The House My Family Waited For
Carpenter Center for the Visual Arts, third-floor studio.
This was the private building reserved for Harvard students majoring in visual arts, the space where most of the school’s art classes were held.
Designed by the famed architect Le Corbusier, it was his only work in the United States, distinguished by its exposed concrete walls and sweeping curved ramps.
The studio carried a peculiar atmosphere, thick with the mingled smells of paint and turpentine.
I sat before my easel and moved the brush.
On the canvas was a still life that had already reached the brink of completion.
An apple, a glass bottle, and a table draped with white cloth.
I refined the shadows with the direction of the light in mind, working in the subtle highlights reflected in the glass bottle without missing a detail.
…….
I rinsed the brush in the wash bucket, stepped back, and studied the composition as a whole.
Even now, after becoming a sophomore, I was still the oddball who took only courses like the humanities, philosophy, music, physical education, and art.
Then—
"You’re good."
A Chinese-American girl with a black short-cut hairstyle spoke from behind me, giving my painting a brief appraisal.
"Pretty impressive, considering you’re not even an art major."
……?
I turned around.
Whether I reacted or not, she went right on evaluating my work.
"The composition’s stable. It’s a triangular arrangement, but you’ve made the eye drift naturally toward the center. The contrast isn’t overdone, either, and the reflections on the glass bottle are handled quite delicately."
"Thank you."
"Whatever. If you’ve got time next time, let’s work together. We can talk, too."
The corners of her eyes curved softly, fox-like.
"My name is Jane Ryu."
Jane Ryu.
I knew that name.
To be precise, I didn’t know her face, but I knew the name.
She was a year above me, a senior, and the one who had placed second in the Oddball Entrepreneur Competition.
She was also someone who should have taken first place originally, if I hadn’t helped Grace succeed with her plan and changed the course of fate.
……So that’s what she looked like.
I’d heard she was Chinese-American, and sure enough, she was.
Her long, fox-like eyes and slender jawline gave her a cool, elegant air.
She had no makeup on, yet she still had the kind of face that drew your gaze without trying.
"I’m Lee Sanha. I’m always open to a joint project."
"I didn’t say anything about a joint project. Just working in the same space."
"If we get along, then that’s what it becomes."
"Oh? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what you heard."
Jane Ryu paused for a moment at my answer.
Then she smiled that unreadable smile of hers and spoke again.
"You’re more amusing than I heard."
"How much had you heard?"
"At freshman orientation, you memorized pi to a thousand digits in three minutes. Then you beat Professor Warren Cromwell in a mock investment wager, and now you’ve won the Oddball Entrepreneur Competition and even been invited to a White House dinner, haven’t you?"
"You’ve heard quite a lot."
"Is that all?"
Jane Ryu’s eyes, black and sticky as crude oil, moved in close toward me.
She leaned in until our noses were almost touching.
"You’re developing gold mines and oil fields, too, aren’t you?"
…….
"And it seems you’ve become rather intimate with the IRS in the process."
……!
I flinched a little at the last line.
Why had this woman named Jane Ryu chosen that word of all words—IRS—and, more importantly, why had she saved it for the end?
I ran through everything I knew about her.
A senior one year above me, Chinese-American, rumored to be an illegitimate daughter of a Chinese conglomerate family…… though that wasn’t certain.
Just then, Jane Ryu cut off my thoughts.
"Anyway, you’re more interesting than I heard. And probably even more interesting than you look. Let’s have dinner sometime. I’ll send over my secretary."
…….
Before I could even answer, she turned away in front of me.
I considered following after her and trying to squeeze out a few more words, but by the time the studio lights flickered through a few cycles of brightness and shadow, she had vanished completely from my sight.
* * *
I hung my apron on the hook and left the studio.
I dropped a coin into the pay phone on the wall and dialed home.
2266589…….
After two rings, a familiar voice came through the receiver.
"Hello? Sanha? Is that you?"
"Mom, it’s me."
"Oh, my boy!"
Her voice rose with immediate joy.
"You’re busy studying, aren’t you? Are you eating well?"
"Of course. The school cafeteria’s fine. Don’t worry."
"School food can only be so good. You haven’t lost weight, have you?"
"If anything, I should be exercising more. I’ve been eating too well lately."
"Still, home cooking is the best. Can you come home this weekend? Your father brought back some good short ribs from the Texas farm. I made braised ribs, your favorite. I put in lots of chestnuts and jujubes and simmered them all night. I even just mixed fresh geotjeori."
"Haha—Mom, are you trying to seduce me right now? I feel like I could fall for it completely."
"……I just miss you. I’d forget what our boy looks like."
That one sentence made my chest tighten.
I miss you.
I clutched the receiver and couldn’t speak for a moment.
Memories from before my regression surfaced.
I'm busy. I’ll come by later.
Thanksgiving’s probably out for me this year. I’ve got a project.
Sorry, I can’t talk long right now. I have to get back inside.
And after putting them off and putting them off, what I had finally faced were my parents’ portrait photographs.
A child wants to repay his parents, but parents do not wait forever—that was the immutable truth running through this world, wasn’t it?
"Mom, I’ll come tomorrow, so just set one extra pair of chopsticks at dinner."
"Huh? Really? You’re not forcing yourself, are you? You’re busy, aren’t you?"
"No, I’m not busy at all."
"Oh my, our boy’s coming! Honey! Sanha says he’s coming tomorrow! Oh, Sanha! I’ll get everything ready right away!"
"Don’t rush too much. It’s only tomorrow evening."
I couldn’t just drop by on the spot the way I did now; between trucks, planes, and taxis, travel still took time. But before long, I planned to get my hands on a different means of transportation.
Since the Soviet Union has just collapsed, I should go shopping there for a few things.
By then, I would be able to reach the house where my parents lived in just a few hours.
