29 Dates

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “Okay, okay. I’m listening, Jees.”

  “I’ve never gotten this many likes on a post. I’ve also never posted anything as overtly political.”

  “All right. I still don’t see where this is going—”

  “I looked up the geotags for all the different consulates around North Beach. Sweden, Switzerland, Brazil. Some of them have tagged photos from different cultural holidays, others from parades. Then I thought, what if we mine all this data from Instagram to track how social media—”

  “How social media can impact political efforts?” Dave finished her thought. Normally this would annoy Jisu, but today she was relieved that he understood the concept. After weeks, they finally had a good idea. And it seemed like it was going to stick.

  “That’s a really good idea,” Dave said. He sat quiet for a minute. Jisu could sense him thinking the concept through. She imagined him sitting in his room, deep in thought, tilting his head to the side. “And we can use it for any location. Polling booths, courthouses, city hall. This is really smart.”

  “Some of the art galleries on Mission Street are showing political art. I’m sure they do events there that could get tagged.”

  “That, too! I think you just saved our project. Mrs. French is gonna love this,” Dave said. “I’m glad I got paired up with you.”

  “Thanks, Dave.” Jisu smiled. A little too hard. She pulled at her cheek to stop herself from smiling. Why do I care what Dave thinks? She was just glad she hadn’t told Dave about the idea in person. Then he would’ve seen how his compliments had her smiling like an idiot.

  AUGUST 12, SUMMER BREAK

  DATE NO. 12

  NAME: Lee Eunsong

  * * *

  ACCOMPLISHMENTS:

  Solo Violin Performance at Carnegie Hall

  * * *

  DISLIKES:

  Crowds, Skiing, Lizards

  * * *

  Jisu: Did you really have a solo performance at Carnegie Hall?

  Eunsong: Yeah, it was a few years ago. Ms. Moon really likes to flash that fact around when she sets me up on these seons.

  Jisu: What do you play?

  Eunsong: The violin. Been playing since I was five. Most five-year-olds can’t even hold a fork the right way at five. But me? I was just starting to perfect my bow grip.

  Jisu: That’s impressive! What did you perform?

  Eunsong: Scottish Fantasy by Max Bruch and Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto.

  Jisu: I’m going to be honest, I don’t know either of those pieces. Although I do recognize the composers’ names.

  Eunsong: That’s fine. No one really knows the solo stuff unless it’s super famous. Everyone just sort of recognizes one of the Beethoven symphonies.

  Jisu: Carnegie Hall though. That must have been like a real dream come true.

  Eunsong: For the first time, it really was! You know I’ve performed there close to five times now, right? Not all solo performances, but I’ve gotten pretty well acquainted with it.

  Eunsong: Did you know that people used to live in Carnegie Hall? They ousted the final tenants, but there were these artists that used to live there. It’s incredible. I wish I was born earlier so I could do that.

  Jisu: That sounds amazing. I’ve never been to Carnegie Hall. I visited NYC once when I was a child, and I think we even walked past the hall, but I’ve never been inside.

  Eunsong: They have a man-operated elevator that takes you to the balcony seats. There are so few of those kinds of elevators left. It’s kinda neat.

  Jisu: Is that your favorite performance hall?

  Eunsong: I don’t know actually. It’s so hard to choose. Maybe because it’s older, but something about Carnegie feels more intimate compared to a place like Avery Fisher.

  Jisu: Which one’s that?

  Eunsong: It’s where the New York Philharmonic plays in Lincoln Center. It’s actually called David Geffen Hall now, but it was Avery Fisher for like years before they sold the name to some other billionaire. Honestly, it’ll always be Avery Fisher to me.

  Jisu: Have you performed there?

  Eunsong: No, but I will one day, I’m sure.

  Jisu: You seem very confident.

  Eunsong: Usually, if I put my head into it, I’ll get it done.

  Jisu: Just like that.

