17
Repechage
Mido had slipped out of the office to pick up a guitar. On her way back, only two blocks away from Fortress Seoul, she spotted the boy sitting outside a convenience store.
“I like that canned coffee, too,” she said to Sung.
“Oh, hello.” He bowed reflexively. “Do you play?” Sung pointed to the guitar case.
“No. It’s not mine,” she said. The boy didn’t look sad as much as lost, and she felt bad for him. “May I sit down?”
Sung nodded. He had taken off his blazer and necktie and rolled up his white shirtsleeves.
“Where do you want to go to school?” she asked.
“Somewhere far away.”
“Can you take some time off? I mean, after you get in?”
“No.” He smiled. “Nice idea, though. My sister asked me that, too, but, well, our father, you can just imagine.”
Mido smiled. “He means well, I guess.”
“Yes, they always do. They’re not bad people.” The boy sighed.
“You’re very mature,” she said.
“I have to be.” He sipped his black coffee. “They tried to give you money, right?”
Mido didn’t answer, and she stood up. “I’d better go. I just wanted to see if you’re okay. You don’t need the counseling. I just wanted to tell you that I read your file carefully, and you’re really impressive. Whatever happens—”
“Please don’t tell me that it doesn’t matter where I go. That what matters is what I do there.”
Mido frowned.
“Because it does matter,” Sung insisted. “It matters to a lot of people.”
Mido wondered if Peter, Lion, and she would ever change anyone’s mind. “Many successful people in the world don’t go to SNU or Harvard.”
“Not so in Korea,” he said. “Even I don’t get many chances, and I have rich parents with connections. It’s tough here even for people like me. Imagine how terrible it must be for people who don’t have what I have. My friend Unji’s mother is a hundred times worse than my father.”
“Why?”
“Unji’s family lost everything during IMF, her parents got divorced, and now she lives with her mother and grandparents, who pay for her school. If she doesn’t get into an Ivy, I don’t even know what will happen to her. I wish you could have taken her.”
“Did she apply? To Fortress?”
“Of course. Didn’t even make it as a finalist. But she wrote me a note on the day of the drawing to wish me luck.” He shrugged. “Oh well. Life is full of disappointments, right? Ha ha. I’m learning how to adapt to them.”
Mido felt awful.
“You know that your parents can’t hire me because I don’t have a degree.”
“I know. My father is still angry about the meeting. He called you a fraud.” Sung laughed.
“If you want, come by next Friday afternoon, and bring your friend Unji. I’ll give you some guidance on your applications and make suggestions for the personal statements.
I won’t take a fee. I can’t. Only for the afternoon, though, and you can’t tell anyone.
No one. Maybe three or four hours. Okay? ” She handed him her card.
“Seriously?”
Mido placed her pointer finger across her lips so he’d understand it was a secret. She picked up the guitar case.
Except for the light in Peter’s office, the hagwon was dark when she returned. The counselors were gone for the night, and she tucked away the guitar case in the hall closet. She knocked on Peter’s office door.
“I offered to help that kid Sung and his friend.”
“What? You can’t do that.”
“I’m volunteering. Only the personal statements and some pointers for their applications. One afternoon. I’m not going to get paid. Fire me.”
Peter looked at her sternly. “You softy.”
“You’re a weirdo,” she said.
“You’re a creep,” he answered, laughing. Whenever they felt foolish about something, they broke up the lines from the Radiohead song. Sometimes he was the creep, and she was the weirdo.
“Can I ask you something? You won’t get mad at me?” she said.
“Never.”
“Why don’t you play anymore?”
He took his time before answering.
“I think it’s because I’m here. In Seoul, I feel like I have to be serious.”
“But you like to play music. I think you need to. You’re kind of crabby when you don’t play.”
“Crabby? Seriously?” He laughed.
“Hang on,” she said, and walked briskly down the hall.
She returned with the guitar. “Here.”
“What?” Peter’s face broke into a grin. He cradled the guitar. “Hey, it’s a Gibson ES-330! Is this from 1959?”
“That’s what Mr. Gong, the store owner, said.
I went to that big arcade in Jongno. Lion told me about it.
He wants you to keep playing bass in the band, but you prefer to write music with a guitar, right?
Mr. Gong said the Gibson’s in great condition, and he put new strings on it.
I bought the amp, too, but I couldn’t carry all of it today.
He said if you don’t like it, I could get credit for something else. ”
“Why?” Peter looked up at her. “Why did you get this for me?”
“I miss hearing you sing and play. That’s all.”
“Is this like a wedding ring?” he asked.
“No.” She laughed.
Peter looked disappointed, then brightened. He stared at the beautiful guitar and held it close to his chest.
“Hey, Peter, I think we should go back. We should hire more folks for here, but after this year. I want to go back to school.”
“Yeah?” He waited for her to keep talking.
