High Hopes

by Jaclyn Jhin

  He took my hand and, with the other, pushed open the door. A blast of heat enveloped my goosebump-covered arms. An older woman dressed in a thick, red sweater and black slacks sat in a tall rocking chair at the desk. I peered around the living room, or more accurately the lobby, catching the flames of a fireplace out of the corner of my eye. Pop magazines covered a long wooden table. Comfy-looking couches surrounded it on either side, draped with cozy quilts. The goosebumps started up again as I spied a narrow staircase leading up to the rooms. Where we’d finally be alone.

  When Ian asked if she had any rooms available, part of me held back. If she said no, then that would be it. I would be off the hook. But that was stupid. I wanted to be here. More than anything. Why do I have to be so nervous?

  “You’re in luck.” She opened a ledger, and I realized there wasn’t a computer in sight. A bowl of pens sat on the counter next to a stapler, some rubber bands, and stacks of papers. Everything must have been handled here old school, the pen and paper way. I liked it. “I have one room with a queen upstairs.”

  Ian turned to me for approval, a small gesture, but it made me feel more comfortable. I nodded.

  “Frank’s already in the kitchen. You can grab some breakfast.”

  Ian thanked her and deposited a hefty amount of cash in the glass vase labeled “Tips.” Entering the dining room, we saw Frank, an older, bearded man wearing a checkered apron, flipping pancakes on a grill. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, draped with green and white plaid bows. A painting of a rooster hung above his head, and steam from the grill wafted above the seashells lining the windowsill. I wondered if Frank and the woman at the front desk were married.

  Frank must’ve sensed we were there, because he didn’t even turn around before talking. “You want any shapes?’

  “What?” I whispered to Ian.

  “Mickey Mouse,” Ian said.

  “You got it,” the guy said, his back still turned.

  “Of the pancakes,” Ian said to me.

  “Oh. Um, a square.”

  Ian looked at me. “Out of all the options in the world, you choose a square pancake?”

  I shrugged. “It’s non-conformist.”

  He smiled at that. A few minutes later, Frank served us perfectly flipped pancakes on two bright, yellow plates, along with scrambled eggs and bacon. Ian’s Mickey Mouse ears came out perfectly, but my pancake looked like a sad hexagon.

  “I don’t have as much practice with those.” He pointed to mine.

  “No problem.”

  We carried our bags up the stairs, balancing plates in our hands. I could tell this was not exactly welcomed by the lady at the front desk.

  “No messes,” she yelled to us. “This is a one-time exception of eating in the bedroom.”

  “Appreciate it. No messes,” Ian said.

  * * *

  Ian unlocked our door with an old-fashioned metal passkey. The bed was in a beautiful dark oak frame with miniatures spires arising from each corner. A polished antique dresser hugged the corner at the end of a rug decorated in beige and gold patterns. A little handwritten welcome note and what appeared to be homemade chocolates greeted us on the pillow. The only modern touches were a small DVD player hooked up to flat-screen HDTV. Otherwise, the room could have passed for a time when radio was America’s primary entertainment source.

  I put my plate on the wooden nightstand and lowered myself onto the bed. Ian was still busy checking out our surroundings, peering into the closet and checking out the bathroom.

  “This place is nice,” he said. “You like it?”

  “Yes!” Though I was starving from not eating much the day before, I couldn’t start until he sat down.

  Ian looked around for the remote. “TV?”

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  He opened up the cabinet beneath the screen. DVDs lined the shelves. “Oh, my gosh. They have every Will Ferrell movie ever made. Didn’t expect that. Blades of Glory?”

  “Sure. Never seen it.”

  “Then we are definitely watching it.” He slid the disc into the player, then hopped on the bed with me, grabbing his plate.

  We snuggled our legs under the comforter, and I put my foot on his.

  He took a bite of bacon and pushed Play. “Now this is my kind of Thanksgiving.”

