Chapter Text
It’s three am when the alarm rings.
“Ugh,” Soojin rolls over and silences the alarm. “Why is your alarm going off? It’s…” unfocused and owlish eyes blink at the obnoxious green light of the clock face, “Fuck.” Her head flops back down on the pillow with a hiss, “Shuhua!”
Into the skin peeking out from beneath the askew collar of Soojin’s sweater, Shuhua’s lips paint out a sluggish apology. “Sorry.” Her voice is thick and her eyes screwed shut. “Baba’s—” she yawns “—surgery.”
As if doused in ice water, Soojin shoots out of bed. “Oh, shit–” she curses, tripping over the corner of the area rug, “–fuck.” In a haze, she fumbled through the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Did I ever tell you–” the pillow swallows Shuhua’s giggles, “–that you curse like a sailor when you’re super tired? … Arrgggg !” The short, repeated titters dissolve into sleepy snickers that end with a full body yawn.
“Shuhua, stay awake,” Soojin tuts, cell phone in hand. Crawling back into bed, she nudges Shuhua, “Here.” The device is heavy like a cinder block.
“Thanks.” Thick, like molasses, Shuhua sluggishly clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Her fingers trail across the screen in slow, uncoordinated movements.
Soojin rolls her eyes. “Other way,” she corrects with a degree of exasperated fondness.
“Thanks.” Again, her tongue clicks. In the dimly lit room, the bedside lamp turned on before Soojin crawled back under the covers, Shuhua blundered through the half dozen apps on the screen. “This one…?” Her voice wavers with an uncertainty mirrored in the furrow of her brow. “Haha!”
Head curled on Shuhua’s stomach, Soojin snorts. “Got it there, grama?”
Shuhua sucks her tongue in when the face of her mother pops on the screen. “Mama!” For quarter past three in the morning, thrown from her slumber, Shuhua sounds chipper. “How is baba?”
“My child,” the strength in her posture is softened by the faintly concealed amusement that dances in her eyes, “Please tell your mother you have dressed properly.”
Blood rushing to her cheeks, Shuhua scrambles to do up the top two buttons of her night shirt. “Mama!” Her voice melts into a childish whine.
“Have you woken, Soojin?” The tut at the end is teasing.
“Accidently,” she replies sheepishly, panning the camera down to capture the top of Soojin’s head. “She got home two hours ago.”
Voice dropping to a hushed whisper, Mrs. Yeh says, “Let her sleep.” The video shakes as the scene behind the woman shifts. “Your father is well. The doctor said time in the countryside will do well for his recovery. Mrs. Li is making the arrangements as we speak.”
“How long will you go to Yangmingshan?” Shuhua asks as she combs her fingers through the faint waves of Soojin’s ebony locks.
“As long as it takes,” Mrs. Yeh assures.
“And the companies?” The question is benign yet laced with an underlying concern.
“A wise woman digs a well long before she is thirsty, my child. Your father’s health is my first concern.” Her eyes are knowing as she adds, “Do not trouble your mind with things you cannot control. The elected board will take care of what must be done.”
“How was your conversation with your mom?”
Nose buried in her bowl, Shuhua munches on her Fruity Pebbles.
“Shuhua?” Soojin asks again, setting the butter knife down.
“Huh?” As if caught in a daze, Shuhua blinks. Shaking her head, she smacks her cheeks. The motion causes the milk from her spoon to splatter on the counter and in her hair. “Sorry,” she apologises with the spoon pressed against her temple, her voice only marginally less distant, “What did you say?”
Rounding the island, Soojin plucks the spoon from Shuhua’s white knuckled grip. “Hey,” she coos, brushing her fingers through the dishevelled, milk infused, hair, “Where’d you go?”
The sigh Shuhua releases is shaky. “Nowhere as special as this.” Like the influence of the moon on the tide, Shuhua draws closer. “Baba’s good. They’re going to stay in Yangmingshan though until he’s better.”
“That’s…” Soojin taps her index finger against her lower lip, “The one in the countryside, right?” When Shuhua nods she continues, “You don’t seem happy about that.”
“I am!” Her head shakes and the heat of her words dance across Soojin’s neck. “It’s just…” Shuhua trails off, like an infant distracted by a shiny ball, until the tap on her nose draws her attention back. “I feel like I should be doing more.”
“More?”
“Like…” the thoughts remain stuck as Shuhua hums and haws into the smoothness of Soojin’s milky skin. “Maybe it’s silly, but what if I help the board while my parents are in Yangmingshan?”
Against Shuhua’s milk free temple, Soojin nudges her nose. “That’s not silly,” she assures, mouth twisted in fond regard. “It’s sweet.”
Shuhua leans back. “Did Soojin Seo just call me sweet?” The gleam in her eyes is wicked.
“Please,” open palm against Shuhua’s shoulder, Soojin shoves. It’s a feeble sort of shove. The sort that garners an over exaggerated reaction. “I said the thought was sweet. Not the person.”
Hands clutching at her chest, Shuhua audibly gasps. “Babe!”
