29 Dates Page 17

  NOVEMBER 11, SAN FRANCISCO

  DATE NO. 15

  NAME: Kang William

  * * *

  INTERESTS:

  Acting, Political Studies

  * * *

  DISLIKES:

  Pork, Superhero Movies, Dentist Appointments

  * * *

  WILLIAM: So wait, you’re like from Korea?

  Jisu: Yup! I moved from Seoul a few months ago. I transferred over to Wick-Helmering.

  WILLIAM: Oh, word. I know a few people who go to Wick. Do you like it there?

  Jisu: I do, actually! I mean, I miss home like crazy. But I also really like San Francisco. Were you born and raised here?

  WILLIAM: Yeah, my grandparents were the ones who immigrated here. So I’m second generation.

  Jisu: And they somehow have you going on seons?

  WILLIAM: Ah well, my grandmother is very traditional and stubborn. No one can cross Halmoni.

  Jisu: This place is really cool. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a skate park.

  WILLIAM: There’s gotta be a few cool spots around Seoul. I bet there’s a whole underground group of Korean skaters. Have you never skateboarded?

  Jisu: No, I’m scared I’d just fall and break an arm or something.

  WILLIAM: I’ve broken my left arm. Twice. Also have some not-so-pretty scars.

  Jisu: Hmm, you’re really selling me on this whole skateboarding thing.

  WILLIAM: As long as you’re not trying difficult tricks, there’s usually no broken limbs. Here, just try standing on my board.

  Jisu: Like this? Ah, I’m going to fall. Both legs?

  WILLIAM: Yeah, both legs. You got it. Half of skateboarding is just standing and balancing on the board.

  Jisu: So, how soon until I can skate on that ramp?

  WILLIAM: Listen, I’ve been skating since I was ten and I’m still intimidated by that ramp.

  Jisu: I’m really glad we didn’t meet at a boring coffee shop like Ms. Moon would’ve wanted.

  WILLIAM: I didn’t realize I could take things into my own hands until this one girl I met decided we should go to Alcatraz for our first date.

  Jisu: That’s...an interesting choice. How did that go?

  WILLIAM: It wasn’t that bad actually. The worst part was that there were a bunch of tourists. She lived in the Bay Area her whole life and never did any of the tourist stuff, so I guess she wanted to cross it off her list.

  Jisu: Prison. How romantic.

  WILLIAM: Yeahhhh. That was the first and only date we had.

  Jisu: So, how are college apps going for you? Do you know what you wanna do?

  WILLIAM: Oh, I’m not going to college. I know. Shocking, right? Technically, I am—there’s no way Ms. Moon would keep me on as a client if I wasn’t. But the plan is to get into college, wherever my parents want me to go, and then move down to LA.

  Jisu: What’s in LA?

  WILLIAM: Hollywood. I want to be an actor.

  Jisu: That’s cool! One of my best friends in Korea wants to be a pop star and she’s basically been training since she was nine. I think it’s really cool that you’re going for it.

  WILLIAM: Yeah, it’s not going to be easy, for sure. But it’s what I want to do. I just need to make sure everything is figured out. What do you want to do?

  Jisu: Well... I really like photography but not enough to dive headfirst and go to an art school. But the plan is to figure it out once I get into college.

  WILLIAM: Photography. Interesting! But like career-wise, you don’t know what you want to do?

  Jisu: I mean, those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

  WILLIAM: Yeah, but that’s gotta be a hard way to make a living. Freelancing and all that.

  Jisu: Said the actor. With zero credits to his name.

  WILLIAM: Hey, I’ve done a bunch of plays.

  Jisu: It doesn’t count if they were high school productions.

  WILLIAM: Okay, fine. Fair. I’ve just always seen myself as the artsy half of a couple. You know? I’m sure that’s what you see for yourself, too.

  Jisu: No, not really.