  Eunsong: Google Science Fair. I’m not even a huge science nerd. I just had this one good idea and I thought—how can I make good use out of this? It was a proposal on more effective ways to recycle. I submitted it and then boom—first place. First place in the world.

  Jisu: That’s great! Good for you.

  Eunsong: One time, my little sister entered me into a really competitive painting contest. I think she just wanted to see me lose for once.

  Jisu: Let me guess. You won that, too?

  Eunsong: No, I came in runner-up. But there was no way I should’ve done well. There were a bunch of art school kids that didn’t even place in the top three. Anyway, my sister was annoyed. But it really wasn’t bad!

  Jisu: What did your piece look like?

  Eunsong: Well, I’ve only ever taken a few basic art classes. So I decided to throw a swath of colors onto a canvas and call it abstract. The judges praised my use of color and said I had a great eye. You can’t teach an artist to have a good instinct with colors. So I don’t feel like a complete fraud.

  Jisu: Is there ever a time when you do feel like a fraud?

  Eunsong: Hmm. Actually, you know what, probably not.

  Jisu: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  13

  Jisu’s only plans for the day were to sleep in and continue chipping away at her college applications, but she woke up early, still buzzing with excitement after her call with Dave.

  I’m glad I got paired up with you.

  No, it was the fact that she finally figured out their IS project. The excitement had nothing to do with Dave.

  But the words lingered in Jisu’s mind.

  She splashed cold water onto her face to shake off her slumber. Of course he should be glad to be paired up with her—she had just saved them from getting an incomplete in the class! They did make a good pair. Dave would sit back and let Jisu freely think things out loud. But he was resourceful, too. Right after they’d hung up, he’d sent an email dividing up the workload so they could get right to it. They were a good duo. A good working duo.

  Jisu’s phone rang. Call from: Umma. They had just spoken the day before yesterday. Her mother had to know it was early Saturday morning in San Francisco. What did she want?

  “Hello?”

  “Jisu! Good morning. My daughter is up already. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Mrs. Kim sounded awfully chipper.

  “No, Umma. I’m actually doing some work.”

  “Not editing photos, I hope?”

  Jisu rolled her eyes. “I’m working on a school project.”

  “Are you behind? Do you need another tutor?”

  Jisu briefly muted her phone to let out a groan. She kicked her legs underneath her duvet cover and eventually rolled herself up. Jisu was still half asleep, but fully annoyed.

  “Hello? Jisu? Are you there?”

  She had woken up in a great mood, ready to spring into action. Why hadn’t she just let the call go to voice mail?

  “No, Umma, I’m actually on track. It’s a class that I really like, international studies. The teacher, Mrs. French, is—”

  “That all sounds nice and well, Jisu. Oh, your Haraboji showed me your photos of the Golden Gate. Why didn’t you send those to me and Appa also?”

  Lately, Jisu had been sending more photos to her grandfather than to her parents. The more photos she sent to her parents, the more likely they’d criticize her for spending too much time wandering the streets of San Francisco. But her grandfather would never. Haraboji’s eyesight
hadn’t been good in ages, but he always demanded to see more. In the last few email exchanges, he even offered his own critique and made suggestions on lighting and composition where he could. Regardless of how well Haraboji could look at her photos, he saw Jisu’s vision and inspiration in each one better than her parents could.

  “Your father and I are dying to see photos of our Jisu! Make sure you send them to us also, okay?” Mrs. Kim sounded a little too at ease. It was late in Seoul. She was probably getting ready for bed and feeling relaxed after book club. Ajummas only ever drank wine and gossiped at those biweekly meetings. “Jisu, I really do think they look great. I’m glad you’re getting to see the city, too.”

  “Okay, next time I’ll send you some photos, too.” The tenderness in her mother’s voice was comforting, albeit slightly suspicious. As long as they weren’t talking about academics and college applications, Jisu and her mother got along just fine. And distance did make the heart grow fonder.

