Stay Sweet Ch. 03

Later that year, Joel Hodgson launched his Mystery Science Theater 3000 Kickstarter. Cautious as I was, that didn't stop me from going out to every one of my professors asking if they needed help with anything, because I wanted to give as much as I could. I managed to collect two hundred bucks for various odd jobs around campus, all of which went to the revival.

I almost called Ji-yeong about it, but I asked Mom to pass it on instead; she needed her space, and as sure as I was that she'd be excited to share this with me, I thought maybe it wasn't worth violating the space she needed right now. I figured I'd see her next month, and we could geek out about it then. I was excited.

But when I came back home for Winter Break, Ji-yeong had conveniently gone back to Seattle to finally settle Chad's affairs. Mom went with her for support. Dad stayed here. And the jig was up; it was obvious something profound had happened between me and the girl down the street.

"...You're not mad, are you?" I asked, while we were putting up the Christmas tree in the den. "Or even just disturbed?"

"Why would I be? I mean, did you two have a relationship like that before she left for college?"

"Absolutely not. I mean, I always had a big crush on her, but it's not like she had one on me too."

"Well, there you have it. I don't see a problem; neither does Mom. Yeah, technically she babysat you, and if this was happening when you were 10 or even 14, we'd be pissed. But you were one way when you were kids, you both grew up, and now you're another way. Let's take a break."

We sat down on the couch. Or rather, I sat down while Dad went into the kitchen and came back with two bottles of Sam Adams, already opened. Then he sat down and passed one over to me.

"You know how proud I am of you?" he asked while I took a swig of beer. "You know how hard it is to let go of someone you love, even when you know it's the right thing to do?"

"I dunno," I told him. "There was a moment when I first realized how this was going to happen, or how it had to happen. And then I just...mellowed out. I guess I eventually realized that I didn't want the relationship we were going to have if she stayed."

Dad nodded. "Well, before your mother and I got married she was up for this fellowship in England, and I pretended like I was okay with it. At this point we'd only been together eight months, and I kept trying to tell myself that it wasn't long enough to get attached to her...but I was.

"We had this very elaborate 'last date' planned, where we were going to do everything we loved doing together: go to the movies, dinner and dancing, walk on the beach at sunset, then I'd drive her to the airport. Well, while we were on the beach, I just broke down and begged her to stay. I told her that I'd spent the past couple of months looking at it from every angle and I just had no idea how to be without her. She talks me down, and we finish the night as planned.

"I got home that night and I didn't sleep at all. I kept telling myself that it was for the best, that she deserved to be successful, who was I to stand in her way, you know. 4 AM, there's a knock at my door...it's her. She couldn't get on the plane. She spent all night just driving around the city in a rented car, trying to figure out what to do, and finally she just decided she had to see me. We were married a year later."

"That's a hell of a story," I said, unable to close my jaw. "I thought you only saw that kind of romance in movies."

"Was it romantic, though? Really?" Dad sank into the couch, his head dropping back in a sigh. "Don't get the wrong impression, Pete: We're still in love. Our marriage isn't perfect, but even when it's bad, it's never bitter. Still, sometimes I lie next to your mother at night and I wonder if I stopped her from doing something...more than this, you know? As far as I know she has no regrets, but frankly, I'm afraid to ask."

Dad braced his arm around my shoulders. "You're a better man than I was, Pete. That's one of the best things a father could hope for from his son."

I'd never describe my dad as "emotionally distant," but we never had a heart-to-heart like this before. Even now, I still can't really describe how it made me feel. I was glad he opened up to me, though; it made him a little more human in my eyes, and I guess it made me feel a little less conflicted about the situation with Ji-yeong.

So naturally, things took a sharp left turn from there. "Hey," he asked, "there's been this faint smell, I don't know if you noticed it, did you...do we need to, um, steam clean these cushions?"

I didn't know how to answer that. Which turned out to be answer enough.

Dad nodded, and quickly rose off the couch. "Don't let your mother find out," he said, before shock-shuffling to his office to see where he could rent a steamer.

