another day

     and he was suddenly phone-less. he had a little anxiety in korea about not having a phone when it died or got lost. he would just pop over to someone’s house or a store and ask for their phone, much the way this girl was doing. now, though, he had no one. the isolation of not knowing any of the language stirred something in him.      he stared at her hands like they were the barrel of a gun. deep, deep focus. if he looked away, he would be shot instantly. he was unable to let go of his only true resource to help him around america.      when she set it down, he let out the loudest and longest sigh. he took it back slowly, bowing to her, and picking it up. still functional.      “sorry i, uh, i-i like this thing,” he pointed to the phone with a boney finger. “um. . . is this car okay? when is it- uh. . . sorry.” he shook his head. he did not yet have the right words.

     hunji watched her. he could not look away. her nose and eyes were so different, and yet, she was just the same. he suddenly had the thought that these kids would have a mom just like his. he smiled.      and then she’ll die.      he swallowed. no more smiling. he cringed, trying to focus on her english words and what they meant.      hunji managed to break a small laugh. he walked over to the stove with her, watching what she did just like when mom was alive. he was curious as to what a mac and cheese was, and if his sister would at all enjoy it. with him being here, he figured she would be more picky than ever. he ping-ponged in his head for a while if she would like the new food or not, until he snapped up. he had been ignoring her for at least a minute.      “ah, no, no,” he waved his hands around, “i, uh, in- in the kitchen,” he patted his own chest, “i can not relax. um,”      he looked around for something to do. would a westerner really have the ingredients for any of the dishes he knew by memory alone?

     a hassle? an interaction? hunji took a deep breath. he was thankful, but the adrenaline was waring off. his shoulders slumped and his eyes bagged back into their usual, snug state of being. the other’s energy only drained his own as they spoke.      “jack valentine.” hunji quietly said, nodding, hoping he got it right. it was impossible to master any american name, he knew, but trying always seemed to make the natives laugh.      sit-down-ey? another deep breath.      hearing, ‘i can show you where they are if you want’, hunji’s eyes widened. a small smile of relief appeared. he knew that phrase and knew it meant that all he had to do was smile, nod, and then follow silently. maybe he could even get free food off of the stranger.      you can’t just use strangers for their money. the kids are starving- i don’t care how the kids are, you don’t steal- it’s not theft- you’re insane      he cleared his throat, “please, uh, please show me. . . please.”

     hunji listened closely. his heart throbbed in his ear, threatening to block her words. he swallowed, squinting his eyes as if they would help him hear better.      “ah,” he nodded. he rubbed hayun’s small back with his massive, skeletal hand. “okay. i heard that this- america is- is very dangerous for the little kids. fallbrook is- uh, not like that? the rest of the place?”      the more he spoke through his question the more relieved he appeared.      hayun’s heart gently guided hunji’s.

     hunji’s face stayed contorted, like he had been betrayed by strangers. was it so common in america for children to cry until their parents left work to get them?      hunji held hwanju close. he tried to ask her what had gone on. hwanju just shook her head and pointed. tilting his head, hunji looked at the strange little kid, then their father?      “no no, seriously, hwanju is a little. . .”      what is the translation of ‘excitable’.      “she is, uh, very loud.” hunji was interupted by his sister.      “they pulled my hair!” she shouted in korean. hunji swallowed. his cheeks flushed.      “and did you pull their hair first?” he asked back. hwanju had no response.      finally, he faced dominic. “i’m sorry. i think this is all her fault.” he gestured at hwanju, “sometimes she is. . . a bad girl.”

     a sudden flash of his mother before his eyes. he cringed, hard, and huffed. the memory was horribly strong. he thought he could smell it. he swallowed a lump of horror, puckered his lips, and breathed out slowly.      every one in this store thinks i’m a freak. why do i have to remember that now. . .      sure enough, the manager (owner?) walked away. hunji’s eyes turned sad. of course, he just knew, this guy was weirded out too. a sudden tick and then someone leaving? it was clear. hunji was a menace.      so, he spend to the very back of the store, pretending to find himself alone. his hand hugged his heart, he swallowed a room of air, and shoved it all right back out. deep, deep breaths.      another flash.      he cringed.      he shook his head WHY why is this happening to me? seriously what is so wrong with me that i      he looked up. he grasped onto his surroundings, hard, like they were keeping his legs upright. in front of him he honed in on a random magazine, a gaming guide of some sort.      his eyes, slowly, opened wider and wider. he corrected his stance, able to stand up right all on his own. it was easy. this magazine, not perfect, but just right. the smallest smile tugged at his lips. it was a pokemon gaming guide!      the boy wandered the store, looking and searching for cards. the games and plushies were fine, but what hunji really had come for was cards. he left his entire childhood collection back home and now had nothing. even just one pack would have set his soul alight! alas, he did find all of the pokemon cards, but it was right where the manager from earlier stood. disapointed, hunji found himself blindly staring and staring.      do i really think telepathy is going to make him move?

