by Maurene Goo
“LA? But—but couldn’t he go by himself or with his dad? Why call you when you have the interview?” My dad was confused, not mad … yet.
I leaned my head back onto the tiled wall of the disgusting bathroom. “He didn’t know the interview was today and I didn’t want to tell him. He wanted me to go with him, not his dad. And he wasn’t in a good state to drive. He needed me.”
“Desi.”
“I know, please don’t be mad. Also, I think maybe I might be able to make it in time.” It sounded feeble, even to me.
A sigh that I had never heard before came from the other side of the line. Disappointment sigh. “This is big mistake, Desi. If Luca knew, he would not want you to do this. What if you’re late and this affects admission?”
My palms grew sweaty. He was right and I knew it. “Well, it’s too late now, right? We’re almost there and I have to be here for him now.” My voice took on a hysterical edge.
He didn’t budge from disappointment. “I’m really … This is a very, very stupid thing you did.”
Tears pricked my eyes. Regret flooded me and settled into a rock in my chest, heavy and flinty. My dad’s disappointment crushed me. Every day of my life I worked so hard so that I would never hear that in his voice. And my own self-loathing was also oppressive. What could I do, though? It was done, and Luca was out in the car, waiting for me and worried out of his mind about his mom.
My dad was quiet for a second; then his haggard voice came over the line. “You go help Luca. Don’t worry about Stanford while you drive. But call me as soon as you find out. Okay?”
I nodded, tears still in danger of spilling over. “Thanks, Appa.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
As soon as he hung up, I took a few deep breaths and walked over to the sink to splash my face with water. As I grabbed a paper towel to dry off, the reflection looking back at me was as skeptical-looking as I felt.
* * *
There was traffic. There was always traffic on the 5. What could I have been thinking.
If only we were really in a K drama, then I could drive wildly through rush hour, wheels squealing as I pulled insane moves, not giving a damn if I left a trail of car accidents behind me.
Unfortunately, this was one thing I couldn’t do no matter how much K drama heroine sass I summoned. I wanted to scream.
When we finally got to the hospital, it was four-fifteen—giving me precisely forty-five minutes to get back to Monte Vista. Which I would never do—I had seen all the opposite-flowing traffic that would await me on the way back. And when Luca grabbed my hand as soon as I was out of the car, I knew it was too late. Stanford receded into the distance, stuck in that traffic behind me.
We ran down the hospital halls holding hands, and visions of K dramas entered my head—because there was no drama in the universe that didn’t have at least one hospital scene in it. By the time we reached reception, we were out of breath.
“Hi, my mom is a patient here. Rebecca Jennings. Can you tell me what happened to her, please?” Luca asked the young nurse behind the desk.
The nurse’s blue eyes were warm and he gave us a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to release that information without her permission.”
“What! She did give permission,” Luca snapped.
I could tell by his facial expression that he was about to get really mad at this nurse. I put my hand on his arm. Before speaking, I glanced at the nurse’s name tag. “Hi, Benjamin. The thing is, he got a call from someone here, so clearly she must have given some sort of permission or how would they have known to call him?”
Benjamin appeared skeptical but then he looked something up on the computer with a few keystrokes and said, “What’s your name?”
“Luca Drakos.”
“I’m sorry. She did list you as next of kin and gave permission for us to release information to you. I expected someone older.” He read from the computer screen. “Anyway, she suffered a burst appendix but the doctors were able to perform surgery.” Luca exhaled a sigh of relief. Benjamin continued. “Yup, she’ll be fine, but you’ll want to talk to the doctor. Let me page him. You can wait over there.” He pointed to some dark green chairs in the waiting area.
It hit me then: a burst appendix. Oh my God, that’s why I missed my interview? I tried not to pass out as we walked over to the waiting room.
Luca rubbed his face with his hand. “Burst appendix. That’s not a huge deal, right?”
