“A piece of paper that I got … It might be a letter. I want us to read it together later.” I turn away from the back seat, holding the folded piece of the doctor gave me, and through the mirror I watch Sol, very still, with her gaze fixated somewhere beyond the window.

“Let’s all go out for lunch together.” Jihyun suggests, “I made a reservation at a restaurant. How does that sound? It’s on me, of course.”

“Hurray! I thought we were going to have some cheap rice cake or gimbap roll at a snack bar. Thanks!” Eunyong claps with overexcitement.

There aren’t any good places to park, so Jihyun loops around the restaurant a few times and parks somewhere down the back alley, pulling up close to the brick fence. “We’re a bit far from the restaurant. Are you okay to walk?” When Jihyun tries to help me out of the car after taking my crutch out of the trunk, Sol grabs my hand, tightly interlaces her fingers with mine, and leads me away from him.

“I’m feeling fine. Really.” I lift my right leg to prove it.

There’s a beautiful courtyard at the restaurant. Fish as large as a man’s forearm languidly swim in the pond. A pathway framed by cedar trees leads us to the restaurant, and several servers respectfully bow at Jihyun. He whispers something to the man who looks like the restaurant’s manager, and we are led to a large room with windows framed with elegant geometric patterns.

“First, we’ll get five servings of ribeye, and when we are almost done with the meat, please bring in the bamboo rice and miso soup.” Jihyun continues, “and three large bottles of beer. Anything else?”

“I have a class today, so I can’t drink. And I don’t particularly care for meat.” Sol says curtly, as she pulls her jacket off her arm.

Eunyong pokes her in the waist. “Don’t complain. He’s the one who’s buying!” The two of them seem to have become friends while visiting me at the hospital.

As the night goes on, we keep ordering extra meat. By the end of the night, we have finished nine servings, but we didn’t eat that much. Each “serving” was about the size of my palm, and technically speaking, there aren’t four of us eating here. There are five. Eunyong scrapes the grill attached to the table with her spoon to get the charred bits of meat. I tell her to stop. “Eunyong, don’t eat that. Don’t you know you have to eat only pretty things when you are pregnant? Otherwise, you have an ugly kid.”

Eunyong’s showing. Her belly is sticking out, and the hormonal freckles are spreading across her face.

“You’re pregnant?” Jihyun pauses on his way to the cashier and sits back down.

“Heh …” Eunyong awkwardly laughs.