  Distance had also granted Jisu an independence she’d never dreamed of.

  The pressure to get into an Ivy League school would always be there, but her parents were no longer breathing down her back. It was like her wings had been tied her whole life and she was just getting to use them. None of this was at the expense of any academic merit either. The workload at Wick was more manageable. And being able to make time for photography, new friends and even Austin—doing what she liked in between fulfilling her academic duties—in a sense helped her do better at school. Appa was right, a school that gave her a bit of breathing room made all the difference.

  “It seems like you’re settling well into school, which is great,” Mrs. Kim said. Jisu held on to these words and etched them into her memory.

  “Thanks, Umma. I think I’m actually happy at Wick. Sometimes I get really homesick, but I’m making new friends, the Murrays are nice—”

  “Well, now that you are settled in and have a good grasp on schoolwork, I think we can resume the seons.”

  Of course. Of course the initial pleasantries were leading up to this. Jisu clenched her fist.

  “Umma, I can’t. I’m focusing on schoolwork. You can’t expect me to go on dates if you want me to get into Harvard. At least, not until I get all my college applications out,” Jisu said. She thought about how she had spent a whole afternoon at Pacifica with Austin. She hadn’t heard from him since. It had been almost two weeks. Why hadn’t he at least texted her?

  “We have to always be prepared, Jisu.” Mrs. Kim spoke with that condescending tone that drove Jisu mad. “In case you aren’t accepted to a reputable—”

  “I am not a terrible student. It’s not like I won’t get into any college. You’re acting like no one will accept me.” A fiery ball of anger rolled up her throat. “But I won’t fail. I can’t, because I am actually a good student. And no matter what happens, I’m doing my best and will go wherever that takes me, Ivy or not.”

  Hot tears dripped down her face. Jisu cleared her throat. She didn’t want her mother to know she was crying. “If you’re going to spend so much time and energy investing in my future, shouldn’t you at least have a little faith in your own daughter?”

  This anger always lived inside Jisu, but she had made sure to keep it dormant. Each time the frustration and resentment threatened to crawl out of her throat, she swallowed it back down. She had always been obedient. Maybe it was the time difference or the actual physical distance, but the anger managed to push through this time.

  Mrs. Kim was silent. Jisu wondered if her mother, baffled by her audacity, had hung up on her.

  They stood at either end of the line, waiting for the other to break the silence first.

  “One month.” Her mother finally spoke. “You’ve only been there a month and you’re already acting like an American. All this talk of trying your best and settling for wherever that takes you.” Mrs. Kim let out a deep sigh. Jisu could see her sitting in their dining room, frowning and rubbing her temples. “I know I didn’t raise a daughter who would be so naive to think that her parents are making all these sacrifices for anyone but her.”

  “I never said that, Umma. I’m simply saying that all this pressure you’re putting on me can backfire—”

  “I heard what you said. The seons can resume after you’ve gotten all your applications in. Rest assured, they will continue.”

  Jisu hung up the phone and accepted her fate. It was a compromise, something that rarely happened with her mother, but she still felt like she’d lost.

  Her morning—no, the entire day—was soured. It was like the universe had given her a break and a small streak of happiness only to stab her in the back. Again.

  The call had knocked the wind out of her. Jisu looked at Dave’s email. The project outline, which was inspiring in all its organized glory just this morning, now felt daunting and burdensome. What was the point in trying, in going the extra mile, if no one—especially not her mother—was going to recognize it?

  At the end of the day, Jisu was her parents’ puppet. She would give them a 4.0 GPA, she would faithfully attend all the seons and settle for the least offensive date, and she would live the life that they picked out for her. If this was her destiny no matter what, what was the point in being the good girl when she was thousands of miles from home?

  Jisu opened the last text message from Austin. They had exchanged photos they’d taken of each other at Pacifica. They’d had zero communication since. Didn’t he want to see her again?

