Debut, p.14
Debut, page 14
“How long has this been going on?”
“A few months.”
“Have you seen a doctor?
“We don’t have money for that.”
“You have to go. I’ll work more shifts.”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“After what you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do. Promise me you’ll go?”
* * *
Out of nowhere, an errant soccer ball bounced off the edge of the weather-beaten picnic table. Missing June’s cherry pop by mere inches, the ball landed in a nearby bush, chucking tiny wood splinters in every direction. The startling incident reminded her of the shattered glass from earlier in the day. She pushed the image from her mind to focus on the interview. A seven-year-old boy approached and spoke to her in Spanish. Without hesitation, June reached over to the bush, retrieved the ball, and tossed it to him.
As he gratefully scampered back to the playing field, Heather said in Korean, “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish.”
“I don’t, but you pick things up after living here a while.”
The afternoon was breezy but not cold. Unexpectedly, several members of the K-Pop group she had auditioned for weeks earlier called to arrange a meeting. They even agreed to meet at her low-income housing complex in the Los Angeles Cypress Grove area. June faced mobility issues with no car. That they offered to visit struck her as thoughtful. Heather, she remembered from the audition. Grace was unable to attend the interview due to a prior commitment. Mindy, Sun-hee, and Erin were freshly introduced.
June’s guests looked uncomfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings, but at least they had arrived. Visitors tended to abruptly cancel after realizing where she lived. Regardless, June spoke little, being painfully shy upon first meeting strangers. She sat quietly, hoping her guests would take the lead. Unfortunately, they, too, seemed passive.
The silence broke when Heather asked, “You’re comfortable singing in Korean. Can you dance in high heels?”
June found the question odd, but she still didn’t understand much about America. “Yes, that’s okay.”
More silence.
Mindy whispered to Heather, who nodded. “You don’t dance hip hop, do you?” asked Mindy.
“No, I’m sorry,” she responded. The unexpected nature of the questions made her anxious. She kept her answers short as a result.
That set the tone for the entire interview. Mindy and Erin watched videos together on a smartphone, occasionally glancing at June and smiling. June’s shyness only increased when she realized the discussion was not going well. Erin asked no questions at all. Her Korean did not seem sharp.
After they departed, June returned to her room to replay the conversation. Lamenting another lost opportunity, she vowed to learn lessons from the disappointing experience.
Grace called later that evening. “Hi, June. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“I already know what you’ll say. It’s okay. I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Your friends didn’t like me.”
“Oh, no. You got it all wrong. They loved you. We think you’ll make a terrific addition.”
* * *
The musky air in the starkly-lit pilates room was laden with perspiration. “Okay, see you Thursday. Be ready for a workout,” announced the instructor, clapping to support her students. Vanessa waited for the class at the tattered Westside Gym to disperse. She had arrived only moments earlier, not interested in the lesson itself but rather the woman who taught it. Though they only met sparingly these days, Danya Kay was one of the chief influences in Vanessa’s life. The primary reason she had fallen in love with dance, to begin with, and the one person who encouraged her to pursue it seriously as a career. As a young girl whose intense determination had frightened away both bullies and best friends alike, Vanessa could have quickly become unmoored if it wasn’t for the free dance lessons offered by her neighborhood community center. That class was taught by Danya, who at that time was a young college student herself volunteering for the experience. When it came time for Vanessa to attend university, Danya’s recommendation played an instrumental role in helping her secure a coveted full scholarship at St. Ignatius. Without that help, her single-parent family would never have been able to afford tuition at the private institution.
When the studio cleared, Vanessa approached Danya with a simple, “Hey. Long time.”
“Ness! I thought I saw you lurking in the corner.” Danya pulled her disheveled hair into a ponytail and retied it. Drops of sweat lingered on her light brown skin. “You should have joined us. I wouldn’t have charged you…much.” She smiled slyly, knowing full well that Ness could dish it out but also take it.
“I didn’t come for a workout. I wanna talk,” explained Vanessa.
“Everything alright? You still at university, yeah?”
“Yeah. No, things are going. In fact, I was hoping you’d help me with a project.”
“What’s up?”
“I need choreography.”
“Oh, no. Too busy for that. This for a class?”
“No. Extra-curricular. A girl I know from school said she’d contact you.”
“If I don’t know the sender personally, I ignore their messages. Is this paid?” Vanessa shook her head in response, fearing to actually say the word. “Oh, hell no. I’m not doing charity anymore. I gotta pay bills. You think I stay in this place for stimulation?”
