“Your name is Dave? Nice to meet you,” Mr. Kim said as he shook Dave’s hand. He turned to Jisu. “You never told us you were friends with such a good-looking kid. And Korean, too!”
Linda laughed and Jeff smiled at this remark. Jisu felt her face go beet red, just like her mother’s whenever she had one sip of soju. She looked to Mandy for some comfort, but she was too busy piling pieces of grilled meat onto her plate. She looked at Dave but he was still looking down at his sneakers, probably feeling the same level of discomfort. When was this song and dance going to be over?
“Well, your daughter is such a nice young lady. I love it whenever she comes over. She has such nice manners. Some of these teenage girls just don’t have noonchi, you know?”
“Noonchi? What does that mean?” Jeff asked.
“Tact and sense. But Jisu—she has a lot of noonchi.” Mrs. Kang looked over at Jisu. “Jisu-ya, you can come over to ajumma’s house, even when my son’s not around. I’ll make you Korean food when you get homesick for it.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Mrs. Kim said. “And as a mother, that makes me feel good to know someone’s making her Korean food.”
“Is your whole family out to celebrate the holidays?” Linda asked. “We heard this was the best Korean BBQ place in town and we wanted to take the Kims somewhere worthy.”
“It is the best. And actually, we’re out to celebrate something else—my son just got early admission to his top college choice. Harvard!” The joy in Mrs. Kang’s voice was exactly what you’d expect to hear from a Korean mother whose child got accepted into Harvard: pure, unadulterated joy.
Jisu was surprised to hear the news. When had he found out? Everyone at Wick was dying to hear from their early-acceptance choices, and most shouted the news from the rooftops the moment they found out they got in.
Harvard? she mouthed at Dave, and gave him a look as if to say, Why didn’t you tell me?
“Congratulations! That is a major accomplishment,” Mr. Kim said. Jisu felt her mother’s eyes on her. Mrs. Kim’s gaze translated to, You hear that? Harvard. Your American friend here was able to do it.
“My boy is going to Harvard!” Mrs. Kang said, louder now. Some of the other customers turned to look at them.
“Mom, you really don’t have to yell,” Dave said through his teeth with a smile.
“What are you talking about? Jisu is still working on her regular admission applications. Early action must mean you’re an especially outstanding student. If my daughter managed to get into a school like Harvard, I would be telling every stranger I passed on the street,” Mrs. Kim said.
Managed to get in? She really never showed any faith in me, her own daughter, her only child. Jisu looked to Haraboji for help, but he had already checked out of the conversation and continued his meal. The elderly could do whatever they wanted. They were excused from having to participate in any social niceties.
Jisu could sense Mrs. Kim shifting gears.
“So, just how much time are our kids spending together?”
“I don’t know, but every time Jisu comes over, I tell Dave how much better she is than the other girls he brings home.”
Mandy choked on her water. Jisu wanted to choke on her food so everyone could stop talking.
“Other girls! Dave, you must be popular. I mean, look at how tall he is!” Jeff commented.
“No, no. He could pick up some Korean manners from your daughter. How can a girl be both so pretty and so well-raised?”
The more the adults prattled on, the more Jisu wanted to bury her head in the ground. Jeff and Linda returned to their meal, but her mother and Dave’s mother shifted to Korean and continued chatting away. Jisu and Dave collectively rolled their eyes. They were being suffocated by an annoying, strong force of parental energy. Jisu wanted to die of embarrassment, but it looked like Dave wanted to die also, and that was comforting in its own weird way.
“Look, Mom, Auntie Kay is waving at us. We should go,” Dave said, even though everyone at their table was still studying the menu and no one was motioning to them.
“Yes, we don’t want to hold you up from your meal,” Jisu said, following his lead.
“Aigoo, always so thoughtful, your Jisu,” Mrs. Kang remarked to Mrs. Kim.
