Swimming Through the Dawn

by R. P. Rioux

  "Much better," responded Heather, "but consider this option." She repeated Grace's kissing gesture, but instead of cupping her chin all at once, timed her actions to coincide with the beats of the rap. The effect made it appear as though she was playing the piano.

  "Oh, sweet. That has style."

  "Fans notice subtle details," Heather said. "Producers too."

  "To be honest, this entire experience has been a shock."

  "How so?"

  "I expected more, I don't know, cattiness, I guess."

  "Wrong mindset," Heather said. "Consider the big picture."

  "That's what I mean. Why is everybody helping me?

  "Trust is crucial to teamwork."

  "But we're competing for the same spots."

  "Bettering yourself is fine, but always act with regard for others."

  Grace wrinkled her brow.

  "Trust demonstrates commitment," she explained. "As the team becomes stronger, you become stronger." Heather could relate to Grace. They'd both been born and raised in the U.S. to Korean parents before relocating to Korea. English was their preferred way of communicating as it kept native language skills sharp. Heather had learned many tough lessons over the past three years and was eager to share her knowledge. Grace welcomed her advice and appreciated the companionship. They had quickly become inseparable.

  New trainees commonly felt isolated at first. With entrenched cliques and delineated hierarchies, each fresh addition sent ripples through the established order like pebbles thrown into a pond. Yet the regularity with which turnover happened kept every trainee sharp. Security was a fleeting notion, even after a job well done. Trainees engaged in monthly evaluations for fitness, talent, personality, and performance, among other qualities. Complacency invited dismissal.

  Heather knew from experience today's awkward newbie could become tomorrow's fervent rival. The best defense was constant improvement. Her goal was to demonstrate irreplaceable value at each opportunity. At the same time, she was mindful they were all were working towards the same goal, forming a group. While each member contributed their own skills, they'd be judged on their effectiveness as a team. Without the ability to function as part of a cohesive unit, even the most talented member would fail. This was the lesson Heather hoped to impart.

  "My first evaluation is in three days. I don't know if I'm ready," Grace said.

  "Pace yourself."

  "I don't want to fail in my first month."

  "Remember what I said. You're judged not only against others but yourself."

  "What does that mean, though?"

  "Strike the right balance. Compete. Yes. Avoid being the worst. Yes. But if you don't show improvement from month to month, producers will dismiss you as lazy."

  "So, I should try hard but leave room for growth?"

  "If you're confident you'll be better next month, do your best today."

  "Are you sure about this?"

  "Balance, Grace. And trust."

  * * *

  One month later, on a lovely day in late summer, the two friends visited Jamwon Hangang Riverside Park for a jog. The thought of shutting themselves inside a gym for their daily workout routine was disheartening. Chilly weather was around the corner, and they wanted to enjoy the sunshine while they could. After running four kilometers, they spotted a food truck with a hand-painted sign on the side advertising hamburgers. A refreshment break was in order, they decided.

  While the line ahead was long, it moved quickly. "Are you heading home for the holiday?" Grace asked.

  Heather sighed. "It's unavoidable."

  "Geez, don't be so enthusiastic."

  "What's it like having parents who actually care about your dreams?"

  "I appreciate them. They let me move here on my own. But you've been at the agency for three years now."

  "True, but I'm convinced my folks are just waiting to see me fail—and spectacularly."

  Grace snorted. "I doubt that."

  "You haven't met them."

  "You're bound to disappoint, then."

  "Now you're catching on."

  They ordered banana milks and sat on a riverside bench to sip them slowly. Rain clouds appeared on the horizon to the north. What had been a slight breeze intensified.

  "What attracts you to idoldom, Grace?"

  She tilted her head from side to side. "I haven't thought about it much. Seems fun, though."

  "Everyone says that. But what specifically appeals to you?" Heather didn't wait for an answer. "For me, it's the feeling I get singing before an audience. I want to touch people with my music; make a difference in their lives. If I could do that—Oh, my." She shuddered with excitement at the thought.

  "Do you suppose we'll ever get a chance?"

  "I don't know what I'd do with myself otherwise."

  "You're a model trainee. It's time they recognize that."

  "I do what they ask. I want the agency to be proud of me." She stood and grabbed Grace's empty bottle intending to recycle it. "Let's go. We need to finish our run before that storm rolls in."

  * * *

  "Call the police! A stranger's in our house!"

  Heather's brother Andrew sat before the TV playing Kingdom of Legends. He had ceased the torrid pace of enemy slaying long enough to assess the intruder before commencing with his virtual castle siege.

  "Hardy-har," said Heather, leaving her shoes in the tiled foyer and stepping onto the pristine wood floor in stockings. "Is Mom home?"

  "Kitchen."