  After eating and brushing our teeth, we lost track of the movie. The story about two grown men competing in pairs ice skating was kind of funny, but I lost interest as soon as we started making out. We sunk down in the sheets, pulling the comforters over our head. He put his hand on my side as I ran my fingers through his hair.

  I broke away, keeping my hand on his shirt. “I want to,” I whispered.

  He smiled and nodded. He came out of the covers for a second to turn off the movie, then met my eyes as he scooted back underneath. It was warm in our little cocoon, and I started kissing him again. I wasn’t nervous. I didn’t even care what I was wearing or where we were. I was just glad I could be with him like this, in a place only we knew.

  * * *

  I laid my head on the pillow and let one arm rest on the comforter. We held hands beneath the covers, my foot on his. I turned to face him and smiled. He had been so gentle, so careful to make sure I was okay. I felt so lucky.

  “I have a confession.”

  My smile vanished. Not exactly what I wanted to hear right now.

  “I totally planned for you to meet Kevin and Roy.”

  I thought of how he suggested we visit his apartment before setting out on this trip. “You didn’t have to go the bathroom?”

  He covered his face with hand. “Nope.”

  “But why?”

  He snuggled even closer, pulling him nearer to him. “Before we went to my mom’s, I just wanted you to see that I was normal, too. I also wanted you to, like, get verification that I’m okay from my friends. It sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”

  I propped myself on my elbow. “So they were your references? Should I call anyone else? Any former employers?”

  He playfully touched my lip with his finger. “Stop.”

  “I’m just kidding. That’s cute.” I laid back, stroking his chest. I liked how he had just the faintest patch of dark hair below his neckline.

  We kept looking at each other.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. You’re just cute.”

  He turned on his side to face me better. “And you’re beautiful.” He ran his hand along my side and kissed the top of my head.

  I had never heard that from a guy before, and it took me a second to register it, almost as if he had said it to someone else. Beautiful...

  Even so, I couldn’t help but feel insecure after all the things his mother said to me. “Ian, do you think I’m good enough for you? I mean, you can have your choice of women, and I’m not exactly ... your type.”

  Ian stretched out his legs. “Are you kidding? If anything, I’m not good enough for you. I know you heard lots of crap my mom yesterday. Just ignore her. She can be self-centered. It matters to her what others think of her. I can’t stand it when she’s like that.”

  “She loves you. You can tell.”

  “She was a complete jerk to you. You don’t always have to be nice about her. We’re miles away now.”

  I shrugged. “I’m sure she means well behind all that. Somewhere.”

  “Yeah, maybe deep, deep, deep down. Like on a molecular, or sub-atomic level deep-down.”

  I couldn’t help laughing.

  Ian gently stroked my arm. “I’ve known plenty of girls my mother would just love. And they’re all spoiled brats. I love that you’re not spoiled, because I want to be the one to spoil you. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything anymore.”

  I forced a smile. “I just felt so out of place when I was there last night...”

  “Those people may know which fork to use, but a lot of them—well, they’re empty inside. They know the price of everything but the value of
nothing. You put them all to shame.” He kissed me deeply. And then he said it. “I love you, Kelly.”

  I’ve never heard anyone say that to me other than my parents and Halmuni. I couldn’t believe that someone as wonderful as Ian could actually love someone like me. I didn’t know how to respond. Did he even expect a response? Should I just stay silent? My heart told me to be honest with him. To trust him completely.

  “I love you, too.” As I said it, I felt a warmth in my body I never felt before. It just felt right. “But I’m scared, too. I’m scared you’ll get bored with me. I’m scared you really want a life like your mom, you just don’t know it yet. What if you change your mind later?” I looked into his eyes. Was I being too honest?

  “Kelly, I don’t say ‘I love you’ easily. When I say it, I mean it. You don’t have to be scared. And as long as you’ll have me, I’ll always be there for you. And God, no, I don’t want to end up like my mom. You have to believe me.”

  “Pinky swear on that?” I said as I held out my left pinky.

