Made in Korea

by Sarah Suk

  Me: V&C is over. Officially.

  It wasn’t until I hit send that I remembered Charlie was at a basketball tournament all day today. He wasn’t even in the building.

  Still, when my phone rang a second later, I thought it would be him. But it was Umma’s name on my caller ID. I let it go to voicemail. She only called me when I’d done something wrong. I couldn’t deal with that right now.

  Ten seconds later my phone rang again. This time it was Samantha.

  Weird. She hardly ever called me.

  I picked up.

  “Samantha?” My voice sounded strange and hollow to my ears.

  “Valerie, come quick.” It sounded like she was crying. She never cried. “Halmeoni’s in the hospital.”

  “What?” Time slowed. Someone bumped into me with their backpack as they jogged past, but I didn’t feel a thing. I’d gone completely numb.

  “Halmeoni. She fell down the stairs.”

  “Halmeoni is in the hospital?”

  “Yes. Come on, Valerie, are you even listening to me? She’s asking for you, so come quick.”

  She’s asking for me. Halmeoni is asking for me.

  “I’m coming,” I said, and then I hung up. I had to get to the hospital. I called Charlie, praying that he might have his phone on him at the tournament, but it went straight to voicemail. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. How am I supposed to get there? What bus do I take? I fumbled with Google Maps, trying to map out the fastest route. It was an hour by bus. Fuck. I wanted to scream. Fuck you, Google Maps. I don’t have a fucking hour!

  “Valerie?” I looked up to see Wes staring at me in concern. He was holding his saxophone case, probably getting ready to leave school for the day. “Are you okay?”

  I took a deep breath, shook my head.

  He took a step toward me. “Can I do anything to help?”

  My voice came out small. “Yeah, actually. Could you give me a ride to the hospital?”

  * * *

  We sat in silence as he drove.

  I rested my head against the passenger window. I felt bruised all over on the inside. Was that even possible? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that everything hurt.

  “Do you want to listen to some music?” Wes asked, breaking the silence.

  “Okay.” Somewhere deep inside, I was still angry with him, but I didn’t have the energy to be angry at him right now. Besides, music sounded nice.

  He turned on something instrumental, mellow and jazzy and full of light piano chords.

  “Jazz always helps me clear my head,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off the road.

  “I guess it’s like your version of Hi-Chews,” I heard myself say.

  He smiled. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Ms. J suspended V&C.”

  He looked sharply at me and then back at the road, the smile dropping from his face. “What? Valerie, I’m sorry. I just thought she might talk you out of it. I had no idea she would suspend your business.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” I meant it, even though it hurt to say. I stared out the window, speaking more to myself than to him. “When I was looking at all the counterfeit items in my locker today, I realized you were right. This isn’t what I built my business to be. It’s not V&C K-BEAUTY and it’s not me. I just got so…” My voice trailed off. “Desperate. But I couldn’t go through with it after all. I have nothing now. My mom was right. I never had it in me.”

  “Never had what in you?”

  “The skills. The smarts. Anything worthwhile.”

  He shook his head. “You know you’re more than just your business, right?”

  I said nothing. He didn’t press it. There was more I wanted to say about the things he’d said to me, how I treated people and relationships and saw them all through a business lens, but I couldn’t find the words. We drove without speaking the rest of the way, the music filling the space between us.

  It wasn’t until we pulled up to the hospital that I realized I was crying. Silent tears rolling down my cheeks and dripping down my chin. I quickly wiped them from my face with the sleeve of my jacket.

  “Thank you for the ride,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt.

  “Hey, wait.” He opened the glove compartment, revealing a bag of Hi-Chews. He fished out a handful of strawberry ones and held them out to me. “Just in case you need the extra support.”

  I stared at the Hi-Chews in his palm. I had so many mixed feelings. Hurt. Pain. Gratitude. For a moment I thought about rejecting them. But right now I knew I needed the support more than I needed to prove a point.

  “Thank you,” I said. I took the Hi-Chews and got out of the car. And then I walked straight through the hospital doors.

  * * *

  The first person I saw was Samantha. She was sitting in the waiting room, rolling an empty paper cup of what might have once held coffee between her hands. As soon as she saw me, she ran forward and hugged me.

  “You made it,” she said, pulling back. Her face was pale and tired, totally drained of all energy. “Appa, Eemo, and Charlie are all on their way. Umma just went home to get some of Halmeoni’s stuff. It looks she’ll have to stay overnight.”

  “How is she?” I asked, anxious.

  She hesitated and my stomach dropped. Seeing the terror on my face, she quickly replied, “Halmeoni’s okay. No broken bones or anything, just some bruises. They just want her to stay overnight to run some tests while she’s here.” She didn’t look directly at me when she spoke the next part. “The doctors think she has Parkinson’s disease.”

  “Parkinson’s disease?” The words fell out of my mouth, clunky and foreign. It couldn’t be true. Halmeoni was healthy. She had to be healthy. “Why would they say that?”

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t know. They’re doctors. I guess they see the symptoms.” She looked away. “Halmeoni was asking for you. You should go see her. She’s in room 402.”