“If I go back now, I’ll know better what I need to learn and for what reason. Before, when I was a first-year at uni, I was this blank slate. It was just expected that I go to college.”
“That’s true,” Peter said, playing the first few bars of “Rosetta,” a song he’d been working out for a long time.
“At Fortress, I’ve been teaching high school students how to take tests or how to fill out an application. The more I get to know these kids and parents, I feel like I’m getting to them too late. I made a bigger difference when I worked at Exodus and saw the little kids every day.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I saw a kindergartner or third grader every day after school, I felt like I could see them becoming more confident and taught them to learn better. By the time we get these juniors and seniors, I feel like something is missing. I want to figure this out. There’s more I need to learn. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”
“It’s what Lion doesn’t like about Fortress. The kids are stressed out, and the goals are wrong—they want to get in somewhere rather than get an education.”
“Yes,” Mido said. “And I want you to come back to California with me. I want to go home.” Mido tried to read his expression. “You’re not upset with me, right?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to say when.”
Mido called her father again to check in, but John didn’t answer because he’d gone to Exodus to pick up Anna before heading home.
Seated in the carpeted waiting area, Anna was reading The Silver Chair, one of the old books she’d found in Mido’s room.
The third grader was no trouble at all. She dressed herself, did her homework, and never complained.
At Exodus, Yun and Lion watched out for her.
The child got on well with Bo and John. Gradually she appeared to be settling into her life in Cypress.
John didn’t know how to tell her that she might be moving to New Jersey to live with Mary and Patrick. Bo thought that was the right decision, but he wondered if it might be wise to wait until the school year ended.
“Anna,” John said, and the girl smiled.
“Hello, Uncle John,” she said, calling him by the American name they’d agreed upon. Anna knew that John was her father’s old friend. She knew no other relatives. She tucked in a piece of scrap paper as a placeholder and closed the book.
“Did you have a good day?” John took her by the hand.
In the car, Anna opened her book again.
“Uncle John,” she called from the back seat, and he checked her reflection in the rearview mirror.
“Yes.”
“Is it true that my mother is in jail?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“At the hagwon. Two girls told me. They go to our church. They said my mother stole money from the church and had a boyfriend. Is that why my father got drunk?”
John didn’t answer her, and Anna looked out the car window.
The distance between Exodus and their house was less than five blocks. He parked the car, and when Anna came out of the car, he locked it.
“On Sunday, Bo bought us ice cream sandwiches. They were on sale, apparently. My daughter loved those when she was your age.”
“I like them, too,” Anna said. “I finished my homework already. At Exodus. May I read my book?”
“Don’t you want any more dinner?” he asked.
“It was Bobby Kim’s birthday, and his mother brought ten pizza pies for everyone. I had two slices,” she said, then frowned, worried he might be upset with her. Danbi never allowed her to eat that much pizza.
“Do you want an ice cream?”
“Yes, please.” Anna sat at the kitchen table with her book to read while she ate her dessert.
John pulled out some frozen dumplings and put them in the microwave to heat. Even after she finished her ice cream sandwich, Anna remained at the table reading while he ate his dinner. When he finished, he washed the dishes. Anna didn’t budge from her seat.
“Bo will be home on Friday,” John said. His son was able to get her to talk more, and he wondered if Anna would ask Bo about her mother being in jail. “Bo will be here before dinnertime.”
Anna looked up from her book and smiled at the thought of Bo, who was always kind to her.
“I wish you could meet Mido and DH, too,” John said.
“You’d like them. DH is good at making jokes, and Mido is like you.
Very thoughtful and gentle.” He wanted to tell her about Helen—how lovely and wise she was—but couldn’t imagine saying the words out loud, and he remembered that this child had lost a father so young.
“When Mido returns from Korea, will I have to move out of her room?” Anna asked.
John could see the fear in her deep-brown eyes.
“Do you like her room?”
She nodded solemnly.
“But I wouldn’t want to bother her. It is her room.”
John paused.
“Mido isn’t like that. She wouldn’t want you to give up the room.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about New Jersey.
Anna didn’t return to her book but looked across the kitchen table, her eyes crinkled with worry.
“Do you like it here?” John asked her.
Anna turned to him and smiled. She nodded again.
“I would like to wait for my mother here. If that is okay with you and your family.”
John looked at the child who sounded so grown-up.
“Yes, you can stay. As long as you like. We have many rooms.”
“Do you think they’ll like me?” The small round face looked anxious again.
“Mido and DH?” he asked.
“Yes,” Anna said.
“Of course. How could they not?” John patted her back, wanting to comfort her.
Her eyes shining with relief, Anna returned to her reading, her mouth pursed in concentration.
At the table, John poured her a glass of water and placed it near her, and Anna drank it. Without a word, he picked up the stack of mail he’d brought in earlier and took out his newspapers. From the freezer, he got an ice cream for himself.
John sat beside his child and unfolded the newspaper.