The Fold (6 page)

Joyce started up the stairs behind Helen and Andy. Everyone seemed to have goals. Dreams. Talent. Helen had taken one psychology class and already she was part of a research group after one year. Gina always put a hundred percent effort into whatever she set her
mind to, like going to an East Coast college that she had already picked out, and attended every informational meeting. Even Andy knew he wanted to be a professional basketball player and practiced as much as he could. Joyce had no idea what she wanted. She couldn’t even choose an outfit other than jeans and a T-shirt every morning. What were her dreams and goals? Except talking to John Ford Kang, which had been a disaster, Joyce could only think about driving the car this summer, and even that was going to be taken away. And once again, Helen’s plans mattered more.

andy,
stop playing that video game and get dressed,” Uhmma called out. Joyce poked her head out of the bedroom that she shared with Helen to find Uhmma running from the bathroom down the hallway in her slip. Even from the back, Joyce could tell that Uhmma had hair-sprayed into place the helmet hair she wore for public appearances. Monday was the one day of the week when the restaurant was closed. And in the summers, when there was no school, Mondays felt better than a weekend.

Apa stepped out of their bedroom in a new blue suit and new black wing-tip shoes.

“Apa, tell Andy to get ready,” Uhmma said as she skirted around him and entered their bedroom.

Apa nodded and walked toward Andy’s room. Joyce stepped out into the hall and evaluated the new clothes that Gomo had dropped off for Apa earlier in the day.

“Looking good, Apa,” Joyce said.

Apa grinned and lifted the lapels of his suit. “Gomo picked out a nice one this time.”

Joyce smiled. You never knew what Gomo would find. Most of the time she would hit a sale and come bearing clothes in either atrocious colors or the wrong sizes. As Apa walked past her to Andy’s room, Joyce felt there was something else different about him besides the clothes, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it.

Uhmma stepped out into the hallway in a maroon dress and black pumps.

“Joyce,” she said, rushing over, “where is your sister?”

“She went to wait outside.” Joyce smoothed her black, knee-length skirt and wondered if Uhmma would notice that she was wearing the outfit they had picked out together last month.

“Go wait with her,” Uhmma said and ran into Andy’s room. “Aigoo! Both of you stop staring at that video game. Andy, get dressed.”

“Shoot that one, Andy,” Joyce could hear Apa say. “He is almost at the next level.”

Joyce turned and walked out into the living room. She went to the large window next to the front door and looked out. Helen was sitting on the concrete steps staring at the sky, her hands clasped together. Helen had been doing a lot of that lately. Escaping out to the stairs when she needed to be alone. Joyce wondered why Helen even bothered to live at home. It would have been a lot easier on both of them if Helen just moved to the dorms, but then again, it would have cost more money.

Joyce watched as Helen pressed her fingers to the corner of her eyes as if she might be crying.

Without thinking, Joyce tapped on the window, and Helen turned around.

Joyce pressed her nose and lips to the window and ballooned out her cheeks into the squirrelly face that they both knew so well. The same face Helen had made so many times to make Joyce stop crying or to make her laugh when Helen took care of her and Andy while their parents worked long hours.

Helen shook her head and grinned.

“We are late. Hurry,” Uhmma said, rushing up behind Joyce. Apa and Andy followed close behind. Andy’s eyes were still glued to his handheld video game. They all gathered at the front door.

“Ready?”
Apa said and reached for the doorknob.

Uhmma grabbed the video game out of Andy’s hands and threw it on the couch. Andy stared at his empty hands, his thumbs pressing air.

Uhmma slung her purse over her shoulder. “Now we are ready,” she said.

As they drove closer to the Koreatown neighborhood in Los Angeles, the signs slowly changed from English to Hangul symbols until it was hard to tell that they were still in America. All around them, the signs, the people, the building hearkened to another culture.

Helen pointed at a beauty shop. “Hey, Joyce, remember when we got our ears pierced at that place?”

Joyce smiled. “Yeah, and you made me go first because you were too chicken.”

“You were always braver than me,” Helen said.

“I think that experience made me swear off inflicting pain on myself for the rest of my life.” Joyce grimaced. “Uhmma and Apa will never have to worry about me getting a tattoo, that’s for sure.”

Helen chuckled. “See? I did do you a favor.”