  My mind was racing. I thought back to all the times we’d gone out, me pulling her around the grocery store, us walking together to the arcade, arms linked. A terrible thought hit me. Had I pushed her too hard? Was it my fault this was happening? My throat tightened. I can’t believe I let this happen.

  I immediately headed for the room, stopping only when I realized Samantha wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I saw her earlier,” she said, already sitting back down. There was a different look on her face now, one that I couldn’t quite place. She crumpled the empty paper cup in her hand. “Besides, she only asked for you.”

  When I walked into room 402, the first thing I noticed was how strange it was to see Halmeoni in a bed, and not her floor bed. She looked so small and frail, lying there with her eyes closed. My heart ached as I crawled into bed next to her, curling up against her side. My halmeoni.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. “Valerie. You’re here.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, resting my cheek against her shoulder. “Sorry it took me so long.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “As long as you are here now.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “My knees hurt, and I feel very stiff. But they gave me some painkillers that make me very sleepy. Your halmeoni is not so young anymore, it seems.”

  She laughed lightly. I couldn’t help it. I started to cry again.

  “Halmeoni, I’m so sorry,” I choked between tears.

  “Wae, my girl? Why? What’s the matter?”

  “I wanted to take you to Paris. We were supposed to eat macarons together and see the Eiffel Tower and eat real French cheese on real French baguettes with your travel-sized gochujang.” I was full-on crying all over her hospital gown now as she stroked my hair with her wrinkled hand. “But now… but now…”

  “The doctors say I have Parkinson’s,” she said, filling in the gap.

  I nodded against her shoulder. “I thought that going on some kind of big adventure wo
uld give you new life, that you would feel better if we could make your travel dreams come true. But Umma was right. You’re not as healthy as you used to be, and if I took you to Paris, I probably would have made it all worse. I was so focused on what I thought would be best for you, I didn’t even see what was right in front of me.”

  “Oh, Valerie. Don’t cry over that,” she said, tears filling her own eyes. “I like the way you see me. It is so nice to have someone dream dreams for you. What a gift. Besides, don’t you know? I am already the happiest I can be whenever I am with you. It doesn’t have to be Paris. It can be our own backyard. If you are there, your halmeoni is happy. If you are there, it is enough for me.”

  “But what about wanting to go out and see the world?” I said. “It’s too late now. I was too late. If I had just worked harder or raised money faster…”

  She sighed. “Oh, Valerie. The world is so big. Of course I want to see more of it. When I lived in Korea, I dreamed so badly of going to America. Of giving my children and grandchildren every opportunity they could ever hope for. When that dream came true, it was very hard. Immigrating to a new country is very lonely. I made many mistakes. Your mother and Sunhee Eemo know. They had to put up with a lot from me. And it was so hard for them too. They had just lost their father, and they were nearly adults by the time we moved. Not young enough to absorb a new culture very quickly.

  “But I look at you and Samantha and Charlie now and I think, yes, it was worth it. To see you live your lives to the fullest, to take every opportunity, to meet all different kinds of people, and to see a whole new world grow inside each of you. The world out there is big, Valerie, and of course I would love to see more of it. But your halmeoni is so, so content to be by your side and watch the world grow inside of you.”

  I wrapped my arms around her tight, letting her words sink deep into me. “What if the world inside me is not so good, Halmeoni?” I whispered, speaking my fear. “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

  “We all have, my girl. It’s part of growing.” Her voice grew faint, drifting in and out like ocean tides. She squeezed my hand, nodding off to sleep.

  I curled closer into her side and closed my eyes too, feeling raw but more at peace than I had in a long time.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN WES

  Monday / April 20

  I sat in the car for a long time after Valerie disappeared through the hospital’s sliding doors, not moving until the car behind me started honking. I drove out of the hospital drop-off zone, my mind bursting with endless questions.

  Did I make a mistake telling Ms. Jackson about Valerie’s plan? Is Valerie’s halmeoni going to be okay? What happens now with V&C K-BEAUTY? What happens now with me and Valerie?

  Somehow, without even realizing how I got there, I ended up back in my driveway. I turned off the ignition and pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. I had too many thoughts, too many emotions, and nowhere to put them.

  I needed to play this out. I needed music.

  I’ll tell Dad I’m sick, I decided as I got out of the car. And then I’ll lock myself in my room and play until dinner.

  But as I walked through the front door, I could already sense that something wasn’t right. For one, there were too many shoes by the door. I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Mom’s and Dad’s voices. What was Mom doing home? She was never home at this time.

  “Hello?” I called to let them know I was there.

  Their conversation stopped immediately.

  “Wes?” Dad’s voice called out, stiff and unnatural. “Can you come in here for a moment?”

  My immediate thought was: We’re moving again. Why else would Mom be home at this time unless she was getting ready to pack our life away? A flare of panic shot up in my chest. No. Not this time. I couldn’t leave yet.

  I walked into the kitchen, practically expecting to see everything already packed away. But it was just as I’d left it in the morning. Mom’s Vitamix on the kitchen counter, Dad’s collection of magnets shaped like computers on the fridge. Mom was sitting at the table, clutching her phone, while Dad sat across from her, an open white envelope in his hands.

