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Ae-jeong raised her voice.
Only then did Jiyu lift her head from her book. Afternoon sunlight poured through the living room window, where the blinds were halfway drawn. Jiyu narrowed her eyes as if dazzled by the glare.
Outside the window, facing the sidewalk of Fifth Avenue, pedestrians hurried by. It was somewhat eerie to see only their lower bodies moving, while their upper halves remained hidden behind the blinds.
Fifth Avenue, which had been quiet all summer, was unusually crowded today. This was because the Upper East Siders, who had scattered to the Hamptons in Long Island and Nantucket in Massachusetts to escape the sweltering heat, had all returned simultaneously around Labor Day, the first Monday of September.
Dust motes, like tiny snowflakes, floated in the sunlight sliding diagonally across the living room floor. Jiyu liked the dust drifting in the air. The dust, visible only where the sunlight hit directly, vanished without a trace in the shadows.
Sometimes, she wished she could vanish from people's sight just like that. Especially when an adult suddenly approached her, stared intently, and asked a question that was difficult to answer.
Whenever that happened, her heart would thumping, and her mind would be flooded with white paint. Then, she would become a fool who couldn't answer even the simplest of questions.
Jiyu looked up at Ae-jeong, blinking blankly. Holding and lifting the narrow, fragile chin of the five-year-old, Ae-jeong lectured her with a show of patience.
“Jiyu, you have to get along with Hunter. Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you know how much effort Mommy put in since last semester to set up a playdate with him? Well, I suppose a five-year-old wouldn't understand.”
Then, she frowned and pressed her.
“Jiyu Parker, and what did Mommy tell you! I told you not to avoid eye contact and to look straight at people and smile when they talk to you! I've told you so many times that if you don't smile, you look too... grumpy. Americans love a bright, smiling face.”
Ae-jeong smiled broadly, showing all her teeth as if telling Jiyu to imitate her. Jiyu mechanically stretched her lips, revealing her sparse, missing teeth.
“There, see? You're so pretty when you smile. Your dimples pop right out.”
Ae-jeong stopped smiling and poked the dimple with a sharp fingernail. Then, she continued chatting to herself, holding up clothes from a hanger against Jiyu's chin. Jiyu lowered her gaze back to her book.
“Hunter's family spent the whole summer in Europe and the Hamptons. They've been playing around in luxury and only just returned to New York in September. I'm dying of envy, really. I happened to run into his mother in the lobby, which is how I luckily scored this playdate, so you'd better do well, Jiyu. Make sure you become friends with Hunter so you can play often in the future. Got it? If you listen to Mommy, you'll get a treat even in your sleep.”
Jiyu, who had been half-listening to Ae-jeong's words, lifted her head from the book. Her mother sometimes said strange things. With a hint of fear in her large eyes, Jiyu asked.
“…Eat Hunter?”
Ae-jeong clicked her tongue and corrected her.
“No! Not eat Hunter, but become ‘best friends’ with Hunter. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
Jiyu nodded, buried her head back in the book, and then peeked up to gauge her mother's reaction.
“…I don't want to. I won't…”
It was a thin voice, like a whisper.
“What? I told you not to mumble when you talk to Mommy! Speak up.”
“I don't like rice cakes. I won't eat them.”
Jiyu raised her voice slightly. She didn't like the squishy texture of rice cakes that stuck to her teeth.
“Where on earth did that come from all of a sudden?”
Ae-jeong muttered, pulling a dress from the hanger and pulling Jiyu up. She was fussing more than usual today, putting an extraordinary amount of effort into the outfit.
“We're visiting a rich house, so you have to look pretty. Let's try this one first.”
'Rich house' was a term woven into Ae-jeong's vocabulary like breathing. Though Jiyu didn't know the exact meaning, she vaguely sensed it referred to a large, luxurious home. Ae-jeong seemed happiest when she was going on a playdate with a friend who lived in a rich house.
The book was snatched from Jiyu's small hands and tossed carelessly onto the living room floor. The one-piece pajama she was wearing was stripped off in an instant, and a dress with a scratchy texture was put on.