Apa turned into a large outdoor mall complex. They could see Gomo clutching two large shopping bags standing outside a large ornate façade that perfectly
replicated a traditional Korean building, from the sweeping roofline to the large double wooden doors.

Uhmma quickly flipped down the visor to check her makeup in the mirror. “I hope Gomo has not been waiting long.”

Apa turned into a parking spot. “Yuh-boh, do not worry. We are celebrating tonight.”

“Why do we always have to celebrate at a Korean restaurant?” Andy complained, pulling at the collar of his white dress shirt. “We only eat Korean food EVERY DAY!”

Uhmma turned in her seat to give him a dark scowl. “Andy! I do not want to hear you talking like that in front of Gomo.”

Andy let his head loll forward. “Okay, okay.”

They stepped out of the car and walked toward Gomo, who waved frantically at them, as though they might miss her.

“How much you want to bet Michael has some ugly sale clothes for us in those shopping bags?” Andy whispered to Joyce.

“No way,” Joyce whispered back. “Did you see what Apa is wearing? She’s flush with lottery money.”

“Gomo!” Uhmma called and ran forward. “Have you been waiting long?”

Andy spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Michael can’t help herself.”

“Okay, you two, stop,” Helen said.

“Yes, Mom.” Joyce grinned.

Joyce and Andy took their turn bowing and hugging Gomo, who stood stock still and firmly patted their backs like she was slapping dust from a rug. When it was Helen’s turn, Gomo reached out and cupped Helen’s face in her hands, giving Helen a kiss on the cheek.

“You are feeling better?” Gomo asked.

Helen nodded as she forced a smile to her face.

Apa cleared his throat loudly and pulled open one of the large wooden doors to the restaurant.

Gomo ignored him and continued to hold Helen’s face. “Good,” Gomo said firmly. “You will have many, many friends in your lifetime. Do not trouble yourself with just one.”

“Yes, Gomo,” Helen said.

Apa began coughing and wheezing, grabbing at the collar of his new white dress shirt. Uhmma touched his elbow to calm him down.

“Let us go inside,” Gomo said and led the way into the darkened dining room.

Once they were seated and their dinner orders placed, they sat with their teacups in front of them.
Gomo clinked the side of her water glass with her chopsticks.

“I would like to make an announcement,” she said. Gomo looked at each one of them, her face so heavily made up it resembled the Korean masks that were hanging on the walls as decoration. Joyce couldn’t understand how someone who cared so much about the way she looked couldn’t get some decent makeup lessons.

“I am getting older,” Gomo said. “You are my only family.”

Everyone nodded. Gomo was a widow and had never been able to have children of her own.

“And with Uncle Joe watching over us, I feel I do not have many more years left.”

Uhmma complained loudly, “No, no, do not say those things, Gomo. You are still so strong and healthy.”

Andy kicked Joyce under the table. Uncle Joe was Gomo’s third American husband and third Joe. Although no one was certain if all of Gomo’s husbands were really named Joe or if Gomo just insisted on calling them all Joe. Gomo had lived with the third Uncle Joe in San Francisco, and he had been more a myth than reality. They had only met him a few times before he passed away and Gomo moved down to L.A. Andy used to joke that Uncle Joe was really a life-size blow-up
G.I. Joe doll because whenever they did see him for the holidays, he was always dressed in his army fatigues and watching football.

Gomo held up her hand to silence Uhmma. “I am getting older, but there are still some things that I would like to do before my time comes to join Uncle Joe. I want to make sure each one of you gets their wish,” Gomo said. “I would like to make your lives better.”

Make our lives better? Joyce glanced up from playing with her napkin as she daydreamed about John Ford Kang surfing. Apa and Uhmma glanced at each other. Helen was staring off into the restaurant, while Andy nervously jiggled one leg.

Joyce held her breath. Maybe she was going to give them a million dollars!

Gomo reached down and pulled up one shopping bag. “Apa already received his gifts, but I want to give Andy and Helen their gifts tonight.”

Andy sat up straighter in his seat.

Gomo handed the bag to Uhmma and gestured that she should pass it on to Helen.

Uhmma handed Helen the bag.

