Bitterly, Sweetly

Cant Be Choosy

ĒĒĒĒĒ

The home was simplistically decorated. A set of family portraits in front of the entrance wall. A white vanity table adjacent, topped with a mail divider, homestyle magazines, and a cup of pens. Hooks for keys on the wall. Straight ahead a white triple seat couch pressed into the partial pastel wall that separated the living space from the kitchen. A matching recliner on the left. In the center of the room a tiny rectangular, also white, table decorated with engravings. Ahead the television set was hoisted atop a long shelf where movies and cds and miscellaneous junk were hidden in the contents of the drawers.

The scent of food was welcoming, and was where they went. The counter ran in an L-shape around the kitchen wall. Tucked between that and the double sink was a fridge. The home an easy and manageable home for two elders enjoying the last of their years together; their daughter not too far from them.

They seemed lovely people. Just as their daughter was.

"Sit, sit." Namjoo's mother a fine woman wearing short cropped hair invited. She was so smiley. Extending her hand she showed him, "I hope you like it. Namjoo didn't specify any dishes, so I did what I could."

"She was up all morning fussing." Her husband added to embarrass her. She swatted at him but not really.

The pair suited each other.

"So, Namjoo. Go ahead and introduce him." Her mother slyly eyed her. "You haven't done introductions yet. You know your manners."

Straightening in her chair, Namjoo introduced, "This is Sehun. We just started seeing each other."

"Oh?" Her father raised a brow curious. "What about the other one? You were so anxious about him."

His wife nudged him. Sehun shifted in his chair trying to hide his discomfort.

They were talking about Chanyeol whom they were supposed to meet, but plans had gone awry because of his seminar. Namjoo's tongue seemed stuck at the top of her mouth. She made a noise beside him as she awkwardly smiled.

"I'm sure they're friends still." Her mother helped then scowled at her husband.

"Yes. Of course." Looking at him he apologized, "I'm sorry. This old man lacks wit."

Choking on a laugh, Sehun shook his head. "No, of course not."

They dallied over work and upcoming events in the family. So-and-so were getting married, did Namjoo have time to go? Then lunch was finished and the women focused on cleaning up shooing the men away with a plate of fruits. Sehun nervously glanced to Namjoo for help as he was led away. She only looked at him appearing sorry before her mother called her away.

Forced to sit down in the living room where the tv was turned onto some sports channel, Sehun was offered a slice of apple. He accepted to be polite.

Namjoo's father was a tall man. Still broad and fit, full of energy. Though his hair was kind of gray and salted in specks of white, his face remained youthful. Few lines not too deep. Though creases had burrowed into his forehead. No beard though. He was clean shaven. Sehun wondered how he'd look in old age and if he'd still be handsome.

"Sehun is it?" the old man leaned back into the recliner.

"Yes, sir."

"Where are you from?"

"I grew up nearby, but I was born in the country."

"What about your parents?"

He didn't know how to say this. "My mom runs a chicken farm. My dad works at a corporation. They're not together."