The Fold (5 page)

Gomo pointed at the ticket. “I only miss this number, but everything else is a perfect match.”

“WHAT?” Andy pushed forward. “You mean you didn’t get all the numbers?” He stared down intently at the ticket.

Gina started laughing.

Andy frowned at Gomo. “But you just said you won the lottery!”

Gomo pulled the ticket off the table and slipped it into her purse. “The man at the 7-Eleven said I won a great deal of money.”

Andy snarled in disgust. “It’s not millions! You didn’t win. You said—”

Uhmma grabbed Andy by the shoulders and pushed
him in the direction of the kitchen. “Go and get Gomo some water.” She turned her attention back to Gomo. “This is the most exciting news, Gomo! Do you want Apa to go with you to the lottery office?”

Gomo shook her head. “I can handle it myself. I thought my family would be happy for me.”

“We are happy for you, Gomo!” Uhmma said quickly. “That Andy is always trying to be funny. He is becoming a teenager. You know how that is, Gomo.”

Gomo’s eyebrows moved a fraction of an inch. Gina snorted so loud Joyce had to elbow her.

Gomo stood up and the crowd stepped back to give her room.

“I was hoping everyone would be very pleased. It is important to share good fortune with family. We must give thanks and honor those who are most precious to us,” Gomo lectured, her eyes scanning the room. Joyce quickly pasted on a wide smile when Gomo’s gaze turned in her direction. “Next Monday, we will have a special celebration dinner. I have plans to give you all very special gifts.” Gomo lifted her finger and wagged it for emphasis. “Very special gifts.”

Everyone stood outside the restaurant waving as Gomo pulled her Mercedes out of the parking spot and drove out to the street. When her taillight could barely
be seen, Uhmma finally dropped her hand. Everyone headed back into the restaurant.

“That was a nice distraction,” Uhmma said.

Andy grumbled loudly. “She said she won the lottery. What a lie.”

Apa bonked Andy in the head with his knuckle.

“Ai-ya!” Andy said, reaching up to the sore spot.

Gina and Joyce went back to setting the saltshakers on the tables.

“She probably won, like, ten thousand dollars or something,” Gina said.

“Yeah,” Joyce said and began unscrewing the top to the soy sauce container. “It’s funny how even that much money sounds like nothing after you think you’re getting millions.”

Gina raised one eyebrow. “Did you think you were going to get millions?”

Joyce felt a flush creeping up her neck as she recalled her first thoughts at the news of the lottery. She carefully poured the soy sauce. “Well, not me. But I did think that Gomo was going to give my family some money.” Joyce looked up at Gina. “I mean, can you imagine if Gomo really had won the lottery? She would be filthy rich. Don’t you think she would share some of that with us?”

Gina wrinkled her nose. “I suppose. But you know how wealthy people are. The more they have, the more they think they don’t have enough.” Gina did her best Orangedale long blond hair flip. “Ohmygod, like I can’t believe they are so charging fifty dollars for a yearbook. But look at me in my designer everything and this handbag that, like, cost three thousand dollars.”

Joyce laughed uncomfortably. She didn’t tell Gina that John had refused to pay for the yearbook this year.

“I wonder what Gomo is going to get us? Very special presents?” Joyce wondered.

Gina put down a saltshaker and set her face into a frozen mask. Barely moving her lips, she said, “Maybe she’ll take you for a makeover.”

Joyce laughed for real this time. “God, I think her face has gotten worse.”

“How many surgeries has she had?” Gina asked.

“Eight,” Andy chimed in, popping out from behind the cash register. “Well, eight, if you don’t count the time she had to fix her messed-up nose job.”

Joyce cracked up. “Remember that? She sounded like Darth Vader until they fixed the airway.”

Andy walked out from behind the counter doing
the Darth Vader breathing. “Ewhhh-I-ehhh-going to-ewhhhhhh-sue-ehhhh-that bad-eh-gag-eh-doctor.”

Gina shook her head. “Do you even remember what Gomo looked like before all the plastic surgery?”

“I think we have pictures somewhere from before she came to America,” Joyce said.

Andy jumped into the air, arm stretched out, hand quickly flipping down in a pretend shot at the basket. “She looked just like Joyce,” Andy said.

Joyce whirled around. “She did not!”

Andy grinned. “That’s what Uhmma and Apa say.”

“Shut up!” Joyce yelled.