  Ji-woo emerged, looking exasperated. She took one look at her daughter and smiled. "Hi, Heather. Did you get the songpyeon?"

  "I stopped by the shop near Bangi station. They had more left than expected." She collapsed her suitcase's lift handle, unzipped its front pocket, and wrested a mangled plastic bag full of holiday rice cakes to present to her mother. "It got a little smushed. Sorry."

  "Your father went to pick up your uncle's family. They're excited to see you again. You were a child last time we all spent Chuseok together. And you've yet to even meet your cousins."

  "When will they get here?"

  "Not until late, I imagine. The traffic from Goyang is terrible tonight. If you feel like sleeping early, you can meet them in the morning."

  With multiple cooking appliances operating at once, the apartment was balmy. The scent of freshly cut vegetables and heated cooking oil permeated the room. Heather's base of operations stretched across the kitchen table. As her mother handed over trays of sliced lotus root and sweet potatoes, Heather dipped them into an egg and flour batter. Once appropriately coated, she placed the savory cakes on the electric griddle, flipping each one once until both sides were crispy golden-brown. It took a while to establish a good rhythm, but her delectable jeon-making operation was now flying.

  "It's not like we live far away. You can't visit more than twice a year?"

  "Between school and rehearsals, I get three or four hours of sleep as it is. That's with the dorm only five minutes away. The thought of adding a long subway ride on top of it —"

  "I have to get used to you being gone, I guess. Especially with college on the horizon."

  College. Heather knew that sensitive subject would inevitably arise during the holiday weekend. All her efforts to devise a strategy for avoiding it failed. She had no choice but to address the matter directly. "Yeah, about that."

  Her mother, sensing a lack of enthusiasm, stopped slicing long enough to face her. She waved her cutting knife at Heather as she spoke. "Your father's expecting you to go to university. Early entry deadlines are coming. Have you prepared?"

  "I mean, can't it wait? At least until I know for sure."

  "Know what for sure? This is non-negotiable, Heather."

  "My agency is debuting a new girl group soon. That's what rumors say."

  "Rumors," her mother scoffed. "You can't put your life on hold for rumors."

  "I've been working towards this for years. What's the rush? College will always be the
re."

  "Your father has it planned out. Since he's paying for it, you must follow his schedule. Surely you can see the value?"

  "She's scared she won't get in," her brother said, unexpectedly appearing in the kitchen doorway, interrupting their conversation. Heather stuck her tongue out at him, but not before he used the distraction to steal three jeon from the cooling platter.

  "You brat! At least take the ugly ones." She watched helplessly as he slipped away from view with his ill-gotten booty.

  "We had an agreement," Ji-woo said as she returned to slicing. "We'd let you attend the agency through high school as long as you kept your grades up."

  "And I have."

  "But high school's almost over."

  "Most idols debut around my age. Why would I leave now?"

  "Good luck convincing your father of that. He's been more than patient."

  Heather replaced the stolen jeon with fresh ones from the griddle. "Appa doesn't take my dreams seriously. Not for one minute."

  "He has his reasons. Try to see through his eyes."

  "And with that, I won the grand prize," Heather said, beaming. "The first one in K-Pop." She looked around the table, gauging the reactions of family members who had gathered for the annual feast. Uncle Tae-sung and Aunt Hyo-sonn offered strained smiles. Mother glanced at her father, Dae-hee, whose expression remained blank. Heather's two young cousins played with wooden blocks on the floor, oblivious to the conversation. Andrew seized the opportunity to mock his sister with a series of facial gestures. She chose to ignore him. "Anyway, the galbi feast was amazing. Best meal ever! Everyone at the agency was so grateful."

  "Your mother works hard to make the meals she does," her father said.

  Heather looked at Ji-woo with alarm. "Oh, I didn't mean anything by that, Umma, I'm just saying. Masheesuhyo!"

  "It's okay, Heather, I understand." Her reassurance felt disingenuous.

  The block tower her cousins were building came crashing down. Dae-hee looked annoyed at the disturbance but didn't admonish them. "Andrew's on track to finish at the top of his class!" he said, changing the subject. A roar of enthusiasm greeted this news.

  "Oh, that's wonderful, Andrew! Congratulations," Tae-sung said.

  Hyo-sonn added, "I tell my friends, 'That boy will run a company someday, just you wait.'" Heather had difficulty envisioning that outcome unless, of course, there was a sudden demand for CEOs who were avid gamers.

  "Will you stay here or go abroad?" asked Tae-sung of Andrew.

  "I'd prefer he aim for a California school when the time comes," said Dae-hee, answering on his son's behalf. "But we have another to send off first."

  Heather chafed at the renewed attention.

  "So, what are your plans, Heather?" Hyo-sonn asked.

  "Keun eomoni —" She stopped short of responding, unable to find the exact words that would please all occupants at the table.

