, shifting her attention to me.
“I’m twenty-eight,” I say through gritted teeth.
“See, she isn’t too young to get married! I’d say that’s the limit, when you consider that she should give birth to at least two children,” she points out with a hint of what I can only call malice – there is no other way to define it.
Of course, in her opinion I am an old cow. What the hell are they talking about? This conversation has taken an absurd twist.
But before I can open my mouth to reply, Mark decides it’s time to intervene. “Can you stop all this nonsense? Do you want this to become a lunch where a murder is committed, in the best Shakespearean tradition? Perhaps that’s one English tradition we could all do without, don’t you think?”
They all become silent and lower their eyes.
“Maddison came here today to do me a favour. You have absolutely no right to make her feel uncomfortable in this way, I simply will not stand for it,” he says, raising his voice. It seems that they have finally managed to make him lose his patience.
“Dear, we didn’t mean to. You aren’t offended, are you Maddison? You must forgive our curiosity, but Mark has never brought girls home,” his grandmother says, apologizing when in fact she’s the last person who needs to.
On the one hand I would like to explain to everyone that I am only here for business, that the only point of contact between me and Mark is the business plan that is stored on our laptops, but I don’t bother. I just sigh and let myself slump down into my chair.
“Come on Maddy, let’s get to work,” says Mark, rising from his chair. And seeing as I don’t snap to attention, he grabs me by the arm and drags me off up the stairs. They must really have pissed him off.
Once we get to the first floor, there is a whole maze of rooms in front of us. How are you supposed to recognize your own?
“This is your room. Mine is the one next door. Down the hall is the bathroom,” he explains, remembering to loosen his grip on me.
“Oh, so we’re not sharing a room?” I say, teasing him to try and make him forget the tense atmosphere downstairs.
“If you want to come to my room you can come whenever you want. After all you don’t have to go very far,” he says, joking. Or at least I hope he is.
I pick up my bag and my computer – I assume it must have been his brother who brought everything up to my room before lunch – and I join him in his room. When I enter he’s already sitting on a beautiful Louis the Something-or-other style chair. Not very Korean when you think about it – just like, indeed, most of the furniture in this house.
In the absence of other chairs I go for the large double bed. I sit cross-legged, with my laptop open in front of me. I manage to concentrate for about three quarters of an hour, but then the amount of food I’ve eaten begins to take effect. Fatigue forces me to lean back on the bed, even if I shouldn’t: despite being aware of the risk of dozing off, I just can’t help it.
When I wake up it’s already dark outside. Mark has turned on one of the lamps and is working tirelessly. I watch him undisturbed for a while, until he looks up from his laptop. He must have felt my eyes watching him.
“Welcome back,” he says, smiling slightly.
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep. You should have woken me up right away. You’ve had to work alone…” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. It means that tomorrow I will sleep in and you will work,” he jokes. I smile. For once I understand his sense of humour. I’m making progress. “It’s eight o’clock now, do you want to eat something?” he asks, getting up from his chair and stretching. He extends his arms, which pulls up the sweater he put on after lunch and reveals a generous stretch of his stomach. My eyes remain glued to that vision.
Take it easy, Maddison, they are just abdominals. Beautiful abdominals, no doubt, but still only abs. Nothing strange enough to trigger this abnormal reaction of spontaneous combustion that I can’t seem to do anything about. My cheeks must have suddenly turned purple. I just hope the soft light in the room hides my embarrassment.
“If there’s any of that delicious turkey left…” I reply, avoiding eye contact. Suddenly the idea of leaving this room with this immense bed and this intimate atmosphere seems like a salvation.
“There should be some. Just to let you know that unfortunately we will not be enjoying the company of my beautiful family tonight: they went to their neighbours’ Christmas party and Tae Min has gone out with friends.”
“I am grief-stricken by their absence,” I joke, before admitting, “Your brother seems to be very bright.” The boy has just the right amount of self-confidence to navigate the troubled waters of this family. Although each family is a storm in its own way really.
“You mean too bright? My brother is reckless!” Mark says.
I put on my shoes and try to do something with my hair, for it looks a bit of a mess after my nap.
“And you’ve never been like him?” I ask, curiously.
“I’m incapable of just not giving a damn about everything and anything,” he mutters, almost wistfully.