Andy swaggered toward the kitchen. “Hey, if Michael can try and make herself beautiful, then you can try and make yourself beautiful, Joyce.”

Andy ducked into the kitchen just as Joyce hurled a saltshaker in his direction.

the
dinner rush was just beginning when Helen hurried through the back door into the kitchen, her bright tropical-colored book bags hanging off her arms. Joyce stood waiting on an order of bulgoki to take to table five and watched her sister struggle with the gaudy bags that she had received as a gift from Gomo a month ago. Leave it to Helen, the respectful older sister, to actually use the bags instead of hiding them in the back of their closet like Joyce did with most of the things that Gomo had bestowed upon her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Helen said breathlessly. She threw her bags into the storage room and grabbed a red and blue apron off the hook.

Even when Helen was rushed and wearing awful
colors, she still managed to look like she had just stepped out of an Asian cosmetics ad. Her complexion was flawless, with a natural faint blush of pink on her cheeks. Her large light brown eyes and dark black hair accented her heart-shaped face. Sometimes, when Helen was concentrating on something, Joyce would find herself staring at Helen and secretly cursing the universe for its unfairness. While Helen and Joyce certainly looked alike, everything about Helen was better. Helen was the deluxe to Joyce’s standard model. The upgraded version. Helen’s features were more symmetrical—her eyes larger, the rose-petal pout of her lips fuller, her skin clearer. Their bodies were similarly lean and strong, except that Helen had received the slightly larger breasts, the longer legs and the knees without the fat. Joyce would have settled for the larger brain, but even that small consolation had been robbed from her.

Uhmma plated the barbecued beef and added the sprigs of parsley and green scallions to the side of the platter. Just as she was about to hand it off to Joyce, Helen stepped in and grabbed it.

“Here, let me help you, Joyce. I can take this out. What table is it?”

Joyce grabbed the platter back from Helen. “It’s my order, Helen. Back off.”

Helen frowned. “I was just trying to give you a break since I’m so late.”

Uhmma stepped in between them. “Joyce, you take that out. Helen, sit down and eat before you start working. Did you have lunch? What kind of summer research group keeps you out until dinnertime?” Uhmma ushered Helen over to the corner table, carrying a bowl of soup.

“It’s okay, Uhmma. Dr. Josen said this meeting went especially late because she wanted to train us. We’re not going to have these long hours all summer,” Helen said, sitting down.

Uhmma sat down next to her. “Dr. Josen already accepted you? I thought she was only interviewing people.”

“She is, but she knew she wanted me, so I just had to fill out the paperwork.”

“They are going to pay you for all your hard work?” Uhmma asked.

Helen sighed. “No, Uhmma. This is an internship. She only picks ten students out of the entire college to help her with the research project. I should be paying her for letting me work with her. I’m the only sophomore on the project. The rest are seniors or graduates.”

Joyce walked slowly toward the door to the dining
room. Summer research group? Joyce groaned inwardly. There goes driving to the beach.

“You are working too hard. Maybe you should rest this summer,” Uhmma said, worried.

“It keeps my mind busy,” Helen said.

“Did you hear from Su Yon?” Uhmma asked quietly.

There was no answer from Helen.

“Gomo came to the store today with some exciting news!” Uhmma said, changing the subject.

Joyce quickened her steps and walked out into the dining room.

The dinner rush was particularly busy that night. The end of the school year meant celebrations. Large groups of families with kids in their graduation best flanked by grandmothers and grandfathers crowded the restaurant, blocking the entrance. Helen and Joyce rushed around seating people and then taking orders. Apa worked the register and carried orders out to the tables when Helen and Joyce got too busy. Mrs. Lee plated the small dishes of banchan to be served before the meal and prepped the vegetables, while Uhmma managed the grill and stove. Andy stood next to Juan Carlos, their evening dishwashing helper, and loaded up the trays with dirty dishes.

Mrs. Kim, a regular customer, was with her niece and nephew and their family.

“Joyce-ya,” Mrs. Kim called and waved Joyce over. Joyce nodded to her and finished taking an order from a young college couple. She walked over to Mrs. Kim.

“On-young-ha-say-yo, Mrs. Kim,” Joyce said. “Would you like me to take your orders now?”

