12 #2
After Pomona accepted Peter as a transfer student from Yale, the philosophy major arranged to take classes only on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, leaving him free to work at Exodus on Saturdays and Sundays.
During the week, he stayed in his single dorm room on campus, and on the weekends, he slept at his house in Irvine.
On Friday and Saturday nights, he played bass in Lion’s band.
His commuting life formed a triangle whose three points were Cypress, Claremont, and Irvine. He enjoyed driving his unwashed blue Volkswagen Passat. It was easy to forget that he was only a junior in college.
At Exodus, he taught both verbal and math, which was rare. In general, teachers had a preference, and although Peter taught math mostly because there was a greater need for skilled math tutors, if a verbal instructor went missing, he could teach it just as well.
As a musician, he was also a natural performer.
One-on-one, Peter could be reserved, more willing to listen than chat.
However, as onstage, in front of a class, he brought an infectious, engaging energy.
In primary school, he had learned to play the guitar and bass from a private music teacher, and whenever he sang, he surprised everyone, especially girls.
He liked performing and could teach difficult subjects with a learner’s enthusiasm and a singer’s charisma.
Naturally, the students thought he was cool.
Lion didn’t know why exactly Peter had left Yale for Pomona, or why he needed to work so many hours.
He didn’t seem interested in money. Nevertheless, he took every class or gig Lion offered, so when he wasn’t in school or playing bass, he was at Exodus.
Neither Lion nor Yun knew of his plans, and Bo couldn’t figure them out, either.
Bo had gotten to know him only because of his brother, DH, who said Peter preferred not to talk about his family.
Peter got along well with his mother, Renee, but had no intention of moving back to Seoul for work.
He wanted to be a rock star, he’d say, as if joking, and live in the States no matter what.
Lion preferred to hire actors, visual artists, musicians, filmmakers, and writers, and not just because they could accommodate flexible schedules.
For one thing, students responded well when creative adults taught them the subjects and tests they dreaded.
People in the arts also tended to stay on longer at hagwons for the steady income they provided, a ballast to the uncertainties of the artistic life.
Lion had been composing, writing lyrics, and performing his own music for eight years, and so far he hadn’t found traction.
Now and then he thought of touring, but he preferred being at home with Yun.
He was beginning to accept that he was a competent but unremarkable musician who loved being in a band.
And he was proud of his hagwon, pleased that he helped kids do well in school and provided dozens of well-paying jobs at his flourishing tutoring center.
He still played music several times a week and had a standing gig at least once a month at Rascals, a steak house in Newport Beach.
It was starting to feel like enough to him.
On Saturday morning, when Mido started teaching her specialized high school entrance exam boot camp, her new classroom was next to Peter’s SAT boot camp filled with high school juniors and seniors.
In the past year, she hadn’t seen him as much because she worked during the week and on weekends helped out at home and church.
After the boot camps ended, they had to attend the general staff meeting led by Lion and Yun. At the end of the meeting, it was customary for the teachers to bring up any special issues, and Mido raised her hand.
“I haven’t seen Ginny Noh in a week, and when I phoned the guardian, Mrs. Chiu, I didn’t hear back,” she said.
“Maybe she’s ill,” Yun suggested.
“I thought we could check in on her,” Mido said. “Her guardian lives near Garden Grove.”
Peter looked up. “I’m heading to Irvine, so I’m not far from where she lives. Do you want me to go?”
“Do you think I could go with you?” Mido asked him. “It might be odd if you went and Ginny didn’t recognize you.”
“Sure. Let’s do that.” Peter got up from his seat, and Mido followed him.
In the car, Mido put on her seat belt. She smelled cigarettes but had never seen Peter smoke at the hagwon.
“I smell cigarettes,” she said, switching to Korean. At Exodus, she almost never spoke Korean, but alone in the car with Peter, it felt normal.
“Busted. Only while driving, and I try not to do it too much. My ex used to get on me to quit, and I’m now down to maybe one or two in the evening when I want to feel more alert.”
“I didn’t know that about you.”
“Not much to know,” he said in English.
“My brother said you’re a good musician.”
Mido stopped speaking in Korean. It was as if she’d opened a door, then he’d closed it.