  WILLIAM: Come on. No one can be a truly happy, successful artist if they can’t work on their craft full-time.

  Jisu: No artist can be truly happy unless they have a partner to bankroll their creative pursuits? Is that what you’re saying?

  WILLIAM: No! Well, not really. Obviously the basis of a relationship should be that two people like each other—

  Jisu: But it doesn’t hurt if the person you’re seeing can pay your rent.

  WILLIAM: You’re assuming that I’ll never make it big.

  Jisu: You’re very optimistic!

  WILLIAM: Not too optimistic though—I’m also practical and realistic. Isn’t that what everyone else does when they go on these seons?

  Jisu: I...guess.

  WILLIAM: I’ve upset you.

  Jisu: No, it’s fine. We’re both just too artsy to be compatible or something, I guess.

  WILLIAM: You think I could act in Korea? If it doesn’t work out for me here? Or maybe I’m not Korean enough.

  Jisu: No, I think you’d be just fine! You’re a good-looking dude and that’ll work in whatever country you try to act in.

  16

  “You all right, Jees?” Dave asked. “You seem a little out of it.”

  They were in the Mission District, walking down 16th Street, toward The Lab. It was the opening night for their latest exhibit: Feminism in the Digital Age. In the past few weeks, Jisu and Dave had spent their free time scoping out any local event with a political bent that was open to the public: a rally for union workers at the courthouse, a literary event about politics at City Lights and today an opening for a feminist art show.

  Dave had no idea, but Jisu was coming straight from her first American seon. Did Dave know about the business of seons, or even what the word seon meant? Jisu let Dave’s question hang in the air. Part of her wanted to tell him how her date had gone, how it was just fine and ended with no real connection, how futile it all felt, how she dreaded seons for this reason in general. She could blab all about it to Hiba or text away in the group chat with Euni and Min. But she felt weird talking about it with him. Plus, they were only a block from the gallery.

  “I’m fine.” Jisu forced a smile. “Just tired is all.”

  The gallery was one giant open space. It was dimly lit and painted in stark white from ceiling to floor. Projectors played video clips on the walls. Mini TVs playing other works of art were spread throughout the floor. It was only about a half hour into the event, and the space was filling up quickly.

  They had a system: Dave worked the floor and chatted with attendees. Eventually he tracked down whoever was in charge of social media and publicity. While he interviewed them about outreach and turnout, Jisu hung back and captured everything with her camera. At the end of each event, they combined notes and tracked the event’s imprint across all online platforms.

  The people at this event had the most interesting outfits, by far. The main curator, a woman with shocking white-blond hair, was dressed in a sleek black dress with an asymmetrical hem. She stood in front of a video installment and explained the piece to a small crowd. One woman was covered in chunky, colorful costume jewelry. Another stood out just as much in a simple dark denim jumpsuit. Several women had brought their young daughters. They held their hands and walked around the gallery space, explaining whatever they could understand. Some people wore sunglasses—oversize tortoise shell, bright cobalt blue and classic black cat eye. Jisu snapped photos of them all.

  “How are things going?” Dave asked Jisu.

  “I think this is my favorite one so far. I didn’t even think I was going to be into it. Feminism in the Digital Age sounds like the name of a boring lecture.”

  Jisu had notice
d that many women (and men!) of San Francisco were often vocal and active about their feminism. It felt louder, bolder and a lot more normalized than it was in Seoul. The conversations everyone was having at the show were never ones she had had so explicitly in Seoul. They felt like more freely expressed versions of the thoughts she’d always had in her brain.

  “Me, too. I nearly fell asleep at that reading yesterday,” Dave said.

  “I know! It was so boring. I felt bad. I really wanted to be more into it. Did you get some good soundbites?”

  Dave held up his notepad, which was covered with scribbles. She had no idea how he could decipher his own handwriting.

  “You get good photos?” he asked.

  Jisu proudly showed him some of the stills she captured.

