29 Dates

by Melissa de la Cruz

  Jisu: Oh...okay. I guess it does sound unique. I’ve certainly never met anyone with that name!

  BOZ: Yeah...that’s why I picked it.

  Jisu: So, have you seen any movies lately? I saw you listed movies in your one-sheet.

  BOZ: You actually read those? I never do. But yeah, I love horror movies.

  Jisu: Cool. Did you see It yet? It looks so scary and I’m terrified of clowns, but I heard it’s good!

  BOZ: No, American horror movies are a joke. They’re never scary and are always so predictable. Don’t you know that we make the best horror movies?

  Jisu: We do? I actually don’t watch too many because I get scared so easily.

  BOZ: That’s the thing though. A good horror movie isn’t about the blood or gore or any of that physically scary stuff. Those are all cheap thrills. The best horror movies mess with your brain and haunt you for days after. Like A Tale of Two Sisters. You saw that one, right?

  Jisu: No. Like I said, I don’t really do scary movies.

  BOZ: What? That one was a huge hit. Literally everyone saw that. You might be the first person I’ve met in Seoul who hasn’t seen it.

  Jisu: *shrugs*

  BOZ: Anyway, it’s based on the Janghwa and Hongryeon story—you do know that story, right?

  Jisu: Actually, I do. With the gwisin sisters and the evil stepmom, right? My mom tells me those scary folklore stories all the time. They’re actually why I don’t even go to the movies. The stories alone are so terrifying!

  BOZ: Really? What other stories has she told you?

  Jisu: Well, there was the one about my great-great-grandmother...

  BOZ: Wait, you have horror stories within your family? That’s so dope.

  Jisu: Um, I wouldn’t say it’s dope. It’s actually really terrifying. When I was a kid, I couldn’t even go to bed because I was so scared.

  BOZ: So...what’s the story? You can’t just say you have a scary family legend and not tell the story!

  Jisu: It’s really not that interesting.

  BOZ: C’mon, Jisu. Don’t tell me you still stay up at night, scared like a little kid.

  Jisu: To be fair, my mom is a really good storyteller and scared the crap out of me when I was little.

  BOZ: Do I have to ask Mrs. Kim for story time, then? What happened? I wanna know!

  Jisu: Okay, fine. My great-great-grandmother lived in the shigol, in the deep neck of the woods. But my family has said that she was cursed by her own mother.

  BOZ: A curse! What was the curse?

  Jisu: Her mother had an unhappy marriage. Her father cheated on her mother all the time. But he stopped when she got pregnant. They wanted a boy so badly to carry on the family name. But they had my great-great-grandmother, and her mother was devastated.

  BOZ: Geez.

  Jisu: Right? I can’t even imagine being a woman back then. And even though we’ve made so much progress, I still think we see obvious traces of it in society today and—

  BOZ: Wait, so what was the curse put on your great-great-grandmother?

  Jisu: Well, her mother died shortly after giving birth to her. And she was so bitter and so broken by that point. Her marriage had long been dead. She knew she was dying to give birth to a child that couldn’t even win her husband’s love back. So she cursed her daughter so that she would be hyperaware of suffering and forever be haunted by all the wronged, betrayed, starved spirits that still roamed the land. Apparently, until the day my great-great-grandmother died, she claimed to always be bothered by these spirits.

  BOZ: Wow. That’s messed up.

  Jisu: Gee, thanks. My family is clearly so messed up.

  BOZ: No, I didn’t mean it like that! That’s actually a really cool story. Have you heard about people seeing ghosts on the subways?

  Jisu: I heard one of my classmates mention it, but I didn’t really listen. I take the subway all the time and I don’t want to get creeped out—

  BOZ: This wasn’t even in Seoul. Remember the Daegu subway fire that happened when we were kids?

  Jisu: Of course. That was awful. So many people died.

  BOZ: Apparently, every year on the anniversary of the fire, multiple people report seeing the ghosts of the victims on the subway when they get close to Jungangno Station.

  Jisu: Oh, my god. I don’t know if that’s more sad or terrifying.