* * * * *

Over winter break, I interned at Back Porch Studios, a new-ish developer in Boston. They were developing a free-to-play PC game, Dominion, that was already doing pretty well in Steam Early Access. They liked me, and were willing to bring me on full-time once I graduated. The pay was about comparable to what any entry-level code monkey would get—that is, shit. And I preferred to be doing the epic narrative-driven games that got me interested in the form in the first place. But it felt like that was the realm of the big studios that I was a little squirrely about joining right off the bat. This was close to home, and I liked the atmosphere around them; if nothing else, it seemed like a good place to get my feet wet before transitioning to a more established studio, or maybe even kickstarting an indie career.

So as my final semester at Bedford marched on, I became laser-focused on my last handful of classes and getting my thesis finished so I could graduate on time and start my job. I barely remembered Game Night, I struggled to keep up with Bernadette's occasional texts, and I had to flat-out set reminders to call Mom and Dad each week.

As often as I talked to my parents, they only brought up Ji-yeong once. I was told that she finished liquidating all of Chad's assets in Seattle and was going to use some of the money to try finding herself on a road trip through the US; a journey that she decided to chronicle on Instagram. She never took any selfies, but the pictures she did post seemed to count for more than your typical "#blessed" crap. I considered making an account just to follow her, but in the end, I felt like she needed space. Honestly, so did I; hard as it was, I never went back to that page.

I pulled through, of course. Graduation weekend loomed, and I was slowly moving out of my dorm with the help of my parents, who took a whole week off so they could take their time and bask in the SoCal sun. Friday was going to be the day to unload all the non-essentials; I was watching Deja Vu on Bedford's movie channel, waiting for a knock on the door to tell me that the truck they rented was ready to load. Once I heard it, I got up to let them in. "Guys," I said as I opened the door, "I know Southland traffic is insane, but—"

She'd cut her hair.

What was once long and plain was now this sassy prep-punk pixie bob that somehow seemed to suit her just as well as her old Honor Student hairstyle. She was also wearing a tight tee-shirt that advertised a BBQ joint in Austin, Texas. Other than that, she was exactly as I remembered her. And "Holy shit!" she was standing right in front of me.

"Your mom and dad'll be out in a minute," she replied, grinning, "they're just grabbing some boxes!"

Ji-yeong nearly shouted that last word before laughing her ass off as I lifted her into a big hug. "Holy shit," I exclaimed again, "I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, big guy," she laughed. She still smelled of sweet jasmine, too.

"You're on a road trip!" I said, putting her down.

"I was," she said. "You're my last stop! I'm turning in my car on Sunday and flying back with you guys!"

"Well, I'm honored! You gotta tell me about it."

"Take me to dinner tonight," she said. "Pat and Ruth won't mind. It's why they came a little early."

"Sneaky bastards," I said, moments before processing what she said. "Wait. 'Pat and Ruth?'"

Ji-yeong grinned. "Things have changed for me a bit," she admitted. "We'll see how you feel about it."

* * * * *

I felt fine.

It really wasn't such a big change. Ji-yeong always had a smartass streak ribboned through her nurturing, good-girl personality (see: making fun of me for being a typical nerd attracted to an Asian chick). Now the smartass streak was more front and center, and she was more laid back in general; she cursed more freely, though she still tried not to because part of her just enjoyed the challenge of it.

The two of us ended up at Bruno's Specialty Pizzeria, which sold all kinds of weird pizzas like "cheeseburger," "buffalo wing," "shrimp," and "General Tso's," which is what we ended up getting. (You'd think some of these would be nasty. You'd think.) As we ate, Ji-yeong told me all about her adventure, which started along the peaceful emptiness of the northern states before hitting Minneapolis and dipping into the action of the midwest through the east, through Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, and Philly before arriving in New York City. She then went down the Eastern Seaboard, through DC, Savannah, and Miami before turning around and stopping at Orlando and Disney World; she took her time there because she had always wanted to go, but found herself gravitating to Universal Studios instead. ("Disney just felt quaint," she said. "It was satisfying, but Universal was engaging, you know?") Once she had her fill of magic, she headed west along the southern states, stopping at Huntsville, Nashville, Clarksdale, New Orleans ("I kinda love blues and country now"), Austin, Vegas, and finally here.