I nodded, unable to speak right away. After a few seconds, I cleared my throat. “Totally, a very common condition. They’ve probably done a billion of those surgeries here.” Luca’s relief was palpable and I envied him for it.
My phone buzzed again. Luca was lost in thought so I pulled it out.
Did you get to the hospital yet? My dad.
Yeah just got here. His mom had a burst appendix but will be ok. She’s out of surgery already. We’re waiting for the doctor.
There was a long moment of that ellipsis hanging out in the text bubble before my dad finally texted back: I’m glad she is ok. But I think you are going to miss interview. Even if you leave now.
I had to sit down to text him back; my legs were in danger of full-on collapse. I know. I’ll call the interviewer and tell her I had an emergency.
My dad texted back: No, you are not in good condition. Stay with Luca. I’ll call her and see if we can reschedule.
I sent him her contact info. Thanks, Appa. I’ll call you when we’re headed home.
Tell Luca I am thinking of him. Bye bye.
I clutched my phone and saw a black middle-aged doctor in scrubs approach us. Luca got out of his chair nervously and I also stood up, to hold his hand.
“Are you Ms. Jennings’s son?” the doctor asked, looking at Luca. He nodded, and I could feel his heart racing in his palm.
He reached out to shake Luca’s hand. “I’m Dr. Swift. Your mom’s had surgery to remove the burst appendix and she’s recovering very well at the moment. Okay?” He smiled kindly at Luca, who relaxed visibly. “But it did burst, which is always a bit serious. When that happens, it spills infectious materials into the abdominal cavity, so we had to put her on some heavy antibiotics.” I nodded, listening attentively. He continued. “She should be able to get up and move around in a day. Then she should be set to go home a few days after that.”
Luca looked at me. “That’s all good,” I clarified.
Dr. Swift smiled at us both. “She’s weak right now but conscious, so you can go in and see her. Room 1004. I’ll be in to discuss more details later.”
Luca nodded and replied, “Thanks so much, Dr. Swift.”
He nodded in response and walked away. Luca and I looked at each other.
“Thanks, missy,” he said with a smile.
I reached for his hand. “Of course. Hey, don’t you think you should maybe call your dad and tell him what’s happened?”
He frowned. “Why? We’re here now.”
“Well, she’s your mom, they were married once. Wouldn’t he want to know this happened?”
“I doubt he’d care.”
I shook my head. “Luca … of course he will.”
Luca was silent for a second. “Fine. But first let’s go see my mom.”
“Oh, both of us? I—I thought maybe I could just hang out, give you guys some privacy,” I stammered. “I’ll meet her another time when she’s feeling better.”
Pulling me into a tight hug, Luca spoke into my hair. “No privacy needed. I want her to meet you. You saved the day.”
Oh, God. “Okay, then, um, why don’t you go see her first, see if she’s up for it. I’ll call your dad for you while you do that. And if you want me to come in later, I’ll come in.”
He kissed my forehead. “Okay, you’re right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said into his neck.
With that, I reached for his hand and squeezed it again. He smiled widely and walked away with a lit
tle skip in his step.
My hands started shaking as I called his dad.
STEP 20:
You Are Not Allowed to Be Happy Until the Very Last Possible Minute CHAPTER 20
Luca’s mom was the most high-maintenance appendectomy patient ever.
“Come over here, sweetie, so I can see the girl who stole Luca.”
Er, didn’t sound like she was joking. I walked over to the hospital bed, holding the hand lotion she had requested. I had driven to three pharmacies before finding it.
“I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances,” I said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
Her eyes glinted. “As good as I can, I suppose,” she said with a weak laugh. I placed the all-natural paraben-free lotion on the table by her bed. Luca was sitting at the foot of the bed holding her hand.
Luca’s mother was beautiful, no surprise there. Thick, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and a wide, Julia Roberts–esque mouth. Even after suffering an exploded organ she looked good.
She was also kind of annoying. Aside from the weird lotion request, she had asked Luca to get her room changed because she didn’t like the feng shui of this one. And then complained about how simply awful the hospital sheets were. Probably full of chemicals. (More like low thread count.)