  BOZ: Right? My friend’s aunt who lives in Daegu apparently had a full-on conversation with a ghost who sat next to her. When the subway pulled up to Jungangno, the ghost apparently said, “Ah, finally I can go home.” When she stepped out to the platform and turned around, he was gone. She looked inside the car and it was empty. The doors closed, and when she peered through the window again, she saw the guy sitting right where he was before! That’s when she realized she had been talking to a ghost.

  Jisu: So the ghosts of the victims haunt the subway station where they died because they never got to leave? That is so heartbreaking.

  BOZ: Isn’t that an amazing story though?

  Jisu: Amazing? I guess. But, Boz, those were real victims. It’s not just another fictional horror story. Real people died.

  BOZ: All horror stories have roots in reality though. And they reflect the most tragic, ugliest parts of humanity. At least the good ones do.

  Jisu: And that’s why you like it so much?

  BOZ: Yeah, it’s compelling stuff. Look, Jisu, I get it if horror is not really your thing. But you have to admit it’s fascinating, right?

  Jisu: To be honest, I just don’t think it’s for me.

  2

  When the Korean Air flight attendants walked up and down first class, handing out hot towels, Jisu immediately pressed one to her tearstained face. It released a hot steam that smelled of eucalyptus and jasmine. Despite her best efforts to heed her mother’s advice, Jisu had sobbed and sniffled her way through Incheon Airport. The last time she’d been at Incheon, she was flying back with her parents from a relaxing vacation at Jeju Island. But now she was being sent out of the country against her will.

  “Please turn off all electronics as we prepare for departure.”

  Oh, god. It was really happening. She was really leaving. This wasn’t an elaborate prank conducted by her enemies. My own parents! So this was what betrayal felt like.

  Jisu took her phone out of her pocket. She tapped the yellow Kakao icon to open the app. There was an unread text message from Eunice.

  Jisu! What are you doing today? Wanna come over to do homework? And then maybe go shopping as a reward?

  A loud sob escaped from Jisu’s mouth and startled her fellow passengers. The flight attendant instantly reappeared and slipped Jisu a bottle of Fiji water and another hot towel.

  Euni-ya—I can’t believe I’m writing this. My psycho parents put me on a one-way flight to San Francisco. They’re making me go to a new school and I won’t be back until winter. Please don’t hate me. I love you. Promise to Kakao me every day, okay?

  Eunice replied instantly.

  What? How could they do that? Of course I don’t hate you. I can’t believe this.

  The seat belt light above Jisu’s head turned on. Jisu strapped herself down. Then she answered Eunice.

  Maybe you can just transfer to my new school? Can you take the next flight out of Incheon? My life would be better if you were here with me.

  Jisu could barely see her phone screen through the tears in her eyes.

  Jisu-ya be strong. You will be okay. More than okay. I know it. Just promise me this. Do YOU. I love your parents, but they are way too controlling. Honestly, sometimes I think they look out for me more than my own parents do hahah. But seriously, think about this as a vacation from them. Do the things you really want to do.

  The flight attendant appeared again, but this time her wide smile was a touch menacing and her gaze was locked on
Jisu’s phone.

  Ugh. Can’t a girl at least text her best friend a proper goodbye?

  Jisu switched her phone to airplane mode and took deep breaths. As the plane raced down the runway, she braced herself. This was her least favorite part of any flight. The deafening white noise blaring in her ears, the turbulence rattling her bones and the crushing pressure from being thrust upward against gravity that weighed down every fiber of her being.

  And then, at thirty thousand feet, there was a silence and a ding. The seat belt light above Jisu’s head turned off.

  She stretched her legs across her sleeper pod and emptied the contents of her bag. The Wick-Helmering pamphlet mocked her beneath the scattered mess of her carry-on makeup and travel-size face creams. Jisu opened the pamphlet and started reading. This was her future now. Might as well get familiar.

