Chapter 35
I stood there, my gaze transfixed on Jo's retreating figure as he walked away from me, his broad shoulders fading into the distance. The realization hit me with the weight of a physical blow - he was avoiding me. The thought settled in my stomach like a cold stone, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of my response to his invitation last night. The memory of his words, his hopeful eyes, and my hesitant refusal replayed in my mind like a broken record.
As I stood there, lost in thought, my hand instinctively rose to my hair, twisting a braid around my finger in a nervous habit. The gentle tug on my scalp seemed to anchor me to the present, and I found myself pondering the state of my hair. Maybe it was time for a change. A trip to the salon sounded like just what I needed - a chance to pamper myself, to feel like a new person.
The party tonight loomed ahead, a social gauntlet that I wasn't sure I was ready to run. But with a new hairstyle, maybe I'd feel like a different person altogether.
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I swiftly changed into something more comfortable, the soft fabric a welcome respite from the confines of my school uniform. With a sense of liberation, I made my way to the principal's office, the fluorescent lights overhead casting an unforgiving glare. I informed the principal of my decision to skip my Korean lessons, and was met with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Suit yourself, whenever you feel like it," she said, her tone dripping with indifference.
I shrugged off the encounter and stepped out into the bright sunlight, the warmth on my skin a pleasant contrast to the sterile atmosphere of the office. As I walked, my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten lunch. The craving for something satisfying gnawed at me, and I quickened my pace.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I searched for the nearest salon. "Nearest Korean salon" I typed, hoping to stumble upon a reputable place to work magic on my hair. But the search results were a jumbled mess, with unfamiliar street names and salon names that sounded like gibberish to my ears. Frustration simmered beneath the surface as I scrolled through the list, none of the options resonating with me.
With a sigh, I tucked my phone away and hailed a taxi.
The driver looked at me expectantly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he asked in Korean, "eodigasseyo?"(where are you going) The words were unfamiliar, but the tone was unmistakable - he was asking where I was headed. I hesitated, my mind racing to recall any Korean phrases I knew. But my vocabulary was limited, and I fell back on the only phrase that came to mind - "Juseyo," which roughly translated to "please" I pointed to my hair, trying to convey my intentions. "A good salon... Juseyo?" I said, hoping the driver would understand.
The driver's expression changed from curiosity to amusement, and he let out a low chuckle. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as he switched to English, his voice warm and friendly. "Where are you going to exactly?" he asked, a hint of a smile still playing on his lips. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the language switch. "Oh, thank goodness! Any good salon will do," I replied, feeling a sense of gratitude towards this stranger. "I want to get my hair done, I want to take down my braids."
The driver nodded understandingly, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "Okay," he said, before pulling away from the curb. I settled in, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as the taxi driver navigated through the streets, hopefully taking me to a salon that would work wonders on my hair. The city blurred together outside the window, but I was focused on the promise of transformation, the prospect of a new hairstyle lifting my spirits.
The taxi driver navigated through the streets, the scenery outside my window changing from towering skyscrapers to smaller buildings and shops. I lost track of time, but it felt like we drove for at least thirty minutes, maybe more. Finally, the taxi slowed down and came to a stop. I looked outside the window,and there stood a gigantic hair saloon I turned to the driver and asked, "How much is the bill?"
The driver's expression was neutral as he replied, "eight thousand won." My eyes widened as I calculated the amount in my head. That seemed like a lot of money, especially considering I wasn't sure where exactly we were or how far we'd traveled. I rummaged through my bag, my fingers closing around the Korean currency I'd set aside earlier. As I pulled out the cash, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of suspicion. "Wait, are you trying to cheat me or what?" I asked, my tone cautious. Eight thousand won did sound like a big chunk of money.
"No way,that's the normal amount I do charge."
I handed the driver the 8,000 won without another word, the crisp notes fluttering from my fingers to his. As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Korean air enveloped me, carrying the scent of street food and the distant hum of traffic. The driver sped off with a quick wave, leaving me standing alone outside the salon. My eyes scanned the surroundings, and I spotted the salon's sleek sign, the letters gleaming in the sunlight. A warm smile spread across my face as I pushed open the door and stepped into the salon's tranquil atmosphere.
The air inside was alive with the gentle chatter of clients and the soft hum of hair dryers. Stylists moved with precision, their hands dancing through the hair of their clients. One of them caught my eye, her smile warm and inviting as she approached me. "Good day, how may we help you?" she asked, her Korean accent a soothing melody to my ears.
I felt a sense of relief wash over me as I replied, "I want to take down my braids, wash my hair, and get a silk press." The stylist nodded "Oh, this way," she said, leading me to a station where I could get my hair done. I settled in, the anticipation of transformation building within me. Tonight was the night I'd face Jo again, and I wanted to look my best.