by An Na
Uhmma slung her purse over her shoulder. “Now we are ready,” she said.
As they drove closer to the Koreatown neighborhood in Los Angeles, the signs slowly changed from English to Hangul symbols until it was hard to tell that they were still in America. All around them, the signs, the people, the building hearkened to another culture.
Helen pointed at a beauty shop. “Hey, Joyce, remember when we got our ears pierced at that place?”
Joyce smiled. “Yeah, and you made me go first because you were too chicken.”
“You were always braver than me,” Helen said.
“I think that experience made me swear off inflicting pain on myself for the rest of my life.” Joyce grimaced. “Uhmma and Apa will never have to worry about me getting a tattoo, that’s for sure.”
Helen chuckled. “See? I did do you a favor.”
Apa turned into a large outdoor mall complex. They could see Gomo clutching two large shopping bags standing outside a large ornate façade that perfectly replicated a traditional Korean building, from the sweeping roofline to the large double wooden doors.
Uhmma quickly flipped down the visor to check her makeup in the mirror. “I hope Gomo has not been waiting long.”
Apa turned into a parking spot. “Yuh-boh, do not worry. We are celebrating tonight.”
“Why do we always have to celebrate at a Korean restaurant?” Andy complained, pulling at the collar of his white dress shirt. “We only eat Korean food EVERY DAY!”
Uhmma turned in her seat to give him a dark scowl. “Andy! I do not want to hear you talking like that in front of Gomo.”
Andy let his head loll forward. “Okay, okay.”
They stepped out of the car and walked toward Gomo, who waved frantically at them, as though they might miss her.
“How much you want to bet Michael has some ugly sale clothes for us in those shopping bags?” Andy whispered to Joyce.
“No way,” Joyce whispered back. “Did you see what Apa is wearing? She’s flush with lottery money.”
“Gomo!” Uhmma called and ran forward. “Have you been waiting long?”
Andy spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Michael can’t help herself.”
“Okay, you two, stop,” Helen said.
“Yes, Mom.” Joyce grinned.
Joyce and Andy took their turn bowing and hugging Gomo, who stood stock still and firmly patted their backs like she was slapping dust from a rug. When it was Helen’s turn, Gomo reached out and cupped Helen’s face in her hands, giving Helen a kiss on the cheek.
“You are feeling better?” Gomo asked.
Helen nodded as she forced a smile to her face.
Apa cleared his throat loudly and pulled open one of the large wooden doors to the restaurant.
Gomo ignored him and continued to hold Helen’s face. “Good,” Gomo said firmly. “You will have many, many friends in your lifetime. Do not trouble yourself with just one.”
“Yes, Gomo,” Helen said.
Apa began coughing and wheezing, grabbing at the collar of his new white dress shirt. Uhmma touched his elbow to calm him down.
“Let us go inside,” Gomo said and led the way into the darkened dining room.
Once they were seated and their dinner orders placed, they sat with their teacups in front of them. Gomo clinked the side of her water glass with her chopsticks.
“I would like to make an announcement,” she said. Gomo looked at each one of them, her face so heavily made up it resembled the Korean masks that were hanging on the walls as decoration. Joyce couldn’t understand how someone who cared so much about the way she looked couldn’t get some decent makeup lessons.
“I am getting older,” Gomo said. “You are my only family.”
Everyone nodded. Gomo was a widow and had never been able to have children of her own.
“And with Uncle Joe watching over us, I feel I do not have many more years left.”
Uhmma complained loudly, “No, no, do not say those things, Gomo. You are still so strong and healthy.”
Andy kicked Joyce under the table. Uncle Joe was Gomo’s third American husband and third Joe. Although no one was certain if all of Gomo’s husbands were really named Joe or if Gomo just insisted on calling them all Joe. Gomo had lived with the third Uncle Joe in San Francisco, and he had been more a myth than reality. They had only met him a few times before he passed away and Gomo moved down to L.A. Andy used to joke that Uncle Joe was really a life-size blow-up G.I. Joe doll because whenever they did see him for the holidays, he was always dressed in his army fatigues and watching football.
