The moment we step into the restaurant, Yuna smiles.
“Like it?” I ask, pleased to see her happy. I should’ve brought her here weeks ago. The place isn’t super fancy, but it’s clean and airy, with lots of people eating already. A good sign.
“Love it. How did you know I like table d’hôte? Most Americans prefer Korean barbecue.”
“Because I have broad horizons when it comes to food?” I can’t tell her I heard from her friends when I’m trying to keep the party a secret.
The hostess seats us at a table for two, then takes Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim to a table on the opposite side of the restaurant. I watch the entire process with amusement. They drag their feet like lambs being led to a slaughterhouse. I guess telling them it’s my treat isn’t helping much.
“Just look at Mr. Choi.” Yuna leans closer. “He looks like he just bit into a sandy clam.”
“Yeah, he sort of does.”
“He shouldn’t look so unhappy. It isn’t like we’re going to do or say anything worth reporting to my mom out here in public.”
Our server interrupts to get our order, and Yuna requests a course with mostly meat dishes and a Diet Coke. I get the same food, since I have no clue what’s good, but with mineral water.
He almost immediately brings out some yellow soup and salad. Now I wish I’d read the menu more carefully so I’d know what the heck I’m eating. I only read the description of the main dish because all the courses seem to have the same appetizer and dessert.
I wait until Yuna takes a spoonful. When she smiles with satisfaction, I taste mine and discover a creamy pumpkin soup. Not bad.
“I don’t think Mr. Choi and Ms. Kim are spying on you,” I say
. Her mom’s determined to break us up. What better way than to have her people buzz around us like flies? “Are you going to meet one of those photo guys?” Lady Min doesn’t seem like the type to give up easily. “I saw them on the table at Angelina.”
Yuna cringes. “You saw those, huh?”
“Yeah. Hard not to.”
“I was hoping Mom put them away before you did. Ugh. Those guys aren’t even here, so the answer is no. And even if we were in Korea, I still wouldn’t meet them. I’m not doing a matsun when I’m already with someone.”
“A what?”
“It’s like a blind date, except people meet with the explicit goal of marriage and children. It’s almost always arranged by parents.”
“Wow. A blind date with a commitment.”
“Commitment-phobes need not apply.”
No kidding. I don’t know how a young, single Korean could go to one of those and not be paralyzed with indecision. What if they chose wrong? Children complicate things so much. Aiden advised me never to have children until I’m a hundred percent sure because kids are weaponized during divorce.
Once the main course comes out, I stare at the table in awe. There’s the meat dish—braised short ribs marinated in sweet soy sauce—and rice, which I expected. But there are so many side dishes. I count at least ten.
Yuna sighs and picks up her chopsticks. “This is the stuff. Delivery isn’t the same.”
“How come?” I pick up some kind of fileted white fish fried with egg.
“Because I can never get enough banchan.” She points at the small side dishes. “Those.”
“You should’ve said something. I would’ve brought you here sooner.”
“Here. Have this.” She pushes a small plate with the fried fish.
“But that’s yours.”
She shrugs. “You’re done with yours, which means you like it more than I do. And this is how you know I like you, because I’m sharing my food with you. We do this at home, when my family eats together. It used to annoy Mom when Eugene would drag the braised ribs in front of him so he could monopolize them, even though Mom kept pushing the plate toward me.”
I smile at the warm, homey image. No matter how wealthy or powerful or meddlesome her mom might be, it’s obvious she loves Yuna very much. The private meeting I had with Lady Min weighs heavily on my mind. Now that Yuna brought up her family, I can steer the conversation to those envelopes from her mother.