obscured our view, but at least it wasn’t pouring rain.
“Waaaaaa!” Mom and Dad oohed and ahhed over the scenery. Seagulls swooped down and around the water, mesmerizing my parents into silence.
A man’s southern voice boomed a few feet away. “Well, son, this certainly is a treat. What a spectacular view!” I looked up from the menu to see a ginger-haired, ruddy, giant man in a light blue oxford shirt and pleated khakis walking to the table next to us. Behind him was a lovely older woman, maybe sixties, with a blunt brown bob and perfectly applied red lipstick. And behind her?
Nolan MacKenzie.
Nolan, with his neatly pressed, tucked blue shirt, perfectly centered silk blue-and-gray-checkered tie, khaki-colored cords, and brown laced Oxfords. He looked like a different person entirely with his preppy, evenly combed hair. While his parents got seated, he walked over to say hello.
“Hello, Mr. Joo, Mrs. Joo. So nice to meet you. Melody talks about you so much at work.”
My parents exchanged looks. Mom spoke first. “You work with Melody?”
He laughed. “Yes, she works hard.”
My dad tipped his chin up and smiled proudly. “She take after us.”
“Melody, I’d love for you to meet my parents.”
I stood up and walked over to their table. Next to me, Nolan whispered, “Should we make a run for it?”
I looked at him beaming at me and giggled.
Nolan’s dad took his napkin off his lap and stood to greet me with a knuckle-crushing handshake. His mother remained seated.
Nolan said, “Mom and Dad, this is Melody.” His father’s firm handshake still lingered on my hand. His mother’s hands felt baby soft and delicate, like she’d never done a day’s work in her life.
My mom shouted to their table, “Melody-ya! Why we not push two table together? Then we all talk together.”
Before I could protest, Nolan’s dad said, “Well, what a wonderful idea!”
My mom and dad jumped into action, pushing our table over to theirs, first with little shoves and then one big heave-ho.
SC-SC-SC-SC-SCRREEEEECH!
My parents carried over some chairs and plopped back down, content and exhausted. I sat across from Nolan and bumped his knee. He didn’t flinch.
Mrs. MacKenzie gave me a once-over. “My, my, Melody, you are very pretty.” A compliment I didn’t hear very often.
“Melody?” My mom snorted. “She look like monkey when she born. So much fur. But she look much better now. Much more pretty.” That was my mom’s version of praise.
Nolan gently knocked his knee into mine and gave me a smirk.
His mom added, “She’s as pretty as a China doll!”
Nolan’s face fell instantly, and I forced a thin smile. She had meant that as a compliment. My whole life I’d heard things like this. Racial gaffes that had “come out the wrong way.” This time Nolan got a small peek into what it was like to be me. Being nonwhite. Sometimes it outright sucked.
My mom threw her shoulders back and grumbled, “We are Korean, not Chinese.” Nolan’s mom smiled and appeared unfazed, like she had simply mixed up Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman.
I introduced my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie, these are my parents. My mom, Hyun Joo, and my dad, Sang Jin.” After a round of enthusiastic hand shaking, Nolan said, “This is my mom, Joanna Jean, and my dad, Nolan Senior. He’s Nolan too.” Pleasant laughter filled the air. We were back to a great start.
“Would anyone like a popover roll?” Nolan Junior held up the bread basket. Bless his heart for trying to keep the conversation going strong.
My dad said, “Roll is cheap. They try to fill you up with cheap thing.” He ate one anyway. My mom took one, too.
“I’d love a roll, thank you, sweetheart.” Joanna Jean had such a thick southern accent. She inspected the bread assortment and picked one. “I am so tuckered out from that flight. But we’re so happy to have made it. Where are y’all stayin’?”
My dad said, “Holiday Inn in downtown. We stay there before. We like it because they have free continental breakfast. And USA Today every morning is no charge!”
Joanna Jean smiled and cut a tiny sliver of butter and spread it on the top of her crusty roll. “We’re staying pretty close to here actually. At the Fremont Vista Inn.” The Fremont was a Condé Nast Traveler Top 100 Hotel in the World. Sure, it was like number 98 on the list, but still. That place was fancy, like $500-a-night kind of fancy. Luckily my parents didn’t know this. They were really weird about money, and