A major wave of relief washed over her as Dave and his mother walked to their table. If the small talk had continued any longer, she would’ve gotten indigestion.
“So?” Mrs. Kim looked at her daughter with a strange eagerness. “Anything you want to tell us about Dave?”
“Yeah, Jisu. That’s the first I ever heard or saw of him,” Linda joined in.
“You know everything there is to know. He’s a friend from Wick. And he just got into Harvard. That’s all.”
Jisu wrapped a large piece of pork belly into another perilla leaf, shoved the whole thing in her mouth and hoped she wouldn’t have to talk any longer about Dave and whatever ideas her parents now had about him.
DECEMBER 20, SAN FRANCISCO
DATE NO. 18
NAME: Jang Jaeson aka Jason
* * *
INTERESTS:
Tennis, Video Games, Law
* * *
Parent Occupations:
Economics professor; Architectural engineer
* * *
JASON: Deuce! Damn, Jisu. You’re catching up. You’re pretty good at tennis.
Jisu: I took some lessons in Seoul. That was after I tried to take ballet classes for half a year...right before I took figure skating lessons like every other Korean girl who wanted to be like Kim Yuna.
JASON: Guess I should stop going easy on you, then.
Jisu: Oh, is that your excuse for giving up the lead? That was out! Serve again.
JASON: That wasn’t out!
Jisu: It definitely was.
JASON: Okay, I don’t think it was but I’ll serve again. Can’t go full-beast mode on you yet.
Jisu: Are you saying I’m not a worthy opponent?
JASON: Not at all. It’s just that I’ve been playing for like a million years. I’ll ease into the game for you.
Jisu: No. Play your best. I don’t care.
JASON: You sure?
Jisu: Yeah, I’m sure! If I’m going to win, it’ll be because I actually beat you. Not because you let me.
JASON: All right. Somebody’s competitive. Well, now I have the advantage point.
Jisu: You still need to score one more to win the game.
JASON: Yeah, I know how tennis works.
Jisu: Deuce again! See, I’m not so bad.
JASON: How many times have we tied up now?
Jisu: Honestly, I’m losing count. Are you sure you’re still not going easy on me? For someone who’s been playing for a million years, I thought you’d be—
JASON: Advantage! If you keep yapping, I’m going to finish this game right here.
Jisu: This game isn’t over.
JASON: Game! I win. You sure about that? Hey, that was actually a good round.
Jisu: It only got interesting when you decided to actually play.
JASON: You’re kind of really competitive, aren’t you?
Jisu: After going to Daewon in Seoul and now Wick, it would be weird if I hadn’t developed a competitive streak.
JASON: Fair enough. Everyone at my high school is crazy competitive, too. They’re all trying to do a million sports or get an internship at Facebook while they’re still in high school.
Jisu: Water break?
JASON: Why, you feeling tired already? I’ve only just started. You said so yourself.
Jisu: I’m not tired! Just need a breather. Also looks like you could use it, too. You’re sweating an awful lot.
JASON: You know, the other times I’ve taken girls to play tennis on seons, it’s never ended up like this.
Jisu: Like what?
JASON: Like a legit game and full sets. With sweating and tiebreakers.
Jisu: Oh, did you expect me to be all cutesy and ask you to teach me how to do a backhand? And then hope I’d be impressed by your years of tennis expertise?
JASON: Okay, no. Not quite like that.
Jisu: But some version of that, huh? Okay, that was only the fourth game. Two more. I can still win this set.
JASON: Here—it’s your turn to serve.
Jisu: Yes! 15–0.
JASON: Love.
Jisu: What?
JASON: It’s 15–love. Not zero.
Jisu: Oh. Right. I always forget that. Love means zero.
JASON: Whoever coined that was definitely a heartbroken cynic.
Jisu: Yeah, and I bet they’d hate to see you try to use tennis to woo over girls.
JASON: Is that what I’m doing? Wooing you right now?
Jisu: 30–love. Not if you keep letting me score like this! Where’s your best at, Jason?
