Swimming Through the Dawn

by R. P. Rioux

  "You give me too much credit." Mindy tossed her arms open. "Does this look like the home of a woman who has her act together?"

  Erin scanned the apartment once more, despite knowing what she'd find. "Okay, I wasn't going to say anything," she said with a giggle, "but I see your point."

  20

  Heather

  Just before finals week, Heather anticipated the first-ever meeting of Made in Heaven's complete dance unit. This represented a new milestone, and she was excited to see what the moment would bring.

  The group found their elusive seventh member through a casting call. Her name was Julie Walker, a white student of English background who also studied at St. Ignatius. With copious singing and dancing experience, she had an outgoing and dominant personality. Her petite frame fit the group's visual profile. Julie's major drawback was her inability to speak Korean, making her the third such member with that limitation. They had a scant choice but to choose her, though. Most who auditioned were either grossly ill-suited to K-Pop, or thoroughly lacking in talent.

  One initially promising candidate, June Kwan, looked to be certain idol material. She spoke Korean but in an unusual dialect. As an aspiring model, she would have been the perfect candidate for the group's main visual. Unfortunately, she had severely botched the audition. Extreme nervousness sabotaged what was otherwise a likable demeanor. After much ardent discussion, Julie's assured performance won out.

  For the occasion, Heather had borrowed an unused classroom in a neglected annex tucked away behind the university's physical plant. Grace stood amid a semicircle of chairs reviewing their proposed schedule of activities for next semester. One vacant chair was reserved for Julie, who remained absent. "I know most of you are preparing for finals," said Grace, "Hopefully, tonight won't take long."

  "When will our video be shown?" asked Sun-hee.

  "During finals week. Steve'll text us with the exact time."

  "Have you seen it?" asked Erin.

  "No, but he sounds excited."

  The door squeaked open, and a petite girl with tanned white skin entered the room. Her oak colored hair was tied in a ponytail. She wore brand-name orange workout clothes. "Hi, is this the—Oh yes, I recognize you." Her loud voice echoed sharply in the mostly empty room. Grace welcomed her. Following a round of introductions, the group returned to their seats. Julie hesitated as she assessed the seating arrangement. "When will the rest arrive?" she asked.

  The others exchanged glances, puzzled by her question. "This is everyone. We're a group of seven," answered Heather.

  "Why? What were you expecting?" asked Mindy suspiciously.

  Julie's pupils dilated. "I wasn't sure if there were— if I was the only—"

  An awkward pause.

  "You're the only non-Asian," blurted Vanessa, her jaw clenched. "Why? Is that a problem?"

  Julie opened her mouth as if to protest but thought better of it. "Oh, no. I didn't know is all."

  "You'll fit in perfectly," said Sun-hee, placing her hand on the vacant chair next to her in a welcoming gesture. Julie took the seat and removed the scrunchy from her hair, letting her locks fall loose.

  To break the ice, Grace encouraged members to share their backgrounds. When Julie's turn came, she flipped her hair and continuously combed it with her hands as she spoke. "My parents own a navigation technology company. We live in Palos Verdes Estates. In high school, I won regionals for my cheerleader squad and starred in Carousel during my senior year. Here at SIU, I've been a key member of two dance teams."

  Vanessa tapped her foot on the ground repeatedly.

  When the formalities were over, it was time for Heather to formally introduce their newest song. Music sheets were distributed for "Feel the Heat," which Heather and Grace had recently finished. It was a hard-driving, up-tempo dance song regarding lost patience with a low effort boyfriend. Heather had previously sent a demo and encouraged the members to familiarize themselves with the lyrics.

  "Did we really hafta learn the whole thing if we're only singing one part?" asked Vanessa.

  "Lines will be distributed according to suitability. We need to hear everyone's take on it."

  "Are we singing together or individually?" asked Julie.

  "Every member will get a turn in the spotlight. Fans always want to see their biases."

  "Are you the lead singer?" asked Julie of Heather.

  "No, Sun-hee is."

  "Really?" Julie jerked her head back.

  "Heather's the main singer," noted Grace.

  "That's what I thought, but why did she say Sun-hee is?"

  "She didn't."

  "She did too. I just heard her!"

  "No, she said Sun-hee is the lead singer," explained Mindy.

  "And Heather is the main," repeated Grace.

  "Why are you all messing with me?" asked Julie, her frustration growing.

  "We're not," said Mindy.

  "You are! The main and the lead are the same thing!"

  "Okay, time out," said Grace.

  "I had this same question, Julie," said Erin.

  "I can explain," said Grace. "You're using the two words interchangeably, but in K-Pop, they're different, it turns out."

  "How?" Julie asked.

  "Look at it this way," explained Mindy. "The lead singer is responsible for a strong start, whereas the main singer kicks it up a notch during the most demanding parts."

