I wouldn’t have put it that way, but it happens to be true. So I agree with his assessment.
The tufts of his hair have finally grown out, but Gavin has not adjusted to the appropriate style the new length requires. “I don’t have time today, but next time I’ll do your hair.”
“No.” He puts his hands up firmly. “I have limits too.”
My eyes bulge just slightly at his sharp tone. “Got it. No hair.”
His brows furrow skeptically. “Why are you smiling, then?”
“Because,” I say, taking inventory of him, “my work is starting to take effect. You’re finally finding your voice.”
He rolls his eyes familiarly. What’s not familiar is the smile that accompanies it.
—
It’s been a week since I’ve officially run out of lavender bath salts, the only remedy that keeps me calm during this transition period. And yet a noticeable peace washes over me that I haven’t felt in a while. Hanging out with Callie, Brennan, and Gavin was not only unexpectedly pleasant, but it felt similar to the type of fun I used to have after going out to an event or a party. Which I know doesn’t make sense, like comparing apples to apple martinis. What’s even weirder is that today wasn’t even about me. It was about Gavin. Helping Gavin become the person he wants to be has reignited my sense of purpose that’s been missing since we got here. My life is starting to make sense again. In Blaire, that is. Not sure what it means for my life back in LA. By now more than two weeks have passed, and I’m no longer at the silent retreat I told my friends I was at. I wonder where they think I am.
Then I remember I don’t have to wonder. Today is maintenance day, something I just learned about. It’s the one day a month when the use of radio waves is allowed. I check the clock. The town will have cellular reception for one more hour. So while Gavin is in the bathroom showering, I don’t waste any time. I find my phone where Mom left it in the kitchen drawer and turn it on. I wait impatiently for the screen to illuminate, silently praying the battery isn’t drained.With my eyes clenched closed, I jump when a rapid succession of pinging comes from my phone with the messages and voicemails coming through. Success!
I start reading the messages right away. The latest ones from my friends are time-stamped from the day we moved to Blaire. Noticing that their texts were no longer being delivered since my phone was on airplane mode, I bet they stopped sending messages. The rest of the texts are junk, so I ignore them and begin the daunting task of sifting through the barrage of voicemails.
I delete the ones that don’t matter, beginning with the least important ones. First are messages from superfans with blocked numbers professing their undying love for me.Gross.As much as I value each and every one of my fans, the weirdos don’t count. Delete. Next is the bulk of messages from reporters and media producers wanting a statement or an interview.Leeches.Delete. Then there are a handful of messages from people I haven’t spoken to in forever who are coming out of the woodwork out of gossipy interest.Ew.Delete. One by one I swipe left on the messages of no importance. When my inbox is cleared, I’m startled to realize that it’s not the only thing that’s empty. Where are the calls offering to lend me a hand or a shoulder to cry on? Or the ones calling me to go on an In-N-Out run or shopping spree? Where are the calls asking me if I’m doing okay?
My mind starts to rationalize the radio silence from my friends. I bet they’re busy vacationing, or their careers are pulling them in different locations around the world. But when it comes down to it, every version of the truth I come up with leads me to the same conclusion. No matter how busy people are, no matter how far they go, people make an effort if it’s important to them. Right?
When the water shuts off in the bathroom, I return my phone to the drawer in the kitchen. By the time Gavin comes out of thebathroom, I’m in bed, pretending to sleep. With my eyes closed, my mind is racing.
As all of my friends have aspirations to be public figures, I understand why they would want to keep their distance from me publicly. But that shouldn’t stop them from sending me private messages. Looking back I can see that my friends and I only hung out when there was an event to go to, a premiere to attend, or a party to make an appearance at. I was the gateway to fun and exciting things. Now that the paid events are gone, does that mean my friendships are too? Was Gavin right? Were our friendships so shallow that I could easily be dropped as soon as I wasn’t needed?
Excerpt
“Confidence is the key to making any outfit shine, but when you wear it with a suit, no one will doubt your abilities.”
The American Dream Achieved: The Story of Dale Ok, Founder of It’s Ok!
Transcript
60 MinutesInterview with Gloria Ok
Interviewer:Why don’t we start at the beginning? Where did you grow up?
Gloria:I grew up in postwar Korea. It was an economically poor time. My parents were recruited, along with Dale’s parents, to cultivate the land in Anbandegi, in the eastern coastal city of Gangneung. It’s about a three-hour drive east of Seoul. I have to say that because everyone thinks all of Korea is Seoul. Kind of like people in Korea think California is LA. [laughs] Anyway, when my parents first started farming, the government gave us a bag of rice every day we worked the uncultivated, mountainous land. The inclined terrain made it impossible to use agricultural machinery. We had to use handheld tools like shovels and pickaxes.
Interviewer:Sounds like it was tough.
Gloria:It was hard, but even harder was finding something to harvest. The landscape seemed impossible to grow anything. We nearly starved. Then we discovered the moisture in the high altitude was the perfect climate to cultivate cabbage. Today Anbandegi is famous for its cabbage, which is known for its sweet and rich flavor.
Interviewer:That’s quite a story.
Gloria:It is. You see, in failing, we learned how to succeed.
Chapter 21
The following week, Dad and I get ready for our meeting with the farming co-op. I had hoped Gavin would be back from his date with Callie, but three hours later he’s still out, which I consider a success, even without knowing the specifics of what went on. I’m still not letting him off the hook, though. The second he comes home, he owes me an update.
The meeting with the co-op is taking place in Jean’s backyard, since her garden provides the perfect backdrop for the occasion. So I put on a Dolce & Gabbana chambray shirt and pair it with slimming black leggings. On the way out, I slip on sensible flats. It’s classy yet relatable. But also practical. As nice as Jean’s farm is, it’s still a farm, and it’s completely covered in dirt. There are no concrete pavers, no elevated deck, and no slabs of stone leading into the garden. When I’m satisfied with my look, I head out of my room to get Dad.
