An Oral History of Atlantis: Stories by Ed Park

Author:Ed Park [Park, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature, Literary, Short Stories, Fiction, Short Stories (Single Author), Asian American, Published: 29 Jul 2025
ISBN: 9780812988338
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2025-07-28T22:00:00+00:00

Watch Your Step

The Robatayaki began to fill as the snow came down in Itaewon. It looked pink outside. I’d been there since four, going over my notes to a story I had written. You could also say I’d been there since September. It doubled as my office and cafeteria. The waitress had kept me in squid crackers and Pocari Sweat, but real estate was getting scarce. It didn’t matter that we’d slept together the week before, that she’d taught me new words I would never forget. She was twirling her pen. I needed to order something real or take a hike.

That’s when I saw you, Chung, hustling in through the kitchen door. You always opted for the dramatic surreptitious entrance. You looked left, looked right, checked your hair in the dark gloss of an OB Golden Lager poster. You wore a thin black suit, gray shirt, no tie. You were the only Korean I knew with significant chest hair.

Anyone could tell you loved being a spy. I was also a spy, though you hadn’t figured that out yet.

“I hoped I’d find you here,” you said.

My waitress, all smiles once more, brought a bottle of soju and fired up the grill. “I should tell you that I’m waiting for someone,” I lied.

“This will just take a minute. I need your help.”

“I’m only good at crosswords,” I said, brandishing my day-old Herald Tribune. “Spy stuff is hard, right?”

“Listen,” you said. “This afternoon my uncle had me over for lunch.” And soon you were telling me everything. That was the problem: you enjoyed the narrative of your own importance. It made you a charming conversationalist but a very bad spy.

We were playing for the same team, though every team had teams inside it. You didn’t know any of this. You had hair on your chest and a terrific memory but poor judgment. You wouldn’t last long.

“Once a month I go to Uncle’s townhouse in Apkujong,” you said. “His butler or whatever it’s called in this country takes my coat. His chef, still haven’t figured out if it’s a dude or an ajumma, tells us the menu. Uncle and I stick to the normal topics. Weather, sports, my folks back in the States. The butler announces each dish as he brings it out. Four courses. French all the way. Uncle asks if I’m screwing anyone, offers to call this stewardess he knows.”

“Can you get me her number?”

You laughed. You liked thinking of me as your lesbian sidekick, always armed with a quip. “It’s the same ritual every month. We arrive at dessert. ‘Decadent’ doesn’t begin to describe it. As I leave Uncle gives me a book with an American title. Three Easy Rules for Impressing the Powers That Be: How to Win in the Workplace Every Damn Time. Mercenary self-help, the kind of thing a businessman picks up at Kimpo as he’s running to catch a flight to Delhi or Denver.”

Your uncle had been one of the most corrupt members of the South Korean government during the ’70s and ’80s, which is saying something.

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