My Korean Christmas Prince Ch. 03

"Did you want to take a shower now?" I say trying to be a good host. "Sorry, I meant to ask you when we got back..."

"No, that can wait. We should eat while the food's warm," Yeong-soo says. "By the way, I found these in the back of the cupboard." Yeong-soo hands me a half-open box with strands of white Christmas lights sticking out of the top. "You should put them up," he suggests.

I can't help it. The sight of that box of Christmas ornaments makes me freeze. Christmas had been so much my parents' absolute favorite holiday and not mine, and I had pushed it out of my mind as much as possible ever since I'd been back. Besides, I didn't have anyone to give presents to or receive presents from.

Yeong-soo immediately senses my discomfort. "Are you okay? If you'd rather not..."

"No, no, it's fine. Of course," I say while taking the box, my tone more firm and reassuring than I actually feel on the inside. Like he said, Christmas doesn't mean the same thing in Asia as it does here. It would be nice for Yeong-soo to get a taste of what an American Christmas is like, with all the decorations and everything.

I pull the lights out of the box and set about stringing them around the two living room windows that look out of the front of the house. As I do so I notice that Yeong-soo has replaced the Beach Boys music for a cassette of choir boys singing Christmas carols, no doubt another find from the box. The box has other Christmas decorations as well, like this red tablecloth with a holly pattern with matching placemats that my parents would bring out every Christmas that I'd completely forgotten about, and these red taper candles in these kind of cheesy holders decorated with fake wreaths and pine cones. I take a sniff of the candles and yup, they smell just like I remember, a sort of mix of cinnamon and pine.

I add the tablecloth and candles and placemats to the dinner table, and it doesn't take long to get everything set up. When I'm done I take a minute to survey my work. A lump comes to my throat again, and I force myself to examine what I'm feeling. Even with all that my parents and I went through, I'm surprised. The sight feels oddly comforting and, well, nice. Seeing those old decorations again, reminding me of when I was a child, all those years of holiday traditions, long before the rift, it's surprisingly soothing and makes the pain of all those other memories fade to the background a little. Seeing the table set like I remember makes me feel closer to my parents than I think I have in a long time, even closer than when they had died.

With a shake of my head as I again force myself back to the present, I turn back to the kitchen and I catch Yeong-soo looking at me curiously, his neutral expression purposefully hiding what he's noticed about my silence or what he's thinking. I check with him about what he wants to drink and then pour glasses of water and white wine for the both of us. I pick out a pretty good vintage, one that even a high roller, like Yeong-soo obviously seems to be, would appreciate. Finally, I light the candles, smiling inwardly as that stern voice in my head returns to tell myself forcefully that the atmosphere they create is "festive" rather than "romantic". By the time I'm done Yeong-soo has finished bringing the serving dishes and utensils to the table and is gesturing for me to sit.

"This looks amazing. Thank you so much!" I say, not having to feign my appreciation at all at the feast spread out in front of me. "Seriously, I feel like I'm at a five-star restaurant!"

The table is full of different dishes that all look and smell so tantalizing that I hardly know where to start. Yeong-soo laughs out loud at my hesitation and dishes me out a selection that includes rice, broccoli with sesame seeds, a stir fry in a savory dark sauce, a sort of omelette with diced vegetables cut into pieces and the Korean hot sauce spread on top, and a fried scallion pancake with a tangy dipping sauce, and that's only about half of what he's made. He arranges a plate for himself and then sits back to let me begin. I feel like as my guest he should be the one to eat first, but I guess he feels that as the cook I'm the one who should start.

"I've really missed eating Asian food," I say digging in with enthusiasm using the disposable chopsticks that Yeong-soo has found from somewhere. The food is every bit as good as it looks, and I'm too busy enjoying it to feel awkward about Yeong-soo scrutinizing my reactions (or wondering what he thought of my reaction to something as basic as putting up Christmas decorations). Once he's satisfied that my reactions to his cooking are for real and not just out of politeness he joins in as well. Even before I've cleared my plate he's loading me up with more to try, and all of it tastes so good that I end up eating way more than I should. I would be feeling a little self-conscious about stuffing my face so much, but, well, who am I trying to impress? This isn't a date, right?

"It must be a lot of work to make all these dishes for every meal," I say in the midst of feasting, remembering that with Korean food a range of side dishes (usually vegetables) serve as an accompaniment to every main dish.

