Heidi Kim

The insistent chirping of birds dragged me from sleep, a sound usually welcome but today, a cruel interruption. I groaned, burying my face in my pillow. Sunday. My one day of relative peace before the kitchen chaos began again. Just as I was drifting back to the blissful realm of slumber, my phone buzzed to life. There's only one person who would bother to call me this early: Vina. A wave of annoyance washed over me.

“What do you want?” I answered, my voice still thick with sleep.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Her enthusiasm had me groaning even louder. Seriously, did she drink an energy drink or something?

“Goodbye,” I mumbled, trying to end the call and salvage what was left of my morning.

“No! Don't end it yet,” Vina’s voice was muffled through the call. “I've got something to tell you.” My curiosity, a dangerous thing, flickered to life.

I reluctantly sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What?”

“Are you doing anything today?”

“Was about to sleep all day until some lunatic disturbed it,” I grumbled, shooting a mental glare at my phone.

“Hey! I'm serious here,” Vina protested.

“I am too,” I retorted, still half-asleep and in no mood for games.

“C'mon Heidi, just answer my question properly,” she persisted.

“Fine, well, since you woke me up this early, I think I might head out to the market to buy some food for my fridge,” I conceded, knowing full well my fridge wasn’t practically bare.

“Can I come?” Vina declared over the phone, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. “I've never been to a real market before. It'll be so cool!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course, she wanted to come. The girl who probably never had to shop for groceries in her life, stepping into the chaos that was the Lagoona Public Market? This would be something.

“Ugh, fine. Meet me at the bus stop. Give me five minutes to get ready.”

“Okay! See you!” she chimed before abruptly ending the call.

I stared at my phone for a second, half regretting my decision, but there was no turning back now. With a sigh, I threw on a plain T-shirt, shorts, and a cap. Practical. Unlike someone who was probably picking out an outfit like this, it was a brunch date.

When I stepped out of my apartment and started heading toward the bus stop, I instinctively glanced around, looking for her. Then—there she was.

Dressed in a sundress, twirling the strap of her tote bag around her finger, looking like she had stepped out of some pastel-colored dream. The morning sun hit her just right, making her skin glow and her hazel brown eyes sparkle. Her brown hair was tied in a messy bun. She bounced slightly on her toes, her energy nearly blinding.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Processing.

She looked… beautiful. Not that I’d admit it.

“Heidi!” she called out with a bright smile.

I swallowed, forcing nonchalance. “Hey.”

“So, where are we going? It’s an open-air market, right?” she asked eagerly, falling into step beside me.

I eyed her skeptically. “You’ve really never been to a market?”

Vina wrinkled her nose. “Nope. Grew up with, like, sanitized supermarkets. Father always had groceries delivered. I don’t think I’ve ever even touched a live fish.”

I let out a short laugh. “Oh, you’re in for a treat.”

“Hey, I can handle it,” she protested, nudging me with her elbow. “This is going to be an adventure!”

An adventure. That was one way to put it.

I glanced at her again as we walked—so full of excitement for something so normal to me. The thought was… strangely endearing.

Yeah. This day was going to be interesting.

The market was a riot of the senses. A kaleidoscope of colors exploded from mountains of vibrant vegetables, emerald green of okra, ruby red of tomatoes, fiery orange of chilies, and the deep purple of eggplant. The air throbbed with a symphony of sounds: the rhythmic chanting of vendors hawking their wares, the playful chatter of children darting through the throngs, the insistent honking of motorcycles battling for space, and the soothing murmur of the crowd.

A pungent aroma hung heavy in the air, a heady mix of spices, the briny tang of the sea, and the earthy scent of freshly turned soil. Vina, wide-eyed and slightly overwhelmed, clung to my arm. “This is… incredible,” she breathed, her voice barely audible above the din.

“It is,” I chuckled, weaving through the maze of stalls.

We stopped at a stall overflowing with glistening mangoes. The vendor, a woman with a broad smile and calloused hands, offered us a sample. “Try these, sonnim (customer),” she urged, her voice warm. “Sweetest mangoes in the market.”

Vina, hesitant at first, took a bite, and her eyes widened. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “These are amazing.”

The vendor beamed. “See? I told you.” She then turned to me. “Oh, Heidi-nim! Long time no see! You still looking for the freshest catch?”

“As always, ajumma (auntie),” I replied, grinning. “Got any good crabs today?”

“The best,” she assured me, gesturing towards a basket teeming with mud crabs. “Caught this morning, still kicking.”

As we continued our journey, I introduced Vina to other vendors. The butcher, a man with a meat cleaver who could slice through a pig's leg with a single, effortless stroke, gave us a warm ‘joeun achim ieyo! (good morning)’and offered Vina a sample of his chorizo. The flower vendor, her stall a riot of color, pressed a fragrant jasmine blossom into Vina's hand.

“This is how we do things here,” I explained. “Everyone knows everyone. From the loyal customers to the aunties competing over which of the stalls had the most customers.”

Vina, watching me interact with the vendors, a smile slowly spreading across her face, finally understood. “You're not just shopping here,” she observed. “You're connecting with everyone.”

“Exactly,” I said, my gaze sweeping across the bustling market. “This isn't just a place to buy food. It's the heart and soul of the community.”

“This place,” she whispered, her eyes wide, “it's…amazing.”

And indeed, it was. A vibrant, chaotic, and utterly captivating symphony of life.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking it all in. “I can’t believe I only went to this place now.”

“Just wait until we get to the fish section,” I chuckled, grabbing a basket from a nearby stall.

Vina gave me a wary look. “Fish section?” Oh, she had no idea.