Gomo held up her hand to silence Uhmma. “I am getting older, but there are still some things that I would like to do before my time comes to join Uncle Joe. I want to make sure each one of you gets their wish,” Gomo said. “I would like to make your lives better.”
Make our lives better? Joyce glanced up from playing with her napkin as she daydreamed about John Ford Kang surfing. Apa and Uhmma glanced at each other. Helen was staring off into the restaurant, while Andy nervously jiggled one leg.
Joyce held her breath. Maybe she was going to give them a million dollars!
Gomo reached down and pulled up one shopping bag. “Apa already received his gifts, but I want to give Andy and Helen their gifts tonight.”
Andy sat up straighter in his seat.
Gomo handed the bag to Uhmma and gestured that she should pass it on to Helen.
Uhmma handed Helen the bag.
“Gam-sa-ham-nee-da, Gomo,” Helen said and bowed her head before accepting the bag. Helen reached in and pulled out a large gift-wrapped box. Andy nudged Joyce in the side. Helen unwrapped the box and carefully lifted the lid. Inside was a beautifully embroidered white silk traditional Korean dress.
Uhmma gasped and brought her hands to her lips. “Gomo, you should not have spent this much on Helen’s hanbok!”
Helen stood up and held the traditional Korean outfit in front of her. The hanbok was truly stunning, with tiny embroidered blush pink flowers circling the entire hem and sleeves of the dress. Joyce couldn’t help herself and reached out to touch the fabric. The thick, rich silk shone with a soft gleam, the cool smoothness light as rain on Joyce’s fingertips.
Helen remained standing with the dress so that Uhmma and Apa could admire it, but Joyce could tell there was something wrong. The set of Helen’s lips, slightly off center, and the way her eyes were painfully open and alert. Joyce couldn’t believe that Helen wouldn’t like a hanbok that gorgeous.
Gomo waved her hand at the box. “Pull out the book!”
Uhmma reached over and pulled out a black binder. Helen carefully folded up the dress and set it back into the box. She took the binder from Uhmma and sat down.
“I have taken care of the fees. You only need to contact Mrs. Hahn and she will arrange all of the meetings,” Gomo said.
Helen carefully opened the book and turned to page after page of young Korean men posing in high back chairs with a short biography and statement beneath their photograph. Joyce leaned over for a closer look. Some of the guys were even cute!
All through high school, Helen had refused to go on any dates, choosing to focus on her studies as Uhmma and Apa wished. Helen hung out with a close group of friends at school and then talked mostly to Su Yon at the restaurant. When Su Yon had moved away, Helen cried for days. Joyce had felt bad for Helen but didn’t know how to comfort her older sister, who never before seemed fazed by anything. Joyce was already having a hard time thinking about Gina going off to a different college. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to never talk to your best friend again.
“Now that you are getting older, it’s time you started dating appropriate men,” Gomo announced.
Uhmma pressed her lips together, making the skin around the edge of her mouth white. Helen had always been the obedient daughter and listened to whatever Uhmma and Apa said. If Gomo thought Helen was ready to date, then Uhmma and Apa didn’t have much choice
about Helen embarking on a dating odyssey.
Helen closed the book and said quietly, “Thank you, Gomo.”
Joyce observed Uhmma and Apa sharing a look. Joyce wondered if they still thought Helen’s studies should come first, especially with all those years of medical school still looming ahead for her.
Gomo reached down and pulled up the next shopping bag.
“This one is for Andy.”
Andy jumped up and ran over to receive the bag. He even planted a kiss on Gomo’s cheek. “Gam-sa-ham-nee-da, Gomo,” he said and ran back to his seat with the bag.
Joyce started to get suspicious. “What’s in the bag, Andy?” she asked.
Andy reached down into the bag and pulled out a large plastic container with hundreds of tiny capsules filled with a clear yellow liquid that looked like vegetable oil.
“My magic growth capsules!” Andy said and shook the container, making the pills rattle.
“What?” Joyce asked.
Gomo leaned forward. “They are shark liver extract pills with a special Chinese root for growing taller. It was very hard to find, but I know this will make Andy happy.”
