Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
T
his is an intervention,” Mia said on the phone while I pulled on a bathrobe I’d found draped on a chair. Luckily Jake was in the shower and not within earshot of my best friend trying to discourage bed frolicking with my TA.
“Did you drop the class yet?” she asked with an edge to her voice. “Aren’t midterms in a few days?”
Busted.
I had spent so much time studying for exams and hanging out at Jake’s that I had put off the enrollment and dropping of classes till the last possible moment. And it wasn’t like I would dare to try to take these classes pass/fail this time.
“I’ll do it tomorrow. It’s the last day to get into stats, so I don’t have a choice. It’s on my calendar and I set an alarm, so don’t worry.”
A loud groan came through the phone speaker. “Not that you asked me for my opinion, but I think you should stay in the CS class. Think about it. You’re learning new things, it’s challenging for you, and you were enjoying it.” She snorted. “And honestly, I’m pretty worried because you haven’t been
home two nights in a row. Beth told me you’ve been bunking elsewhere with your TA.”
Mental note, remind Beth not to rat me out to my BFF. That was roommate code, right? Thou shalt not disclose personal details of rent-paying roomie to non-rent-paying freeloader.
“Soon to be
ex
-TA,” I corrected. “And weren’t you the one encouraging me to have fun this semester?”
“Yes, but Jake Cho’s gotten all into your head and you need to focus on
yourself
.” She cleared her throat and deadpanned in a voice imitating my very own mother, “Ji-Yeon! You need work hard in college, date later!”
“Thanks,
Umma
,” I quipped. It was exactly my parents’ philosophy in high school and college: make good grades, don’t get distracted by boys. And then when I left Carlthorpe, bam! A complete 180.
You need a boyfriend, Lily. You need to get married, Lily. Why are you not dating anyone, Lily? Where are my grandchildren, Lily? Ai-ish!
It was too much pressure. And they always used my older sister as a point of comparison: she graduated from Tufts University’s MD/PhD program and met her MD/PhD husband there. It was like my sister, Sara, had won Olympic golds in both individual and team events. Two doctors both with dual degrees? Four doctorates in the family? Overkill much?
And it never ended. I’d learned a lot about myself the last few years from numerous therapy sessions and conversations with my Korean friends, and now that I could recognize that the pressures my parents placed on me throughout
my childhood and early adulthood were unfair and untenable, I could see how my mental and physical health suffered because of it. Cultural stigmas prevalent in the Asian community—and the shame associated with seeking mental health support in my family—prevented me from getting help earlier. With the burden of generational success my immigrant parents put on me over the years, and the goalpost of high expectations they were always shifting to out-of-reach positions, minimizing my exposure to them and setting conversation boundaries were the only ways I could keep my anxiety in check.
It helped so much that Mia and I both came from similar cultural backgrounds, and even if it meant using humor as a means of coping with our shared traumas, the open and honest conversations we could have with each other were invaluable to our overall mutual well-being.
“Don’t worry about me. Jake and I have boundaries. I hang out at his place so we’re not seen, we order pizza and Chinese food delivery, and keep things low-key. Basically, it’s like college again. The first time.”
Mia clucked her tongue. “If you say so. Did you snoop around his place? Does he have, like, a secret gun vault or a drawer of sex toys?”
“That’s not going to happen—he’s almost done with his shower,” I whispered. “And there’s nothing freaky about him that I could see.”
“Maybe you could lock him in the bathroom somehow. Don’t you want to know what he’s been up to this whole time?”
She did have a point. I knew professionally what he had done, and we’d caught up on how our families were doing. We talked a little about our parents: his were retired in Connecticut, my parents were mostly preoccupied with my sister and her family. She had two rambunctious toddler boys and my parents were helping out every other weekend. But ten years was a long time. That was 120 months of collecting emotional baggage. And pets.
The phone beeped. It was Mia requesting a video call, and she grinned as soon as she saw my face. “Oh man, you look so happy. I want to say I’m elated you’ve been relieving your stress through
vigorous physical activity
, but you NEED to show me around his place
right now
so I can flag any suspicious, serial-killer, freaky-deaky shit.”