The atmosphere of the outdoor patio is light, filled with gentle banter that isn’t lost in the cacophony of New York traffic. And as far as the weather goes, the conditions are mild.
“Why the sour face?” Soyeon asks as she collapses into the chair next to Soojin. It scrapes, like nails on a chalkboard, against the concrete. “You swallow the lemon seeds?”
“Am I a bad person?”
The water Soyeon took two big gulps of sprays out in a fine mist that blankets the table and all its contents. “Shit—” Soyeon chokes, “—Fuck.” Waving off the concern in the waitress’ eyes as the employee begins to approach, Soyeon glares to her right, “What? No! Why the hell would you say that?” The words, twinged with concern, are heated and hoarse.
Poking at the lemon wedge floating in her water, Soojin shrugs. “Shuhua is planning to stay in Taiwan.” The apathy of the action is belittled by the dour turn of her tone.
“Stay?” Brows pulled down and nose wrinkled, Soyeon shakes her head back and forth. “What are you talking about?”
Poorly timed, the waitress approaches the table and refills Soyeon’s half drained cup. Her demeanour is warm and welcoming as she motions to the closed menus. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“Yep." The p pops like the snap of bubble gum. "One healthy rabbit salad for her and one heart attack inducing, grease dripping, burger for me,” Soyeon orders. “Hold the pickles.”
Soojin rolls her eyes. “She means one lemon herb Mediterranean chicken salad and one classic cheeseburger with two patties and no pickles.” With the polite turn of her lips, she returns the two menus.
Pen tapping against the pad of paper the woman chuckles. “Gotcha.” Menus tucked under her arm she returns to the kitchen to hand over the order.
“She said.” Soojin turns morose as she resumes the previous conversation. Finger tracing the rim of the glass, the note it produces is low and melancholic. “The other morning, at breakfast. After talking to her mom—”
“In English?” Soyeon cuts in.
“Well, no…”
Fishing out her lemon wedge in her glass to plop in Soojin’s Soyeon hums, low and from deep in her chest. “Alright. So what’d Shu say that’s got you thinking you’re a bad person and your wifey wants to leave you indefinitely?”
Soojin winces. “That’s…” Her voice trails off, crease forming at the bridge of her nose, “She just…” The words sit on the tip of her tongue but refuse to formulate into coherent sounds and phrases with cohesive thought. “She wants to help them–” Soojin growls, “–no, that’s…”
Half leaning out of her chair, Soyeon cradles the closest cheek she can reach. “Hey.” The tone is remarkably soft, “I know you’re upset she’s leaving. And I don’t know what she said, but have you talked to her about it?”
When the waitress bustles over and sets down the two dishes, all Soojin manages is the slow shake of her head.
Soyeon waits until the waitress is out of earshot to bite into her burger. With grease in the corner of her mouth, she exhales a moan. “Contrary to popular belief,” Soyeon begins after another bite, “Shu doesn’t read minds.” And with a wink, she tags on, grease in the apples of her cheeks, “And thank God because you probably have dirty thoughts.”
Two nearby patrons look up when Soyeon yelps. When she brandishes her burger like a greasy shield to keep Soojin’s deadly glare at bay, they shake their heads.
"But seriously, you aren't a bad person," Soyeon states when Soojin settles back in her chair.
Chicken speared on the tines of her fork, Soojin deadpans, "I don't want my girlfriend to go back to Taiwan or for her to help her parents, one of whom just had major surgery, because she might want to stay. That definitely doesn't make me supportive ."
Around the last bite of her burger, Soyeon shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe not." Leaning back in the chair, hands clasped over her chest, she tosses out, "Have you ever considered that maybe you're trying to compare apples to oranges?"
The grip around the fork tightens. "Apples to oranges?" Soojin exhales and relaxes her white knuckled grip —marginally. "What are you talking about?"
"Like—" Soyeon snags a piece of chicken. Her nose scrunches in mild disgust as she chews. "Seriously? Lemon chicken?" She washes down the flavour with what remains of her water. “Do you hate your taste buds that much?” When Soojin narrows her eyes, Soyeon chuckles and lifts her hands, white serviette crumpled in her left fist, in surrender. “Dead taste buds aside, are you going to stop her? Tell her she can’t help her parents, if that’s what she wants to do?”
Jaw gaping, eyes widening in shock, Soojin leans in. Her words are a hissed whisper. “ What? Why would I do that? If Shuhua wanted to help her parents, I—”
“Apples and oranges,” interjects Soyeon as she snags another piece of chicken, grimacing just as she did with the first slice. “Sure, you’re upset. But unless you act out of that emotion, they’re just that, emotions . We’ve all got them. And none of that makes you terrible, Cherry Cheeks. Not in the slightest.”
“... It still sucks,” Soojin says sullenly after some time, eyes downcast and counting the leaves of arugula in her salad.
“Yeah, it does,” Soyeon agrees. Reaching out she taps the tip of Soojin’s nose, “And when you need a shoulder to cry on, I have two of them and a shit ton of pizza napkins.”