  Andrew exploited her hesitation by volunteering a suggestion. "I hear there's a shortage of tomato pickers." Her relatives burst into laughter. The cousins stopped gathering blocks long enough to witness the outburst.

  "I'm sure she has better options. Right, Heather?" Aunt Hyo-sonn's mild defense failed to mask her amusement.

  "That boy. I don't know what gets into him sometimes," her mother said, shaking her head with a grin. Heather had a few ideas but wasn't keen to share them. She reached for the japchae to take her mind off the humiliation. The scent of garlic stir-fried noodles with beef and vegetables reminded her of childhood.

  "I was hoping my daughter would take an interest in medical school, but that dream died years ago."

  "You're the one who wanted that, Appa."

  "Maybe a law degree then," Uncle Tae-sung asked. "Have you considered that?"

  "Not my strong suit," Heather responded. She glared at Andrew, who was still chuckling.

  "No, of course not," Aunt Hyo-sonn said.

  "I'm thinking a business degree would work for her. Finance or management, for example."

  "That's an excellent idea, Ji-woo. How about a business degree, Heather?"

  Hoping acquiescence would bring the discussion to a rapid end, she opted for the path of least resistance. "Sure. Why not?"

  The day before Heather returned to the agency, her mother demanded she sort through old boxes slated for discard. The closet space was necessary for storage, and Heather hadn't touched the belongings in years. Upon inspection, most of it was indeed junk. Toys and books were set aside for donation. Heather's old school projects were destined for recycling. She kept much of her old artwork, however, particularly those exhibiting merit or evoking specific memories.

  A box of half-used colored chalks reminded her of the elaborate sidewalk illustrations she used to create. Passersby would comment on how lovely the neighborhood looked with depictions of smiling flowers and abundant sun rays.

  One especially ambitious project came in the wake of a family trip to the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve in California. Inspired by the occasion, the next day, seven-year-old Heather promptly set to work on her latest masterpiece. Stretching along both sides of the street, for most of one block, it was a massive illustration depicting hundreds of poppies. She had worn her orange and green chalks to nubs by the time she finished. The family driveway featured an elaborately-framed message of well-wishing in bright explosions of color. While it took most of Sunday to complete, she was proud of her achievement, and eagerly awaited her father's return from a business trip. So excited was she to see his reaction, she camped on the lawn to witness it firsthand.

  When he did arrive, to her dismay, he ignored it. Rather than stopping to admire the drawing, he drove straight onto the driveway and parked on top of it. Maybe he didn't see it, she thought. Running to greet him, she said, "Welcome home, Daddy," as he exited. "Do you like my drawing?"

  He took one look at the driveway, then noticed the art stretching down the entire block. "Our neighbors will call the police if you keep this up." Rounding the rear of the vehicle, he stopped long enough to read the few words that remained unobstructed. "Heather, how could you be so careless? What on earth is wrong with you?" He pointed at what she wrote. "Since when do you spell nice with an S? Change it immediately. I don't want people thinking my daughter is an idiot." Without another word, he went inside.

  Alone on the pavement, Heather used her copious tears to wipe away the error.

  3

  Grace

  The passenger van was full, but three of Grace's fellow trainees remained outside.

  "Go to another van," team leader Da-som instructed.

  "They're both gone already," a member of the isolated trio protested.

  "We don't have room here."

  Grace evaluated the 12-seat van. "It'll be tight," she countermanded, "but if we squish together, they should be able to fit." Da-som looked miffed at being overruled, but with no better alternative, allowed them to enter. After much chaos and good-natured ribbing, the occupants finally settled.

  37-G had treated the entire trainee class to a taping of Mnet's latest music program. In what was a rare break from monotonous routine, the girls were flush with excitement from the adventure and chatted ceaselessly. Besides seeing Got7 perform in person, they witnessed a live television production, which marked a first for most. Their producer justified the excursion as a learning experience, and it was hard to argue with the results. Grace took mental notes of her observations for later inquiry.

  One long-haired girl sitting in the front seat shared an anecdote about touching singer Youngjae as he walked by. This prompted a general debate over the standards of professionalism trainees were expected to adhere to, even if they were not yet technically part of the industry. Grace listened intently for a while but lost interest. Enjoying a window seat, she preferred to watch the passing streetscape instead. The rhythmic purr of tires on pavement nearly put her to sleep, but the sudden application of brakes, at one point, jolted her to consciousness.

 
Rose, an ordinarily quiet girl sitting next to her, used the opportunity to engage in conversation. "Exciting news today, huh?"

  Grace wasn't sure she followed. "You mean the taping?"

  "You don't know?" Rose exclaimed, ecstatic at being the first to share the report. "Baram overheard two executives talking on break. The rumors are true. They're debuting the new girl group in March. Can you believe it?"