The Fold by An Na

about the way she looked couldn’t get some decent makeup lessons.
    “I am getting older,” Gomo said. “You are my only family.”
    Everyone nodded. Gomo was a widow and had never been able to have children of her own.
    “And with Uncle Joe watching over us, I feel I do not have many more years left.”
    Uhmma complained loudly, “No, no, do not say those things, Gomo. You are still so strong and healthy.”
    Andy kicked Joyce under the table. Uncle Joe was Gomo’s third American husband and third Joe. Although no one was certain if all of Gomo’s husbands were really named Joe or if Gomo just insisted on calling them all Joe. Gomo had lived with the third Uncle Joe in San Francisco, and he had been more a myth than reality. They had only met him a few times before he passed away and Gomo moved down to L.A. Andy used to joke that Uncle Joe was really a life-size blow-upG.I. Joe doll because whenever they did see him for the holidays, he was always dressed in his army fatigues and watching football.
    Gomo held up her hand to silence Uhmma. “I am getting older, but there are still some things that I would like to do before my time comes to join Uncle Joe. I want to make sure each one of you gets their wish,” Gomo said. “I would like to make your lives better.”
    Make our lives better? Joyce glanced up from playing with her napkin as she daydreamed about John Ford Kang surfing. Apa and Uhmma glanced at each other. Helen was staring off into the restaurant, while Andy nervously jiggled one leg.
    Joyce held her breath. Maybe she was going to give them a million dollars!
    Gomo reached down and pulled up one shopping bag. “Apa already received his gifts, but I want to give Andy and Helen their gifts tonight.”
    Andy sat up straighter in his seat.
    Gomo handed the bag to Uhmma and gestured that she should pass it on to Helen.
    Uhmma handed Helen the bag.
    “Gam-sa-ham-nee-da, Gomo,” Helen said and bowed her head before accepting the bag. Helen reached in and pulled out a large gift-wrapped box. Andy nudgedJoyce in the side. Helen unwrapped the box and carefully lifted the lid. Inside was a beautifully embroidered white silk traditional Korean dress.
    Uhmma gasped and brought her hands to her lips. “Gomo, you should not have spent this much on Helen’s hanbok!”
    Helen stood up and held the traditional Korean outfit in front of her. The hanbok was truly stunning, with tiny embroidered blush pink flowers circling the entire hem and sleeves of the dress. Joyce couldn’t help herself and reached out to touch the fabric. The thick, rich silk shone with a soft gleam, the cool smoothness light as rain on Joyce’s fingertips.
    Helen remained standing with the dress so that Uhmma and Apa could admire it, but Joyce could tell there was something wrong. The set of Helen’s lips, slightly off center, and the way her eyes were painfully open and alert. Joyce couldn’t believe that Helen wouldn’t like a hanbok that gorgeous.
    Gomo waved her hand at the box. “Pull out the book!”
    Uhmma reached over and pulled out a black binder. Helen carefully folded up the dress and set it back into the box. She took the binder from Uhmma and sat down.
    “I have taken care of the fees. You only need to contact Mrs. Hahn and she will arrange all of the meetings,” Gomo said.
    Helen carefully opened the book and turned to page after page of young Korean men posing in high back chairs with a short biography and statement beneath their photograph. Joyce leaned over for a closer look. Some of the guys were even cute!
    All through high school, Helen had refused to go on any dates, choosing to focus on her studies as Uhmma and Apa wished. Helen hung out with a close group of friends at school and then talked mostly to Su Yon at the restaurant. When Su Yon had moved away, Helen cried for days. Joyce had felt bad for Helen but didn’t know how to comfort her older sister, who never before seemed fazed by anything. Joyce was already