Page 39 of Somewhere Only We Know
I thought back to our earlier conversation, when he said he didn’t know what he wanted. “Well, if you had to pick right now, what would you want to do?” The question bothered him, I could tell. He crossed his arms, the bag of bao bumping into his thigh. “I don’t know what I want to do. I grew up in a suburb where everyone was on this path to achievement. And now that I’ve lived here? I don’t feel that pressure anymore. It’s like I can see clearly. And college seems so small.”
Path to achievement. I knew what he was talking about. My talents were discovered and nurtured from an early age, and my parents had done everything within their power to keep them flourishing. But that path was forged byme. My parents were happy to help because they recognized my drive and knew I wouldn’t be happy until I got to where I wanted to be.
So I was supposed to feel grateful. Grateful that they supported me, that I got chosen by my management label, that my girl group was popular, that my solo career took off, that I was the biggest name in K-pop right now.
Instead, I felt guilty. Because that gratitude was really hard to summon nowadays.
He continued, “I don’t get it. We can’t think creatively beyond like, college and a job and marriage and kids? It’s so depressing.”
I had a feeling Jack didn’t truly understand that word. “What’s so depressing about it? It’s a luxury to have those options, Jack. It’s why your parents and my parents uprooted themselves to start new lives.”
He was quiet for a second. “I get that. But I also think there’s a spectrum of things that make people unhappy. Even if it was comfortable—that path was making me feel dead inside.”
I remembered the dead look in my eyes at my latest performance. Jack seemed so confident in himself, about his life. But that comment there—it revealed the same yearning that I had felt for months. I thought it was the hamburger that got me out of my hotel room last night. But, if I was being truthful with myself, it was this. The yearning.
And Jack had it, too. He wanted something more. Something different.
“I know what you mean,” I said softly, crumpling the paper wrapping of the bao tightly into my fist. “You can’t help what you want.”
The sharpness of Jack’s look startled me and I choked. Hard.
Jack stopped and pounded my back. Also hard. Like Korean-mom style. “Do you want some of your milk?”
I nodded, embarrassed as I watched Jack set the bag on the ground and bend down to fish the milk carton out of it. Crouching, he unwrapped the straw and poked it into the carton before handing it to me.
He had even bent the straw.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a giant swig. Once I had annihilated the drink, I crushed it in my fist and made a satisfying “Ahhh” sound.
Watching me from his crouched position, Jack started laughing. “You really enjoy your treats.”
“I do.”
He got up. “Well, we’re almost at the park, we can finish the other buns there.”
I skipped ahead. “Ooh.Romantic. A picnic in the park.”
He laughed, then jogged to catch up with me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JACK
There was something more there. More than just a homesick K-pop star.
You can’t help what you want.
She clearly missed her family, her home. America. So, what was so irresistible and compelling about being a K-pop star that kept her so far away? Was it pure narcissism, basking in adoration?
If I kept digging, I’d have something more here than a sexy celebrity profile.
I watched Lucky practically skip ahead of me.
She was enjoying this day.
I had to shake off the uneasy feeling of being, you know, a horrible human being. Lucky was surprising me, but I had to keep in mind what she was: a product. She knew it. She chose to be a part of the nightmare that was the K-pop machine. In my research last night, Ifound out all about the messed-up conditions in their training, the draconian nature of their contracts. Anyone who wanted fame that badly would be fine with more publicity.
Plus, this was a thrill for her. An escape. I was essentially doing her a favor.