“Gam-sa-ham-nee-da, Gomo,” Helen said and bowed her head before accepting the bag. Helen reached in and pulled out a large gift-wrapped box. Andy nudged
Joyce in the side. Helen unwrapped the box and carefully lifted the lid. Inside was a beautifully embroidered white silk traditional Korean dress.

Uhmma gasped and brought her hands to her lips. “Gomo, you should not have spent this much on Helen’s hanbok!”

Helen stood up and held the traditional Korean outfit in front of her. The hanbok was truly stunning, with tiny embroidered blush pink flowers circling the entire hem and sleeves of the dress. Joyce couldn’t help herself and reached out to touch the fabric. The thick, rich silk shone with a soft gleam, the cool smoothness light as rain on Joyce’s fingertips.

Helen remained standing with the dress so that Uhmma and Apa could admire it, but Joyce could tell there was something wrong. The set of Helen’s lips, slightly off center, and the way her eyes were painfully open and alert. Joyce couldn’t believe that Helen wouldn’t like a hanbok that gorgeous.

Gomo waved her hand at the box. “Pull out the book!”

Uhmma reached over and pulled out a black binder. Helen carefully folded up the dress and set it back into the box. She took the binder from Uhmma and sat down.

“I have taken care of the fees. You only need to contact Mrs. Hahn and she will arrange all of the meetings,” Gomo said.

Helen carefully opened the book and turned to page after page of young Korean men posing in high back chairs with a short biography and statement beneath their photograph. Joyce leaned over for a closer look. Some of the guys were even cute!

All through high school, Helen had refused to go on any dates, choosing to focus on her studies as Uhmma and Apa wished. Helen hung out with a close group of friends at school and then talked mostly to Su Yon at the restaurant. When Su Yon had moved away, Helen cried for days. Joyce had felt bad for Helen but didn’t know how to comfort her older sister, who never before seemed fazed by anything. Joyce was already having a hard time thinking about Gina going off to a different college. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to never talk to your best friend again.

“Now that you are getting older, it’s time you started dating appropriate men,” Gomo announced.

Uhmma pressed her lips together, making the skin around the edge of her mouth white. Helen had always been the obedient daughter and listened to whatever Uhmma and Apa said. If Gomo thought Helen was
ready to date, then Uhmma and Apa didn’t have much choice about Helen embarking on a dating odyssey.

Helen closed the book and said quietly, “Thank you, Gomo.”

Joyce observed Uhmma and Apa sharing a look. Joyce wondered if they still thought Helen’s studies should come first, especially with all those years of medical school still looming ahead for her.

Gomo reached down and pulled up the next shopping bag.

“This one is for Andy.”

Andy jumped up and ran over to receive the bag. He even planted a kiss on Gomo’s cheek. “Gam-sa-ham-nee-da, Gomo,” he said and ran back to his seat with the bag.

Joyce started to get suspicious. “What’s in the bag, Andy?” she asked.

Andy reached down into the bag and pulled out a large plastic container with hundreds of tiny capsules filled with a clear yellow liquid that looked like vegetable oil.

“My magic growth capsules!” Andy said and shook the container, making the pills rattle.

“What?” Joyce asked.

Gomo leaned forward. “They are shark liver extract
pills with a special Chinese root for growing taller. It was very hard to find, but I know this will make Andy happy.”

Joyce turned to Andy. “Are you really going to take that?” she whispered.

Andy looked at her like she was crazy. “I asked for it, Joyce. How else am I going to make the NBA?” He gazed lovingly at his bottle of capsules. “This stuff made Tom Koh grow five inches last year.”

Gomo tapped her water glass again.

“Tomorrow, I will take you to your present,” Gomo said to Uhmma.

“Gomo, you did not have to do anything special for me,” Uhmma said.

“This procedure will change your life,” Gomo said.

Uhmma began to blink rapidly at the word
procedure.

“What do you mean, Gomo? What procedure?”

Gomo raised her pointer finger to her eyebrows and lightly traced the shape. “Permanent makeup tattoos. I will take you to my person. She is an artist. After you get your eyebrows and eyeliner done, you will not look so tired all the time at the restaurant.”

Uhmma picked up her tea and swallowed all of it in two gulps. “Gomo, really, this is much too expensive
a gift for me. Please. Save your money. I do not think—”

Gomo held up her hand and stared ferociously at Uhmma until she stopped protesting.