Tutor and student. American. Korean. Female. Male. Both hard to understand, sometimes, but always a genuine respect for the other.
He wrote down lines from watching "Sex and the City" and I'd explain what it meant. We always laughed at some of the absurdities and the way I "acted" out each line, until he'd have to say, "okay, okay," going to the next line.
Yesterday, we reviewed his last essay for our sessions. It was about his experience in Philadelphia, and while visiting, trying to order a McFlurry at McDonald's. "She couldn't understand me," he said of the cashier. "I was so embarrassed." This was also at the same time a few weeks ago when he announced to me he just felt he had not used his time wisely enough during the six months he was in New York, learning English. "Are you kidding?" I asked him, and so I proceeded to show him how he had not only used his time smartly, but had raised his English competency a few levels from my ears and viewpoint just since I'd been meeting with him for the last three months. His eyes brightened and by the end of the session, he told me I had him "all fired up."
So thereafter I brought up "McFlurry" to gauge his confidence level and each time, his smile fell, reliving that moment. Finally, while reading his essay on this last meeting time, I read with happiness that he had written about how he realized mistakes - as in not being understood at the counter at the McDonald's in Philly - didn't matter. And his certificate from the language school he attended here, revealed his truth: that he was "advanced."
I read his essay and came to the McFlurry part. I smiled and told him I was going to give him my signature strong last line. I wrote down something and read it to him. He broke out in laughter.
It was a reenactment of him standing at the McDonald's counter, repeatedly telling the cashier what he wanted only to hear her say: "What?" So I gave to him:
"You want me to spell it? McFlurry. M. c. F. l. u. r. r. y. And with whipped cream."
We sat laughing at our table at Juan Valdez. And laughing. It was just the break we needed in the reality that soon our time would be up. And then he asked me, "If you were 24 again (as he will be in a few days), what would you do with your life? How would you live it?"
I sat there staring at him. "I'd write," I told him. "I'd keep my expenses low, and I'd write, and I'd write what I wanted to write and I'd experiment, and I'd just keep going."
He smiled. But I knew he wanted something else. He wanted to know what he should do.
He smiled again. We smiled at each other. I knew it was time to go. I looked at my watch. As usual, we'd gone over half an hour. I asked him what he and his friends were doing tonight? He said they were meeting at 6:30, all of them soon to be flying out of New York, so they were going to explore the city as much as they could before the days came for them to leave. I imagined them enjoying their last few days in this moment. I told myself not to get weepy inside, but I felt it. I'd opened my heart and now, feeling like the military brat I am, realized I had to say good-bye again.
I made Won-Jae promise we would just say, "See you later." We walked to the train station, his first, and we hugged, the first time we'd ever hugged. I felt like I was saying good-bye to a family member, to a son.
"Thank you," he said to me. And it was as precious as our first meeting, when we'd awkwardly met, him nervous, a fish out of water, and me, wondering how we would kill two hours of time? And then the friendship found rich soil. In that first meeting. I showed him where Jay Z and Beyonce lived when we walked to the train after that first session. It was the same way he bowed to me that I felt today. Precious connection, friendship, kindred, spirit seeing itself in another.
"It was my pleasure," I said, grinning too much, hiding the emotions beating underneath.
W.o.n.j.a.e.
My memory of you will never be a blur.
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