Seven years ago, Dad and Uncle Jay bought this place in order to fulfill a dream they’d had since they were kids, to own and manage a karaoke business together.
Kim’s Tupperware between bottles of soju. “Be right there!” Uncle Jay’s voice travels from behind the curtain that separates the bar from the kitchen.Įdging around the counter, I drop my tote and open the mini fridge to stuff Mrs. The bells above the door at Jay’s Karaoke chime my arrival. Kim were to read what the judges said about me, she wouldn’t be so quick with her praise. She wasn’t at last Saturday’s, the results of which are currently burning a hole through my jacket pocket. Lately, I haven’t seen her at any of the competitions. With the compliments she’s always giving me, I shudder to think what Eunice is receiving on the opposite end. As she heads into her shop, I make my way next door.Įver since Eunice and I started entering the same classical music competitions in seventh grade, Mrs. “Sookie-ssi!” one of the ladies calls from inside. And so gifted in cello! I tell my Eunice that good music schools only take the best, but does she listen?” “Your mother must be so proud of you, Jenny. Instead, I continue to give off respectable-young-person-vibes and smile politely. Kim does at her own business, but I have a strong enough sense of self-preservation not to point this out. I’m almost certain my mother works the same amount of hours at the office as Mrs. “Your mother works too much! She should be at home more, looking after her daughter.” “Thank you.” I adjust my tote on my shoulder and bow slightly as I take the offering. “This is for you to share with your mother.” Kim hands over the plastic bag she’s holding, which on closer inspection appears to be food wrapped up in a H Mart grocery bag and knotted tight. Sutjiawan throws her house slipper at the TV. The man leans his head one way, the woman the other, their lips touch and hold as the camera pans out with dramatic music soaring in the background.Īs the credits start to roll, the ladies collapse back in their chairs with dreamy sighs. “Hi, Jenny,” they chorus back, waving at me briefly before returning their attention to the couple on screen who appear to be heading toward a K-drama kiss. Kim,” I say, then stretch my neck to look over her shoulder where three middle-aged women are seated in a row beneath hair dryers watching a K-drama on a wall-mounted TV.
“Yah, Jenny-yah!” Sookie Kim, owner and hairdresser, stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag and a flat iron.
The door to the latter bursts open as I pass. Jay’s Karaoke sits at the center of a Koreatown strip mall between a Boba Land 2 and Sookie’s Hair Emporium. For my smart, loving, and talented sister, Camille.
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