We navigated through the maze of stalls, Vina trailing behind me like a lost puppy. I haggled good-naturedly with the vendors, my conversation with them flowing easily. Some of them recognized me, calling me ‘Chef Heidi’ or ‘Heidi-nim’ and offering me special deals. Vina watched with amusement.

“You're like a celebrity here,” she commented.

“I grew up here,” I shrugged. “This is my community.”

And as we finally reached the fish market, the true symphony of the senses began. The air thickened with the briny tang of the sea, the slapping of fish against the sides of their tanks, and the guttural cries of vendors haggling over prices.

Vina, despite her initial apprehension, was mesmerized. She watched in fascination as a vendor expertly gutted a fish, its scales glinting in the sunlight. She even tentatively touched the slippery skin of a sea cucumber, giggling as it recoiled. Vina’s eyes widened even further.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, clutching my arm.  “They're… alive.”

Indeed, they were. Fish flopped in tubs of water, crabs scuttled in baskets, and lobsters waved their claws menacingly. Vina took a tentative step back, her nose wrinkling.

“This is… getting interesting,” she said.

I laughed. “Just wait until you see the really big ones.”

As if on cue, a vendor proudly displayed a massive lobster, its claws snapping. Vina yelped and jumped back, nearly tripping over a basket of squids. I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing.

“It's not funny!” she protested, though a smile played on her lips. “That thing almost bit my finger!”

“It just wanted to say hello,” I teased, still chuckling.

Vina rolled her eyes but leaned closer to me, her shoulder brushing against mine. “You know,” she said, “I'm starting to understand why you love this place so much. It's… real.”

“Real,” I echoed. “Yeah. It is.”

After we’d gathered all the necessary ingredients, including some plump tomatoes, fragrant garlic, and fresh basil for our planned dinner, we were both ravenous. I suggested we grab lunch at my favorite Korean restaurant, a small, unassuming place I’d frequented when I was in High School.

“Korean food?” Vina asked, her eyebrows raised. “I'm in!”

The restaurant was cozy and filled with the comforting aroma of kimchi and spices. The owner, a kindly woman named Mrs. Choi, greeted me with a warm smile.

“Heidi! Long time no see! Sundubu Jjigae as usual?”

I nodded, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me. “Yes, please.”

Vina looked at me curiously. “Sundubu Jjigae? What's that?”

“Spicy tofu stew,” I explained. “It's my favorite.”

Vina opted for the classic Beef Bulgogi because it was the only thing that she was familiar with. When our food arrived, Vina eyed my bubbling stew with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

“It smells… intense,” she said.

“It is,” I warned. “Be careful, it’s spicy.”

Vina took a tentative spoonful. Her eyes widened. “Whoa,” she breathed. Coughing after tasting it. “You weren't kidding.”

She took another bite, then another. “It's… really good, though,” she admitted, even though her face was starting to turn red. “But seriously, how do you eat this every time?”

I shrugged, grinning. “Years of practice. And maybe because I’m Korean, spice is something I must love.”

Vina tried another bite, then another. She managed a few more spoonfuls before waving her white flag. “Okay, okay, I surrender,” she said, laughing. “This is officially the spiciest thing I've ever eaten.”

I offered her some of my water.  “Told you.”

Despite the spice, she kept sneaking bites of my stew throughout the meal.  “It's addictive,” she said, shaking her head.  “I can't stop.”

As we finished our meal, Vina leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “You know,” she said, “I'm really glad I came here with you today.  I never would have experienced anything like this on my own.”

“Me too,” I said, my heart doing a little flutter.

The bus ride back to my apartment was filled with easy conversation and laughter. We stopped by a small grocery store to pick up a few extra things for our amatriciana with a Korean twist. Vina was skeptical about my idea to add gochujang to the traditional Italian dish.

“Gochujang in amatriciana?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “That’s… sacriligous.”

“Trust me,” I said with a wink.  “It's going to be amazing.”

Back at my apartment, we set about preparing dinner.  Vina chopped vegetables with surprising skill, while I handled the pasta and the sauce. The aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and Gochujang filled the air.

“This actually smells… incredible,” Vina admitted, sniffing the air appreciatively.

As we sat down to eat, Vina took a bite of the pasta.  Her eyes widened.  “Oh my god,” she breathed.  “This is… genius!”

“I told you,” I said smugly.

Vina devoured her plate, then helped herself to seconds.  “You're a genius, Heidi, a culinary wizard,” she said, grinning. “This is the best pasta I've ever had.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

We finished our meal in comfortable silence, the only sound of the clinking of forks and the soft hum of the refrigerator.  As Vina helped me clear the table, I couldn't help but notice how easily we fell into this domestic routine.  It felt… natural.

“You know,” Vina said, breaking the silence, “Today was amazing. You introduced me to your world, and I really appreciate that. Thank you, Heidi.”

I looked at her, my heart pounding in my chest. “Well, I’m glad that you enjoyed it, Vina.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Just like this pasta, our worlds are so different, but when they come together… it's perfect.”

I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.”

Vina leaned closer, her hand brushing against mine.  “I just… I really hope that someday, I can have a special place in your heart, Heidi.”

My breath hitched.  I wanted to tell her so many things, but the words seemed to get stuck in my throat.  Instead, I just looked at her, my heart overflowing with a mixture of affection and… something else. Something I wasn’t quite ready to name.

“You already do, Vina,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Vina’s smile widened, and she squeezed my hand gently. “I hope so,” she said softly. “I really do.”

As we finished cleaning up, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us.  The air felt charged, the silence filled with unspoken words.  I knew, deep down, that my feelings for Vina were growing stronger, more complicated than I wanted to admit.  And as much as I tried to deny it, I knew that I was starting to fall for her.