  My eyes zeroed in on the envelope. An envelope marked with Toblie School of Music’s seal.

  “We were wondering why Toblie School of Music was sending you a letter,” Dad said, holding up the envelope. “And why they’d like to congratulate you on your acceptance for the fall.”

  I sucked in a breath. Holy shit. I’ve been accepted. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. And yet, any happiness I was feeling was immediately tamped down by the look on Mom’s and Dad’s faces as Dad threw the envelope on the table, folding his arms across his chest.

  “So?” he said. “Should we call them and tell them they’ve made a mistake? That my son never applied for this music school? Or do you have something you want to tell us?”

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Come on, Wes. Don’t wimp out now. Come on, come on.

  “It wasn’t a mistake,” I finally managed. “I applied. I auditioned. I got in.”

  Dad’s face grew stormy. “And?”

  And? “And…” My voice trailed off. “That’s all.”

  “Oh really?” Now Mom spoke, holding up her phone and sliding it across the kitchen counter toward me. “What about this? Care to explain?”

  Confused, I slowly picked up the phone. It was an Instagram picture of a girl holding up a bottle of sunscreen and smiling. My stomach sank. Not just any girl. It was Kristy Lo, her hair as blond as butter. She was holding the sunscreen with Shiyoon’s tiger mascot, the orange one wearing sunglasses.

  Can’t wait to try my new sunscreen featuring my one true love, Shiyoon! the caption read. Thanks, Wes, for the hookup! #RoyalStripes.

  “One of my colleagues sent me this photo, asking me why this girl had a sample of Crown Tiger’s new sunscreen that hasn’t even been released yet,” Mom said, her eyes boring into mine. “Imagine my surprise when we traced it back and found an account selling K-pop beauty products run by Wes Jung at Crescent Brook High.”

  Oh my God. I wiped the sweat beading on my forehead, trying to remind myself to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. This was happening. What the hell do I do?

  “Well, Wes?” Dad said.

  The silence stretched between us like an elastic band ready to snap. There was no way out. The moment to speak up had finally come.

  “I needed money to fix my saxophone and apply for music school, so I started selling the beauty products that Mom’s been giving me. I knew you would oppose it, so I kept it a secret.” I took a deep breath, plowing forward. “I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this from you. I really didn’t mean for you to find out like this. But I’m not sorry that I applied for music school. It’s something I have to do. I can’t live a future that you choose for me.”

  My heart pounded in my ears. Finally I was saying what I’d always wanted to say. It was a hundred times more satisfying than I’d thought it would be, but also a hundred times more terrible. The look on Dad’s face was worse than anything I had ever imagined. It was disappointment, anger, and betrayal all at once.

  “Why not?” Dad said, his jaw tensed. “You’re too young to even know what you really want. And obviously you’re not capable of making your own decisions yet. Look at the mess you’ve created for your mom! Do you know how much chaos you’ve caused for her team, selling products that haven’t been released yet? You’ve thrown off their entire marketing timeline!”

  I winced. Shit. I really messed up. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I just took them from Mom’s office thinking that everything in there was old and fair game. I didn’t know…”

  “How could you think you could get away with something like this?” Dad said, practically yelling now. He slammed his fist on the table, making both me and Mom jump. “You think we’re going to give you our blessing for this music school just because you got in? There is no way any son of mine is going down a path like this. I’m not
going to support this.”

  “Yeobo, calm down,” Mom said, resting a hand on his arm. She looked at me, disappointment etched on her face. “Wes, I don’t understand what you mean by all of this. Where is this coming from?”

  “Wait, Dad, what do you mean, ‘a path like this’?” I asked. “A path like what? A path I actually want? A path I think I could be really good at?”

  “A path that’s for dreamers,” he spat out.

  “What is wrong with being a dreamer?”

  “You want to live with no money, Wes? Huh? You want to be unstable your whole life? It’s difficult. You have no idea how difficult. When I was your age, I had to support both myself and your uncle. You think I could have done that if I went into something like music? Why do you think your uncle struggles so much still? I didn’t raise my son to live with his head in the sky. I raised you to be grounded and to make a difference in the world.”

  “You raised me to believe that I had to do everything your way,” I cried. Now that I had started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. Everything rushed out of me at once, begging to finally be free. “You made me think that I could never say no to you. But I can make decisions for myself. I know the road will be hard. I know it won’t be as stable as being a doctor or a computer scientist like you. But I have to try. Pursuing music isn’t just some fantasy to me. It’s what keeps me grounded. And believe it or not, I think music can make a difference in the world. It has in mine.”

  “Wes, please,” Mom said, standing between me and Dad with her hands held out. “Both of you. Let’s stay calm.”

  “I get that you’re worried for me,” I said, pleading now. “I really do understand. But I’m ready for it to be difficult. And even if I’m not, even if I have no idea how hard it will actually be, don’t you think these are lessons I need to learn for myself?”

  “No!” Dad yelled. “You don’t need to learn lessons that I’m teaching you right now. How am I supposed to sit back and watch you struggle for the rest of your life? You have had every opportunity given to you and you’re about to waste it all now. When will you come to your senses, Jung Hojin?”