That’s easy for Gavin to say. He receives validation in many forms, whereas I only get it in one.
“In fact, we should count ourselves lucky. If it weren’t for Callie, the cashier could have called the authorities on us when we didn’t have money to pay for our things. Then our cover would’ve surelybeen blown. We’re not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves, remember?”
“Not like you handled yourself any better. Your inability to answer her very basic question about yourself was so sus, I’d be surprised if she doesn’t rush off to google our names on a wired computer somewhere.”
“I panicked. I didn’t know if I should tell her I was in college, because then she’d ask me where, and I wouldn’t know what to tell her without giving up specific information about us.”
I guess his explanation makes sense. Sort of. Telling anyone here that he attends USC, a school with almost fifty thousand students, would not have outed us in any way. But as much as Gavin can’t understand my thought process, I can’t begin to understand his.
Excerpt
“I work seven days a week. Anyone who works five days a week is missing out on two days of progress.”
The American Dream Achieved: The Story of Dale Ok, Founder of It’s Ok!
Transcript
60 MinutesInterview with Gloria Ok
Interviewer:I would think his farming background would be very relevant to his business work ethic. Is that not true?
Gloria:Well, yes. Working on a farm is incredibly hard work.
Interviewer:Then why isn’t it mentioned in his autobiography?
Gloria:Dale doesn’t like to talk about his humble beginnings.
Interviewer:Really? Why not?
Gloria:Korea has a hierarchical society, and status matters. For many of us, what kind of family you were born into determines your future. Doctors become doctors. Scholars become scholars. And farmers become farmers.
Interviewer:But how does that affect him as a businessman in the US?
Gloria:It shouldn’t. But it matters to Dale.
Chapter 10
Not long after Gavin and I get back to our temporary place of residence, I hear a thud by the door and get overexcited, thinking my parents are back, not that I want to spend morequalitytime with them. But they act as a buffer between Gavin and me. And right now I’ll take what I can get.
I peek through the window, and instead of Mom and Dad, I see a large IKEA truck on the road, which is still something to get excited about. It feels like Christmas morning watching the two men unload the truck, starting with four mattresses. No more sleeping on our crime-scene carpet. I glance over at Gavin, who is now standing beside me. Unsurprisingly he does not seem to share the same level of enthusiasm as I do.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I gesture to Gavin’s forehead. “If we can’t afford real furniture, then I’m pretty sure Botox is out of the question.”
He barely glances at me. “El, aren’t you at all concerned about the fact that the ‘dresser’ that you ordered came in a box that’s six inches thick?”
“Who’s a snob now?” I stare down my nose at him.
“Are you telling me you know what to do with that?” He gestures wildly at the boxes on our doorstep.
“What, like it’s hard to assemble furniture? Just follow the instructions.”
“Famous last words,” he mutters.
There is nothing more motivating than a person’s skepticism about your abilities, especially if that someone is Gavin. So as soon as the delivery men leave and Gavin and I bring in the boxes, I rip open the first box, preparing to make him eat his words.
An hour later wooden slats are splayed on the floor along with the tiniest baggie of screws and pegs and one questionable tool. I refer to the instructions, thinking they’ll explain just how the hell this is supposed to somehow become a dresser, but they don’t. How is this stick-figure comic strip that’s not even remotely funny supposed to help us assemble the furniture?
