Surprise Symphony

Maybe it was because this summer wasn’t too hot. The weather felt like a beautiful Korean autumn day, and I just couldn’t stay inside. As soon as I said goodbye to my husband who left with his lunchbox, I ran outside, like I didn’t want to waste my youth. I wandered around — to opera shows, jazz festivals, museums, parks.n In the evening, I came home, ate a quick bite, and fell asleep.

The last Sunday of September was too beautiful. A friend asked me to go to a concert at Lincoln Center, so I dressed up nicely and left the house. As I walked gracefully out of the subway, my phone rang.

"Where are you? What are you thinking, wandering around like that?"

It was my husband — he was yelling.

"You left something on the stove! Go home right now!"

Suddenly, I remembered. I had left the stove on with a pot of doenjang jjigae (soybean paste stew) while getting dinner ready — and forgot to turn off the gas. I quickly grabbed a taxi and told the driver the situation.

“It’s hard for a fire to start just from that,”

he said. His words gave me some comfort.

But the doorman didn’t have the key, and the building superintendent (who did have one) wasn’t building My mind filled with horrible thoughts of my apartment burning down. I sat in the taxi, close to fainting. When we got to the corner of my condo, the driver said,

“See? There’s no fire.”

But even outside the building, the burned soybean smell was strong. Inside, the smell was unbearable. The doorman looked nervous and said he was sorry. He had no key, so the firefighters had to break in. I rushed up to my apartment. The firefighters had poured water into the burned pot. Every window in the apartment was wide open. The door handle was broken, the door had cracks, and the paint was peeling. The smell shocked my neighbors. I quickly ran inside like I wanted to hide in a hole. One of the neighbors — a man — even followed me into the kitchen.

“It’s lucky the curtains didn’t catch fire,” he said.

I had tried so hard not to spread any smell of doenjang. As an Asian, I didn’t want people to think I was smelly or messy. I always tried to smile politely and act classy.
Even when the uniformed doorman opened the door or carried things to the elevator,
I always worried — “Should I give him a tip or not?”

My husband said with a serious face,

“From now on, don’t start cooking before you go out.” 

Maybe this means… I’m finally free from making dinner!