Seventeen, and Spring (2)
I set my bag down and perched on the edge of the sofa. Listening quietly, I pieced together the picture. This man here, Han Yeonho, was the son of the chairman of a major corporation that outsourced work to Dad's company. He was getting on in years but showed no interest in dating or even meeting women, making him a worry for his family. Dad must have heard their complaints at a drinking party and, trying to lighten the mood while tipsy, offered to introduce him to my college-student sister. He probably remembered how she'd been singing about wanting a boyfriend lately. The problem was that Chairman Han took the suggestion seriously, and things snowballed straight into engagement talks.
My sister crossed her arms and leaned back against her chair.
"I don't want to. They decided everything without even consulting me... What am I supposed to do now?"
Dad furrowed his brows at her words.
"Consulting? You said you'd meet him once yourself. You've been going on about wanting a boyfriend for ages."
Dad lifted his water glass and set it back down.
"Th-that wasn't what I meant! I meant I'd find someone on my own... And I was drinking then too... B-besides! In this day and age, what's with engagements? Engagements! I can't stand a guy without any guts—"
"Yoon Seoyeong!"
Mom cut her off sharply just as her voice was rising. No matter the situation, what my sister had just said was incredibly rude. Good job, Mom.
"Sorry about this, Yeonho. Let me have a word with my daughter. Seoyeong, come to your room."
Mom kept a gentle expression but yanked my sister's arm roughly. My sister grimaced but followed without much resistance. Left in the living room were the three of us: Dad, me, and Han Yeonho here.
Dad cleared his throat a few times, trying to ease the chilly atmosphere, then spoke up.
"Sorry about that. I didn't expect her to act like this..."
"No, I'm the one who should apologize. I had no idea things would turn out like this because of me."
After saying that, he let his gaze linger on the corner of the table for a moment, fiddling slowly with two fingers pressed together. He was smiling as if composed, but it was obvious he wasn't. His expression looked forced, like a fake smile. This engagement must have caught him off guard too.
He does seem a bit spineless.
Recalling what my sister had almost said, I looked at him. He definitely seemed lacking in boldness, but not uncomfortably so. From the story, he was probably late twenties, but his face looked early twenties. If you had to judge, he was handsome. Just with a faint masculine edge, more neutral. Like the old term for a pretty boy from the gisaeng houses, maybe.
With those thoughts, I stood up as quietly as possible, without making a sound. Their conversation seemed like it would drag on. My eyes met Dad's briefly, and when I pointed toward the kitchen, he gave a slight nod.
I slipped into the bathroom first and washed my hands. Lukewarm water trickled over the back of my hand, and in the mirror, I noticed my ribbon knot had come slightly loose, so I fixed it with my fingers. I wanted to change into comfy clothes, but I couldn't. We had a guest, so I had to stay neat. Even if it was my school uniform.
I shook off the water and pressed a towel firmly to dry, then headed to the kitchen.
I took off my uniform jacket and draped the apron hanging on the chair around me. Opening the fridge door let in a rush of cold air. I pulled out a couple of apples from the drawer and one Hallabong prepared for guests.
Stepping onto the footstool, I placed them in the sink and turned the faucet on strong, rubbing the surfaces under the running water. Water droplets beaded up on the peels and rolled down into the sink.
Next, I got out a kitchen bowl, set a cutting board on it, and took a fruit knife. First, the apples. I pierced the top lightly and peeled the skin off in long strips. The thin peels curled down like red ribbons beside the board, falling into the bowl. Once peeled, I quartered them, cored them, and cut into bite-sized pieces. Each time the blade hit the board, a steady tap-tap echoed in my ears.
For the Hallabong, I scored the peel and peeled it off by hand. The fresh citrus scent burst from my fingertips. I separated the segments neatly and arranged them in a circle in the center of the plate. Around the edges, I fanned out the apple slices like a hand fan. I stuck toothpicks into a few apple pieces for easy picking. Just in case, I took four small forks from the cupboard and lined them up beside the plate.
Finishing the setup, I wiped the plate's edge with a dishcloth to clean off any water or juice stains. Lifting the plate, I felt the weight of the fruit in my palm. It was actually a bit heavy.
With this frail body, what can I even do properly...?
Glancing toward the living room with that thought, I saw Mom and my sister had returned from the room and were seated. I cradled the plate carefully in both hands, lifted my heels slightly to muffle my steps, and headed to the living room.