“DH?” he asked, wondering how that would’ve come up.
“Yes.” Mido didn’t want him to think they’d been talking about him. Peter could be voluble when teaching yet so cryptic around others. She noticed that when Bo or Lion talked, Peter was included but he didn’t say as much. “Yun said you’re playing in Lion’s band. You’re a bass player, right?”
Peter smiled. “That’s right. You should come out when Lion and I play next time at Rascals.”
“Okay.”
“You’re supposed to be a playwright?”
It was her turn to be surprised. “How did you know?”
“Bo. He said you were in a drama society in Sydney. Do you want to act? This is the right place.”
“Oh, I’m not an actor. I joined SUDS, that’s the drama society at uni, because I wanted to learn how to talk better. I’m fine with little kids, but—”
“But peers are harder,” he said like he understood.
“Yes, exactly. The drama society helped a bit with that, and I ended up writing a few plays, too. I still write a little bit, but I can’t imagine doing that for real. No one does that.”
“Actually, I think a lot of people do that here.”
“Well, I admire people who can, but it’s not for me. Though I did like what happened when I finished a scene.”
“What’s that?”
“People made sense. I started to imagine what everyone else was feeling in a conflict, for example. Writing a scene would force me to think not just about one character, but everyone in that scene and even people offstage. Not sure if that makes sense,” she said.
“No, I get it. I do. Are you going to keep writing plays? You don’t have to go to school for that, right? Or do you?”
“It’s hard to imagine doing anything like that now.”
“Well, I’m not going to encourage you.”
Mido faced him and laughed.
“Why is that?”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re a good or even great writer. I wouldn’t want you to suffer,” Peter said. “Art feels impossible.”
“Thank you. For not wanting me to suffer,” she said, laughing again.
“Now I just want to work, and maybe later, I’ll finish school,” she said, realizing then that he hadn’t asked her what her plans were, and she didn’t know if she’d said too much.
He was trying to respect her privacy, and she felt like he was teaching her to respect his.
“What’s this kid like?” Peter asked.
“Ginny? She’s one of my favorites. Her parents live in Busan, and they sent her here by herself two years ago.”
“That’s crazy,” he said. “When she was nine?”
“She boards with a guardian.”
Peter made a face. “My folks sent me overseas when I was fairly young. I’ve experienced homestay guardians.”
“What’s that like?”
“When it’s bad, it’s like a Dickens novel.
The guardians eat good food and the kids get frozen pizzas and cup ramyeon, and there’s never enough to eat.
I met one kid who boarded at a giant house in Englewood Cliffs.
He slept on a dirty mattress on the floor with the other homestay kids, and the guardian family lived like royalty on the second floor.
They put a lock on the fridge and pantries.
His dean at the private school had to come rescue him. ”
Mido stared at him, hoping that Ginny wasn’t going through something like that.
“Did that happen to you?”
“I had enough to eat because my mother could pay, but the experience was weird. I wouldn’t do it to a nine-year-old.
” His mother had believed that a Western education would be superior to one in Korea, and her work required her to be in Seoul, forcing him to board overseas.
His father thought it was important for a boy to be tough.
Peter had always been close to his mother, even more so after the divorce, and his father didn’t want him to be a mama’s boy.
“I heard that you went to Aunt Mary’s—I mean Mrs. Shin’s house with DH during breaks. Is that because you didn’t like your homestay?”
“They were fine.”
“And the ones in the UK?”
“When I was in England, I had a good host in New Malden. Mrs. Oh was kind and tried to make sure I was okay. She was a great cook and would bake me scones on Sundays. Her British husband was a bit of a cold fish. I cried once about something, and he said I should buck up.
“Then they moved and I got another family. Very proud people. A woman who went to my mother’s primary school.
Mrs. Lee would tell me that she didn’t need to take my mother’s money but she did not want to harm their friendship.
I had no idea what she was talking about.
I did well in school, but I had regular problems with some of the other students.
I was one of the only minority kids, and if I hadn’t been an athlete, it would’ve been worse.
Some of the kids were shits, and I didn’t think I could tell Mrs. Lee what was going on. When I got older, I tried to run away.”
“Where?”