“So Luca has told me all about you, Desi. How could anyone be so perfect?”
Every word out of this woman’s mouth was a backhanded compliment. I glanced at Luca but he was smiling and totally oblivious. Her tone was nice but her eyes were steely and appraising.
I didn’t know how to respond. “Ah, well, I’m sure he was being overly flattering.”
Luca rolled his eyes. “Okay, Des. Mom, Desi’s going to be valedictorian and is going to Stanford.” My heart constricted. “Who would have guessed I’d fall for such a nerd?”
His mother’s eyes scrutinized me more carefully than ever. “What does your dad do again? Plumbing?” Although I wasn’t following the steps anymore, I summoned strength from my mental K drama catalog. I thought of Ji-Eun from Full House, and how she adorably sang a song for Young-Jae’s uptight family and managed to break the ice and endear herself. Just suffer through, don’t let her ruffle your feathers, Des.
I smiled, sunny and perpetually pleasant. “Nope, he’s a mechanic.”
“How lovely.” Rebecca’s voice indicated anything but. She started to fuss about her blankets again and Luca got up to adjust them. Angelic K drama heroine or no, I still wanted to punch her in the face.
A quiet knock interrupted my thoughts. It was Ned. I practically ran over to him in relief. I gave him a hug and whispered, “Thank God you’re here.”
Ned whispered back, “I hear ya, sister.”
“Ned?” Rebecca’s voice was sharp. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He walked over to her and placed a bouquet of hot-pink peonies on the nightstand. “Glad to see your spirit has yet to be trampled, Becca,” he said drily.
She frowned and looked at Luca. “Did you call him?”
Luca looked at me nervously. “Yeah, Desi thought it would be a good idea to let him know what happened but I didn’t know he was coming.” He shot his dad a smile, a small one, but I caught it and so did Ned.
Rebecca started complaining and Ned took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
I cringed and made eye contact with Luca, who was hovering protectively over his mom. I tried to communicate telepathically: let’s get outta here. He got the drift.
“We’re gonna go get some food so you guys can commence with yelling or whatever,” he said, walking over to the door with me.
I rushed out of there with Luca close on my heels. Once we were well out of earshot, Luca let out a huge sigh, as if he had been holding his breath. “I know it’s good to have Dad come, but … they’re so annoying when they’re together.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have two parents hate each other so blatantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he’d show up either—another stressful thing to add to the stress pile?”
He draped his arm across my shoulders. “No, I’m actually glad he came. And I’m glad you’re here,” he said. A few seconds passed before he added, “Hospitals are the worst.”
“Let me guess, you think you’re going to catch whatever everyone else has in here?” I teased. The more I got to know Luca, the more his subtle neuroses revealed themselves.
His nose wrinkled. “Well, yeah. In fact, does this look like a rash to you?” He pulled up his sleeve in earnest, showing me a patch of normal skin that had just recently been scratched.
I pushed his arm away. “Get out of here. You’re, like, every doctor’s worst nightmare.”
“I suppose I’ll have to get used to hospitals, since my girlfriend’s going to be a doctor someday.”
Normally I would have been thrilled to hear that—the planning ahead that the sentence implied. But instead I felt my throat close up. Stanford hovered over me and with every second that passed, the gravity of what I had done weighed more heavily on my shoulders. I might not be able to have my Stanford interview. Eighteen years of nonstop work. Not only me, but my dad, too. My dad who brought me food at midnight when I was doing all-nighters, who took me to all my SAT classes, who mended my cleats when the toes blew out.
I needed to get my mind off Stanford, so I delved into trickier territory. “So … your mom…”
We reached the elevator and Luca glanced over at me, warily, pushing the Down button. “I know. She’s annoying.”
I almost tripped into the closed elevator doors. “What! But I mean, you’re so close to her.”
He shrugged. “I never said she was perfect. But she’s my mom, and I’m loyal to her.”