Ji-yeong told me a few stories from the road; her not-so-inner science nerd was especially fond of her time in Rocket City. My favorite, though, was her Vegas story. Granted, I haven't really been told any Vegas stories in my life, but I'm not sure how Ji-yeong's was ever getting topped. "So Chad had what he called 'mattress money' that I wasn't supposed to touch, ever," she started. "He had $1,107 in the kitty by the time he died, and I was just going to lump it in with the rest to fund my trip. But when I decided I was going to Vegas—back to where we got married—I set the jar aside. I drove his money all the way to the Bellagio, checked into my room, changed it for chips at the casino, and went right to the Roulette table to drop it all on double zero."

"Ha!"

"Everybody's looking at me like I am crazy, so I announce to the table, 'This was my husband's money. We were married in this casino by a Wayne Newton impersonator, and he spent five of the next six years beating the shit out of me.' Obviously, this got everyone's attention, so I said, 'Don't worry. When he realized what a sad fuck he was, he did the world a favor and killed himself.' Everyone at the table starts to laugh and whoop it up, and I'm into it, so I point to my bet and go, 'This is his life's savings! He cared more about this money than he ever cared about me, and now that the prick is gone, I'm gonna flush it down the fucking toilet!' Crowd goes NUTS, and I start leading a chant as the ball spins around the track: 'Fuck you Chad! Fuck you Chad!' Even the croupier's getting into it, he's trying to be professional but you can see him pumping his fist a little, 'Fuck you Chad! Fuck you Chad...' Ball lands on double zero."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"$38,700." Ji-yeong snapped her fingers. "Like that."

"Oh my God!"

"The table riots. I'm standing there, just shocked; people are shaking me, cheering me on, congratulating me...and I'm thinking, 'I can't get rid of him. That ghost is always going to haunt me.' But then I think, 'Maybe as long as he's around, I should make him work for me.' So I bought everybody at that table a round of top-shelf drinks, over-tipped the waitress, upgraded to an awesome suite with a beautiful view of the fountain—which, by the way, I agreed to do an interview for the local news, so the hotel comped my room as a show of gratitude for promoting them."

"Holy shit, that's amazing!"

"Yeah it was! Pete, there was a whirlpool tub! Right there! In the suite! Any food I wanted, whenever I wanted it, delivered right to my door! Ice cream sundae at three in the morning? 'Our pleasure, Ms. Song!' I had a full spa and salon day, totally paid for! That's how I got this haircut!"

"Which is a great look, by the way."

"Isn't it? My hairdresser, Lola, told me I deserved to look bold, and I figured, 'Why not?' That's the thing: I said that this trip was about figuring out who I was, what I wanted? Well, I never really asked myself what I deserved. That's what my stop in Vegas felt like: cashing in."

"Good for you." I was referring to so, so much more than the money.

"Thanks," she said. "Anyway, I've got plenty left over, so I figured I'd spread some of that around the various women's shelters in Boston, use the rest as a cushion in case my new job doesn't work out."

"What are you doing?"

"Science stuff," she said. "One of my UW professors happened to have a friend in Boston, and she recommended me for this research assistant job near the Common. There's not much room for upward mobility without a graduate degree, and...I dunno, I don't have the energy to support myself and go back to school, you know? But it's good enough until I figure out something better. How about you?"

I told her all about the developer I interned for.

"Oh wow! So you're coming back to Boston."

"Yeah! I interviewed with a couple of bigger studios out here, but I don't really fit well into triple-A development, at least not yet. With this place, I like the culture, and I really like the game they're working on."

Ji-yeong had a strange expression on her face—not intimidating, just strange. "What kind of hours are they asking for? I hear game development can be pretty rough."

"40 hour weeks, 60 with overtime. Crunch can happen, but the staff looks out for each other and apparently management takes care of us when it does."

Ji-yeong nodded. "Sounds like my job. It's 40 hours, but I'm also looking to volunteer at a shelter out in Quincy, plus I started Hapkido shortly after you left and I wanna go back to that."

"Really?" Ji-yeong nodded, with the kind of smile on her face that you could tell she wanted to hold back a little. "That's so cool!"

"Well, I'll be busier than ever," tempered Ji-yeong, "though it'll be refreshing after spending the last few years as a piece of furniture."

"I can see that."

