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The smell of the doenjangchigae and the colorful display of various banchan call me over. So much fornotbeing Goldilocks. The thought of eating another granola bar when all this food is sittingright therewaiting to be consumed is unbearable.
I take a seat and dig in.
By the time I’ve finished every last bit of food, I am so stuffed, and so sleepy, I can barely keep my eyes open. I put all the dishes into the sink and rinse them off. I also wipe down the island.
I let out a huge yawn and slap my cheeks a couple times. Wake up, Jessica. You need to make a plan and figure out what to do. I can’t just sleep here in a stranger’s house. Can I?
But it’s now almost midnight on a Sunday night and even in the Upper East Side, I don’t exactly feel safe roaming the streets of New York by myself.
Goldilocks, porridge, bed.
I take a seat on the plush couch in the casual family room. “Think, Jessica,” I say to myself just as my eyes slowly close and I fall asleep.
I’m having the weirdest dream that someone is calling me by my dad’s name.
“Mr. Lee,” I hear the gentle voice say again and again.
“No, Dad, it was all a mistake. They let me sit in first class. They drove me here. They gave me the keys.”
I wake in a start.
“It is currently seven o’clock, Mr. Lee. Time to waken for your day.” The voice is coming through the sound system of the home. Is it some programmed alarm for the house?
Oh no, it’s seven o’clock.
I wanted to be at my internship by eight. We’re technically not required to arrive until nine, but my plan is to be the first to arrive on day one, check out the lay of the land, make a good impression.
Plus, I need to be out of here before Mrs. Choi returns with the authorities to kick me out.
I run up to the bedroom and quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, and change my clothes. I throw everything that Mrs. Choi put on hangers and placed into drawers last night back into my suitcase. No time to fold and pack. I gotta run.
I don’t even put on any makeup. I just tie my hair into a low bun, grab all my things, and head for the front door. I take one last detour into the kitchen where I snatch an apple and an orange, stuffing them into my tote. How quickly my morals have faltered.
Just before I leave, I look around one last time. So this is how the “other half” lives, I think to myself. It’s beautiful, but I can’t help but feel its emptiness, its lack of life. It’s a house, not a home.
What a waste.
Whoever this other half are, they’re not people I’d ever understand or get along with. My envy would never allow it.
6
jessica
I decide to walk to work this first day. I haven’t had the chance to check out the subway and plan my route yet. I wanted to take a couple practice rides and see exactly how long it would take me to get to the office. Oh yeah, and there’s the fact that I won’t be coming from the Upper East Side again.
I drag my suitcase along behind me, the cheap wheels constantly getting turned around and stuck in every sidewalk crevice. This bag is older than I am...literally. My parents used it on their honeymoon.
The streets are packed with people and none are very happy about me bulldozing my way through with my roller bag.
“Fuck outta the way,” someone says behind me.
“Get outta here,” another yells.
“You can’t be fuckin’ serious,” says a construction worker walking toward me.
By the time I make it five blocks, all the comments become like background music and I realize it’s the New York way of saying “Good morning.” At least that’s what I tell myself to keep my people-pleasing, over-apologetic self from breaking into tears.
Still, as flustered as I am, I can’t help but feel a little like Alice in her own big-city Wonderland. The mix of new and old, brick-built apartments with rickety fire escapes sandwiched between glass skyscrapers and their turnstile front doors, all take my breath away. And lucky for that since the smells of the city this early are quite shockingly pungent. Yet no one’s nose is scrunched. Does one just get used to this odor?