* * *
The sun vanished entirely beyond the western horizon, and darkness spread over the roadside highway.
The taxi radio was carrying the anchor’s voice.
The taxi came to a stop in the parking lot of the Lee Energy Market branch in Garden Queens.
In the past, this had been little more than a dying backwater town, but now it had changed so dramatically that the phrase “a world turned upside down” felt made for it.
The supermarket parking lot was packed with cars despite the late hour.
Bright neon signs lit the lot as though it were broad daylight, and at the entrance, the cheerful laughter of people pushing carts never ceased.
Despite the talk of recession, this one place overflowed with abundance.
I got out of the taxi.
The driver, having received a generous tip, gave me a salute as I headed in to shop.
I pushed open the supermarket’s glass doors, and a pleasant chill, mixed with the scent of fresh fruit, brushed past my nose.
Wide aisles stretched out beneath the high ceiling, and fresh ingredients were neatly arranged on shelves sorted by section.
Near the entrance, Coca-Cola and Pepsi promotional banners hung side by side, and in front of the refrigerated section, two housewives stood chatting while carefully checking the expiration dates on milk cartons.
This supermarket, operated directly by Lee Energy as part of its contribution to the local community, boasted quality that could rival the food halls of department stores in major cities.
I pulled a cart and headed for the meat section.
"Black Angus prime ribeye……."
A top-grade cut of sirloin caught my eye, its bright red meat marbled with a dense scatter of white fat.
The marbling was outstanding.
My father liked his beef grilled over charcoal.
I picked up five thick ribeye packs and loaded them into the cart.
At the seafood section, king crab and lobster flown in fresh from Maine were moving their claws slowly over beds of ice.
I added plenty of king crab and abalone, which my mother loved.
At the fruit section, I loaded boxes of California melons, in-season peaches, and Asian pears that had the same crisp refreshment as Korean pears.
I didn’t even need to look at the price tags, and before long the cart had become heavy.
The line was fairly long, but the cashiers were so fast that my turn came quickly.
"Hello, this is Lee Energy Market. Do you have a membership card……."
The cashier’s cheerful voice abruptly cut off.
Her eyes widened when she saw my face.
"Oh, Sanha? You’re Sanha Lee, right?"
I looked at her more closely, too.
A woman with a few freckles and brown hair neatly tied back.
A face I remembered.
"Mary?"
She had been my classmate at Queens Public High School.
According to Stephanie, she used to work at Walmart.
"Wow, my God! It really is Chairman Lee! You’re at Harvard, right? You’re home for vacation?"
Mary smiled brightly.
A badge identifying her as a full-time manager was pinned to her chest.
"No, not vacation—just here to see my parents for a bit. You work here? I heard you were at Walmart."
"Oh, I quit Walmart. As soon as Lee Energy Market opened, I applied. The benefits are night and day. I even got promoted to manager last month!"
Mary tapped her badge with obvious pride.
"That’s great. Congratulations. And you can speak casually with me. We’re classmates, after all."
"……Really? You mean it?"
Mary’s eyes went round, then she broke into a bright smile.
"Thanks, Sanha. But it still feels a little awkward. You’re basically a huge deal now."
"What’s such a huge deal about it? I’m the same as before. Just your old classmate."
"No, that’s too modest. Ah, I mean, you’re too modest."
Mary laughed awkwardly and corrected herself.
"But really, thank you, Sanha. Honestly."
Her hands paused for a moment as she rang up the items, and her face grew serious.
"Thanks to your company reviving Garden Queens’ economy, my dad’s back at the steel mill. My mom works here in the bakery corner, too. Having a job in a time like this is such an enormous blessing. Outside Garden Queens, people say it’s like the Great Depression all over again."
"The economy really is rough these days."
"It is. I’m even moved just because we have medical insurance. Oh, right—I signed up for a retirement pension, too. It feels like I’m dreaming."
As she kept scanning the items, Mary’s eyes grew damp.
"When people go to reunions, all they talk about is you. They’re proud to say they went to school with you. Thank you, Sanha. For protecting our town."
…….
I felt a different kind of satisfaction from the sales figures and operating profit I used to measure only in numbers.
The fact that the numbers I created could change what ended up on someone’s dinner table, or lift someone’s dream a little higher.
That was the true meaning of numbers, and the real function of money.
Of course, this wasn’t born of pure goodwill.
My people had to eat well and live well for my business to run well.
Reliable employees, a stable local community, and a community that supported me.
In the long run, all of that was the most efficient investment of all.
So my judgment was utterly market-capitalist in nature, but…… even so, I didn’t feel bad about it.
In the end, everyone was happy.
"All right, you’re all set!"
Mary handed me the receipt and called out cheerfully.
"Oh, and this too."
She picked up a bag of cookies sitting beside the register and slipped it into my shopping bag.
"My mom baked them herself over at the bakery corner. On the house!"
"……Thank you. Really. And please thank your mother for me, too."
I left the supermarket with shopping bags in both hands.
Once I climbed into the taxi, Garden Queens unfolded beyond the window in all its night-time brilliance.
The streetlights were blazing from end to end, and the shop signs glittered like stars.
Far off, white steam rose powerfully from the chimneys.
This town was alive.
And so were my people.
And I was deeply proud of the transformation we had built together.
[You know a dream is like a river, ever changin’ as it flows……]
The stiff news broadcast on the radio had, somewhere along the way, softened into a gentle song.
[And a dreamer’s just a vessel, that must follow where it goes……]
I rolled down the window and let the cool night air wash over me.
The wind blowing in from ahead seemed mixed with the smell of the braised short ribs my mother had made.
……Rustle!
The bag of cookies Mary’s mother had baked gave a small sound against my chest.
If I brought them to my mother later, she’d be pleased.