“That’s not too bad… Shoes would’ve absorbed most of the impact.”
“We don’t wear shoes in the house in Korea, remember?”
“Oh…right.” I wince.
“It happened in the kitchen. It was a sizable butcher knife.”
Ouch. “I take it back.”
“Thankfully, nobody was hurt, but the relationship didn’t go very far.” She pats my hand. “But we should be okay.”
I’m still a bit nervous about meeting her parents, who I know don’t approve of me. But I decide to take Yuna’s word for it and relax.
The drive is fairly long. The airport is about an hour from Seoul. The cars cut through a quiet residential area. Finally, we go past a huge concrete wall and thick gates shut behind us.
An enormous Asian-style garden with a pine tree and pale flowers stretches out in front of us. Yuna and I climb out of the car and walk past a pond filled with colorful carp.
We enter the main wing. Yuna takes off her shoes and puts on slippers that have been laid out. I do the same, while noting the slippers are soft. Not much protection against dropped knives.
Lady Min comes out, dressed impeccably. I don’t think she owns a single comfy house dress. She says something in Korean and puts her hands on Yuna’s arms warmly. Then she says, “Welcome,” to me in English in that perfectly polite tone.
“Thank you for having me,” I say with a warm, friendly smile. Yuna told me to smile all the time because nobody can spit in the face of a man who smiles. Apparently, it’s a Korean saying.
A man with hair graying at the temples comes out. He’s in a suit, minus the jacket.
Yuna says something to him in Korean in an extra-cheery tone and hugs him.
He laughs and hugs her back. His humor dims significantly when he notices me. I can see it in his eyes: Oh, you’re that American.
“Declan Winters. I’m thrilled to meet you, sir,” I say with an unfaltering smile. Hopefully, smiles prevent knives as well.
“I’m Yuna’s father. You can call me Mr. Hae.” No smile.
Yuna elbows him on the side gently and says something chiding. He scoffs, then pinches her cheek affectionately.
“Dinner’s ready,” Lady Min says.
“Where’s Eugene?” Yuna says.
“Ms. Hong called. His meeting’s running late.”
Yuna links her arm with mine. Her dad glances at that and gives me a death glare. I smile harder and keep my arm linked with hers.
“We’ve prepared a homey Korean meal, nothing special,” Lady Min says. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious,” I say.
We reach the dining room. I blink a few times. This is what passes for a homey Korean meal?
The table is large enough to seat eight. Every square inch is covered with food, from soup to vegetable dishes to fish and meat. Some are braised, some are grilled and some are roasted.
“Mom, how did you know I was in the mood for the beef and radish soup? And my favorite grilled fish!” Yuna says, looking at her mother like she’s Joan of Arc.
Lady Min laughs a little. “They’re actually gifts from Mr. Jang. We saved them for you.”
I lean toward Yuna and lower my voice. “You give people fish in Korea?”
“Well, yeah. Why not?”