Everything Belongs to Us by Yoojin Grace Wuertz

Author:Yoojin Grace Wuertz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

SNU was shut down all week following a student demonstration that had turned violent. For two days, there had been tanks parked at the gates and no telling when classes would resume. Namin briefly worried about how much work she would miss and how long it would take to catch up—just because their campus was closed didn’t mean the rest of the country did not go on with their studies. But between the full flush of spring and seeing Sunam nearly every day, it was hard to stay too concerned. Mostly they took long walks in the area around campus and in his neighborhood in central Seoul, which was lined with wide avenues perfect for strolling. They sat on park benches and snacked on street food. Mealtimes, they ate at casual noodle shops frequented by students. These were inexpensive treats that Namin felt comfortable letting Sunam pay for.

That day, Sunam had suggested they meet at the fancy tearoom by Ewha University, a women’s college situated on a lush hillside. This time of year, the cherry trees were the main event and everyone made giddy plans to go “see the trees.” Namin was inclined to make fun of the breathless frenzy—every year people made a fuss, and every year she ignored them. But coming up on the hill and seeing the display transcended expectation. It was like peering over the edge of the mundane earth into a flowering paradise. Huge clouds of blossoms lined the avenues like heaps of organza thrown about by a giant seamstress. Couples posed under the branches, sniffing the boughs and miming raptures.

She arrived fifteen minutes early, but Sunam was already waiting. A small bouquet of yellow tulips dangled from his hand, and he thrust them at her. “Here.” The plastic wrapping snapped and crinkled like tiny electric shocks.

“I’ve never actually seen a man give a girl flowers before,” she said. “Only in the movies.” She tried to imagine him going in the shop and asking for flowers. “Were you embarrassed?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “A little,” he admitted.

It was too glorious outside to go in for tea, but Sunam seemed disappointed when she suggested they just walk instead. Perhaps he had an idea of the proper date they’d have at the teahouse. It was the sort of place people went to prove they were truly a couple: girls wearing shiny lipstick and stacked boots. Boys with hair hovering in that perfect length between conservative and hippie—long enough to periodically fall over the eyes, but not too long to draw dirty looks on the bus. It was strange and wonderful to think of herself as half of a couple in a place like that. But it was also nerve-racking, sitting there as if on display for passersby to scrutinize through the window.

“It’s still a date even if we don’t drink tea.” She rustled the bouquet at him like a shaman shaking sticks. “Look! I have this to prove it.”

He took her hand in his and shook their joined hands, mimicking her action with the bouquet.

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