While I wanted to say a million things, like She doesn’t deserve your loyalty! I kept my mouth shut, because everyone had their own private family dynamics. Who was I to judge?
When we got to the cafeteria my phone buzzed with a text from my dad: Got a hold of interviewer. She said to call Stanford Admission first thing Monday morning.
* * *
I woke up Monday morning screeching—with cold water dripping down my face.
“Good morning!”
“Appa!” I yelled, using my sheets to wipe the water off my face. My dad stood at the foot of my bed with a spray bottle he used to mist our houseplants.
“What? It’s almost seven a.m.; you need to be prepared to call Stanford right when their office opens at eight-thirty.”
“That’s an hour and a half from now, Appa!”
“What, don’t you like being prepared?”
Touché, Appa. He was right but I didn’t appreciate the tone.
When my dad had called the interviewer on Saturday she had said that we had to check with Stanford to see if I could reschedule. Despite the dread that had been hovering over me since my dad told me that, I was optimistic this would all work out. I had spent the rest of the weekend cleaning the house inside out to distract myself. The gutters were officially ready for a torrential rain and my dad’s tools were now organized by size, color, and application.
“Let me know how it goes,” my dad said sternly. Well, as sternly as one could while wearing a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and basketball shorts. He left my room on that ominous note.
At eight-thirty I was in first period, calculus. When my phone buzzed with the alarm I had set, I raised my hand during Mr. Farhadi’s lesson on derivatives. “May I use the restroom?”
He nodded and I grabbed my phone and rushed out of class with a quick glance at Fiona, who looked at me quizzically. Luca had driven me to school, so I hadn’t told her about the interview yet.
I walked out to the courtyard, the day overcast and chilly. My phone was already set to the admissions number and I tapped it as I paced the gravel path between the purple and green grasses (fescues—native, drought-tolerant grasses I had convinced the school to plant when they re-landscaped last year).
&nb
sp; The line rang and an operator answered. After a few transfers, I finally got the right person on the phone.
“Hi, Mr. Lipman. This is Desi Lee. I had an interview scheduled with Sandra Munoz Saturday but I had an urgent matter come up and need to reschedule. Ms. Munoz told me to contact you in order to do so?” I kept my voice upbeat as I tucked my phone against my shoulder and placed my hands on my hips, striking the pose that made me feel like Wonder Woman. I read once that it was actually called the Wonder Woman and made you appear confident even if you totally didn’t feel that way.
“Ah yes, Miss Lee. Is everything okay? Ms. Munoz e-mailed us saying that you’d had an emergency.”
“Yes, thank you. My boyfriend’s mother had emergency surgery and I had to drive him up to LA.” Crap, boyfriend slipped out before I could stop myself—coming from the mouth of a teenage girl, that word sounded so flimsy, so damning. There was a beat of silence and I rushed to fill it. “She’s okay now, and I’m happy to reschedule the interview.”
Again, a bit of silence.
“I’m sorry to say, Miss Lee, that we can’t reschedule.”
Heart stopped. Just. Stopped.
“As you know, we hold the interviews over the course of one month, and you got one of the last slots—in fact it was the very last day we held interviews everywhere. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, phone stuck to my ear. “But I can do it today! She lives fifteen minutes away, I’m sure I could just call her—”
“Miss Lee—the time has passed. Again, I apologize. But you know, the interviews aren’t mandatory.”
I could no longer understand the words coming from my phone. I melted out of the Wonder Woman pose and slid down onto the gravel.
“Miss Lee?”
I struggled to speak. “Um … but will this affect my application?”
Another beat of silence. “Well, it doesn’t mean you’re disqualified from consideration,” Mr. Lipman offered optimistically.
I laughed, a harsh, scary noise. “Well, what a relief!” All politeness had left in the wake of knowing that I had probably just deducted points from my application to Stanford.
Mr. Lipman’s voice changed in tone from fake sympathetic to curt. “I’m not sure what advice I can offer beyond this point.”