  “How’s everything else going?” Dave asked. “Like with Austin?”

  Her hand stilled. Why would he want to know?

  “It’s good!” she lied.

  “Are you guys dating now?”

  “Oh...no. I don’t really believe in labels. We’re just hanging out, having fun, you know.” Jisu pulled her camera up to her face. She looked at Dave through the lens, standing tall among the crowd. He looked serious. He pushed Jisu’s camera away.

  “I don’t want to be nosy, but before, when we were on our way here, you seemed upset. And I know how Austin can be with girls...and it might not even be that. And I know it’s none of my business...”

  It had been annoying the first time he’d said something about Austin, but Jisu knew now that Dave was coming from a good place. It felt nice to know he was looking out for her.

  She let her camera hang around her neck. “You sound a lot like my mother with all your jansori,” she said. Dave laughed. “Wait—you know what jansori means?”

  “Oookay. I may not be fluent, but I am still the son of two Korean immigrants. I know a few things. Especially jansori. I only get an earful every time I come home.”

  “But your mom is so nice! And you’re like the perfect son,” Jisu said.

  “Only son. And you know how much pressure Koreans put on their sons.”

  “Not as much as they do with their only kids!”

  “All right, all right. You win.” Dave laughed again. Jisu liked the way his eyes creased into half-moons. His laugh was hearty and warm. Genuine. Her boring seon really had sucked the life out of her, but Jisu was glad she’d trudged over to the gallery with Dave and hadn’t gone home, plopped onto her bed and sulked until she fell asleep.

  A bad date could throw everything off, but at the end of the day, that’s all it was: one bad date. It was easy to forget all the good things Jisu had going for her. Aside from the confusing state of things with Austin, she had found good friends at Wick, and they were helping each other make sense of the most stressful year of their lives. She was making good headway with her college applications, with her early applications all completed. The more she got out of the way, the more confident she felt. It was hard to be kind to yourself when your parents kept second-guessing every move you made, but Jisu was doing her best and that was enough. All that was left was waiting for everything to fall into place.

  The event was starting to wrap up. Jisu reached into her bag to search for the lens cover and noticed that her phone was vibrating. She’d put it on silent and was alarmed to see six missed calls and a slew of Kakao messages from Min. Her phone vibrated again. Min was calling for the seventh time.

  “Hey, Min, sorry. I was at an event for class.” Jisu covered her other ear with her hand. She could barely hear Min as she squeezed her way out of the crowd.

  “Hello? Jisu? Can you hear me?”

  Jisu walked toward the door and motioned at Dave to come outside.

  “Min, I’m here. I can hear you now. Is everything okay?”

  She stepped out into the quiet street. She could hear now that Min was crying.

  “Jisu... Euni... She...”

  Jisu could barely make out what Min was saying, but she started to tremble. “Min. Please...just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Eunice fainted at hagwon yesterday. She’s been a little sick, but I didn’t know how bad it was...which is why I didn’t tell you. And Euni wouldn’t want you to worry about her like that. But I guess it was worse than I thought. She’s in the hospital now. Jisu-ya, I really wish you were here,” Min sobbed. Jisu felt her knees go weak.

  “What happened?” Jisu couldn’t help the tears that ran down her face. She didn’t care if anyone saw her crying on the street.

  “You know Euni is not the strongest girl. It’s just been so hard for everyone right now, with exams and getting ready for college. I guess the stress was too much...” Min could barely keep it together.

  Jisu’s head was throbbing and she couldn’t see straight. She felt consumed with guilt. Senior year at Wick wasn’t a walk in the park, but she knew how tough and arduous things got at Daewon. One of her best friends was sick, and Jisu was on the other side of the world, worrying about whether a boy liked her or not and taking silly photos. She’d never felt so small and powerless.

  “I miss you guys so much.” Jisu squatted down and sat on the curb. From the corner of her eye, she could see Dave making his way outside. “And I’m so sorry I’m not there.”

