The Do-Over(60)
Author: Suzanne Park

 

Mia sighed. “I’m pretty sure my strict dad was the cause of my self-doubts. It was all criticism with that guy, and zero praise. I was never good enough.” She leaned back in her chair, contemplative in her thoughts. “But we need to break this cycle somehow.”

 

My parents were the same way. My anxiety first reared its ugly head in high school, and since then, I’d been constantly battling bouts of insecurity, both professionally and romantically. I worked twice as hard to prove to everyone I was a superstar employee, and that left zero time for exploring romantic relationships.

 

It was time for a change. “I won’t downplay my accomplishments, not anymore. I should be proud of what I’ve done with my life. I had a successful corporate career and took a big chance by leaving it to become a consultant and an author. I worked hard to get to where I am, damn it, and the successes I’ve had aren’t the accomplishments of my parents. They’re mine. It’s time that I toot my own horn. Others might not like it, but as the saying goes, ‘Haters gonna hate.’”

 

Beth squealed. “You are the walking, talking, real-life version of T-Swizzle’s ‘Shake It Off’ and I’m here for it!”

 

Mia exchanged glances with me and I cough-laughed. “But this is all good to think about, especially now. Thank you for the helpful, motivational BethTalk.”

 

She beamed. “I’m glad I could help someone with my research.”

 

“Shall we do the cheer?” Mia said, giddy with anticipation.

 

One drunken night, all three of us had come up with a ridiculous “rah rah” thing that Mia was actually excited about. The timing seemed more appropriate than ever. She put out her hand, Beth stacked her right one on it, and I placed mine on hers.

 

“On the count of one, two, three!” Mia cheered.

 

“Let! That! Shit! Go!” we chanted, then broke formation.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty

 

 

Eleven Years Ago

 

Our bags were packed, the passports were ready, and I had withdrawn five hundred euros from the bank. Strolling down Carlthorpe’s main walkway before heading to the airport, I could get one last look at campus before flying to Spain with Jake. Well, we were first flying into Paris for a week, and would then take the train to Madrid, my dream vacation destination, and arrive in Barcelona at the month’s end, when classes officially started.

 

Everything we had planned had turned out perfectly. We both got into the study abroad program our first semester senior year at Autonomous University of Barcelona. I had saved enough money so I could travel before and after the semester ended. And I got into all the courses I had wanted.

 

I had never imagined that I, Lily Lee, would be studying abroad in Europe. My only passport stamps were from a trip to Korea, but that was to visit family. This was different. Soon, I would gather my travel gear from Mia’s apartment and fly across the Atlantic, ready to have the experience of a lifetime.

 

I shivered with excitement and giddiness.

 

My phone rang. It was my umma. We’d already said our goodbyes earlier that morning, or rather, I got a lecture about how I was wasting money, slacking off, and I should travel to Europe when I was older instead. I promised my parents that I would study hard and not “play around,” as they said.

 

“It’s still not too late to take premed classes and study for MCAT,” they managed to squeeze in before we said our goodbyes. I hung up knowing I didn’t have their support, but it was time to start living my life outside of work-study and my textbooks, even if they didn’t approve. Three years of adulthood had already flown by, and I had nothing to show for them.

 

I wanted to break out of my shell and have the time of my life with my boyfriend. Jake and I had fought recently about how he wasn’t prioritizing me higher than, say, intramural softball, community gardening, ultimate Frisbee, and a million other things. He countered by complaining that I was constantly working, studying, or signing up for Res Life activities. Barcelona would give us time together.

 

No distractions.

 

When Umma tried calling three times, I knew it had to be urgent. She’d never tried to contact me like this, not even on the day Carlthorpe sent out their admissions letters, or the day my older sister had gotten into med school, or when Appa had been transferred to a new city for his engineering job and they were selling my childhood home.

 

“Hello?” I answered with a smidge of fear.

 

“Lily, good! You’re not on the plane. Don’t go to Spain.”

 

Actually, I was headed to Paris to spend a week with Jake, stuffing our faces with croissants, steak frites, and macarons. Not Spain. Not yet.

 

“We’ve already gone over this,” I complained. “My course load there will mostly transfer over and I promise I’ll study hard. Financial aid will be the same, and I’ll cover any extra spending.”

 

“No, you don’t understand,” she contested. There was a long pause before she continued. “Did you talk to your sister?”

 

My sister had, in fact, sent me a travel accessories kit as a bon voyage gift, something my parents hadn’t thought to do. “We already said goodbye last night. What is all of this about, anyway?” I checked my watch. “My plane leaves in about four hours.” Did my parents tell Sara to talk me out of going, the day of the flight? Now annoyed, especially that they had brought their favorite child into this, I fumed, “Look, I’m going. I’ve never gotten to travel anywhere other than Korea, and this is a perfect opportunity to do something academic, cultural, and social, all at the same time. I’m heading to the airport now, and I’ll let you know I arrived safely.”

 

“No, Lily. You don’t listen. You’re not going. You can’t.” Her voice fell faint. “Your appa . . . his company lay him off today, just after we talk on phone. We don’t have money for your college, we paying for Sara medical school too, remember?”

 

I stopped breathing. What did she mean? They didn’t have money for college?

 

She added, “We have enough saving to help paying for only one semester. And we have to keep paying for Sara medical school. It’s a good school, but expensive.”

 

Words fumbled around on my tongue. “So . . . I—I have to stay here?” Queasiness overtook me. I fell onto a bench along the walkway and tried to steady myself.

 

“Stay at campus and graduate early. You have the AP credit, you can take all of your classes in one semester. We can’t pay our share for both semester. We can’t take out more student loan right now and it’s too late to get low interest. You already borrowing too much.”