Translation of Love

16

"네 [Yes]," he says to her.

"그녀 너무 아름다워 [She's so beautiful]." The woman responds quietly.

"Please, come with me, take your stuff inside." He breaks out of his trance, hands gesturing for me to walk to the back of the restaurant. Very carefully, I walk forward, past the kitchen until I see a set of stairs. I look back to see both of them watching me, smiling and nodding for me to go up. I climb up the stairs to meet with their living quarters. I take off my shoes and walk into the tiny living room. There isn't even a kitchen, I guess they use the one downstairs.

"It's nice to meet you," the lady says to me in broken English in a way that suggests she's been practising.

"Yes, nice to meet you too," I respond sheepishly. As much as my instincts tell me I should hate this woman for not being my mom, her soft features and sincere tone break down the angst inside of me.

I end up bringing my backpack to a small room covered in K-Pop posters and stuffed animals.

"This is Seulgi's room. She is our daughter." The man I assume has to be my father says.

Our daughter.

"She will be home soon."

This whole situation is awkward. I'm not able to bring myself to say anything. Instead, I look around the room and put my bag down. I hold my phone in my hand as if it's a way of escape.

"Um, we are just preparing dinner. You can explore if you'd like."

I don't respond. His nervous smile slowly falls as he leaves the room in a hurry.

Finally able to breathe, I check my phone.

A message from Taeyoung: Did you make it okay?

Yes, I reply, It's so awkward.

T: Don't worry too much. By tomorrow it'll be over

***

After a while of sitting in this room, texting Taeyoung and trying to get used to the smell of the house, someone comes into the room.

A girl in a school uniform stares at me in shock before running out and down the stairs yelling. I stand up and follow her, my heart beating a mile a minute. When I get down the stairs I almost bump into her again.

"Seulgi, this is Summer. She is your half-sister, I talked to you about her before." To my surprise, my father tells her this in English.

"What is a half-sister?" She asks, probably not knowing the English words. He responds in Korean. She looks back at me. "But I look nothing like her. Her eyes are not Korean and she looks like a ghost."

I sheepishly look down at my pale arms and feel myself cave in a bit. Are all high schoolers here this mean?

He responds to her in Korean again, saying something about my mother. She continues staring, almost dissecting my facial features. Then a nasty expression forms on her face.

"싫어 [I don't like it]." She says before moving me aside and climbing upstairs. Her parents yell after her. The sharp word cuts me like a knife, despite me not knowing or really caring about who she is.

"I'm sorry about that. She is merely 16 and this is still a shock to her." My father rubs the back of his neck, sweat beading down his temple. It is warm in this kitchen. "She'll warm up to you soon."