"Yeah, it looks like the only day I'm gonna have off is Saturday."

And that explained the look she gave me earlier. I stretched my limbs out. "Saturday, huh?" I asked. "Go figure."

"I want to be really clear about something," said Ji-yeong; I'm sure she realized it wasn't that hard to figure out where she was going. "I don't want to pick up from where we left off last year—I mean..." Ji-yeong screwed up her lips. "I don't think it would be a good idea. Hell, it's probably not a good idea to even be friends with you right now, but...I miss you. I know it's not fair to you, but if we can keep it friendly—"

"I'm fine with that." Part of me just knew that it couldn't end well, but I missed her too.

"Really?"

"I mean, I do fine with Bernadette, right? If nothing else, it's obvious to me why dating wouldn't be a great idea. So yeah, let's just be friends."

"All right," said Ji-yeong, "cool." She took a long sip of her soda, and quickly added, "I mean the way I see it, we just have to be open and honest with each other about how we're feeling."

"Right. We have to know if it's getting to be too much, so we can back off and give each other space."

"Exactly, because we can't be dating."

"Yeah, it wouldn't work. We'd just ruin our friendship."

"There's, what, seven billion people in the world? It'd be so closed-minded to think we're the best ones for each other, right?"

"Right."

I caught a glimpse of an old lady in the next booth over, shaking her head ever so slightly. I bet she knew what a motherfucker time was. She clearly had so little of it left. Watching us two kids waste it must've been such an insult to her.

* * * * *

Still, what was the alternative? How do you know it's love and not some potent mix of lust and misplaced affection? I thought it was love with Bernadette; she got bored and mercy-killed us before I even realized we were on life support. Ji-yeong thought it was love with Chad; long after he threw his first punch—hell, long after he spitefully dropped her hairdryer in his bath—a part of her still did. The stakes felt impossibly high and it seemed the only good response was caution.

My first night with Ji-yeong after we both returned to Boston, we got Burger King. Even Dairy Queen was just too much. She wore a dorky jacket that kept the shape of her body covered up even though it was the middle of May; fair enough, because if I had one of those tee-shirts that expressed a rude idea about when a woman's mouth should be open, I would've worn that. Instead I just went with an old Star Trek hand-me-down from my older cousin that I usually slept in.

After dinner we just drove around the city because while we both knew I wasn't getting invited up to Ji-yeong's apartment, neither of us wanted to call it after a half an hour at Burger King. This wasn't the slight awkwardness we had when we quietly agreed to call our sexual relationship off just before we were about to hurt each other's feelings. This was the classic kind of awkward, the "we clearly don't like this but let's pretend we do anyway" awkward.

Five minutes after I dropped Ji-yeong outside her apartment building, I got a call from her. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," I said.

We were both silent for a handful of seconds.

And then Ji-yeong just said it: "That sucked."

"We can't do this if that's what it's going to be like every week."

"Agreed. Why don't you turn around and come up? Let's try this again."

* * * * *

"Let's just admit it," said Ji-yeong, sitting in the powder blue beanbag chair next to my lime green one, across from the TV. "We're still really into each other."

"Okay, yeah," I said, "I still feel really strongly about you. What's that prove, though?"

"I don't know, it just feels good to say out loud: I want you. It drives me crazy that I can't have you."

Ji-yeong was pulling a page out of my armchair psychologist playbook; this bullshit would not stand. "It drives me crazy too," I said. "Now let's try to remember: Why can't we do this?"

"Because I don't know if I have a real sense of myself yet, plus we started off on such a weird, dependent foot. If I jump into a relationship with you, it could get really ugly."

"And that's fair. But you don't want to lose me completely, and neither do I."

"No. So what's the middle ground here? Because we're not finding it in awkward fast food dinners."

I waited for something smart to pop into my head.

Any second now, I was sure.

"Is there a middle ground?" Ji-yeong asked, slight tremor in her voice.

"I mean there has to be, right?" I wanted to get up. I wanted to pace this out. "I'm just not..." My knees, however, were somewhat above my head because of how deep into my beanbag chair I had sunk. "...okay, seriously, I thought I was done with beanbag chairs in kindergarten. Where did you get these?"

"Snagged them for cheap at a liquidator."