Only after repeating this process a couple more times did Ae-jeong smile with satisfaction. She had chosen a white cotton dress.
“When I visited the Hamptons last time, everyone—kids and adults alike—was wearing these kinds of elegant, sophisticated white dresses. It must be a trend among the wealthy.”
Muttering to herself, Ae-jeong changed into a white sleeveless dress herself and looked into the full-length mirror in the corner of the living room. Then, she did a turn like a model at the end of a catwalk.
Ae-jeong had actually been a fashion show model, so she was still slender and wore clothes well. Knowing this, she preferred bold, eye-catching styles.
Jiyu watched her mother for a moment, then stealthily picked up the book from the floor. She crawled onto the sofa and opened the book again.
Despite living in New York for nearly twenty years, Ae-jeong did not know that Labor Day was the unofficial end of summer. Nor did she know the unspoken rule among the upper class that white clothes worn at summer villas were no longer worn after Labor Day.
Labor Day had already passed two days ago.
To Ae-jeong, money was synonymous with class. Consequently, the person with the most money was the upper class. Unfortunately, the people she used as benchmarks were 'strivers'—those struggling to fit into a conservative and exclusive high society. This was because, on the surface, those draped in luxury brands and extravagant adornments appeared to have the most money.
The fact that the American upper class, feeling an inferiority complex toward the longer and more storied history of Europe, placed immense value on their own short history and customs was beyond her realm of understanding.
For a while, she had closely observed and imitated a Chinese woman who reportedly gave the largest donations to the preschool. That woman used to carry Hermes bags in different colors every day of the week. However, upon hearing a rumor that the woman was the mistress of a high-ranking Chinese official, Ae-jeong was shocked and changed her target, declaring that no matter how much money one had, one could not imitate a mere mistress.
The person she eventually chose was a tall, slender blonde beauty from Eastern Europe. Draped in luxury brands from head to toe, she was in her early thirties, and her husband was a CEO in his late sixties. She was his fifth wife.
Dazzled by the glamorous exterior, Ae-jeong failed to notice that they, like her, were merely hovering on the fringes of the upper class.
Wearing a Rolex on her wrist layered with two perfect S-grade imitation Cartier bracelets, Ae-jeong put in 1-carat diamond earrings she had received from her husband as a 'push gift.' Finally, she proudly hung a 12-year-old gold-colored Hermes bag, found at a consignment shop, on her arm.
Then, she approached Jiyu, who had her nose buried in her book. Straightening the large ribbon pinned to the crown of Jiyu's head, she urged her.
“Close the book. It's time to go to the penthouse and date the heir of the Hamilton family.”
Ae-jeong laughed out loud, finding her own words amusing. Jiyu didn't know what was so funny, but she felt happy because her mother seemed to be in a good mood.
Stopping her laughter, Ae-jeong turned serious and pulled her arm.
“This is all for your sake, Jiyu. Consider yourself lucky to grow up in an environment like this. When Mommy was young…”
Suddenly cutting herself off, Ae-jeong gave a small smirk and muttered while adjusting her already perfectly set hair.
“Seong Ae-jeong, who walked to school because she had no money and couldn't even go to college. Now she's made it to the Upper East Side of Manhattan. I've really made it, I have.”
Taking a hand mirror from her bag and touching up her makeup with a slight pout, Ae-jeong reached out her hand.
“Let's go, Jiyu.”
Jiyu took Ae-jeong's hand and left the apartment. She moved her short legs diligently to keep up with her tall mother's wide stride.
She knew there was a child named Hunter who attended the same preschool. The name was familiar from hearing it often, but his face was a blur. They had never been in the same class, and she detested boys who did nothing but run around noisily.
'I wonder if Hunter's house has a lot of books? I hope it does.'
Only then did Jiyu feel a lukewarm curiosity about the playdate.
Ae-jeong tended to buy her more dresses and ribbons than books. She had already read the fairy tale books on the low three-tier bookshelf over and over again.
She didn't know why her mother kept insisting she become friends with Hunter, but if a 'rich house' had many books, she thought it might be nice to be friends.
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