Yeju

It has been a while since I get the night to myself before I sleep. 

It’s quiet, unnervingly so. I’ve always had someone to fill the silence, whether it was Yuna and her constant chatters or Karina and her loud moans. Now, I have a conscientious apartment mate who goes to sleep early.

Stifling a yawn, I climb into my bed and lean against the headboard. My hair is still wet, so I dry it with a towel that’s draped over my shoulders.

Even without working in the lab today, I am exhausted. I guess I did tire myself out with other work: answering emails, reading through the recently published research articles, teaching Lia…

The chores were tiring too. After dinner, Lia started cleaning up the kitchen, so I followed her lead. Usually, I’d let the dishes soak for a few days before doing anything, but I figured I owe it to Lia to clean with her. And since I did ruin all her towels on purpose this morning, we did laundry as well.

I’ve lived with people my whole life, but this is the first time I did chores together with someone. And I have to admit that it was… nice. It made the chores feel less of a, well, chore.

My eyes drift to the wall in front of me. The plain, white wall behind my work desk and monitor that separates my bedroom from Lia’s.

I didn’t expect her to read through the papers I gave her so thoroughly. I didn’t expect her to scrub all my pans clean and to do laundry with me even though I offered to do them myself—it was my fault, after all. And I didn’t expect how easy it was to talk to her.

I’ve never met anyone so resilient and kind, who puts so much effort into everything. She is a ball of energy. Yuna is, too, but not like this. Yuna’s energy is fiery and passionate, and it burns everything it touches. Lia’s is contained and insulated; it is nice, warm, and safe.

She is an angel, and I ruined things between us before I even got to know her. 

I slide down on my bed, letting my half-dry hair down on the pillow. Why am I like this? If Lia was anybody else, she would’ve left long ago, both the apartment and the project. But Lia is… Lia.

My phone rings. I pick it up, ready to cancel the call if it’s Karina—she has been texting me nonstop all day and I do not have the headspace to reply—but it’s Mom. Heaving a small sigh of relief, I accept the call.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Ju-Zi,” my mom mumbles out her nickname for me. 

I frown at her unusually slurred voice. “You’re drunk.”

A soft hiccup. “Yeah.”

“It’s Tuesday, Mom.”

“Oh, every day is the same. The days of the week are a social construct.”

I hear the sounds of pouring wine, and I groan. Mom is three hours ahead of me, so that means it is past midnight. Way too late to be drinking alone at home.

“You should sleep, Mom.”

“You should sleep.”

“It’s only ten o’clock for me.”

“You know, time is also a social construct. It doesn’t matter when we sleep as long as we do.”

“Mom, what the hell…” I rub a hand over my face. Is this my fault? Mom calls me every other day, but I had to cancel my call with her yesterday because Karina was coming over. “How are you holding up?”

“Same as usual.” She pauses to take a sip of her drink. “Working my ass off for retirement, and then coming home to an empty house. But the good news is, I have had no mental breakdowns yet this week.” 

I stop myself from reminding her that it’s Tuesday again. “That’s great, Mom.”

“And what about you, Ju-Zi? How are you doing?”

“Good.” My default answer slips out before I can think, so I add, “Actually, no, this week has been shitty.”

“How come?”

I roll over to my side. “Let’s see, in just these few days, Yuna moved out, a new person is living with me now, and Victoria got really mad at me at work.”

Mom takes in a breath as she switches over to mom-mode. “Oh, my… Okay, let’s break it down, one at a time. Yuna moved out?”

The surprise in her tone punches me in the gut. Mom loves Yuna. She was devastated when I told her we broke up last year. But after finding out that we were still living together, she stopped harping on it. I guess both my mother and I did not think too much of the breakup. And now, she is going through the same rude awakening that I went through a few days ago.

“Yeah, she wants to move on from me. And… I do too.” The last three words are more a reassurance to myself than to Mom.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Ju-Zi. That must be a painful transition. Is there anything I can do to help ease that?”

“No, Mom, I’m alright. It’s not like I don’t get to see her at all. We’re still friends.”

“Okay, well, that’s good. I know how it…” Her voice quivers. “I know how it feels like to have the person you’ve been living with move out, so I just want you to know that I understand, and I’m here for you, okay?”

My eyes flutter. I remember Dad’s message from a few days ago. Mom must be heartbroken after he left. “Mom, if you miss Dad, I can accompany you to visit h—“

“That old man?” Mom cuts me off. “No, no, I wasn’t talking about him, silly. I meant you. Do you remember how much I cried when you moved out for college?”