JASON: I am trying! This might be the first time I actually lose a whole set on a seon without meaning to.
19
It was unfair how quickly holiday break came and went. The two weeks that Jisu’s family was in town felt all too short. Haraboji and her parents were long gone, but the floor of Jisu’s room was still covered with crumpled Christmas wrapping paper and gold ribbons. If she never picked them up, maybe it would still be Christmas and her family would still be in the same city with her.
Being apart from them for a few months had really made Jisu cherish her family’s presence. She even spent New Year’s Eve with them. Tiffany was throwing a party in her parents’ basement as she did every year, but Jisu didn’t even entertain the thought of ditching Haraboji and her parents on one of their final nights.
Are you sure? Tiffany had asked. We’re going to miss you!
I think Austin’s going to be there, Hiba had mentioned. Would that change your mind?
If anything, it only made Jisu double down on her decision. He didn’t want to meet her family and didn’t seem to want to spend much time with her either. Austin hadn’t really reached out to Jisu over the break, except for random one-off texts that led nowhere and leaving the occasional prayer hands or heart-eye emoji comments on her Instagram posts. He wasn’t ignoring her, but it was more like he was leaving small breadcrumbs of communication so he could pick things back up with her whenever it was convenient for him. Each breadcrumb chipped away at Jisu’s icy, resolute determination to keep away from Austin. But it also gave her a twinge of chest pain each time. He wanted to see her, but not in the same way she wanted to see him.
On New Year’s Eve, Hiba bombarded Jisu’s phone with photos of herself, Jamie and Tiffany at the New Year’s party, but for once Jisu was immune to FOMO. She rang in the New Year quietly with her family, the four of them snuggled on the couch, watching the countdown on TV. The next morning, Mrs. Kim made rice-cake soup as she did every single year. The moment Jisu lifted the spoonful of soup to her lips, took a sip and let the warmth of home cooking wash over her, she knew she had made the right decision.
The constant time Jisu spent with her family made saying goodbye more difficult. After they parted, a quiet stillness returned, like the emptiness of a home after all the party guests have left. But there was just one more semester remaining, and then Jisu would be back in Seoul.
Jisu groaned as she picked herself up off her bed. She heaved herself forward and forced herself to pick up the trash. Break was over. She had to get back on track.
At least all her college applications were now finally sent out and done. Jisu had saved Harvard for last. She’d given her best efforts, spent parts of her break embellishing her essay and adding letters of recommendations from her teachers at Wick to enhance her application.
When school resumed, everyone else also quickly sprang back into motion. Jamie and Tiffany weren’t their usual social selves at lunch. Instead of floating from one table to another and catching up with everyone, they planted themselves down and revised each other’s college essays. Jamie was armed with a purple gel pen and Tiffany with a red ballpoint pen.
“What are you circling so much?” Jamie asked. She looked at her essay in Tiffany’s hand. “Seeing all that red ink is making me nervous, Tiff.”
“Don’t worry, I’m circling both the good and bad parts.”
“There are bad parts?”
“Relax, girl. You said you wanted my notes, did you not?”
Watching Jamie and Tiffany bicker over final edits made Jisu feel better about being done. But a new nervous energy surrounded them...because all that was left to do was wait.
From the corner of her eye, Jisu spotted Austin. He made his way from group to group so seamlessly, like a free-flowing stream of water snaking its way down the mountain around all its curves. He looked so carefree. It was the exact opposite of how she remembered him last, sitting in her bedroom, resistant to the thought of meeting her family. Weren’t they at least friends? Mr. and Mrs. Kim had met Hiba, Jamie and Tiffany during their stay. They’d even met Dave, however unintentional and embarrassing that whole encounter had been.
Jisu could call out to Austin. She knew he would waltz over, greet her warmly and act friendly in that unnerving way. As if they were simply passing acquaintances, and just friendly enough that expressing her frustration with him would make her look crazy. Jisu knew exactly what Jamie and Tiffany would say. But he’s so nice. It’s not like he’s ignoring you. Why are you annoyed with him?