"Well, usually we cook a lot of one dish at once and then use them for multiple meals," he explains. "But it's not a proper Korean meal without kimchi," he says sighing, referring to the spicy pickled cabbage that is the Korean national dish and present at every Korean dining table, regardless of the time of day. "I wish I had the ingredients here to make it."

"I love kimchi. I really like the cucumber kind too."

"O-i kimchi," Yeong-soo says naming it and nodding in agreement. "It's really good. We mostly eat it in the summertime. I'll make it for you next summer..." Yeong-soo stops and shakes his head recollecting himself. "Sorry, I mean, maybe some time I'll be able to make it for you."

It's the kind of polite little white lie that should be appreciated in the moment and let go by, but I can't help feeling a pang of regret. He hasn't even gone yet, and I already know I want to spend more time with him than just a day. We could have been friends, I muse to myself, refusing to think of anything beyond that. I could use a friend. That thought surfaces in a moment of self-pity, and I shove it back down, holding my regret in check.

I realize I've let the conversation die, so I rouse myself from my reverie. "Yeah, that would be great." Another polite little white lie. Just a bit of polite pretending, nothing to it. But somehow it leaves me feeling a little down. "The farm is really nice in the summer. There's a pond on the property that's perfect for swimming. You'll love it." Not willing to let the fantasy go, I can't help adding another lie to go on top if his lie, to test it out on my tongue and see how it feels. His gorgeous smile seems to have a wistfulness that echoes what I'm feeling, but I'm probably just imagining it. I turn my attention back to the enjoyable task of clearing my plate, and although I'm feeling a little subdued I make an effort to be a livelier host for the rest of dinner and answer his questions about life on the farm and about Aaron and his family.

Finally stuffed and unable to eat another bite I lean back with a satisfied sigh. Yeong-soo has a look of satisfaction on his face as well, seeing my obvious appreciation for his cooking.

"Thanks again," I say warmly. "It must have been a lot of work for you, and you must already be tired from travelling."

"No, it's no problem. Really," he assures me again. "I like to cook for people," he says laughing. "I don't get much chance to usually."

"I like to be cooked for," I say without thinking, and then I immediately blush again when I realize what I'd just said. But he continues to laugh and his laughter is so damn catchy I can't help laughing along with him, and honestly, I realize I feel happier and more relaxed than I have in years. Maybe it's the wine loosening me up, but I want to keep pretending for just a tiny bit longer, just continuing to spin that yarn. "But next time you have to let me help," I say with a little mock indignation at being kicked out of my own kitchen. "I can peel and chop vegetables at least, you know."

"Of course, of course," he says with mock tolerance, smiling as if he were humoring a child.

We're smiling at each other and looking at each other in such an easy way, but we lock eyes and hold our gaze just a little too long again, like when I had him putting on some of my winter clothes right before we went out. I feel the same sort of charged air between us, but I'm sure it's just because I'm a lonely old farmer with only animals to keep him company. I tell myself again to stop being a lech, and so I jump up and start to clear away the dishes. Yeong-soo starts to get up too, but now it's my turn to be firm.

"No. You. Sit," I say resolutely. "The cook doesn't do any of the cleaning. That's the rule."

Yeong-soo smiles and obeys, refills his wine glass, and then sits back to watch me with a relaxed expression on his face. I should be feeling more self-conscious under his gaze, but somehow the atmosphere, with the candles still burning and the carols still playing, feels nice. Just sort of easygoing and friendly and chill. Sonia pads into the room on her way to inspect her food bowl, and she eyes the stranger warily. But when he doesn't make any move towards her she pads delicately over to him to investigate. From the corner of my eye I watch as she jumps up on the chair next to him and sniffs at his sleeve before rubbing her cheeks against his forearm, first her right one, and then her left. Cats have glands on the sides of their face that they use to mark their territory. "Marking Yeong-soo as your territory, hmm?" I think silently to myself. "Good girl. You've got the right idea." That thought, of Yeong-soo ever being more than just a stranger passing through, or ever being able to make any sort of claim over him, comes unbidden, and once again I'm hit with a wave of regret and I push the thoughts impatiently aside. It's just as well he's leaving tomorrow, I think to myself as I start in on the stack of dirty dishes and utensils with vigor. If he stayed any longer, I'd really be in trouble.