3 #2
Sonya lowered her chin and composed herself.
It was on her to convince him. Her sister was beside herself with worry.
In Sydney, Helen was working every possible shift at the department store.
To economize, the family had moved into a two-bedroom rental above a garage in Strathfield South.
They had to send money to DH at Yale and also support Mido at the University of Sydney.
Mido couldn’t qualify for HECS because she wasn’t an Australian citizen.
No one wanted to tell Bo how much his attempts were costing them, but he knew. Of course he knew. He was the oldest of three children, just as she was. The oldest needed to know what had to be done for the family.
“If you go to California and study there, you won’t be vulnerable to all these exam and admissions changes.
You won’t keep delaying your life year after year to prove something that everyone already knows you can do.
I know you want to be Korean and work and live here.
But my husband said the men in some companies could resent you for getting to skip military service.
None of this is your fault. Life is terribly unfair, but we have to—”
From his disheartened expression, it was evident that Bo had already thought of these things, and Sonya took another breath, not wanting to say any more.
“I spoke to Kim Teacher. You’re the best retaker student he’s ever had. All of us believe in you, Bo. We don’t believe in this exam.”
He stared at his barely touched plate.
“We don’t believe in the Korean education system. Do you understand?”
“I won’t blame Korea,” he said.
“Eat your food,” she said as kindly as she could.
After he finished, he told her he’d think about it.
Two days later, he ran into Isul in the kitchen. She was drinking her first coffee of the morning and looked chipper.
“Thank you for the toast bread and strawberry jam, little brother.”
Isul was referring to the day-old baked goods and expired jams he’d brought back the night before.
The gosiwon residents were delighted to supplement their rations with Bo’s regular food bonuses.
No one paid any attention to the expiration dates.
More than one of them had joked, “If only the mart could give us expired soju.” She slid the plate of toast toward him.
Bo nodded thanks but didn’t say anything. He poured boiling water over the powdered coffee in the bottom of his mug and watched the water bloom into coffee.
“My parents want me to go to America.”
“Go,” Isul said. “I’m glad somebody is making sense. Yaah—you better go. I’ll kill you if you don’t go.” Isul raised her fist over his head, grinning.
On seeing his expression, she put her fist down.
“You don’t want to go? Why?”
“You too?” He shook his head. “I want to take it again.”
“Forget Yonsei. You can pass next time. I’m positive. I would bet my eye surgery savings on that. And when you pass, so what? Have you seen how hard it is to get a good job here? You don’t have any connections, right? Does your rich aunt know any conglomerates that are hiring?”
“I spent three years,” he whispered.
“Big deal. Go. Listen to your parents. I wish I had smart parents.” Isul smiled to soften the blow of her words.
“You speak English perfectly, you have US citizenship, and you’re a genius.
You’re better at math than any hagwon teacher I have ever had.
Except for your nearsightedness, which you should get fixed, by the way, you are a nice-looking young guy.
Go to America. Forget this hell. If I had your choices, I would’ve been gone a long time ago.
You foreign-born Koreans are all messed up.
You think you have to prove something. Prove you’re Korean.
C’mon. There’s no test for that. There are Koreans who are born here who hate being Korean.
Hey, maybe that’s being Korean!” She laughed, then grew serious.
“Forget Australia, too. A friend of mine went there, and she’s doing just a little better than here, but everyone wants to go to the US.
You can. Do you need money for the ticket?
I don’t have much, but for my little brother, I would give you some of my eye surgery money—” Isul still felt terrible that he had not slept the night before his Suneung on account of her.
He swore it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty.
“My uncle works at Qantas. We can get cheaper tickets.”
“Wow. If you weren’t such a nice little brother, I would not like you. You have it made. What are you upset about?”
“I failed the Suneung three times. I’m twenty-two years old.” It occurred to him that in the US, he would be his American age of twenty-one, and it sounded much younger, though he was still the same person. “Three times.”
“So damn what? I failed my exam two times. By the time I get a job, if I get a job, I will be an old lady with thicker eyeglasses. But you know what? Your gosiwon sister will pass this son of a bitch civil service job test, ace the interview, and I’m going to get my nearsightedness corrected.
I’m not so bad-looking, and I’m going to have some fun.
I’ll have tall, good-looking boyfriends who like short women, and one day, I’m going to buy my aunt a little building back home.
It’s not expensive like Seoul.” She put her twiglike arms on her hips.
“This is my plan. I believe it is a good plan. Every day, I work to make my plans into reality.”
“You will definitely pass. I’m positive you will,” Bo said.
“Go. You go to America. That’s a better plan. But first, you better go to work.” Isul gestured to the kitchen wall clock, then picked up her free toast and jam.
Bo laughed.
“I better go.”
Isul winked, and when he left the kitchen, she imagined the big gosiwon without him, which was depressing. She made herself another coffee and opened her study guide.