  “No, Jisu. Don’t be sorry. We’ll all be together soon,” Min said. “And Euni will recover and be fine. She’s being discharged tomorrow, and I’m going to the hospital now to visit her.”

  “Tell her I love her and to get better.” Jisu tried to subtly wipe her tears away, but they wouldn’t stop. “I love you, Min.”

  “I love you, too, Jisu.” Min’s voice cracked, and something in Jisu cracked also.

  “We’ll all be together in just a few weeks,” Jisu said, trying to sound hopeful.

  “Yeah, for Christmas!” Min was trying, too. “Okay I have to go. I’ll text you when I see Euni.”

  Jisu hung up and buried her face in her lap. She wished the world would stop moving, stop spinning for just one second, so that she could have a good cry, let it all out and move on. But that wasn’t how the world worked. She could hear Dave walking toward her, his sneakers shuffling on the sidewalk. Maybe if she kept her head down, he would think she was someone else and walk away.

  “Tired, Jees?” Dave crouched next to her. There was no point trying to hide it. Jisu lifted her head and revealed her snotty, tearstained face. Dave didn’t recoil like she’d thought he might.

  “Hey, hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”

  “My friend back in Seoul is in the hospital.” Jisu sniffed. “And I’m stuck here...taking photos. I can’t be there for her. I feel...I feel terrible.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Dave looked at her earnestly. “But, Jisu, you can’t blame yourself for any of this.”

  “I know, but I should be there. Right now. Next to her.”

  “But you can’t, and none of it is your fault. You’re in a whole new country, at a new school. You’re working hard in all your classes. And you’re a good friend to the people around you here. I know you’re doing your best, Jisu. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Jisu felt even more tears falling down her face. Dave pulled her in for a side hug, and she leaned her head on his shoulder and buried her face in her hands. Jisu tried so hard to stop crying, but she couldn’t. At least Dave didn’t seem to mind.

  Jisu wanted to tell him that he was a good friend, too. That she was grateful that Kaylee had called him over in the cafeteria on her first day. That he was always looking out for her. That he gave her jansori. That he was kind.

  The words sat heavy at the tip of her tongue.

  The last of the night’s tears trickled down her face. She wiped them away and stared out into the street.

  “Dave,” she said. “I’m glad I got paired up with you.”

&
nbsp; NOVEMBER 21, SAN FRANCISCO

  DATE NO. 16

  NAME: Shim Jimoon

  * * *

  INTERESTS:

  Piano, Russian Literature, Art History

  * * *

  Parent Occupations:

  Art collector; Fashion industry editorial director

  * * *

  JimOON: What did you do this weekend?

  Jisu: I actually did something really cool! Usually I only have boring answers to that question, like studying or shopping or watching movies on Netflix.

  JimOON: So, what’d you do?

  Jisu: I went to this gallery in the Mission District.

  JimOON: Oh, I spend a bunch of time there. My mom’s an art collector. Which gallery?

  Jisu: It was this place called The Lab.

  JimOON: The Lab’s great! Super experimental. And it’s not just a gallery, right? They have people perform there and stuff.

  Jisu: Yeah...I think so? It was my first time there.

  JimOON: What show do they have up there now?

  Jisu: It’s called Feminism in the Digital Age. I honestly had no idea what to expect, but I ended up really liking it!

  JimOON: Is that the one that Sally McPherson curated? The one that showed at that gallery in New York... What’s it called? I always forget the name.

  Jisu: Umm. New York? Like the MoMA?

  JimOON: No, no. Much smaller. Could you imagine? Taking your show from MoMA to the humble little Lab. Although the MoMA could benefit from being a little more self-aware about the current state of things. Feminism is probably something they could’ve done a show on years ago.

  Jisu: Right...yeah, totally.

  JimOON: God, what is the name of that place. Anyway, I’ll probably remember the moment we’ve parted ways.