Now and for the Last Time

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"What do you think?" Eomma asked, moving the flowers a bit more to the center. "Perfect, right?"

It was. All of it, from the table set out on the back deck with our best wedding linens, votives, and vases, to spread of varies of food and Wooyoung's specialties. For dinner, there would be samgyeopsal with side dishes and spring rolls, like I requested.

"It's great," I said, even as she continued to putter, moving a fork a millimeter to one side, then back again. Through the kitchen window, I could see Wooyoung, his apron on, standing with Taecyeon at the island. As it was for Mark and Minhyuk, this dinner would be Taecyeon's first formal introduction to our little family, such as it was, and it felt both strange and nice to see our numbers double after all this time.

"You're nervous," I observed, as Eomma moved the fork again.

"Nonsense," she replied, not looking at me. "I just want everything to be perfect for my only daughter's birthday party."

"Sure you do," I said, as she again looked around the house to the driveway, where Minhyuk was due any moment. "You know I'm going to like him, right?"

"Oh, I know," she said, although she didn't exactly sound fully confident. "It's just my first boyfriend in nineteen years. Kind of a big deal."

"Huge," I agreed. She gave me a look. "I mean in a good way! I'm going to be gone soon. You can't hang out with Wooyoung. Especially if he's part of a couple now, too."

With this, we both looked into the kitchen again, where Wooyoung was pouring glasses of wine, one for him, one for Taecyeon. He must have sensed our attention, because he turned, blushing slightly, then looked flustered. Taecyeon, however, waved happily. I waved back.

"To be honest, I never thought something like this would happen for me," Eomma said, coming around to stand beside me. "You just get to the point where you think, well, that's over, you know? That part of my life. I was okay with it. I had what I thought I needed: you, and Wooyoung, my work. It all made sense."

"But maybe," I started to recite her favorite lines from Workholes, "we don't always know what we need."

She beamed at me, proud. "Excatly."

Wooyoung slid the glass door open, sticking his head out. "We're on target for everything to come together by six, just so you know. You both ready for the guests?

"You make it sound so formal," I chuckled.

"It's a celebration!" His phone beeped; he pulled it out, looking at it. "And as such, I think you might need shoes. I don't cook for barefoot people."

"I have flip-flops in the kitchen," I said.

"This is a party," he insisted. "Please put on proper shoes."

I looked at Eomma, who shrugged innocently it was obvious she was in on whatever he was up to. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, as his phone beeped again. "Just want everything to be perfect."

Eomma looked at me. "You might as well humor him. When he gets like this, there's really no options."

"Fine," I said. "I'll go get some real shoes."

As I walked inside, passing Taecyeon, who was arranging cheeses on a tray, I heard Wooyoung say something to Eomma, his voice low. She replied, also quietly. Just like thieves. Some things never change.

I climbed the stairs, looking at the clock as I went. In my closet, I scanned the various options lined up against the wall, trying to decide which ones went best with what I had on. Then I saw the black sandals under that same colored dress, their beaded straps folded neatly around them. If I was moving on, I thought, it was time to do it in all ways, not just some. I stepped closer, picking them up, and slid my bare foot into one. It still fit perfectly, the worn spot at the toe from all the walking that night instantly familiar, even as I'd long forgotten it.