“I know, but listen. I figured you’d reject them outright —”
“Got that right.”
“— so, I thought I’d talk to you first. Hear our pitch. It would mean gobs to me. I’ll pay you back. Promise.”
Danya shot her a sideways glance. “Are you okay?”
“Perfect,” she said, less than perfectly. “What do you say I cover one of your classes, and you won’t have to pay me?”
“This isn’t like you, Ness. What gives? Why this?” As she spoke, Danya collected her belongings and packed them into a dance bag.
“I’m taking a big risk by committing to dance. You know the drill. I have to make this major payoff somehow. The last thing I want to see is my mom making sacrifices on my behalf, only for me to end up flipping burgers in some backwater whistlestop.”
“How’s that play into this gig?”
“A gut feeling is all. There’s no money in it now, but I can’t sit around waiting for things to happen. Otherwise, four years will fly by —” Vanessa waved her hand in the air like it was a hard-driven golf ball “— and I’ll be just another unemployed coryphée hitting the streets.”
“I hear that.”
“It’s one more spaghetti strand to throw at the wall, hoping it’ll stick. Could be an excellent opportunity for you, too. Unless you’d rather teach pilates the rest of your life.”
“Cold,” Danya said with a smirk. “You know I’ve got other things going on.” She zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“Of course. You’re the most talented choreographer I’ve ever met. I’d travel the world to be in your dances. That’s why I want your help.”
Danya thought for a moment. “What’s your proposal?”
“We’ll meet on campus. They have a presentation planned. You can stop by on your way home. Easy enough.”
“Look, I’ll be honest,” Danya said as she headed for the studio door with Vanessa tagging along. “I’m not thrilled about this, but I’ll listen if it means so much. You’ve been there for me in the past.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“But I know some other people you can call. Should call.” Vanessa reacted sourly to this less-than-subtle dismissal. “Don’t give me that look, Ness. I’m grateful you thought of me, but we dancers have a brief shelf life. I’m making the most of my limited time. That means I go with the highest bidder.”
“Just come with an open mind, okay?”
“I’m open-minded about you covering my next three Tuesdays.”
“Three?”
“Three.”
“For one meeting —”
“Three.”
“Fine,” Vanessa said resignedly.
* * *
Vanessa offered to pick Sun-hee up on their way to the show. The girl would otherwise have no way to get her bus-unfriendly keyboards to the venue. The gig itself was something of an experiment. The Wormhole fiasco illustrated one blunt fact. While audiences in the U.S. certainly knew about K-Pop (and followed the biggest acts in droves), there remained little in the way of an actual scene below the arena show level. That left indie acts like Made in Heaven effectively swimming upstream. To make up for the lack of proper venues in which to play, Grace suggested booking a stage at a local park just to see what happened. With no recorded music to offer yet and no permission to sell tickets in a public park, they aimed to earn revenue through merchandise sales. Heather had sketched a cute wing-themed logo to silk screen on T-shirts. Since the dance unit was still in its infancy, they’d only focus on the band. No effort was made to tell Arnie about it since he’d dismiss it as pointless.
“Grace is already at the park,” said Sun-hee upon fastening the seatbelt. “Let me call to see how it’s going.” She conversed with their leader to determine if anything was needed. Once the conversation ended, she reported, “Traffic’s not too bad. I asked about the crowd.”
“What’d she say?”
“‘You’re never gonna believe it.’”
“Believe what?” asked Vanessa excitedly.
Realizing that her response was vague, Sun-hee explained further. “I mean, those were her exact words. ‘You’re never going to believe it.’”
“Wow. Maybe there’s some merit to this idea after all.” Of all the group members, Vanessa found Sun-hee the most relatable. This was surprising because, in many ways, they were polar opposites. Sun-hee was so easy to get along with, though, that even Vanessa’s prickliness didn’t seem to bother her. While never shy to state her mind, Vanessa kept her personal life at arm’s length from everyone. Opinions were acceptable; feelings were not. With Sun-hee, things were different. The girl never gossiped. Something said in confidence stayed that way. “I hope Danya says yes. I don’t know what we’ll do without her.”
“It’d be great, sure. But you could choreograph for us, too.” When Vanessa didn’t answer, Sun-hee continued. “Can’t you?”
Vanessa but her lower lip. “I’ve never done group stuff before. Only solo.”
“Oh,” said Sun-hee. The tone of her voice was tinged with doubt.