  Her eyes glazed over as she took in the rambling, self-congratulatory text about quality academia and high percentage rates of students accepted to Ivy League schools. Then came the endless list of clubs. Daewon offered every standard sport and activity you could imagine, but Wick-Helmering went above and beyond: a man-made river for sailing, fully serviced stables for horseback riding, studios for ballet, jazz, and modern dance, and shuttles that took students to the nearby mountains during the skiing season.

  Everyone in the photos looked aggressively happy. Their taut smiles insisted they were having the best time. There were but a handful of Asians among the faces, but that was to be expected. Daewon had its small share of international students, but it was nothing like the diverse student body at Wick-Helmering. It looked more and more like the CW American high school dramas that Jisu and her friends would download and watch on weekends, late into the night.

  Jisu gulped the rest of her Fiji water and took more deep breaths. She dug out her rose-infused face cream and smoothed it across her face. Personal crisis aside, staying hydrated at thirty thousand feet was important. She rummaged through her assortment of lip stains and applied each one as if she were following one of her favorite beauty vlogger’s tutorials. A little makeup break always distracted her from the daily stress of being a teenager who was held to impossible standards, but no amount of liquid liner could distract Jisu from the fact that she was en route to a place where she had no friends and knew no one.

  A San Francisco travel guide peeked out from Jisu’s bag. Her dad had handed it to her right before they parted ways.

  Make sure you visit the Golden Gate Bridge and send us photos, he had told her at security as he wiped the tears from his daughter’s face.

  Jisu is going to California to study, not to play, her mother had retorted. But yes, if you do take pictures make sure you send them to us. You know I love seeing what you capture. And that’s if you have extra time after your studies and your seons.

  The seons. Of course there was no stopping them. Mrs. Kim fully intended to keep paying Ms. Moon to set her daughter up as she settled into San Francisco. With her high success rate and rapid word-of-mouth, Ms. Moon’s matchmaking empire had gained international reach.

  What good was moving across the entire Pacific Ocean if your parents still managed to keep their leash tight around you?

  Jisu-ya, I know you’re sad now. But when you land, you will forget all that and be excited to be in a new city. Mrs. Kim had held her daughter’s face in her hands. Just remember, this is not a vacation.

  No one knew and felt that more than Jisu. It pained her. But she could tell it pained her mother, too. It would be a long three months before Mrs. Kim saw her daughter again—the longest she had been away from her only child. Still, sending Jisu off to Wick-Helmering was a last resort and final hope.

  “Here you go, miss.” A flight attendant handed Jisu a glass of pineapple juice.

  “Sorry. I didn’t ask for this.”

  “We noticed from your last flights with Korean Air that you like a glass of pineapple juice before your meal. If you’d prefer not to have it, I can take it back.”

  “Oh, no, that’s fine. This is actually great, thank you.”

  The flight attendant looked at her knowingly, having clearly sensed that Jisu was going through a tough time. Jisu took a sip and her face scrunched up. It was more sour than sweet. The tangy flavor transported her back to the past few Korean Air flights she had taken. There was the big summer vacation trip to Macau with Euni and Min and their families, the quick spring visit to Jeju Island with her parents and, before that, the winter trip to London. All pleasant trips with only good memories.

  This was the polar opposite.

  “And here is the menu for the on-flight meal.” The menu was written in gold ink and inscribed onto a black matte cardboard. Food was being provided by La Yeon, Jisu’s favorite restaurant in Seoul. But looking at the entrée selections only made her miss her city more. She was going to miss everything, from trying out a new non-Korean restaurant in Itaewon with her friends and shopping in the streets of Cheongdam-dong with her mother and aunt, to simply taking a stroll down the Garosu-gil and wandering in and out of the smaller boutiques and quiet galleries. None of the trappings of first class mattered. Jisu could have everything in the world delivered straight to her sleeper pod and presented to her on a silver platter, but it wouldn’t change the fact that, within a few hours, she would be landing in a new city, all alone.

  “Psst. Hey!”

  From the corner of her eye, Jisu could see that the passenger in the pod across from her was waving her arm. A girl maybe a few years older than her, dressed stylishly in all-black athleisure, smiled at Jisu.