  That day was a little over a week ago, but the freedom and happiness she’d felt then seemed years away. What would happen between them once the seons resumed? Was there even anything there? It didn’t matter if there was something. Because the moment Jisu submitted her last college application, Ms. Moon would reenter her life. Jisu’s fate was sealed. So until she was forced to reckon with it, she was going to do whatever she wanted and live for the one person she never prioritized: herself.

  Austin! When are we going to hang out again?

  She hit Send and waited. A few seconds later, her phone dinged, and Jisu smiled.

  AUGUST 16, SUMMER BREAK

  DATE NO. 13

  NAME: Cho Sungbaek

  * * *

  INTERESTS:

  Genetics, German Club, Bicycling

  * * *

  DISLIKES:

  Conformity, Jell-O, Cold Tofu

  * * *

  Sungbaek: You’ll never guess where I was just twenty-four hours ago.

  Jisu: Where?

  Sungbaek: Berlin.

  Jisu: Oh, wow! And now you’re here. What were you doing in Berlin?

  Sungbaek: Well, I’ve been learning German since I was in elementary school and I’m pretty much fluent and I’ve always wanted to go.

  Jisu: Nice. Was it a solo trip?

  Sungbaek: Oh, no. I went with one of my best friends, Stella.

  Jisu: Just the two of you?

  Sungbaek: Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Our families used to go on vacations together. But now that everyone’s busy—and who wants to vacation with their parents anyway—we try to do a trip every now and then.

  Jisu: Oh...okay. My best friend Eunice and I still go on trips with our parents. I’m not gonna lie, it’s really nice that we don’t have to worry about booking anything or setting up an itinerary.

  Sungbaek: Oh, Stella and I never actually do that on our own. We use a travel agency that does everything. Do your parents really book and organize everything on their own? They must be very particular.

  Jisu: No, they just don’t mind doing it. My mom is generally a very organized person, so she would do it better than a travel agent, honestly.

  Sungbaek: Yeah, it’s awful when they mess things up. Because it’s either perfect and the trip goes without a hitch, or there’s one disastrous mistake that ruins everything.

  Jisu: Eve
rything?

  Sungbaek: Yes, everything. One time they somehow put me and Stella on two different connecting flights, even though we had the same outbound flight. This was on our trip to Spain. So poor Stella lands in Barcelona and has to wait an extra two hours for me to show up. Meanwhile, I was still waiting for my layover in Amsterdam to take off.

  Jisu: Couldn’t she just go straight to the hotel?

  Sungbaek: They booked the hotel under my name. Not hers. And of course we landed at dawn, so it’s not like a quick phone call from the agency could fix it.

  Jisu: That’s really nice of her to wait. I probably would’ve ditched you and found a different hotel and some new friends.

  Sungbaek: It was nice of her! She’s a dear friend. And I would’ve done the same thing if she were the one getting in late.

  Jisu: So, what do you do aside from traveling?

  Sungbaek: Well, I like to bike. I’m actually quite serious about it. Not just an easy ride through the park on Sunday afternoons.

  Jisu: Are you a competitive biker?

  Sungbaek: No, but actually, Stella has been pushing me to get into it. She’s been nagging about it for months, talking about how it would make me happier, give me a sense of purpose and whatnot.

  Jisu: Wow, sounds like you and Stella are inseparable.

  Sungbaek: I mean, when it comes to these things, she really is one of just a few people who know me better than myself.

  Jisu: And who would those other people be?

  Sungbaek: My mom, my dad, my two younger brothers, my dog...and yeah, that’s it. And Stella.

  Jisu: She sounds like a lovely girl.

  Sungbaek: She is! Smart, funny, good with the elders. You should meet her. You probably will meet her if this goes anywhere, to be honest. She’ll be my best man at my wedding, and at her wedding, I’ll be her maid of honor.

  Jisu: Reaaaallly?

  Sungbaek: Yeah. We also joke that if we hit thirty-five and still haven’t gotten married, we’re going to—