“I was hoping to watch her first. To get some tips,” said Vanessa as she turned off the Marina Freeway onto Slauson. “Don’t tell anyone, though. I’m used to being considered the capable one.”
In the Windsor Hills area of Los Angeles, Ladera Park sat in a residential neighborhood off southern La Brea Avenue. Among its features was an amphitheater big enough to seat several hundred people. “We won’t be late, but it’s gonna be tight,” said Vanessa. They arrived to find ample parking along the street, making the gear lug a simple affair. Upon entering the amphitheater, they saw a young black man wearing a sideways baseball cap in the front row. The remaining seats were empty.
“Where is everyone?” asked Sun-hee. Assuming he was being addressed, the stranger pointed to the side of the stage building where the other five members stood. In shock, the pair joined their comrades, who looked glum.
“Did someone forget the ‘free beer’ sign,” asked Vanessa.
“Who is that guy?” asked Sun-hee.
“Said he was just walking by and saw the setup, so he stuck around,” responded Grace.
“You advertised, right?” asked Vanessa.
“Yes, with the whopping $20 bucks available in the budget,” she responded glibly.
“So, do we tell this guy the show’s canceled?” asked Mindy.
“Absolutely not,” objected Sun-hee. “Someone here wants music. We’re musicians.” Her logic was inviolable. Though brief, Made in Heaven’s second-ever concert was well-received by the stranger who politely clapped after every song. In the end, however, he had no cash to buy a T-shirt, so they simply gave him one.
“At this rate, we’ll be rolling in dough in no time,” said Vanessa.
12
SWIMMING THROUGH THE DAWN
Heather froze when she read her mother’s text. Marked urgent, it read:
8:20 P.M. Ji-woo: Your Father will be in L.A. tomorrow! He wants to meet for dinner.
That was it. The linked itinerary indicated Appa would arrive on Asiana Airlines and stay for 26 hours. Heather called Grace to apologize in advance for missing rehearsal.
Despite heading against the flow of rush hour traffic, Heather’s drive to the Intercontinental Hotel in downtown L.A. was a struggle. She arrived 35 minutes late, during which no fewer than three texts came in. Wishing to avoid a traffic citation (not to mention an accident), she ignored them until safely parked in the garage. Heather frowned at the series of messages impatiently requesting arrival updates.
No sooner had the elevator doors opened than Dae-hee shouted her name from across the marbled lobby. They approached. Appa’s appearance was surprising. Not that he looked any different than usual. What shook her was the realization that they hadn’t seen each other in months. It was the most prolonged period they’d ever spent apart. The weight of this epiphany made her feel old all of a sudden.
“I’ve been waiting an hour,” he said brusquely.
“It hasn’t been that long, Appa. And nice seeing you, too.”
He grinned, faintly embarrassed. “It’s been a long day. Have you eaten?”
They opted for Koreatown. Dae-hee’s business associates 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 chose an isolated booth in a remote restaurant corner with a broad view of 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 that his trip aimed to secure a deal with a potential new client. Negotiations, in general, were dragging, and his boss thought a more personal touch would expedite matters. To his disappointment, 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.”
Heather looked pleased but viewed the declaration with skepticism.
“Your brother was accepted to Stanford. He starts next year.”
Heather felt the need to acknowledge the news positively, though it risked reinforcing her relative unworthiness. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure you’re proud of Andrew.”
“He worked hard to get in,” her father said, nodding. A long moment passed during which he analyzed her appearance. “What on earth possessed you to change your hair?”
Thus, it begins, she thought to herself. “I want 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 to lay the groundwork for your career. Talk to your brother. He understands.” Heather chose not to respond. She tried to recall Appa ever saying anything positive about her but struggled to think of one example. “I talked to Kwan Byung-hoon this morning.”
Who? she silently wondered while staring blankly at him.
“The internship I mentioned? I see you’ve done nothing to pursue that. Naturally.”
She’d already forgotten about their earlier conversation. Her knee bounced vigorously as she hoped Appa would change the subject.
Unfortunately, he did.
“Be honest with me, Heather. Are you pursuing music again?” He 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 your social media. Who’s Steve?”
“You were spying on me?” She crossed her arms in a huff.
“Can you blame me? You never tell us anything about your activities.” His voice swelled with emotion, and his volume increased. “I’m so disappointed in you, Heather. I thought we had an agreement.”
She responded in kind, no longer wishing to speak discreetly. “I promised I’d go to college, 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 well-being. 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?”