  "Why didn't you say that?"

  "We did," said Vanessa.

  "No —"

  "Enough," said Heather, regaining control of the proceedings. "Julie, I'm sorry. I should have explained it better. I assumed you knew what I was referring to." Heather put away her copy of the music. "Are you ready for the level tests?"

  "What's the point of these rankings?" asked Julie.

  "To show our relative strengths and weaknesses, and identify improvement areas," explained Grace.

  The vocal test was to be conducted without accompaniment, not even a metronome. This, Heather felt, was the best way to gain a true understanding of each singer's level. Sun-hee was asked to go first. Heather was already familiar with her talent, so this was mainly a formality. She could cover all singing parts regardless of difficulty. Her bright sound could warm the coldest winter. Mindy's singing voice was pleasant and refreshing, like sunlight on water. She'd make a strong harmonizer but lacked the power to be a full-time lead. Grace's specialty was rap, but when carrying a melody, was strictly chorus level.

  Heather paid close attention to the last three members. For one, they'd have to work on their Korean pronunciations to sound the least bit convincing. Erin, having a thin voice with scant power, was limited in ability, but was at least studying the language. Korean, though, was utterly foreign to both Vanessa and Julie. She hoped they'd at least sing phonetically. For their benefit, the lyrics were provided in romanized form.

  Vanessa proved a weak soloist, but Grace, on a lark, taught her a straightforward rap. To everyone's surprise, it worked well. The pair had the makings of a respectable rap duo. Julie had the talent to sing lead, but her style was more suited to rock than pop. After three failed attempts at singing Korean, Julie lost interest altogether and stopped midway through. "I don't understand why these lyrics aren't in English. No one will know what we're saying."

  Heather struggled to formulate a response, but Mindy beat her to it. "It wouldn't be K-Pop, then, would it?"

  "Why make it harder on ourselves?"

  "We didn't say it would be easy," noted Grace.

  "Who'll even listen to this?"

  Nobody volunteered a response.

  With the singing exercise coming to an abrupt halt, Vanessa taught the group the choreography she had prepared for the dance portion of the level test. Mindy proved a capable dancer, though it was clear she had grown rusty and struggled with fitness. Sun-hee was not a quick learner, but her peak physical condition suggested she'd be a capable dancer. Grace had superior dance skills but was less physically fit. While lacki
ng formal training, Erin's naturally lithe body was tailor-made for K-Pop. She'd need to improve her line development, however.

  Julie struggled here too. She was an advanced dancer but had grown accustomed to the high-energy, athletic, hip hop style most prevalent in the university's premier dance groups. She'd have to be broken of those habits and taught to appreciate the more subtle approach Heather envisioned. Her efforts to mold Julie with constructive suggestions were met with constant resistance.

  The longer the evening went on, the more irritable Julie became. "Wait, are you serious? That's not even possible," she countered when Vanessa mentioned the fact they'd be performing in heels.

  "It's not uncommon for girl groups," explained Mindy.

  "No other dance team here does that. Why cripple ourselves?"

  * * *

  The phone call came two days later.

  "I'm sorry to lay this on you, but I have some awful news," said Julie.

  "What's wrong?" asked Heather.

  "I have a viral infection in my throat, and my doctor recommended I stop singing to let it heal."

  Heather wanted to sound sympathetic but couldn't muster much. She had a feeling this would happen.

  "My friends say it's best if you go on without me. It'll take a while to heal."

  * * *

  She froze when she read her mother's text. Marked top priority, it read:

  8:20 P.M. Ji-woo: Father will be in L.A. tomorrow! He wants to meet for dinner.

  That was it. The linked itinerary indicated Dae-hee would arrive on Asiana and stay for 26 hours. Heather called Grace to explain why she would miss rehearsal.

  "Does he know about the band?"

  "He won't reveal his cards in advance."

  * * *

  Despite heading against the flow of rush hour traffic, her drive to the Intercontinental Hotel in downtown L.A. was a struggle. She arrived 35 minutes late, during which she received three texts. They were ignored until she reached the hotel. All were from Dae-hee inquiring of her whereabouts.

  Near the tower elevators, she heard him calling her name from across the marbled lobby. His appearance was startling. Not that he looked different, just the realization that she hadn't seen him in months was what struck her. It was the longest period she'd ever been away from him. That made her feel old for some reason.

  "I've been waiting an hour," he said brusquely.

  "It hasn't been that long, Appa," countered Heather. "And nice seeing you too."

  He grinned faintly. "It's been a long day. I'm hungry. Have you eaten?"

  They opted for Koreatown. Dae-hee's business associate had recommended a new seafood restaurant there, and he was excited to try it. Heather found no reason to object.

