Honestly, you’d think I was fifty-two and not thirty-two by the way they were talking. I was only ten years older, maybe eleven. When I was at my last company, I’d worked with interns and recent college grads every day and would like to think I could still carry myself in a nongeriatric fashion. They’d invited me to lunch and happy hours sometimes, which was the ultimate nod of approval, right?
Grace held up her hand to PJ’s face, signaling for him to shut his trap. “Let me explain where I’m going with this, without your mansplaining.”
PJ mimed that he was zipping his mouth, and he and Grace laughed together. Clearly they had a good relationship, and she could put him in his place when needed.
“Maybe you’re right and my words came out wrong, let me try again with adding context. I went to Seoul International Prep, one of the expat schools in Korea where most of the teachers are from the States. I was born in Florida but moved to Seoul when I was four. I see myself as equally Korean and American, and I wanted to know if I should call you Lil or sunbae or unnie.” She shot a look at PJ. “My question comes from a place of respect, not insult.”
I’d been around Korean American people my entire life, mostly peers and elders, and I’d never been in such an awkward position where my being the oldest in a group would need clarity around honorific titles. Just as she didn’t know whether to call me “older sister” or her “senior,” I didn’t know if calling all of them hubae, my junior, was appropriate now that this hierarchy issue had come up.
Mia was going to laugh her ass off when I told her about this. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
“Well, I’m open to whatever you’d want, but I personally like to think of myself as a peer. And I know I’ve been pretty quiet about my reasons for being in the class, and I can share my long story another time, maybe over lunch soon? I promise it’s innocuous, and not because I murdered someone at my last school and transferred here.”
We continued to joke around, my answer seeming to placate the three of them. And it bought me some time to think about what parts of my background I was willing to offer up to people I didn’t know well. The more people who knew about my circumstances, the riskier it was.
Grace said, “I’ll call you Lil then!”
I let out a small groan. “Actually, could you all please call me Lily? That’s also another part of the story that I’ll explain later.”
She smiled. “I’m okay with that. Are you taking classes in the college or in the School of Professional Studies?”
“Just college. I have the CS class with all of you, the statistics course I’ve been auditing is in the college program too, and so is my Building a Global Audience and Influencer Culture elective sociology class.” It wasn’t as rigorous for me as my other coursework, and I figured I could keep it as a buffer in case the dean was wrong again about my degree completion requirements.
Grace asked, “Why are you auditing the stats class?”
I bit my lip and looked at Ethan. How forthcoming could I be with these new classmates? “I’m hoping someone drops out so I can enroll. It’s a course that covers things I already know from my last corporate job—surveys and data analysis—so it would probably be an easy A.” What I left out was that I would drop out of CS if I got into stats. No need to alarm anyone.
PJ threw his phone on the table. “My battery died.” He looked at Ethan. “So I guess we meet up for the next assignment next week? Same time, same place?”
Ethan stacked our trash on his tray. “Yes, unless you have something better to do.”
As I got up from the table, my knees cracked loudly, like the first kernel exploding inside a microwave bag of popcorn. They never did that in my twenties. I was officially “snap-crackle-pop joints” years old.
When someone’s stomach growls, people usually pretend they don’t hear, and these new friends of mine extended the same courtesy with my cracking knees. Not only did my buddies have quiet joints, but all three also had sky-high metabolisms. Ethan and PJ had each inhaled two slices of pizza and a jumbo Coke, leaving only a few bites of crust, while Grace ate a full burrito with sour cream and guacamole, then washed it all down with a strawberry lemonade.
Outside, I waved to them. “I’ll see you in class.” Ethan and PJ went to the library, Grace headed to the gym, and I walked to the registrar to take a new photo and get a new ID.
On my way home, I snapped a picture of my new badge and sent it to Mia. It was so bad I knew she’d get a kick out of it. It was like they took my cringy old senior year ID photo and used age progression software to add ten prison years. As I turned the key for the front door, my phone buzzed.
Mia. Hottest 32 yo undergrad student on campus!
Mia again. Eat your heart out, Jake Cho
Yes, eat your heart out, Jacob.
Chapter Eleven
The kitchen countertops were entirely covered with dirty dishes, used pots, and Pyrex casserole containers. An absolute mess. The Brita water pitcher I needed was nowhere to be found, so I filled my water bottle from the sink instead.
“Do we need to talk about this, Roomie?” I joked, gawking at the disarray.
Beth wiped her hands on her SPIRITUAL GANGSTER apron and lifted a glass baking pan to show me her latest culinary masterpiece. “I made cherry yum yum. It’s a Southern and Midwestern thing.” She had also made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Pecan bars. Chex Mix muddy buddies. All littering the kitchen table and stovetop. “I’m procrasti-baking,” she explained. “Feel free to have whatever you want. The rest will be for my friends, my study groups, and for the variety treat packs I sell on campus. People love them, especially around exam time.”
I could see why homemade treats would go over well with college students. Especially those who stress-snacked or smoked weed and consequentially had voracious appetites.
“Try my latest creation!” She grabbed a bowl and a giant metal spoon and scooped some of the fruity, fluffy dessert from the rectangular glass container. I couldn’t help but notice a corner section was missing. Beth was probably taste-testing. “This is a no-bake recipe, and it needs to be refrigerated, so eat it up fast!”
I was so used to being around people my age who were heavily focused on extreme health consciousness and dietary limitations, so this was such a treat for me. I grabbed a fork from the dish rack and stabbed at the dessert with the prongs. It was soft, with the consistency of tiramisu.