“And what if I don’t give you the virtual tour?” I prodded.
She rolled her eyes. “For you, I would break into a dude’s house and look around myself.”
Mia laughed when she said it, but she was the kind of person who would do something like that just to protect me. It was admirable and a little bit frightening. It made me happy she was a friend and not a foe.
I sighed and reversed the camera so I could pan the room. “Bed, dresser, window, chair on one side. Closet . . . a few Grand Canyon and mountain range pictures on the wall, a nightstand—”
“Can you go back and turn on the light in the closet? I want to see if he’s messy or organizes his shit all neat in a fucked-up, controlling way.”
I flicked on the light. Disorganized piles of sweaters and
winter clothes on dry cleaning hangers crowded the entire space. “Does this scream serial killer to you?”
She shrugged. “He needs to get some real hangers. Seriously, they’re not that expensive.”
I popped my head into the hallway briefly, relieved Jake was still showering. “Only another minute,” I said. “He’ll be out soon.”
“Show me the books next,” she said.
I moved the phone across the tall white bookshelf. Mia yelled, “Hey, stop right there. Who’s in those photos?”
“Just his high school graduation.” He was standing with his cap and diploma with his parents and a few other young people. One was a girl, and his arm was around her. “I don’t see anything that’s life-threatening here. He’s just plain ol’ Jake with his high school girlfriend. It’s a sweet photo.”
She crinkled her brow. “Can you zoom in on the picture next to that high school one?”
“Why? It’s Jake’s college graduation photos with his parents.” I sighed. “I guess he likes how he looks in caps and gowns. Maybe that’s why he’s going for a PhD, just for the photo op.”
A pang of sadness hit me, not only because I was looking at a college graduation picture and that obviously hit me where it hurt, but ten years ago, at my fake commencement, was also one of the last times my umma, appa, and I were together to celebrate something. And it wasn’t even for something real. My old diploma, if I still had it, was bogus. I’d achieved one less milestone in my life this whole time,
and knowing I had messed up something so simple really screwed with my head.
“It’s a little weird he doesn’t have photos that are more recent, I’ll admit that. But like I said, maybe he’s got a thing for graduation gear. Anyway, are we done here?” I asked.
“Not yet. Give me a close-up view.” Her eyes narrowed as she examined the bookshelf one last time. “There’s a frame pushed to the back, way behind the high school grad one. What’s up with that?”
The small 4 x 6 frame was in the shadows but still not completely hidden from view. I pulled it forward while keeping my phone positioned on the shelf so Mia could get a good look too.
It was a photo of present-day Jake, with a gorgeous Asian woman. Fingers intertwined, smiling at the camera. Her left hand was slightly lifted to show off a simple solitaire engagement ring. He wore a dress shirt, black striped tie, and, of course, shorts. Awful, black pleated ones.
Mia said it before I did. “Holy shit! That woman is the same girl in the high school photo.”
Thoughts and memories from the past flooded my brain. The girl in the high school photo was his high school sweetheart. He had broken up with her in college a few months before we started dating. Mia and I had joked about me being a rebound. But this woman in the engagement photo . . . it was her.
Jake had gotten back with his ex.
When?
How long ago? And for how long?
Obviously long enough to be almost married to her.
I gulped hard and tried to calm my breathing. Mia yelped as she pieced it together too. “Ohhhh shit! That’s his re-ex! Wait, what does that make you?”
Also
a re-ex? My mind spun to the point of dizziness. Was this a pattern of his? Do-over relationships with ex-girlfriends? And did he go running back to his ex because he realized what
they
had was better than what
we
had?
Jake came into the bedroom and caught me with his engagement picture in my hand.
“Oh shit.” He grimaced.
I dropped my phone as Mia yelled on its way down, “Oh shit is right.” From the floor, she yelled, “Jake Cho! You have some explaining to do!”