  “You okay? Looks like you might need some reading to keep you distracted.”

  Her English was perfect, with zero hint of an accent, just like an actress in a Hollywood movie. She must be a Korean-American girl going back home. Jisu could tell by the way she sat in her seat, by her demeanor. You could always tell the Korean Americans from the Koreans.

  The girl pointed to Jisu’s clutter of lip gloss, highlighter sticks and school pamphlets and handed her a stack of her own magazines. Cosmo, Allure, Vogue, Glamour. “I’ve skimmed these already. Plus I just took my melatonin pills, so you can have them. Enjoy!”

  Before Jisu could thank her, the girl hopped back into her pod, slid on her sleeping mask and snuggled into her blanket.

  “FALL INTO COLOR! Twenty Perfect Transitional Pieces to Settle You into Fall.”

  The beaming model on the cover wore a burgundy sweaterdress and patterned tights. Her smile and soft-blown hair beckoned Jisu to flip through the pages.

  “The 10 Rules of Dating & Non-Dating.”

  Non-dating? Was there an entirely new set of rules in America that Jisu would have to follow? Maybe Ms. Moon had a separate guidebook for dating in the States. Not that Jisu cared. She had a bunch of cramming and college applications to worry about first. Jisu browsed through countless ads and perfume samples until she finally got to the article.

  In the current age of nonstop swiping on apps and sliding into one’s DMs, you might find yourself with a potential bae and ask yourself, “Is this a date? Or a non-date?” These ten easy indicators will clear up any confusion between you and your maybe-bae.

  Non-dates, sliding into DMs and maybe-baes? After nine years of English classes, Jisu was fluent in the language, but the words used in the world of print magazines were like a separate dialect.

  If he asks you simply to “hang out”—it’s a non-date.

  If he takes you somewhere specific, say the movies or a new restaurant downtown—it’s a date.

  If he sees you with a group of friends—it’s a non-date.

  If he officially introduces you to his friends—congrats, you are fully practicing the art of dating.

  If the only time you see each other is in your bedrooms—you are fully practicing the art of non-dating.

  The list went all the way down the page. Thinking
about each of these scenarios made Jisu’s head spin. For the first time, she felt grateful to have the Matseon Matchmaker to fall back on. More formalities and less mind games. Maybe her mother was onto something.

  Jisu read the rest of the magazines and tried to absorb every headline, tip and piece of advice. Fashion and beauty were no problem. Popsicle-tinted lips, dewy skin, athleisure—all of these trends that were just catching on in the States had already come and gone in Seoul. But the so-called rules and guidelines of dating got more confusing the more she read about them.

  At least cramming on how to be an American teenage girl was more fun than cramming for US history or math.

  On the screen in front of her, the icon of the Korean Air plane slowly trudged across the map. A red dotted line stretched across the Pacific Ocean, from Korea to California. Ten hours remained. Each second dragged on, and each minute felt like an eternity. Jisu sighed. Until she was back in Seoul, every moment leading up to her return would feel infinitely longer.

  Euni’s words lingered in Jisu’s mind. Do YOU.

  JULY 9, SUMMER BREAK

  DATE NO. 2

  NAME: Yu Jinwoo

  * * *

  INTERESTS:

  Squash, Young Investor’s Club

  * * *

  Parent Occupations:

  Retired surgeon; Cardiologist

  * * *

  JinwOO: What do you think of this place? Great, isn’t it?

  Jisu: It’s beautiful! I know hotel lobbies can get fancy, but this might be the fanciest place I’ve gone just to get coffee!

  JinwOO: Not just any coffee, Jisu. The coffee beans they use here are overnighted straight from Colombia. Apparently the Park Hyatt is the only other hotel in Seoul that gets them.

  Jisu: Oh, wow. Are you really into coffee?

  JinwOO: I’m into anything that’s good quality. I don’t know why people would have it any other way, really.

  Jisu: I mean, I could think of a few reasons why—like not having the means for the fanciest coffee beans in the world.