I laugh. “Yeah, you were so embarrassing.”

“But how can I not cry when I see my little baby Ju-Zi all grown up? You’ll understand once you have kids yourself.”

I shudder at the idea of me having children. “So I take it you’re not upset at all about Dad moving out, huh.”

“Oh, not at all. Screw him. I’m better off living without him. I have less laundry to do now and one less person to cook for.”

“Yeah, screw him,” I concur, but my agreement is half-hearted. Just the thought of doing laundry with Lia and cooking for her warms my heart. I don’t think I ever want to do chores by myself again.

As if reading my mind, Mom asks, “So you have a new apartment mate now, I assume? How is she? Or he? Or, uh, they?”

I roll over to my back, and my eyes linger on the plain white ceiling. “It’s a she,” I whisper. “And she’s… great.”

“Oh?” Mom’s pitch raises in curiosity. “She is… great?”

“Argh, don’t over-analyze my words, Mom. There’s nothing between us. She’s a college student. Way too young for me.”

“As if! You’re in college too!”

“As a graduate student. It’s different.”

She huffs. “It’s not that different. You are both in a similar stage in life. You are both babies.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You will always be my little baby Ju-Zi.”

Rolling around again, I plant my face into my pillow—it is slightly damp from my hair. “Can we please move on?”

“Alright, as you say,” my mom says with a tone that tells me we will come back to this. “So… you said Victoria is mad at you. What’s that about?” 

I gulp. That is also about my new apartment mate I wanted to stop talking about. I prop my head on my arm and clear my throat. “It’s… uh, well, I lost my temper at the person I’m supposed to be mentoring. So Victoria got pissed at me.”

“Ah, my Ju-Zi, always with her bad temper.”

“I got it from you.”

“Yeah, you did,” she admits with a small chuckle. “Now, let‘s talk about your new apartment mate again. I want to know more. Where is she from? What is she studying? How pretty is she?”

“Mom, come on!” 

“Aw, I just want to know. Won’t you tell your poor mother?”

I suppress a groan. “Fine! She’s Korean, she’s doing a biology major, and she’s…”—I choose to ignore the pretty question—“she’s very smart.”

“Smart, huh? Like you? Is she also going to do a Ph.D.?”

God, why is my mother grilling me so much about her?

“I don’t know,” I say, “but we did talk a bit about it…”

While cleaning up, I asked Lia why she wanted to do research work in Victoria’s lab. She said Victoria’s class inspired her, and that research experience looks good on a resume. Then, she asked me why I chose to do a Ph.D.. I remember how I froze, how my mind was blank. I could not think of an answer on the spot.

I definitely had an answer. A great one, too. How else did I get into the program five years ago? How else did I convince Yuna to join the program three years ago? Now, I don’t know why I’m doing a Ph.D. and why anybody should be doing a Ph.D..

“I hope she doesn’t do one,” I mutter.

“Oh, don’t say that! It’s a wonderful skill to have. We need researchers. I mean, who’s going to make our new vaccines for the next, I don’t know, COVID-24 or something.”

“How many times must I tell you that I’m studying bacteria, not viruses?”

“They’re all microorganisms! It can’t be that different.”

I am about to go on another long rant about the differences when Mom catches me off guard with her question.

“Have you talked to your father recently, Ju-Zi?” 

I blink, confused. Not too long ago, Mom was cussing him off, and now she is asking if I speak to him.

“No,” I snap, my tone harsher than I intended. “Why would I?”

“Well… he’s your father.”

“Not anymore.”

“Ju-Zi, he is your father. It’s only fair to both you and him that you still talk to him, even if I am not.” There is a short, uncomfortable pause. “I know you care about me, but I don’t want our stupid old couple’s problems to affect you, Ju-Zi. I know it’s been. I can hear the edge in your voice. But they’re our problems, not yours. I hope you know that.”

Her words strike me in the heart. I feel my body deflate under the blanket. For the past few days, I have been letting my parents’ problems affect me and then letting it affect Lia. And it’s been shitty. I’ve been shitty.

I close my eyes. “Okay, Mom,” I whisper. “I’ll try.”

***

A/N: Yeju is a romanization of the Chinese word, 野菊 (yě jǘ), meaning wild chrysanthemums. Her nickname, Ju-Zi (菊子 (jǘ zǐ)) sounds exactly like the word for mandarin oranges (橘子 (jǘ zǐ)). It's Yeju's mom's attempt at a cute little word play. xD