     hunji took in a deep breath. it was far, far too late in the night to be dealing with this. it would have been far easier if she was just here to get beer and leave. still, despite his exhaust, his heart did not let him stoop. his heart was it’s own man of principles.      “ah,” he finally got something, anything, that he understood. google and tow were all meaningless, but ‘phone is dead’ is a phrase he often found his own self using with strangers.      he nodded. “yes, of course,” and held out the phone further.

     macaroni and cheese? what the hell was that? hunji had never heard of a macaroni in his whole life. then again, there were plenty of new words he had been hearing recently. macaroni could just be added to an endless list.      he nodded as if he understood, though.      “ah- uh- a guest?” hunji questioned. that was another one too. he thought he knew what it meant, but now maybe not. he followed her like a nervous puppy into her kitchen.      this. . . this is mom’s dream.      he swallowed the feeling down again.      this time, when she asked another question he did not understand, he just awkwardly laughed and nodded. there was no use in asking every little word’s meaning. even if he did, it would just make him look stupid.      he watched her move to cook and smiled. it felt so weird to have his shoes in someone’s personal cooking space. he liked it. he wanted to giggle.      “ah, why are you cooking?” he nagged. “you are- you are having a baby, right? you should rest.” he tried to insert himself into the kitchen space despite not even knowing what he would be helping to make.      “oh! i can make you seaweed soup.” he tried to convince. “ugh, sorry, it’s, uh, a korean. . . food. it is good for the baby.”

     when he first started working there, his effort was higher. he was scared of losing his job, losing what made life possible for his sisters. every single customer got a hero’s welcome from hunji. after seeing his own boss be less than enthused with them, though, hunji followed suit. he would only greet customers when they finally came up to the counter, whereupon he quickly hurried them out.      this girl was no different. the chime sounded, hunji looked up, wondered if she wanted to be greeted, then looked back down at his clenched hands. he could see out of the corner of his eye once she had gotten everything. before she did, though, she suddenly stopped.      hunji’s heart moved with her.      he tried to swallow air back into his lungs.      why are you staring? stop staring!      he slightly cocked his head and pointed to himself. all his face muscles were stuck as stone.      “me?”

     older men always tried to talk hunji into buying things. they thought he was some sort of scared kid who would buy anything if he was pressured into it. it took one or two times for them to realize, though, that he had no money. he did not have a penny to spare. so, they would give up and pray on some other kid who had more of daddy’s money lying around.      but, this guy, this stranger, he never seemed to let up. it made hunji more nervous.      don’t you know i’m too poor? i can’t have fun here like the other boys. i don’t have any money so just leave me alone.      his lips pressed together. he took a deep breath.      no, i lied. this time, i’m not poor. all your annoying me worked.      he toyed with his cool, ten dollars in his pocket. he knew he should have bought more food, more clothes, more toys for the girls, but hana had insisted. finally, after all this time, he was going to get something for himself for once.      “um.” he swallowed. it felt like an awkward confession, telling the store owner that he actually could make a purchase. “i, uh. . .” a clot of fear caught. he felt a stab in his stomach. this was too good to be true, so run- “just looking!”

     just what i need.      hunji took a deep breath. he had no time to be dealing with stupid school crap, especially with these american schools. why can they not just make the kids happy! the second eldest chwe, hana, said she could finish serving dinner and taking the kids home. all hunji had to do was go pick up their only elementary schooled kid. it would take plenty of extra time, though.      when he got there, he popped off, and the staff recognized him immediately. they ushered him into the office where there was another little girl and her big brother, or dad, too.      back home, no one had skin that dark. hunji almost let himself think it was beautiful.      only on girls, right, hunji?      yes, dad, that’s what i meant.      hunji took a deep, loud breath. hwanju looked up at hunji. to no surprise, when her face was no longer hidden in deep, dark hair, it was burning. he could see snot bubbles beginning to show and he rushed to her. he always carried baby wipes in his backpack. he wiped her wet face clean.      he looked to the other kid, then back at her parent. for some reason, he asked the other man, as if he would have any idea, “what’s happening?”

     hunji felt proud. he actually did it! he touched the dog and did not die! he smiled, laughing at himself dumbly. it had felt so long since he was happy or proud, especially of himself. he quickly tried to swallow it down. if he thought of it any more, if he felt it any more, it would become tears.      boys do not cry.      he was not a sunset, but a light switch, and once more he was dark.      hunji looked up at the other and stood up straight. he felt better around the beast, able to hold his own just in case. the handler seemed good with a leash too. his shoulders relaxed. he stuffed his hands in his pockets.      then, a hand came right back out. he did not shake the other’s hand as much as loosely placed it outward. a bundle of five twigs held together with string. he never understood handshaking.      “r-ri-?” hunji tried to say. he took his hand back, embarrassed he could not master the name ont he first try. “sorry, i don’t speak much english. is it rion?      “my name is chwe hunji.” a beat of silence. he debated trying out the phrase. “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”