Translation of Love

3

Coffee

It's been two days since I saw Junwoo's place. He will message me every now and then to ask how I'm doing, or if I need help with anything. It's admittedly nice to have someone to contact just in case I can't figure out how to get somewhere.

These days were spent attending orientation activities—not that I wanted to but some sort of helper that lives in my dorm knocked on all of the doors, causing a ruckus and forcing everyone out of their rooms. I was given my course schedule yesterday. My classes run from 9 to 1, all focused on learning Korean. I guess it makes sense after all. I hadn't even decided what to focus on studying back home and that's when I actually had options since everything is taught in English. Whoever enrolled here at least didn't drop me into a program taught in Korean.

We were also encouraged to sign up for a language partner, and while every part of me screamed no way in hell, the sign-up volunteer was incredibly eager.

"Come on! It's good to have a partner. A pretty girl like you, everyone will want to talk to you!"

I laughed awkwardly, trying to find a way out of the situation. The guy kept nagging me even when I turned to leave. He let out a disappointing sigh, a very dramatic one at that, and because I hate conflict more than I hate socializing, I turned and silently wrote my name and Kakao ID on the sign-up sheet.

The guy's smile returned. "You won't regret it!"

Yeah yeah, just leave me alone, I thought.

So now I'm here, in the solace of my room, reading a message from the language partner coordinator. It contains my ID and that of my language partner, along with the encouragement to contact each other. I close the message and flop onto my bed. My room is silent, but the faint noises of excited students can be heard beyond doors. I feel numb, staring up at the ceiling.

Why. Why am I here?

When I close my eyes the barricade of tears that had built up collapses, releasing and flowing down the sides of my face.

I haven't ever met my father, but he is the reason why I think I was forced here. I haven't even spoken to him on the phone—all I ever receive are stagnant emails telling me where to go, what school I'm being enrolled in, what program I'm being told to take.

I'd do anything to go back home, to see my mother.

My darkening thoughts pause as the phone beside me chimes. I look to see a new message request on Kakao. I open up my phone, expecting it to be Junwoo, but instead, it's someone I'm not familiar with.

Hello,

I am your language partner. Would you like to meet for coffee today or tomorrow?

Beside an obscure, artsy profile picture is what I assume to be their name, but it's in Korean characters.

Just what I wanted.

I sigh in annoyance, wiping the tears that have made my skin sticky. I quickly accept the request and respond. I receive an answer relatively soon. Again, because I refuse to be locked in here with just me and my shadowed thoughts, I decide it would be best to meet sooner rather than later.

Distraction is what will keep me alive right now.

We're to meet at a coffee shop just outside of the campus in two hours. I get up and head to the bathroom. After my face is washed I return to my room and apply a little makeup. Even if I don't want to meet or talk to anyone, I still want to look okay. It's not like I don't enjoy makeup either, the giant bag of makeup and brushes proves that. However, this whole week has me turning into a lesser version of myself, the dispirited, anxious, sad version.

The makeup helps me look a bit more like how I was before this whole mess, but it was hard to cover up the dark circles formed under my brown eyes. I brush out my dark hair and pull it into a high ponytail. Grabbing my key card and purse, I leave the comforts of my room.

I open up an app called Naver Map that was suggested to international students, an app where I can look up where this coffee place is in English since apparently, Google Maps isn't sufficient in Korea. It isn't too hard to find and having my earphones in with music playing helps to ignore all the people around me.

***

I've reached the coffee shop, and luckily, it's one with an English name. It looks cute, modern, and cozy. It's also very busy, almost all the tables are filled with young couples. I have no idea who I'm looking for though so I just take a seat at a remaining empty table. I text my partner and then realize for the first time that it's possible I have a male partner. This realization immediately makes me regret coming. I had been imagining a female this whole time.

While I ponder over this my eyes catch onto someone familiar. A guy, with warm caramel coloured hair, takes a drink of coffee while reading something on his phone. I get in a daze, watching his tongue glide over his full lips.

The vibration of my phone snaps me back to reality.

I'm here

They're here? I look around the coffee shop again. There aren't many people here alone, as if it's taboo to be alone or something. There's a girl on her laptop in one corner. Maybe her? There's also a guy, with dirty looking hair, ogling at me from another table. Oh god no, please no.

I reply, What do you look like?

Brown hair

Okay, that accounts for almost everyone in Korea.

Light brown the texter adds.

Light brown? My eyes immediately look at Taeyoung, who is taking another sip of coffee. There's no way. My mind remembers the time he said "whatever" to me, in a relatively non-Korean accent. But he doesn't seem to be looking for anyone?

What do you look like, a new message reads.

Brown hair, I reply.

This would be much easier if you had blonde or red hair

I smirk, not all international students are blonde hair and blue eyed my friend.

Stand up

What? They want me to stand up?

The nervousness creeps up through my spine. But I do it anyway. If I still can't find them I can just pretend I'm going up to the cashier to order. I stand up cautiously, looking over at that guy with the oily looking hair. I grimace as he continues to stare at me, now excited that I'm standing and looking back at him. But his hair is pitch black, not light brown. I move my gaze and it falls back on Taeyoung, who is also staring at me.

He stands up.

I type on my phone, is it you?

And he replies, yes

I feel the air in my lungs get caught in my throat. We stand there staring at each other, phones in hand.

I don't know why, but I feel immediately relieved, but also extremely terrified.

. . .

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Love,

Sooaura