  He crossed his pinky with mine. “No. Honestly, I actually want to be an attorney with the ACLU. I want to help others, not just make a boatload of money to host fancy holiday parties with waiters who don’t get to see their families.”

  So he noticed our servers and thought the same thing, too.

  “This is going to sound naïve,” he continued. “But I’d like to just give away that stupid house. Do you realize how many families could live there? We could turn it into an academy for needy students. You saw how many people fit inside.”

  I felt myself drawn closer to him. “I love that you think that way.”

  “What about you? What do you want?”

  As he looked deeply into my eyes, I could actually picture us in bed together in a real home, not a bed and breakfast, with both of our diplomas on the walls downstairs, both with busy schedules, maybe a child in one of the other rooms. But that was crazy. There was no way I could say that.

  “I want to help others, too. But I also want to be like B.B., my old boss. I want my own private practice someday.”

  “I have no doubt you will,” he said.

  I smiled, squeezing his hand, imagining he’d be there to see it. With me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Christmas break was my chance to return to L.A. and recharge. During my three weeks at home, Halmuni and I binge watched Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and whatever we could find on the HGTV network. In my absence, Halmuni had grown obsessed with home renovation and remodeling. She loved seeing the amazing transformations the Property Brothers or the Flip or Flop couple managed on even tight budgets. Each time a host would reveal a renovated home, her eyes would widen with excitement and she would scream something encouraging in Korean.

  She made a special point to take me to our favorite restaurants and indulge in all the dishes I had missed while at Columbia. While the places Ian had taken me to were world class, I sorely missed my dose of simple, authentic Korean cuisine. B.B. would occasionally stop by with his latest girlfriend, a blonde with toned legs and arms (turned out that they worked out at the same swanky gym), with pearly white teeth almost blindingly white against her Californian tan. The two actually looked good together. It was possible she was “the one” for him as long as he ignored the fact she was half his age.

  When I returned to Columbia the second week of January, Ian and I fell into a comfortable routine, making school manageable again. I could actually study for more than an hour without being distracted (in a good way) by his texts. By the end of the second semester, I had pulled off straight A’s, much to Halmuni’s delight. I had also redeemed myself with Sophia, memorizing each item and its substitution on the menu, finally working my way up to a server position.

  So much for lacking interpersonal skills. After a few months on the job, I could go up to any stranger and ask for their order without hesitation. It was almost like performing on stage, and I was getting used to putting on the same costume every night. To top it all, Beverly offered to be my friend online.

  This last development I wasn’t so sure about, mostly because I didn’t believe Beverly really wanted to be friends. I felt she must have some ulterior motive in mind. As soon as her request arrived, I spun my laptop around to show Ian my page. We were sitting together in the dead-silent library, communicating through hand motions and text messages. The strict staff made their zero-tolerance policy on noise very clear. Even a sneeze threatened to undermine their well-ordered sanctuary.

  I pointed out Beverly’s picture to Ian in my Friend Request bubble, my cursor hovering over the Confirm or Delete buttons. I raised my eyebrows at him questioningly.

  Ian looked wary at first, mouthing a silent “No.”

  But I felt bad declining the offer. Maybe Beverly really did want to get to know me? I clicked on “Accept” and returned to my notebook, re-organizing my notes from Professor Baker’s class.

  My computer dinged. In the stillness, the unexpected sound split the air like a shrill fire alarm. All around the room, heads turned in my direction. Embarrassed, I stabbed at my mouse, desperate to hit my mute button.

  Beverly had already messaged me! I turned my computer to Ian again so he could read along with me: Hi Kelly. If Ian hasn’t already told you, I just wanted to apologize we got off on the wrong foot. Ian said you weren’t feeling well and that’s why you rushed off — Hope you’re feeling better!

  Ian rolled his eyes. Another bubble popped up. Beverly was still typing.

  I thought it would be nice if we got together again, just the two of us. How does a Girl’s Day sound? We could do lunch, shopping, maybe get mani/pedis. Let me know and I’ll have my assistant schedule it.

