I Hope Love Is... [On Hold]

Seventh Verse

Do you really know,

do you really know what's in my heart?

When you smile at me

when you're smiling back at me

do you know how it makes me feel?

--translated from “Do You Really Know?”

from Future Colors' first album Future Colors

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Three years ago...

“What... are you doing out there in the rain?” Bea asked. “And would you please give me back my umbrella?”

“I was waiting for you,” Minha answered. “And only if you let me carry the basket.” 

“You can't come with me,” Bea said in a patient voice. “Now be a good boy and give me back my umbrella. At this rate the food will be cold before it gets to where it's supposed to go.”

“And where is it supposed to go?” Minha asked.

She slanted a look at him.

“Not nearby, that's for sure,” she said, showing no intentions to hand over the basket. Finally he stepped closer to the doorway, and when she tried to take the umbrella from him, he grabbed the basket. It was surprisingly heavy, and she had to let go or risk being thrown off-balance or dropping it.

“Minha! Ugh, give it back. Give it back now.” She stamped her foot.

“I'll carry it. You just walk under the umbrella. Come on now.” He tilted his head to one side and smiled sweetly at her.

“Well, someone's certainly cheerful today,” she muttered, stepping under the umbrella.

“And someone's in a bad mood?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Are you in a bad mood?”

“Me?”

“That's what I said.” He was still smiling down at her. “So. Where are we going?”

She looked down at his feet. He had put on his favorite pair of Crocs as a reasonable compromise between flip-flops and sneakers. They were a bright orange and didn't really match the dull green jacket he'd put on over his long-sleeved dark purple t-shirt and brown plaid chinos, but he'd been in a hurry.  

She shook her head doubtfully. “It's going to be muddy and wet and slippery where I'm going and it's a long walk,” she said. “Go back into the house.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “I don't want to stay in there. Manager Oh is still hunting for me because he hasn't had a chance to lecture me today.” And he nodded his head towards the back yard. “Go on.”

She tilted back her head and glared up at him.

“If I hear a word of complaint out of you...”

“You won't.”

“Just make sure I don't.” And she marched off around the house. He had to hurry to keep up with her-- the basket was really bulky and heavy. It kept crowding one or the other of them out from under the umbrella. 

He finally realized they were going down the driveway towards the open gate. 

“Where are we going?” he asked again.

“I was supposed to bring this basket to my grandparents' house,” she said. “They live over by the irrigation ditch. My other cousins and uncles are supposed to be there, since they were going to repair dikes this morning.”