Joyce turned to Andy. “Are you really going to take that?” she whispered.
Andy looked at her like she was crazy. “I asked for it, Joyce. How else am I going to make the NBA?” He gazed lovingly at his bottle of capsules. “This stuff made Tom Koh grow five inches last year.”
Gomo tapped her water glass again.
“Tomorrow, I will take you to your present,” Gomo said to Uhmma.
“Gomo, you did not have to do anything special for me,” Uhmma said.
“This procedure will change your life,” Gomo said.
Uhmma began to blink rapidly at the word procedure.
“What do you mean, Gomo? What procedure?”
Gomo raised her pointer finger to her eyebrows and lightly traced the shape. “Permanent makeup tattoos. I will take you to my person. She is an artist. After you get your eyebrows and eyeliner done, you will not look so tired all the time at the restaurant.”
Uhmma picked up her tea and swallowed all of it in two gulps. “Gomo, really, this is much too expensive a gift for me. Please. Save your money. I do not think—”
Gomo held up her hand and stared ferociously at Uhmma until she stopped protesting.
“I will pick you up at the restaurant at two o’clock tomorrow. Surely, Mrs. Lee can handle the kitchen until you get back.”
“Well. Yes.” Uhmma signaled the waitress for more tea. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Good.” Gomo lifted her teacup to her lips, but her hawk eyes peered over the rim at Joyce.
Joyce felt her family’s eyes turning to her. She pinched her chubby knees to keep from laughing nervously. The thought of all those sale clothes sounded pretty enticing right then, compared to shark liver oil, a Korean dating service, and permanent makeup tattoos. The evening was turning into a strange Korean game show with even stranger prizes.
“Joyce,” Gomo said, “I have made a doctor’s appointment for you. Next week, we will go and visit Dr. Rie-ne-or.”
“Who?” Joyce said, still confused.
Gomo set her teacup down. She patted the corners of her lips with her napkin. “My doctor,” she said. “He is Jewish. Very smart.” Gomo pointed to her temple.
Joyce reached up to the zit on her temple. It had gone down a lot, but there was still a scar there from all the picking.
“Oh, for my skin,” Joyce said. “It’s really not that bad. I should just stop eating chocolate, but maybe seeing a dermatologist will help. Gam-sa-ham-nee-da, Gomo.”
Joyce felt pleased that her gift was a practical one.
Gomo leaned forward and studied Joyce’s face. “Yes, the san-gah-pu-rhee will change your entire face. Dr. Rie-ne-or will make your eyes much bigger.”
Joyce glanced around the table, but none of her family members would meet her gaze. “What does a dermatologist have to do with eyes?”
Gomo turned in her seat. “Where is our banchan? They could at least bring us some kimchee.” Gomo signaled the waitress.
“I don’t get it.” Joyce said. “I thought a dermatologist only looked at skin and stuff.”
Andy leaned over. “Dr. Reiner. You know.”
“Dr. Reiner?”
Andy curled his upper lip and whispered, “Dr. Reiner. Remember? Michael’s plastic surgeon.”
Joyce sat back in her seat. Her breath came in shallow pants. The plastic surgeon. Gomo’s plastic surgeon.
Gomo turned back to the table after the waitress left. She stared at Joyce. “The double eyelid fold surgery is a very simple procedure. It was my first operation.” Gomo closed her eyes, pointed to her upper eyelids and then opened her eyes again. Twin crescent moon creases appeared above her piercing black hawk eyes. “These days, they do not even cut the skin with a knife. They use a laser and only sew a little here and there.”
Joyce picked up her tea and swigged it down, wishing for once it was shoju. A knife? Laser? Just the very thought made Joyce sweat.
Gomo wiggled her finger at Joyce from across the table. “I know you want to be beautiful like Helen. You will never be as pretty as your sister, but with my doctor’s help, you can look very nice.”
Joyce lowered her head and raised the napkin to her mouth, wishing she could wipe more than the corners of her lips. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and furiously blinked back the tears. If nothing else, you could always count on Michael to be brutally honest.
