The Unspoken Invitation
Why are you not answering, Jiyu? Did you not hear what Mommy said?
Aejeong raised her voice.
Only then did Jiyu lift her head from the book. Slanted afternoon sunlight poured through the half-closed living room window. Blinded by the glare, Jiyu’s eyes narrowed.
Outside the window facing Fifth Avenue, pedestrians hurried past, their upper bodies hidden behind the blind and only their lower bodies moving in a strangely awkward way.
Fifth Avenue had been quiet all summer, but today it was unusually bustling. The Upper East Siders who had scattered to the Hamptons and Nantucket to escape the heat were all returning at once around the first Monday of September, just before Labor Day.
Within the slanted sunlight on the living room floor, snowflake-like dust floated in the air. Jiyu loved the dust drifting in the air. The specks of dust visible only where the sunlight struck vanished completely in the shadows.
Occasionally she wished she could disappear from people’s sight just as easily. Especially when adults suddenly approached her and asked a question she could not answer.
Each time her heart thumped and her head felt filled with white paint. She would then answer no question—easy or difficult—as a fool.
Jiyu looked up at Aejeong with a blank face and blinked slowly. Aejeong, holding Jiyu’s small, delicate jaw with one hand, exerted her patience and pleaded.
«Jiyu-ya, you have to get along well with Hunter. Do you understand what Mommy is saying? Do you know how much effort Mommy put into arranging that playdate with him since last semester? Well, what does a five-year-old know anyway?»
Then she frowned and lectured sharply.
«Jiyu Parker, what did Mommy say? When someone talks to you, do not avoid eye contact—look straight and smile! If you do not smile, your face looks too… scowly. Americans like bright, smiling faces.»
Aejeong showed her teeth and smiled as if urging Jiyu to copy her. Jiyu mechanically stretched her lips and revealed her teeth, which were sparse and uneven.
«Yes, smiling makes you look pretty. The dimples even sink in.»
Aejeong stopped laughing and poked Jiyu’s dimple with her pointed nail. Then she brought the dresses hanging on the rack close to Jiyu’s chin and chattered to herself. Jiyu lowered her gaze to the book again.
«The Hamilton family has been in Europe all summer—Hamps or Nantucket. They wandered around happily and only returned to New York when September was almost over. I’m so jealous. Because I caught them by chance in the lobby, the playdate I arranged with Hunter is lucky. You have to play well with Jiyu. From now on, make sure to be friends with Hunter and have playdates often. Understand? When Mommy tells you, you’ll grow dumplings even while sleeping.»
Jiyu, who had been listening to Aejeong’s words half-heartedly, lifted her head from the book. Mommy sometimes said strange things. Jiyu asked with her large eyes filled with a tiny fear.
«…Eat Hunter?»
Aejeong clicked her tongue and corrected her.
«No! It’s not eating Hunter. It’s making Hunter your best friend. Do you understand?»
Jiyu nodded and buried her head back in the book, then quickly peeked up again to check the situation.
«…I don’t like it. I won’t… do it.»
It was a whisper-like, slender voice.
«What? When talking to Mommy, don’t grumble! Say it loud!»
«I don’t like dumplings. I won’t eat them.»
Jiyu raised her voice a little. Dumplings felt slimy and sticky to the teeth.
«Suddenly, what’s that scratching noise on someone’s leg while sleeping?»
Aejeong muttered and pulled a dress from the hanger. She lifted Jiyu and began fussing over her outfit with unusual care today.
«If you go to the rich house to play, you have to dress nicely. Put this on first.»
The word «rich house» was mixed in Aejeong’s speech like inhaling and exhaling. Although she did not know its exact meaning, she sensed it roughly meant a wide, luxurious house. Aejeong looked most happy when going to play at her rich-house friends’ place.
The book slipped from Jiyu’s small hand and fell haphazardly on the floor. The dress she was wearing was instantly peeled off, and a shiny, silky one was put on her instead.
After going through the process a couple more times, Aejeong smiled satisfiedly. The dress she had chosen was a white cotton one.
«Last time when we went to the Hamptons, everyone without exception—adults and kids alike—wore such elegant white dresses. It must be a trend among the rich.»
Still muttering to herself, Aejeong changed into her own white sleeveless dress and looked into the full-length mirror in a corner of the living room. Then she turned like a model walking the runway.
Actually a former fashion model, Aejeong remained slim and had a good eye for clothes. She knew this well and preferred bold, eye-catching styles.
Jiyu watched her mother for a moment, then secretly picked up the fallen book. She crawled onto the sofa and opened it again.
Although she had lived in New York for nearly twenty years, Aejeong did not know that Labor Day was the unofficial last day of summer. She also did not know that among the upper classes, white clothing worn in summer after Labor Day had become an unwritten rule and was no longer worn.
Labor Day had already passed two days ago.
For Aejeong, money was soon class. Because of that, the person with the most money was considered upper class. Unfortunately, the benchmark she used was the Strivers desperately trying to insert themselves into the conservative, exclusive upper society. The ostentatious display of luxury brands and lavish dressing might have looked like the most money on the surface.
Whether Americans, with their short and insignificant history compared to Europe, understood the great value they placed on that short history and custom was outside her realm of understanding.
For a while she had watched a Chinese woman who supposedly donated the most to the preschool and imitated her. The woman carried an Hermes bag, changing it by color every week. But when Aejeong heard the rumor that the woman was a concubine of a high-ranking Chinese official, she was startled and decided she could not imitate even if she had money, so she changed her target.
After choosing and choosing, she settled on a tall, slender blonde beauty from Eastern Europe. From head to toe she wore luxury brands. She was in her early thirties and her husband was a CEO in his late sixties—a fifth wife.
Aejeong was captivated by the glamorous appearance and did not notice that they were also just floating on the periphery of upper class like her.
Wearing a Rolex on her wrist, layered with two perfectly hidden S-grade Cartier bracelets, and a one-carat diamond earring gifted as a push gift from her husband, she finished her makeup at the lips with a hand mirror. Finally, she proudly carried the twelve-year-old gold Hermes bag from a consignment shop on her arm.
Then she approached Jiyu, who had buried her nose in the book.
Adjusting the big ribbon pinned neatly in Jiyu’s forehead, Aejeong urged her.
«Close the book. It’s time to go to the penthouse and date the Hamilton family heir.»
Aejeong laughed out loud, saying what she had said was fun. Jiyu did not understand why her words were funny, but since Mommy seemed happy, she felt happy too.
Aejeong stopped laughing and grabbed Jiyu’s arm with a serious face.
«This is all because Mommy is doing it for you. To be able to grow up in an environment like this, you should know you’re lucky. When Mommy was young…»
Aejeong suddenly stopped talking, then laughed out loud. She touched up her perfectly set hair and muttered.
«A status-obsessed woman who walked to school because she had no money and couldn’t go to college. She entered the Manhattan Upper East Side. Look at how successful she’s become. Look at how successful she’s become.»
She pulled a hand mirror from her bag, smoothed her lips, and finished her makeup. She held out her hand to Jiyu.
«Let’s go, Jiyu-ya.»
Jiyu took Aejeong’s hand and left the apartment. With her short legs, she hurried to keep up with the tall Mommy’s wide strides.