Thursday, June 10th | Koreatown
Who would’ve thought that iced cold milk teas or a refreshing fruit smoothie would garner so much popularity during a hot summer afternoon? Not us apparently, as Juliana and I stare at a giant line that’s starting to overtake the entrances to other stores. It’s definitely a lot cooler here in Koreatown than in the San Fernando Valley where we live, but the heat can still be felt from the dry air blowing into my car through the rolled-down windows.
“Should we even attempt?” I ask. I already know the answer to this question, but I think the heat has melted my brain to the point where I stopped thinking rationally.
“You’re kidding right?” Juliana replies. “No, I’m going to get annoyed at everyone in that line and you might have to hold me back from punching someone.”
“You can wait in the car while I try and place an order?”
“No, I don’t want you to do that. Let’s just go somewhere else.”
I pull up my phone to look for another shop, hopefully, one that isn’t so packed. “What about this one? It’s a couple of blocks from here?”
“Any good?”
“I think so. I mean we can try it and make our judgments then.”
“Yeah, let’s just go. I’m already annoyed and starving.”
“We’ll get you some food on the way back, don’t worry,” I say reassuringly.
We pull out of the plaza and drive to another boba shop about two blocks away. It’s still pretty busy, but the wait time seems much shorter than in the other shop. Parking is a bitch though and I was barely able to sandwich my car between a pickup truck and a minivan. You would think I would be able to at least be semi-decent at parallel parking after about eight years. I leave Juliana in the car with air running as I make my way to the shop. I would want her to come with me, but my Virgo queen has so much social anxiety that her own shadow makes her nervous. I love to tease her about it.
I enter the shop and the cool air hits me like a breath of fresh air. The shop is bright and colorful, and a Harry Styles song is currently playing on the speakers that instantly lightens my mood. It’s a fun atmosphere and maybe if it weren’t so busy Juliana and I could sit down and get some much-needed computer work done. I make my way to the cash register and take a look at the menu. It’s a huge selection which makes me glad Juliana didn’t come in with me because she would be a mess trying to decide quickly. But even I am having a hard time deciding. A bubbly barista approaches me from behind the register.
“Hi!” She greets me excitedly, “Having some trouble deciding?”
“Um,” I start, “I think I know. It’s just a lot.”
“Believe me I know,” the barista replies while giggling, “I’ll give you a couple more minutes. Let me know when you’re ready.”
She leaves me to my thoughts as she calls out the name of another customer. I know it’s not life or death, but as soon as she leaves, I start to panic trying to decide what to order. Not only that, but I also forgot to ask Juliana what she wants. I hear a group of people behind me and my heart instantly races. Shit. I need to decide now. I scan the room looking at what other people are drinking. I see a group of friends laughing as they sip on a whole rainbow of colored drinks. On the other side of me, I see a couple drinking what looks like an iced latte and a matcha tea. The barista from before comes back up to the register. Has it been a couple of minutes already?
“Ready?” She asks in a kind tone.
“Um, yes. I think.” I reply.
“All right, what can I get started for you?”
“I’ll take one medium-sized mango smoothie with boba,” I answer and then quickly glance down at the menu, “And then I’ll also do an Earl Grey milk tea with boba. Medium-sized as well.”
The barista places my order while smiling. “All right, did you want to add any food to your order today? We have popcorn chicken or if you want, we also have fries.”
I think for a minute. I didn’t want to be that customer that holds up a line because he couldn’t figure out what he wants to order, but I think it’s a bit too late for that. Maybe I’ll get something for Juliana to snack on while we decide what we want to eat for dinner. “I’ll take an order of popcorn chicken, then.”
The barista adds that to my order and gives me my total, asking for my name to call out when it’s ready. I pay for my order and then take a seat at a bar table near the order counter. I pull out my phone and text Juliana: I got you an Earl Grey and popcorn chicken to ease your appetite.
She replies at once: I love you.
I text back a heart emoji as I look up from my phone and take another scan of the shop. I see a group of college students working on a project and another group member joins them. I also spot at least two more couples enjoying each other’s company. More customers start flooding the shop and I start to feel a little claustrophobic. I start to get up from my seat when I hear what sounded like my name being called out, but I wasn’t too sure. “Jay-see?!” The voice calls out.
I look around the shop. No one seems to be getting up or shifting their attention to the pick-up counter.
“Jay-see?!” The voice calls out again. I look over at the pick-up counter to see the same barista who placed my order, “Mango smoothie and an Earl Grey milk tea for Jay-see?!”
I roll my eyes as I get up to walk over to the pick-up area. It’s not that I care if people can’t pronounce my name correctly, but it isn’t that hard. I mean it’s not like my name is Xochitl or Saoirse (though there is nothing wrong with those names). Honestly, it’s only one syllable! And what makes it worse is the barista knows how to pronounce my name, she took my damn order! How could she forget how to pronounce my name in a span of what? 5 minutes?
“Jay-see?” she asks.
“Jace,” I reply with a slight disdain tone, “Like Jason but without the ‘on’ at the end”
“Oh!” She exclaims before laughing, “My bad. Your drinks are here, and we’ll call out your name again when your food is ready.”
She leaves, and I overhear her telling the other workers how to pronounce my name. It really isn’t that hard.
I leave the store and walk to the car, the two drinks in my hand already melting from the heat. Water from the condensation drips from my hand as I hand out Juliana’s drink to her.
“Where’s my popcorn chicken!?” She asks, incredulously.
“Excuse me, princess,” I say in a playful, snarky tone, “You better mind your tone.”
“Jace, I’m hungry and I’m two seconds away from beating you.” She snaps while pushing her straw through the top of her drink. Note: never play around when it comes to Juliana and food. I learned that the hard way on multiple occasions.
“Relax. They’re still making it,” I reassure her, “I’m going to go back and pick it up right now.”
207Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuqZO6NmMGH
I squeeze through the doorway of the now insanely busy boba shop which I’m so thankful I ordered before things started getting too insane. As I make my way over to the pick-up area, I hear the sounds of multiple blenders going off and can see the heads of the baristas darting left and right behind the bar. I brush past a couple of guys dressed in business casual attire before getting to the front of the counter. I rewarded myself by proudly taking a gulp of my mango smoothie, which I’m surprised I haven’t dropped yet.
I hear my name – correctly pronounced this time – and I step up to the counter. I’m greeted by another barista’s friendly but exhausted smile. I understand what he’s feeling and reassure the barista that he’s doing great. He hands me my order of popcorn chicken and I start stuffing the bag with napkins when I hear a voice.
“Well, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” the voice calls out from behind me.
It’s familiar. Hauntingly familiar. I felt like I’d been thrust back to being a 17-year-old again hearing that voice. The hairs on the back of my head stand and I nearly drop my mango smoothie. I don’t want to look back, but my head is already turning like it’s on autopilot.
And then… I see him. Standing there, wearing a gray polo shirt his warm smile. Gone are the boyish bangs he used to have in high school and is now replaced by a clean comb-over cut. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as my heart races.
“Andrew?” I whisper.
He leaves behind the other guys he was with; the same ones I brushed passed, and in just four steps we were standing right next to each other, face to face. He says something to me, but I don’t hear anything. I don’t hear anything at all. Not the sounds of the blenders, the music playing on the speakers, or even the laughs of the people around us. All I see… all I’m focused on is his smile. The same smile that I fell in love with many years ago.
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