Mrs. Kim grinned and waved her empty shoju glass. “Go and get that beautiful sister of yours,” Mrs. Kim slurred and turned to her niece and nephew. “This girl.” Mrs. Kim looked up at Joyce. “Not her, but her sister. This girl, Helen, could be the next Miss Korea. She is so smart and beautiful and cha-keh. You meet her and see what a good example she is for you two.”

Joyce walked back to the kitchen. Helen was helping Mrs. Lee finish another set of banchan to be loaded onto the tray.

“Mrs. Kim wants you,” Joyce reported.

Helen looked up. “Isn’t she at your table?”

“So? She said she wants you.”

Helen sighed and finished loading the tray with the small dishes. “I’ll go say hello. Will you take this to table ten?”

Joyce took the tray from Helen. “Fine.”

By the end of the long night, everyone was exhausted.
Apa locked the front door and then went back to the kitchen to help Uhmma and Mrs. Lee clean up. Helen vacuumed the dining room floor while Joyce wiped down the tables. Andy was fast asleep on one of the booth benches.

Helen unplugged the vacuum cord and started rolling it up. She looked over at Joyce. “Are you going to stay mad at me all night?”

Joyce stopped wiping down the table and asked, “How come you just left me this morning?”

Helen sighed. “Joyce, I called for you three times and then waited and waited.”

“I was in the bathroom.”

“For over an hour!”

Joyce finished with her table and moved farther away from Helen to the next table.

Helen walked over. “Look, I’m sorry, but I had to go or else Andy would have been late for school and I would have been late for my interview. I tried to tell you.”

Joyce whirled away from her angrily. “You did not try to tell me! You left me! I forgot my yearbook and backpack today because I had to rush out of the apartment after you ditched me.”

Helen leaned her weight back on one foot and
crossed her arms. “Look, Joyce, you have to stop projecting your anger onto me. Take responsibility for your mistakes.”

Joyce waved her finger in Helen’s face. “Don’t even try your psychobabble on me, Helen.”

“Stop being so childish,” Helen said. “I swear you regress every time I talk to you.”

“You want to play that game?”

“What game?”

Joyce crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Fine. Guess what! I need the car this summer.”

“Stop it, Joyce. You know I have this summer internship.”

“Yeah, well, I have a lot of meetings this summer, too!” Joyce screeched.

Helen pressed her lips together and gazed up at the ceiling. “Okay, Joyce.” Helen lowered her eyes, her face softened in sympathy. “Maybe we can coordinate our schedules.”

Joyce focused on refolding her wet rag. She didn’t know what felt worse, Helen’s pity or the thought of losing out on the car all summer. Why did Joyce always end up in this position? Just once, Joyce wanted to feel like what she had to do was just as important as Helen’s schedule. That she mattered just as much as Helen.

“I could drop you off at school or wherever you need to go. Or you could drop me, but then you would have to double back,” Helen said, already trying to work out the logistics.

“Forget it,” Joyce said and walked away.

Uhmma and Apa had Helen drive Joyce and Andy home while they finished closing the restaurant. All the way back to the apartment, Joyce refused to say a word to Helen.

Helen pulled into their parking space in front of the apartment building. She turned in her seat and faced Joyce.

“Look, Joyce, I’m really sorry. I’ve been feeling pretty crappy lately. I know you think I always get my way, but it’s not like that. I need to do this internship for a lot of reasons. I’m trying to work something out.”

Joyce crossed her arms in front of her chest and turned away.

“Can we just talk for a minute?”

Joyce held up her hand, fingers spread wide, inches from Helen’s face.

Helen clenched her jaw and turned away, opening the car door to step out. Joyce reached back and gently shook Andy awake. The three walked into their apartment complex, heading for the outside set of
stairs that led up to their second-floor apartment. In the building to the right of theirs, just beyond the cement courtyard that used to be a pool before the landlord filled it in, a soft red light shined out of a small window.

Helen glanced over as she started up the steps and commented, “Who has a red light in their room? That’s strange.”

Joyce glanced over at the light. Sam must be working late on his photographs. Everyone in the entire apartment complex knew Sam developed his pictures in a makeshift darkroom that was his bathroom. He was going into his senior year of high school like Joyce, but he didn’t attend Orangedale. He didn’t need to go to a school like Orangedale when his photographs were going to get him into art school. At least, that was what everyone thought, everyone who knew him, except for Helen. She was always so busy and focused on her own work, she never had the time to find out what other people were doing.