Jisu was cleaning her dishes and finishing her cup of morning coffee when Linda and Mandy came downstairs. If there were any benefits to jet lag, it was that waking up early now felt effortless.
“Up bright and early, I see!” Linda exclaimed as she poured coffee into her travel mug. “Mandy—can you grab the keys? I left them on my desk in the study.”
“Are we taking the car?” Jisu asked. “I could always just take the BART and meet you at the mall. I want to learn how to find my way around the city anyway.”
“Don’t be silly, Jisu. A car will get us there quicker. We’ll get what we need and get out. You need to prepare for your first day at school. And you’ll have plenty of time to see the city. You don’t need...all that.” Linda motioned to Jisu’s camera bag.
It was fascinating how Jisu could hear traces of her mother’s jansori in Linda’s voice. She buttoned up her jacket and kept her camera slung around her neck.
“Maybe if we have some extra time after shopping, we could walk around a bit?” she said, hopeful.
“Yeah, Mom. What’s the rush?” Mandy said. “Ooh, and can we have lunch at the Rotunda? We have to show her!”
“All right, all right. Let’s make sure we get everything we need first.”
The major mall in the middle of San Francisco wasn’t quite as tall, clean or expansive as Seoul malls, but it was similar enough to remind Jisu of home. The winding escalators that stretched from the basement to the eleventh floor reminded Jisu of Shinsegae and Lotte department stores. Fashion, shopping, supply-and-demand—it was essentially the same at the root of it all, no matter what country you were in.
Jisu was browsing aimlessly through a rack of coats when she heard a group of middle-aged women laughing and chatting among themselves in Korean. The familiarity made her ears perk up.
“Aigoo—another Michael Kors purse? If you saved up and didn’t buy the last three Michael Kors bags, you could’ve gotten yourself one nice Chanel one.”
“I don’t care about Chanel anymore. Michael Kors is what the younger agashis are wearing now.”
“You’re about three decades from having once been agashi. Give the Kors to your daughter-in-law and you stick with the Chanel.”
“Omo, omo! Come here and look at this one! Valentino—so chic!”
Ajummas. They were the same everywhere. Fawning over designer bags, making endless comparisons and talking about their daughters and daughters-in-law.
To Jisu, their Korean chatter was like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. A wave of homesickness hit her in the stomach as she watched the women trot away to the next section of the department store.
Jisu took a quick picture, then texted her mom in English.
Just overheard a bunch of ajummas talking about purses. Reminded me of you. Miss you lots.
Before she could put her phone back in her bag, it dinged. Her mother had already replied.
So funny! I went shopping with your gomo today! Ajummas really are the same no matter where you go.
The message was followed by a laughing cat emoji and a photo of a new handbag with the tags still on it.
Jisu, what do you think of this? I bought it today. Should I keep or return?
Jisu smiled. She had always preferred to hang with Euni and Min whenever her mother and aunt dragged her to the department stores with them. But now she ached to be in a fitting room in a shop in Gangnam, giving them her opinions in person.
Gomo also bought some sweaters she’s going to send you even though I told her she didn’t have to! Make sure you call her and thank her when you get it in the mail.
Thanks, Umma. I will! Don’t spend too much time with Gomo or Appa will get lonely.
Mrs. Kim replied with a laughing emoji, accompanied by a photo of Mr. Kim. He was seated on the opposite end of the couch and intently reading the newspaper.
You mean this old man? I can’t even get him to look up from the paper. I don’t think he would notice if I spent the whole day with your gomo!
If Jisu could dive headfirst into her phone and emerge in her parents’ living room on the other side and crash in between them on their white couch, she would have. Jisu looked around for the ajummas and wished they had lingered longer.
“But, Mom, you promised I could get a new bag for school!”
Jisu moved through some clothing racks and saw that Mandy and Linda were arguing.
“Mandy, this is a very nice but very expensive bag. This can be your Christmas present, but you can’t just use it as a backpack for school. How many students carry their notebooks in Celine? Honey, be realistic.” Linda looked exasperated.
“The girls at school have much more ridiculous bags than this! I would use this bag forever. And if I don’t get it now, everyone will already have it by Christmas and people will think I’m just a copycat. You don’t even get it!” Mandy whined.
Jisu froze. Every mother and daughter butted heads while shopping, but that was always between you and your mother. It felt awkward to encounter and witness someone else doing that. She picked up a sweater and looked at it with much more interest than she actually had, hoping Mandy and Linda wouldn’t call her over and get her involved. She could turn around and wander to the other side of the store until they simmered down. But before she could walk away, Linda looked up and beckoned her over.
Nooo, Linda. Please don’t involve me in your drama.
“Jisu, do the girls at your old high school traipse around with their fancy Celine and Louis bags?”
Jisu could feel intense gazes from both Linda and Mandy. It was as if rope was wrapped around her body and they were on opposite sides, playing tug-of-war. She wasn’t budging to either end, but the rope grew tighter with each pull and paralyzed her.