At the end of the night, everyone stood outside of the restaurant and took their turn again to thank Gomo for her generous gifts. Gomo reminded Uhmma that she would come by tomorrow to pick her up for the appointment. Uhmma said faintly, “Yes, I’ll be ready.”
They waved and bowed again and watched as Gomo drove away. Apa faced his family. “Now,” he said. “That was not too bad.” He turned around to step off the curb, and before anyone could catch him, he somehow misplaced his step and fell down onto the street, one shoe slipping off as his ankle twisted under his weight.
Uhmma rushed to his side. “Apa, are you all right?” She tried to help him stand. “What happened?”
Apa slowly stood up with Uhmma’s help, while Joyce retrieved his shoe.
As Joyce bent down to set the shoe in front of him, she noticed something odd about how it was made. She stared at his feet. At the way his one shoeless foot dangled so much farther from the ground than the foot that was planted firmly in his new wing-tip shoes. And then it all made sense.
“Apa,” Joyce said, “did Gomo give you shoes with lifts in them?”
Apa smiled sheepishly. “I look taller.”
Helen and Andy groaned.
“It’s like you’re wearing man heels.” Andy laughed.
“Hey, shark liver boy,” Helen said. “Look who’s talking.”
Uhmma sighed. “Your Gomo has her own ideas sometimes.”
Apa slipped his shoe on, but he still hobbled and could not put weight on the injured foot. Helen studied him trying to walk and said, “You sprained it, Apa. You’re going to have to ice it when you get home.”
Uhmma helped Apa walk to the car as Helen, Andy and Joyce followed behind.
“Michael strikes again,” Andy stated.
EIGHT
gina pushed open the door to the department store and waved Joyce in first. Joyce smiled at the chivalrous gesture and curtsied in response before entering. Soft jazz piano music filtered down from the escalator atrium. Joyce squinted for a second as her eyes adjusted to the bright light that seemed to radiate from every corner and counter. A floral bouquet from the perfume aisles mingled with the smell of new leather from the shoe and purse department. Joyce inhaled deeply and then sneezed three times in a row. Gina grabbed Joyce by the hand and pulled her forward into the maze of cosmetics counters.
“Try this one,” Gina suggested and held up the tester tube of bright red lip gloss.
“That’s too bold,”
Joyce protested.
“It’s gloss, Joyce,” Gina said with a slightly exasperated tone in her voice. “Gloss is sheer when you put it on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do I not work here part-time?”
Joyce took the tester tube and examined it closely. “You work in the stockroom.”
“But I come out at every break.” Gina handed Joyce a Q-tip that she magically produced from behind a mirror.
“So?” Joyce dipped the Q-tip into the tube, and applied the gloss to her lips.
Gina squinted at Joyce’s lips. “So I’ve tried everything.”
Joyce examined herself in the round mirror. “Don’t you think it looks too goopy?”
Gina reached behind a makeup tray and pulled out a tissue. Joyce took it gratefully and wiped the gloss off her lips. Gina grabbed another tube of gloss and Q-tip, and stared intently at herself in the mirror as she dabbed some on.
“Why are we here, anyway?” Joyce asked.
“So you can buy me some makeup.”
“What?”
Gina stood back from the mirror to check the effect of the gloss on her full lips. “You owe me for the yearbook, remember?”
Joyce slouched against the glass front of the display counter. “Oh, yeah.”
“And,” Gina said, studying another tube of gloss, “we can try some stuff on your eyes.”
Joyce could feel her posture slipping even further. “I can’t believe crazy Michael.”
Gina layered another color of gloss on top of the one she was already wearing.
“What do you think?” Gina asked.
Joyce stared at her purple-lipped friend. “Too Barney.”
Gina checked her reflection. “Like the dinosaur or the department store?”
Joyce chuckled. “God, only you would ask that. Dinosaur. Can we just focus on me for a second.”
Gina grabbed another tissue and wiped her lips. “What are you so upset about? It’s not like Michael wants to stick some double Ds in there. Although if Michael did spring for that, you know John would be looking at you differently.” Gina poked Joyce in the sternum.
“Oww!” Joyce yelled. “That hurt, Gina!”