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Elijah clearly doesn’t share those concerns. He’s leaned back and draped an arm over the headrest, casually as can be. All I can think about is that his hand is palm down on the luxurious material, the oils and city dirt transferring onto the white linen couch. How much would it cost to clean that fabric?
“It’s fine, I guess. I mean, there wasn’t anything on the to-do list today for the hackathon, so I took off and wandered around the city. I went to the New York Public Library of all places. It’s gorgeous there. Everything felt so old and historic, not like so many of the new and modern buildings popping up in Korea. And then I had a street hot dog with sauerkraut, which reminds me a little bit of kimchi.”
“Um, you did all of this while you were supposed to be working?” I ask.
The eye-roll response is impossible to miss.
“I’m not trying to be all Miss Responsible here, but you’re in a prestigious internship. And you’re being paid to work,” I remind him.
“Okay, about that. You accepted a job at fifteen dollars an hour? One of the others said that McDonald’s pays more than that. How does anyone afford to buy anything? It would take me one hundred hours of work to afford the new Celine bomber jacket, I think.”
I don’t have it in me to explain taxes to this naive, privileged soul.
“As I mentioned, it’s a prestigious internship. We’re lucky to be making anything. A lot of internships are actually unpaid. And you’re the future CEO. Now that you understand how low you’re paying, do something about it. Tell your dad about it.”
“Yeah, that’s the last thing he cares about. You all agreed to fifteen dollars an hour, why would he pay more?”
Not for the first time, it’s crystal clear that we could not be from two more different worlds. We don’t even see things like obligations and doing what’s right in the same way.
I collapse into the leather chair at the antique oak writing desk in the corner instead of answering him. I love this desk. I wish I could take it home with me and put it in my room, never mind that the shipping alone would cost more than my entire savings. And the desk itself is likely worth more than my family’s house.
“Can we not talk about money?” Elijah asks.
“Easy for you to say. When you have it, you can choose not to talk about it, not to think about it. When you don’t, well, that’s kinda all you think about,” I say.
Elijah nods his head, lost in thought.
My phone rings and I leap to my feet when I see who’s calling.
“Oh my god, it’s my dad,” I announce in a panic. “Quick, hide,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Get down! Hurry! Here, under the desk,” I say, pointing to the floor under the desk.
“Why?”
“It’s my dad! He won’t understand why I have a boy in the house at this hour,” I say, frantic.
“Uh, but he’s on the phone, it’s not like he’s here at the door. I’ll just stand out of the way. He won’t see me.” Elijah is too calm for this moment.
I am very not calm.
My dad is a traditional man. And he is extremely protective. He would most certainly not like to have a boy in the home where his daughter lives after the sun has set, unchaperoned.
“But,I’llsee you. And I’ll get flustered. And I’ll turn red and splotchy, and not from heat since I turned on the air conditioner, likely jacking up the electric bill that I don’t even know who pays for. But from panic. And I’ll slip up somehow and with one raised eyebrow from my dad, I’ll be admitting to it all, confessing everything that we’re doing and...”
“Fine. FINE!” he says, throwing up his hands. He starts crawling under the desk and I shove his head down and flatten his back with my foot as I sit back down and accept the call.
My dad’s face fills the small screen of my phone. There are the familiar lines around his eyes and dark circles beneath. His overdue-for-a-cut hair seems to have sprung a few more grays. Has it really only been a week since I saw him last?
“Hi, Dad,” I say, a little too out of breath.
“Hi, Jessica. Is this a bad time? Were you exercising?”
“No, no, it’s fine. How are you? How’s Mom?” I want to ask him why he looks so tired. Ask how work is going. Ask if he can’t sleep at night worried about me being away from home. But as much as I love my dad, he’s not afeelingskind of guy.
“Oh, we’re all good here. How’s the internship? Have you been working hard? Have you been speaking only when spoken to? Raising your hand before offering an opinion? Taking on all the responsibilities that no one else wants to volunteer for? Making your name known but in a good way?”