Side with Linda and you stay in her good graces and continue to stay under her roof. Side with Mandy and she won’t ice you out...
“Daewon was uniform only, so we all had the same backpacks.”
Phew. That was close.
“But don’t you think it would be a bit ridiculous for an eighth grader to be carrying around a designer bag from Spanish to social studies?”
Linda, why are you doing this to me?
“Well, it is a gorgeous bag. Mandy, I can see why you love it,” Jisu started and looked to Mandy with assurance. “But it is pricey. So I would just save it for special occasions? And even if you got it later, no one would think that you’re just trying to fit in.”
“Who says I’m trying to fit in with anyone?” Mandy glared.
Yikes. I was so close. Ugh, teenagers.
“Are you saying I’m some loser follower? Mom, is she calling me a follower?” Mandy groaned. “This is the newest bag, from the latest line. If I bring this to school, everyone will try to copy me.”
“Mandy, honey, that’s not what Jisu was saying.” Linda looked at Jisu as if trying to get her to say something—anything—to calm her daughter down.
“Yeah, sorry, Mandy. Not what I meant at all. You clearly have good taste. But what’s the rush? Wouldn’t you rather go for maximum impact and wow your classmates every now and then instead of hitting them with your style on the daily?”
Mandy pondered this for a moment.
“You know what—you’re right,” she said. Mandy calmly put the bag back on the display table.
Thank you, Linda quietly mouthed to Jisu.
Note to self: don’t ever get involved in mommy-daughter drama.
Jisu let out a deep breath, as if she had held her head underwater for too long. She walked behind Linda and Mandy at a safe distance as they walked out of the department store and headed to the Rotunda for lunch.
The Rotunda was located at the top of the department store. Jisu marveled at the vast dome of colored glass above their heads. It was held up by gigantic pillars with ornate gold accents. Bright afternoon sunshine spilled in through the surrounding floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Linda ordered a selection of dainty finger sandwiches, a pot of tea and an assortment of pastries. Jisu felt like she had ascended from the women’s accessories section straight into heaven to have high tea with the angels. She took her camera out and snapped a few pictures of the stunning glass.
“Can I see the photos you took today?” Mandy asked. Jisu leaned across the table and showed her how to scroll through the images on her DSLR.
“Is this street photography?” Mandy pointed to a photo of a woman standing at the curb with her skirt billowing in the wind.
“Technically, yeah, I guess?” Jisu wasn’t really aware of proper photography terminology. She simply took a photo if she saw something worth capturing.
Mandy hit the right arrow. The next image was a blurry one of a man on a bike, zipping down the street. Next. A child holding his mother’s hand as they crossed the street. Next. A candid of Linda and Mandy walking through the parking lot, arms linked. Next. A group of middle-aged Korean women, chatting and laughing by a display of designer handbags.
“Jisu, how do you even know how to properly work that thing?” Linda peered over Mandy’s shoulder to look at the pictures.
“I mostly taught myself. Whenever I couldn’t figure something out, I’d just look it up on YouTube,” Jisu said.
“You know, Wick-Helmering has a fantastic photography club. You should join. I bet you’d love it.”
Jisu knew this already. The extensive list of clubs was sitting on her desk back at the house. She had circled Photography Club, along with Debate Club, Model UN, Intermural Volleyball and Drawing, and intended to check them all out. Wick was a good school, with a great reputation, so being active with extracurriculars was probably important. But really, how ambitious was the average Wick student? Jisu shuddered. Pondering the differences between Daewon and Wick made her dread her first day of school. At the very least, she could try to avoid thinking about it until she was forced to face it.
“I don’t know if my parents would be too crazy about that. They want me to stay focused on my studies—I’m here to cram in as much as I can for the year.”
“If they’re so obsessed with you studying, how are they okay with sending you on dates with hundreds of boys?” Mandy asked.
“Dates? Hundreds of boys? Did I miss something?” Linda asked.
“Mandy’s exaggerating,” Jisu said. “On top of college applications, my mother is adamant that I find the perfect boyfriend, from the right family, who’s going to the right school. She makes me go on some dates.”
“Sweetie, I don’t know that you’ll have time to even find a boy like that, or even if a boy like that exists,” Linda said.
“Apparently they do!” Mandy said. “There’s this professional matchmaker. She’s like Jisu’s fairy godmother. She puts together the future power couples of South Korea. And it starts with these fancy seons and—”
“It really isn’t as glamorous or as crazy as it sounds.” Jisu laughed nervously. She felt like a complete alien. A date was a date—there wasn’t anything so weird about a matchmaker, was there? “It’s like going on a boring job interview over and over again.”
“Well, maybe you’ll meet someone at school. The old-fashioned way—like how I met Mandy’s dad.” Linda smiled and put her hand on Mandy’s arm. Mandy squirmed. “Mandy, what would you say is the best way for Jisu to present herself to Wick society?”
“You don’t have to do much, honestly.” Mandy shrugged. “You’re already going to be the new girl. Everyone will notice you and be watching no matter what!”