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“Come inside, honey,” he says. I only then realize that we’re still in the doorway. I follow him inside and stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure where to sit.
My dad opens the mini fridge next to a chest of drawers with fake wood paneling, and I get a strong whiff of something pungent. Kimchi or some kind of Korean food. I have no doubt he filled this tiny refrigerator to the brim in order to save money by not going out to eat. When I think of the huge kitchen and pantry overstuffed in the brownstone, and the lavish dinner Mr. Lee took me to last night, guilt overwhelms me.
Dad pulls out a red can of Coke and pops it open, passing it to me. He only ever drinks water or tea, so he must have bought it specifically for me when I got here...eventually. I can’t believe I kept him waiting an entire day while I schmoozed with the CEO of his company.
Keep it together, Jessica, I say to myself, blinking away the tears that are forming. I take a sip of the soda, the cold bubbles burning just a little bit as I swallow them down. Before this summer, I used to need a Coke a day—preferably full-fat—to survive, but in this moment, I’m realizing I haven’t had one in months. There are fancy flavored sparkling drinks and natural sodas stocked in the refrigerator of the brownstone. It took a lot of getting used to at first, but eventually, like wearing designer clothes and having a prestigious young leadership role in a huge company, it became a part of my everyday life. I came to like those things. At least that’s what I told myself.
Something about this Coke feels so ordinary. So...me.
There’s a comfort in remembering that my dad knows me this well. The real me. Unlike anyone here in New York—not Elijah, maybe not even myself anymore. It’s a huge relief that my dad is here, that I don’t have to wear a mask, that I can let go and be completely in his care...
“Jessica Yoo-Jin Lee...”
Oh shoot. He’s pulled out the full name again. I’m in for it.
“You are grounded until you turn thirty years old. And, and...you’ll start working at your aunt Eunice’s car wash/dry cleaners full-time, including weekends, until you start school.”
“Dad!” He hasn’t even heard my full confession. “You can’t do that. You don’t even know if this punishment suits the crime. And anyways, Suds and Steamers is closed on Sundays.”
He narrows his eyes at me, probably wondering if he can talk my aunt Eunice into staying open on Sundays.
“I messed up, Dad,” I say, finally breaking the silence. My voice comes out sounding like a little kid’s.
He places both hands on his hips and lets out a deep, tired sigh. “Sit down, Jessica, and start from the beginning.”
I make myself comfortable on the crisp white bed, crossing my legs and tucking both my feet under them. I clasp my hands, look down at my thumbs, and begin the story of how Elijah and I swapped places for the summer. How I found myself in the favor of the CEO of Haneul Corporation.
I’m not sure if anything’s salvageable from the choices I’ve made this summer. I want to be proud of the hackathon, leading the team, and even the offer that Mr. Lee has given me to help with my future. But something about it all, as I lay it out before my dad, feels dirty. It was achieved by dishonesty and deception.
When I’m done and finally look up at him, his eyes are closed but his breath is steady. I know he was listening by the way he’s nodding his head.
I wait for him to chastise me. I wait for him to tell me he’s angry and disappointed. I wait for him to extend my grounding until I’m fifty years old.
What I don’t expect is the tear that trickles down his cheek. I track its movement until it hangs from his chin and finally lets go, dropping to the ground.
“Dad, are you crying?” My throat is so thick with emotion I fear I might choke on it. I’ve never once in my entire life seen my dad cry.
He quickly wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. He looks down at his hand and stares at the wetness, as if he too is surprised to find tears there. “I’m so sorry, Jessica. I’m sorry that I couldn’t provide the opportunities that you deserve. You worked as hard as you could to produce the best grades, and yet you had to worry about your financial situation. About letters of recommendation and scholarships. You had to accept a choice lesser than what you’re capable of by going to junior college. And because you believe that the world is unfair, you took an opportunity to live a lie this summer in order to open up some doors for yourself. And all of this is on me. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” I insist. “It’s my fault. It’s the ridiculous higher education system’s fault. But we can’t change that. I’m not even mad that I had to take a summer internship. In fact, it turned out to be a great experience. Dad, we managed to put on the first ever hackathon at one of the largest tech companies in the world.” If I focus on all the good, maybe it’ll lesson the guilt that I had to lie my way to do it.
He drops his head to his chest. “Jessica, Haneul Corp may be shiny on the outside, but inside, it’s broken, its way of doing business backward.” He reaches out and grabs both my hands in his, raising his eyes to meet mine. “So much of who we become as adults is influenced by the work we do and where we do it. My hope for you is to get this experience at places that value people and take pride in honest work. Companies that don’t just give lip service to diversity and inclusion, but respect everyone regardless of gender identity, age, economic background. I want your world to be expanded by the work that you do, not limited. And because Haneul is not that kind of company, you made a dishonest choice to get what you thought you needed. I was resistant for you to come work here, Jessica, not because I didn’t think you could. But because I wanted so much better for you.”
I swallow back the shame rising in my throat. I don’t know what to say. Tears push their way to the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall. I’d always believed my dad was trying to control my choices. And come to find, he was trying to direct me to better ones.
My dad stands up and walks to the window, looking out at the bright lights of Times Square shining twenty-four hours a day. I wonder if he’s mentally tabulating the electricity costs.
“What’s done is done,” he says. The softness of his voice gone, replaced now with the all-business tone I’m so used to from him. “I’ll meet with Chairman Lee and discuss appropriate next steps. I’ll accept whatever disciplinary action he decides for me.”
“For you? No, Dad, everything I did this summer, good and bad, was my choice and I have to live with whatever the consequences,” I say, struggling to convey a strength I don’t feel. “But honestly, I don’t think anyone’s gonna make a big deal about this. I know that sounds like wishful thinking. But these people, the ones in charge, they have bigger problems to deal with than some drama in their internship program, right?”
“The people you’re talking about care very much about how they’re perceived. If they think you’ve made a fool of them, it could end badly. I’ve tried to champion this internship program for years. But it’s been a struggle to get any support behind it.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing, Dad. This year was different. We made an impact.” I muster all the hope I can into my voice so he can see how proud I am of what we’ve accomplished despite the obstacles.
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” he says.
I drop my head into my hands. The only thing these adults care about is perception, not the truth. How can a company run like this?