Sliding the plate gently into the center of the table drew all four pairs of eyes to my hands.
"Have some while you talk."
The fruit plate settled lightly on the glass table.
"Aigoo, look at me. Thanks, my girl. Mom forgot all about it."
Mom tapped her forehead and smoothed it with her palm. She offered me some too, but I politely declined.
"Good job, sweetie. Thanks as always."
Dad smiled and patted my head once. His palm's warmth lingered faintly.
"Thanks~"
My sister muttered it curtly, then snatched an apple piece with a toothpick and popped it into her mouth before the words even finished. Mom shot her a glare right away.
"You... The guest hasn't even had any yet..."
"It's fine."
Han Yeonho smiled awkwardly and nodded. Then he turned to me.
"Thank you, little sister."
He bowed his head briefly. His manners were impeccable to the end.
He's kind even to someone younger.
For some reason, my back straightened, and I felt a bit better. I stepped away from my seat and sat back on the sofa, looking around at the four of them. The mood had improved since earlier, but my sister was keeping her distance from Han Yeonho, just devouring the fruit.
Isn't she being too openly dismissive?
Thinking that, I glanced at Han Yeonho. He occasionally looked at my sister, but faced with her continued cold shoulder, he ended up talking only with Mom and Dad. Whatever, my sister didn't take her eyes off the plate. Watching her pick up another apple slice, Mom finally let out a long sigh.
"Seoyeong, mind your manners. What's that attitude in front of a guest?"
Dad set down his fork and chimed in.
"You agreed to this meeting yourself. Do you realize how rude you're being?"
My sister didn't retort right away. Instead, she leaned back deeper into the chair and picked up a Hallabong segment from the plate.
"I don't like it. No matter what, I just don't."
"Yoon Seoyeong!"
Dad raised his voice. He always seemed so mild at home, so both my sister and I flinched for a moment.
"Ha... Fine. I'll do it then... Happy?"
Stammering a bit more, my sister suddenly checked her phone screen, took a short breath, and said,
"Oh, right. I forgot I had plans. We'll talk later!"
With that, she shoved her chair back and bolted up. Before Mom could grab her, she was out the door and gone.
That personality of hers...
I barely swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue. Mom and Dad sighed almost in unison and bowed their heads toward Han Yeonho.
"Sorry, Yeonho. Our Seoyeong was so rude."
"No, really, it's okay."
He waved his hands repeatedly with an awkward smile, but Mom and Dad's expressions didn't soften easily. I felt bad too.
Our family had once been really strapped for cash. It was the aftermath of Dad's business collapsing early on. The old villa we lived in back then was rundown beyond belief. Summers with just a fan, winters fighting over the electric blanket—those days were plenty. The entryway drawer was stuffed with crumpled overdue bills, and Mom and Dad were always out. Weekends often left just my sister and me alone.
But around when I started middle school, things began to change bit by bit. Dad landed a subcontract from a big corporation, and from there, our finances visibly improved. We left the shabby villa for this new apartment, and weekends meant eating out—we were comfortable. Dad's small business, started solo, had grown into a solid mid-sized company. Mom handled accounting and taxes there now, buried in numbers more than before. Still, she had more days off, so we spent more time together as a family, which was nice.
That made my stomach boil even more. No matter how much she disliked it, there was no need to be that rude. Plus, hadn't she said herself she'd meet him once?
While stewing in my head, the table was clearing up. Plates pushed to the edges, a few apple and Hallabong pieces neatly left in the center.
"Little sister."
Han Yeonho called cautiously. Our eyes met, and he smiled.
"There's some fruit left. Would you like some?"
I wasn't particularly hungry, but leaving food always bugged me.
"Sure, thanks."
I stood and approached the table. I noticed an apple piece speared on the toothpick he was holding. He was closer than I thought. No time to hesitate—my head leaned forward first. I chomped down on that apple slice.
Crunch—sweetness spread in my mouth. Hey, it's tastier than I expected? I should've eaten some from the start.
"Ah, that was... the one I was eating—"
He stammered in surprise, trailing off. It hit me then. Looking over, his other hand held a fork half-extended toward me.
"Oh... sorry."
I rubbed the corner of my mouth with my thumb. The apple's sweetness clung stickily to my tongue tip. My earlobes burned. Guess I was rude too.