A Day of Michael

Introduction

In bridge project 3, we are required to explore a neighborhood. Our group chose Korean Town as our destination and each group member was responsible of different parts, including sound, smell, site, and interview. For me, I was assigned to take notes about what I smelt in K-town. We were asked to write a fiction base on what we investigated.

A Day of Michael

My name is Minhee Kim and I go by Michael. I am 17 years old. I was born and raised in the midtown of Manhattan, more precisely Korean town. My parents came to K-town in the late 1980s and started their small business here. They owns a restaurant famous for bibimbap and I was forced to work there as a waiter on weekends and vacations.

I have a brother, Nathan, he left home for college when he was 18. I hope I could be 18, so I can leave home. I don’t want to stay here anymore.

It’s Saturday again and I have to go to work. I walk on my way to work and there is a mixture of smell. I hate the smell of trash on 32nd street, I hate the smell of cheap perfume, and also, I hate the smell of…bibimbap. I have no idea why people came for it, I just don’t like it at all. Maybe I don’t like the taste of garlic, or maybe they call me “garlic” at school due to the smell on my clothes. Anyway, I just hate it.

I put on my work clothes, Hanbok. You won’t even see a waiter wearing Hanbok in Korea. That’s so stupid. They made me wear this just for pleasing the foreign customers. I feel I am turned into a garlic with this super smelly Hanbok.

I hear some familiar voices from the door. Shoot, they are the sports team guys who call me “garlic” at school. I can’t let them see me working in a garlic-smell store so I go to serve at another section.

“Minhee—”

Don’t call my name in front of them, mom! Although I never introduced my Korean name to them. My mom asks me to let those jocks stop smoking. She said that in Korean. I can absolutely understand Korean and I spoke Korean fluently until I was laughed by other kid at kindergarten. I felt shameful about my identity. Why was I born in a family like this? I always think my life would be better if I was born in Korea. I even thought of going back to Korea and settle there someday. But I know I can’t.

“Minhee, did you hear me?”

Mom, don’t you know that they bullied me at school, I don’t want you to see how they make fun of me.

“Mom I don’t feel well. I need a break. Let Minjae do this.” I rush to the restroom, lock myself in a cubicle and cry silently. What am I hiding from? My appearance? My smell? Or my identity? Why is it so hard for me to admit who I am? Why do I deserve a life like this? Is there any other choices except for escape? My brother successfully escaped from the garlic smell, our family, and this neighborhood. But…did he really get rid of our destiny?

“Minhee, are you okay?” Minjae walks in. He is my cousin. I first met him when I was ten, when my parents took me to their birthplace due to my grandpa’s death. That was the first time I’ve been there, and only time. He didn’t pass the university entrance exam and it would be easier for a young people like him to make a living in New York than in Seoul. So he has started working here as a waiter since two years ago.

“I am…I am good.”, I dry my tears, adjust my breath, and walk out, “How is it going?”

“Good, but…”, he turns on the tap and washes his face. “but I am not going to stay here anymore.”

“Why? It seems you earn more than you can back in Seoul…”

“It’s not about money.”, he interrupts me, “I don’t belong to this place.”

“How comes? People say Korea town is same as Korea.”, I pretending that I want him to stay.

“Yea it’s true. Same food, same books, same language. But I still can’t feel any connection with my culture.”, he stared at me sincerely, “I miss my home, where I truly belong to.”

He goes back to work and leaves me alone in restroom.

My eyesight is blurred. The sound of crowd becomes vaguer.

Where do I belong to? Where is my home? Where am I now?