Page 76 of A World Apart
I was on a nine-day streak for the language app I’d finally gotten around to downloading and I had now moved onto section three: Basic Phrases, which included such cultural treats as ‘the baby’s cucumber,’ ‘chicken message’ and ‘the fox’s newspaper’.
“Will you ever find out what the message is?” Becka asked, feigning a serious expression.
“You know, I really don’t think I will.” I sighed, putting my phone down on the counter.
“That’s one mysterious bird,” she said, nodding in sympathy. “How’s it going otherwise?”
“I’m recognising more of the alphabet now and can pair up the letters, but my pronunciation is... quite literally garbage,” Iadmitted.
“You can’t be that bad,” Becka protested on my behalf. “You’re pretty decent at French.”
I stared at her. I stared at her for so long she began to squirm. “In what world are the two comparable?”
“I don’t know,” Becka exploded, impotent outrage spilling everywhere. “I was being supportive!”
I huffed out a laugh and rubbed a hand down my face. “In French, the letters don’t switch sounds.”
“It could be worse,” Becka said sagely. “You could be Korean and having to learn English. It’s a way harder language. We spell ‘knife’−”
“With a k, yeah I know.”
“So, stick at it, champ.” Becka clapped me on the arm gamely while I contemplated reaching for a Tylenol for my headache.
I wasn’t sure how much of the language I was actually absorbing, but the app seemed to think I was making marvellous linguistic strides. I was determined to be at least able to introduce myself without making a fool of myself. I was a little embarrassed I hadn’t thought to do it earlier.
Later that month
“When do you leave?” I asked, trying not to stare. Jihoon had called me this morning wearing full stage makeup and the effect was nothing short of devastating. The group had just finished a day of shooting a full ad campaign for a Korean fashion house. He’d already shown me the full effect when he’d put his phone down and walked across the room − strutted, really − wearing black leather trousers and a gauzy black shirt that I was sure the post-production team would have to airbrush certain features out of, because it was basically see-through. I’d had to forcibly shut my mouth to stop myself from panting.
Jihoon ran a hand through his already artfully-mussed hair and said, “In two days. We’ll fly to the camp in Jeju and stay there for ten days and then we have a week off to spend with our families.”
It was the annual group vacation. They’d announced it last month. The whole group went camping, did fun activities, cooked food together, and just generally hung out.
It sounded idyllic − were it not for the whole host of cameras and crew members accompanying them to film everything for the never-ending stream of content.
“Is it weird being on vacation, but still being filmed all the time?” I crossed my legs and grabbed a pillow to hug to myself.
Jihoon looked contemplative for a moment. “Yes, but also no because we’re so used to cameras being around. It used to be weird and all our managers would keep saying, “Just relax, be yourself,” but it was hard. Now, it’s not so bad because we know Vibers like it and that makes it easier for us.”
“We want to share parts of our lives with Vibers because…” Jihoon paused, twirling his be-ringed fingers in the air as he searched for the words, “they give so much of themselves to us.”
I nodded. I couldn’t imagine ever feeling at peace with being filmed every day.
“What about when you visit your family, will you be filmed then?” What a crazy notion, I could just imagine how un-chill my mum would be with that.
“No,” Jihoon held up his hands in a cross, “they don’t come home with us, that’s our private lives and the company respects that.”
That was something, I supposed. My mum wouldn’t let them in the house, although my dad would definitely play up to the cameras.
“When was the last time you saw them?”
Jihoon thought for a moment. “Uh, Seollal,” he said after a moment. He must have seen my blank face as he clarified, “It’s Korean New Year festival, we go home to our families and honour our ancestors. And eat a lot.” He laughed.
“Sounds awesome,” I said honestly, although all I could picture was Chinese New Year and I made a mental note to look more into Korean national holidays.
Just then, Jihoon’s watch vibrated loudly. He held it up to read the screen and tutted. “I have to go,” he said, “we have a meeting.”
“Okay,” I said easily. “Will I get to speak to you before you leave for Jeju?”