Jisu clamped her hands down and locked her eyes on her friends. She concentrated on eating lunch and not looking up from her table. She’d hoped the break would come and go and Austin would be out of her system, like a bad stomach bug. But a part of her missed him even though he was right there. She wondered if he saw her, and if he wanted to come over and say hi. Maybe all he needed was a sign, a little bit of encouragement from her.
No. Austin Velasco was not the type to need encouragement. He would come over to talk to her if he wanted to. Jisu would not be the one to concede. She was resolute, but she also hated how much she wanted to see him.
* * *
“Hey!” Dave startled Jisu. This was the first time she’d seen Dave since they’d both had to witness their mothers’ embarrassing small talk.
She was in the English literature section of the library, flipping through a copy of the Oxford Book of English Verse. School had been back in session for only a day, but she already had a test coming up next week.
“Shh! You’re going to get us kicked out!” Jisu whispered. She’d spent one too many study hall periods at the library with Hiba trying not to break into a fit of giggles. Ms. Cole, the librarian, was always looking daggers at them.
“Hey, Ms. Cole!” Dave waved at the librarian as she pushed a cart of books past them. Instead of scowling like she usually did, Ms. Cole smiled. Of course Dave could win over even grumpy Ms. Cole.
“See? She loves me. We’re good.” Dave grinned. “Anyway, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“You were looking for me?”
“I was. Two things. One—I’m so sorry my mom was being so embarrassing the other night, yelling about Harvard and all that. I’ve never felt more humiliated.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Your mom was really excited for you! She’s so cute—I love her.” Jisu closed the book of English verse and walked down the aisle. Dave followed her. “If anything, I should be apologizing,” she said. “I couldn’t stop cringing every time my parents started talking. I swear to god they send me off on so many random dates and they’re so desperate for me to date anyone at this point that they lose all sense of social norms.”
“That’s kind of the norm for Koreans though.”
“Oh, it totally is. Korean moms are always overcomplimenting each ot
her on their outfits, their kids, their husbands.”
“Yeah, it’s either that or backhanded compliments.”
“Oh, my god, it’s hilarious when ajummas go at each other with fake compliments. One time, in elementary school, this girl was mean to me. I didn’t even tell my mom but word got back to her somehow. The next day, at pickup, she went over to that girl’s mom and told her, ‘Everyone has been talking about how bold and aggressive your daughter is. I only hope that kind of pushy unladylike behavior will serve her well in academics and life.’ She actually said that.”
“Okay, well, my mom hates my aunt—my dad’s youngest sister. And every Thanksgiving, when we get together, she’ll always tell her how ‘plump and healthy’ and ‘well-fed’ she looks. You know what that’s code for. And my aunt won’t even say anything back, because she knows not to mess with my mom.”
“Your mom says that? But she legit seems so nice. I can’t imagine her saying that!”
“Well, you know how they are. If they’re on your side, you’re golden. If not, well, good luck to you.”
“Yeah, if backhanded complimenting were an Olympic sport, South Korean ajummas would win gold, silver and bronze.” Jisu laughed, maybe a little too loud for Ms. Cole’s liking, but she didn’t care. The two of them walked to the front desk and Jisu checked out her book.
“Oh, and one other thing,” Dave said. “We should figure out a time to meet one more time for the project.”
“We got a lot done last time though. We’re pretty much done, right?”
It was true. The last time they met up before the break, they had finished the PowerPoint presentation and gone over all their data. Mrs. Kang had made kimchi stew and steamed some homemade dumplings. It was easily one of the best meals she’d had in San Francisco, El Farolito burritos included.
“Yeah, but I figure we should go through it one more time and also practice doing the actual presentation.” No wonder Dave had gotten into Harvard. He did everything until it was perfect.
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