  I cringed. That sounded like a terrible way to spend a day. True, I did enjoy getting pedicures with Halmuni, but that was only because I got a kick out of watching her freak out over her ticklish feet. But manicures for me were pointless because, as Beverly herself had so noted, I was a nail biter, and there was scant little left on my fingertips to cut or polish. I also only shopped occasionally, and then only by myself, so people wouldn’t feel the need to give me their opinions. But worst of all? Lunch with Beverly. One-on-one. What if I messed up the forks again?

  I tried to convey all of these negative thoughts to Ian via facial expressions, but he didn’t get the message because he gave me two big thumbs up. I shook my head, then sighed audibly.

  “Shh!” said a passing librarian. Jeez. If I wasn’t more careful, they might throw me out of here.

  Ian leaned in close to my computer and began typing. He nudged me in the arm, then showed me the message: You don’t have to. Make up a terminal illness.

  I tilted the computer and wrote my response.

  No. I care about you so that means I care about getting to know your family.

  Ian smiled, then squeezed my arm.

  * * *

  Ian’s butler, Franco, held the limousine door open for me with a smile. I returned it with a tight-lipped grin, self-conscious of the fact I looked like a spoiled brat entering such a luxurious vehicle. It wasn’t Franco’s fault I felt so out of place. Honestly, I would rather have spent the day hanging with him than his employer.

  “Miss Kelly,” he said warmly, helping me inside.

  “Thank you, Franco.”

  I adjusted the long black cardigan Melissa lent me and scooted the skin-tight dress down to my knees. I hoped the baggy cardigan would cover up my navy-blue dress. It was the only thing in my closet that looked suitable for this outing, but I had grown out of it a bit.

  As I slid into the cavernous rear passenger compartment, Beverly leaned over, giving me a quick, perfunctory hug.

  “Hi,” I said, doing my best to be cheerful.

  “Hello, dear.”

  Beverly’s big gold diamond hoop earrings reflected off the tinted window. She wore a black fedora hat, a black-beige tweed jacket, and faded jeans that cuffed right around her suede ankle boots. She dressed like s
he had just walked off a Paris runway. Chic and stylish.

  Instantly, I became aware of how lame and unfashionable I looked in comparison. I was also hyper-aware of my posture and how I arranged myself. The leather seats felt sticky on my hands, and I didn’t know how to cross my legs without stretching my dress. Beverly wasted no time zeroing in on my discomfort.

  “That dress looks a little tight.” Beverly inclined her head toward my legs. “Wouldn’t want you to look slutty.” She leaned in and whispered the last part, as if it made it sound any better.

  Would I ever dress right for Beverly? I draped my cardigan more fully over my legs. “Sorry. My mom’s friend used to work at a fashion magazine in L.A. She’d given me a couple of the sample clothes once they were done with them.” No response at all from Beverly. I wanted to thrust a nail in my mouth and bite it. “She worked in the petite section, but all those models are like way thinner than me so the dresses can be tight sometimes.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re going shopping.”

  The car started and Beverly addressed Franco on the other side of the partition. “Barneys,” she said in a commanding tone.

  As we pulled away from the curb, I took a good look at my surroundings. This was my first time in a limousine, and its opulence amazed me. I remembered back to something Ian once said about how his mom liked the biggest and best of everything. This just confirmed it. Our royal carriage had a mini bar built into the door on Beverly’s left, and I saw it was stocked with bottles of water, champagne, and two Baccarat glasses. Fold-out trays, like the ones you would see in an airliner, graced each seat along with a miniature flat screen monitor tucked above the tray. I had just begun to notice the heating button for my seat when Beverly returned her attention to me.

  “Ian hasn’t returned my calls or messages since Thanksgiving. I don’t know what I did to upset him, but this is not the Ian I know.” She sounded agitated. I sensed she thought I was to blame for her problems.

  “I didn’t know that,” I told her. Ian never mentioned he hadn’t spoken to Beverly since the party.