Entres Nous

Her smile came easy as the young flight attendant welcomed her to South Korea, her head giving a short bow. She stepped carefully but quickly, tightening her grip on her black backpack, as she went down the metal booth, all the way until she met with the entrance gate to the Gimpo International Airport. Her eyes blinked a couple of times as they hit the hard lights, people surrounding her, some trying to push through the crowd and away from the multiple of signs while others just stood there, their eyes seeking out their own name. She was one of them.

It was almost frightening how out of place she felt. Before she had arrived she had done her homework enough to be able to read hangul characters, but her korean to english dictionary was starting to burn a hole through her backpack, aching to be used. Her head turned from left to right over and over, trying to seek out a familiar face she knew she wouldn’t see.

She remembered the accented man who she had spoken to over the phone, instructing her step by step what to do when she got there. But all she could remember was the word, ‘wait’. Wait for him? Wait for someone else? She was starting to get fidgety.

“Yah, are you Chantal?”

She turned her head to the left, her eyes locking with the bright green poster, her name scribbled with a black sharpie, little doodles all over.“Ah, yes.”

The delicate, fingerless-gloved hands that held the sides of the cardboard slid it down, coquettish brown eyes popping below bangs that lied underneath a white and maroon beanie. She certainly wasn’t expecting another foreigner to pick her up, much less one that looked straight out of the nearest magazine.

As soon as the girl let the poster slide onto her side, Chan took the opportunity to give her the up-down, from her long, straight bright red hair which peeked out beneath a thick, knitted mustard brown-colored scarf and an open grey coat, to her short denim skirt combined with bordeaux-colored and mid-calf brown leather boots. Even the dark blue sweater that glanced out beneath everything screamed ‘high fashion’.

The girl extended a hand towards her, cupid bow, pink lips curling up into a smile, as Chan took it, shaking it firmly. “You can call me Yura.”

“Nice to meet you.” They stood there in awkward silence, until Yura broke it, patting her shoulder in return.

“C’mon. Let’s go get your bags.” The started walking left, crowds of people passing them by, Yura’s quick step leading as Chan followed behind eyeing every sign and store that passed by. Everything was colorful, fast, and loud. It felt, in a way, like the other side of New York. Nothing stopped to take a breath of air, nothing paused to look around. It was all about time.

The red-headed girl turned her head back to glance at her, giving her a quick smirk. “How was your flight?”

“Long,” Chan answered, stepping left to let an old woman pass. “It was fine for ten hours until two kids started to fight and made one cry, and wouldn’t shut up and...” She gave out a short, painful laughter.

Yura nodded, licking her lips. “I’ve had the crying baby before when I visited my mom back in Toronto. Half the way through the flight I was crying with it.”

They both let out a laugh, as they stood in line to get on the escalator, their eyes meeting each others. “You’re from Toronto?”

“Nope, I’m a pure-blood Korean. Born and raised.” Yura gave her a face serious enough to make her statement believable, the corners of her lips itching to turn upwards. “Why, I don’t look the part? Are you calling me different?”

Chan’s face turned into a frown her head shaking as Yura let out a grin. “I didn’t-,”

“I’m from Mexico, but my mom is living with her husband in Toronto. She moved there around three years ago.” Yura stepped on the escalator, Chan sliding beside her. “You’re from Guatemala right? Originally?”

She didn’t know why, but a little part of her suddenly loosened up inside. Made her feel a little more... at ease. A little more welcome in this foreign country. There were many people from Latin America in New York, most of them covering different parts, from Mexico all the way down to Brazil. It was like a warm hug each time she got the opportunity to speak the language her family fluently spoke. Even if their countries were miles apart, that one thing bonded them in such a way she was more than satisfied it was Yura picking her up.

“Yeah, I am.” She gave her the most genuine smile she could find in her, tapping her nails against the black rubber. “Born and raised.”

They stepped off the escalator, Yura grabbing onto Chan’s sleeve as she started pushing through the crowd, all the way until they reached the conveyor belts. “Sorry, the crowd won’t move any time soon unless you dig through it. Now let’s see...” They glanced around at the signs, Chan slowly trying to read letter by letter.

“Found it,” Yura yanked at her wrist before she could even respond, walking over to the far end. “How many did you bring?”
“Uh, three. Blue duffel bag, black suitcase with paint on it, and another grey suitcase.”

Yura looked at her incredulously. “Don’t you go crazy now.”

Chan blinked a couple of times, not bothering to turn her head and give her a look back. It wasn’t her fault she liked classy colors.

“This one?” Yura pulled a paint-stained large suitcase down into the ground, quickly grabbing a blue duffel bag that came along next. “And this one?”

“You’re fast.”

“That’s what she said.”

Chan let out a snort that made a couple women and men turn, her hand quickly covering her mouth. Yura gave her a pleasant look, her head giving a short bow in acknowledgement, walking around a couple of men, and yanking the last missing suitcase out, rolling it towards it’s owner and patting the handle. “And we’re done.”

“That’s what she said.” The dark-haired girl retorted, giving a satisfied smile.

“Oh Chan,” Yura picked up the blue duffle bag and slung it on her shoulder, right next to leather purse. “I think this the start of a beautiful friendship.”