  The steamy scent of boiling chili-based stock welcomed them. The hostess selected an isolated booth in a remote corner of the restaurant with a broad view onto Wilshire Boulevard. A pool of golden-orange light emanated from an ornamental lamp above their heads. Its warm glow pushed away the crisp cerulean and jade atmosphere of the eatery's minimalist décor. They ordered shrimp tempura; sundubu jjigae, a spicy tofu stew with oysters; ojingeo-bokkeum, squid stir-fried with vegetables in a chili sauce; and octopus with somen noodles.

  Their conversation began innocently enough. Dae-hee explained his purpose for the trip was to secure a deal with a potential new client. Negotiations, in general, were dragging, and his company thought a more personal touch would expedite matters. In the end, though, the effort failed to produce tangible results.

  "I won't be able to get more than a few hours' sleep before heading to the airport in the morning," he said.

  "I'm sorry for keeping you up."

  "No, I didn't mean that. Part of the reason I accepted this assignment was to see you."

  She looked pleased but viewed the declaration with skepticism.

  "Your brother was accepted to Stanford. He starts next year."

  "That's wonderful. I'm sure you're proud of Andrew." Heather felt the need to acknowledge the news positively, though it reinforced her relative unworthiness in Appa's eyes.

  "He worked hard to get in," her father said, nodding. A long moment passed as he analyzed her appearance. "What on earth possessed you to change your hair?"

  Thus, it begins. "I wanted a distinct look is all."

  "It's not professional. I hope you're taking your studies seriously."

  "I'm in college, Appa, not applying for a job."

  "There's more to college than attending class and completing assignments. You need to start networking; lay the groundwork for your career. Talk to your brother. He understands."

  Heather had no response. She tried to recall Appa ever saying anything positive about her.

  "I talked to Kwan Byung-hoon this morning."

  Who? She stared blankly at him.

  "The internship I mentioned? I see you've done nothing to pursue that. Naturally."

  She'd forgotten their earlier conversation. Her knee bounced vigorously, as she hoped Dae-hee would change the subject. Unfortunately, he did.

  "Be honest with me, Heather. Are you pursuing music again?" Her father stared into her eyes, daring her to turn away, or worse, lie. She was cornered.

  "Yes, Appa," she said, crumpling under the scrutiny. "How did you know?"

  "I saw photos on Facebook. Who's Steve?"

  "You were spying on me?" She crossed her arms in a huff.

  "Can you blame me? You never share your activities with me." His voice swelled with emotion, and his volume increased. "I'm so disappointed in you, Heather. I thought we had an understanding."

  She responded in kind, no longer wishing to speak discreetly. "I promised I would leave the agency, and I did."

  "That's not even the point. What's your plan? To busk for quarters on the promenade?"

  "If that's what it takes!" A white couple at a nearby table eyed them curiously. She doubted they understood Korean but felt it prudent to lower her voice. "Are you telling me you love your job so much you'd do it for free?"

  "Of course, I work for money. Starvation and homelessness don't particularly agree with me. I can't believe you haven't realized that basic fact by now."

  "Admit it. That's not why you're dead set against me singing. Is it?"

  Her father appeared bewildered as if he were seeing her in a fresh light. "Of course, I care for your wellbeing. Why else would I work so hard? Someday, you'll see there's dignity in a quiet life." After an interminable silence, he continued. "I never told you about your grandmother, did I?"

  "Halmoni loved music, but you didn't share details, other than she was a pansori singer."

  "There's more to it than that. Do you know why it's called waterfall singing?"

  "Sort of."

  "They spend years training in isolation, singing in front of waterfalls to break their voices. That's how they learn their genuine tone."

  "I find that level of dedication impressive."

  "Do you know how she died?"

  "You told me she got sick."

  "She drowned herself."

  Dae-hee stated it matter-of-factly, without sugarcoating it. His words chilled her to the bone. She pushed against her seat to put as much distance between them as possible while remaining in the booth. "Did that hit close to home?" he asked.

  "Why?"

  "Why did she do it?"

  Why did he ask me that?

  "Your grandmother was so obsessed with becoming the ideal pansori singer she paid the ultimate price. Once she concluded her own lofty standards of authenticity were unattainable, the only escape in her mind was suicide."

  Heather spent long moments processing this information. Their server came to clear plates. He returned moments later with tempura ice cream desserts, which Dae-hee ate, but Heather left untouched.

  "There must be another reason," suggested Heather finally. "Did that ever cross your mind? You blame it on singing because you don't understand. Have you ever chased a dream?"

  "
My dream is to raise a successful family."

  "Why didn't you tell me before?"

  "You weren't old enough. At least that's how I felt. Your mother disagreed." Heather wished she'd known sooner, but news of that sort would always be hard to take.