The Do-Over(42)
Author: Suzanne Park
Chapter Twenty
This 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?”