“I am not asking him.”
“Why not?”
“Because. It’s invasive.”
“You’re not giving him a colonoscopy. You’re asking what his grades are. A good GPA leads to a good job and a good life. Remember that.”
“That is so antiquated. There are plenty of successful people who didn’t graduate college. Look at Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize he invented the next Microsoft and Apple. Send me a demo so I can show it off to my friends.”
“Har-har.” Farrah threw a popcorn kernel at the screen while her mom laughed. “I’m just saying, grades aren’t everything. Blake’s smart and works hard. And I really like him.”
Cheryl’s face softened. “I can tell. I’m glad you found someone you like so much. As long as he treats you well and isn’t a dum-dum.” She shuddered. “Don’t marry a stupid guy or spend the rest of your life taking care of him.”
“Mom, I’m wayyy too young to think about marriage.”
“I’m not saying get married now. You’re almost twenty. By the time you graduate, get a job, and date for a few years, it’ll be time. You don’t want to wait too long to have babies. You won’t have the energy to run after them. Take me, for example.”
“Hey! I was a good baby,” Farrah protested. “Besides, you had me when you were twenty-eight.”
“Yes, and it would’ve been easier if I had you when I was twenty-five.”
Over Farrah’s dead body. “I want to enjoy my twenties, thank you very much.”
Cheryl shook her head. “You’re young. You don’t listen to me now, but you’ll see.”
“How did we get on this subject?” Farrah uncrossed her legs and shook them out. Tingles shot up and down her thighs and shins. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Drama at the association, as usual.” Cheryl was a member of a local Chinese dance association that, technically, focused on ballroom dancing but was really an excuse for L.A.’s older Chinese community to gather weekly and gossip. “Elections for the presidency are coming up, and everyone’s fighting over it. So stupid.”
Cheryl always complained about the other members but refused to take Farrah’s advice and quit. Then again, between the dance outings, potlucks, holiday parties, and weekend trips to Canada, she had a better social life than Farrah.
“You should run for president.”
“Ha! I go to dance and eat free food. They can fight over the presidency all they want. I have enough to do at my real job.”
Valid.
“By the way…” Cheryl’s eyes sparkled. “Something came for you in the mail today.” She brandished an envelope with a distinctive gold and pale green logo in the upper left corner.
Farrah’s heart stuttered. The competition. Holy shit.
She’d submitted her application and portfolio in early January and hadn’t expected to receive finalist results until March. There was one more round after that, but still, this was a big freakin’ deal. She was either moving forward or dead in the water.
“I didn’t open it—”
“Open it!” Farrah raised her fist to her mouth. Her heart was this close to leaping out of her chest, reaching through the screen, and ripping that envelope open.
This was it.
Make it or break it time.
Oh god, what if she didn’t make it to the final round? What was she going to do? Farrah had applied to a few other internships just in case, but to be honest, she hadn’t tried her hardest on those and they—
“You’re a finalist.”
They probably saw right through her application. Some chic New York designer was probably poring over her application right now with a furrowed brow, wondering—hold up.
Farrah lowered her fist, unsure whether she heard right. “I’m a finalist?”
“You’re a finalist.”
Mother and daughter stared at each other before erupting into simultaneous squeals.
“I’m a finalist!” Farrah bounced up and down in excitement. Her MacBook slipped off her lap and would’ve crashed to the floor had she not grabbed it at the last minute. She held the screen close to her face, eyes wide. “I’m a finalist, I’m a finalist!”
Was this real life?
Maybe she was dreaming. God, that would suck.
Farrah pinched herself in the thigh.
Holy—ok. Not dreaming.
Of all the aspiring interior designers in the world (ok, in America), she, Farrah Lin, was a finalist for the most prestigious student competition in the industry. She could work for her idol, Kelly Burke. Hell, if things went well, she could have a job offer at the end of the summer.
This was unreal.
Wild, restless energy raced through her. She needed to do something. Tell someone the good news. Dance. Scream at the top of her lungs. Something!
“I’m proud of you.” Cheryl beamed. “Good thing I didn’t raise a stupid daughter. Although I can’t believe they didn’t email you. What is this, 1999? Are you sure you want to work for a company that doesn’t know how to use email?”
“Mom!” Farrah was in too good of a mood to take offense. “They’re traditional like that. It’s part of their appeal.”
“I guess you know better than me. Now, what are you still doing here?” Cheryl waved her daughter away. “Celebrate with your friends. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Ok! Talk to you later,” Farrah sang.
They didn’t say “I love you.” In fact, the thought of saying those words in Cantonese made Farrah cringe. So awkward. But some things didn’t need to be said.
Farrah waved goodbye, closed her laptop, and ran into the hall.
She hesitated, debating who to tell first. After a split second’s indecision, she ran to Olivia’s room and knocked on the door.
“Ladies, this is long overdue.” Courtney sighed in bliss as the pedicurist massaged her feet.
The spa smelled like lotion and lavender essential oil. Soothing music piped from hidden speakers. Half-empty glasses of bubbly sat next to each girl.
It was heaven.
“Mmm.” Farrah couldn’t muster enough energy for actual words. Massages always lulled her into a sleepy dream state.
“So overdue.” Olivia wiggled her toes. “I’ve been so stressed. Do you know how hard it is to find a good summer sublet in New York?”
“I told you, you can stay at my family’s place in the city. We never visit New York in the summer.” Kris shuddered. “Heat and tourist central.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure the Upper East Side is my vibe. No offense.”
“I don’t care.” Kris sipped her champagne. “The offer’s open if you change your mind.”
“Thank you. Love you.” Olivia blew her a kiss.
“When do you get the final decision?” Courtney asked Farrah.
“April. Internships start in June.” NIDA covered the winner’s flights and housing, so the short timeline wasn’t a big deal. But now that the high of being a finalist wore off, Farrah went right back to worrying again. She was one step away from the internship of her dreams. If she came so close and didn’t get it…Farrah didn’t want to think about it.