Another alarm goes off, reminding me to start the day.I sent out dozens of job applications a few months ago and finally got an interview. So I have to get there on time and make a good impression. Daniel and I often talked about the future, so I know he would want this for me. He wouldn’t want me wasting the day, thinking about him. I take a shower and change into something professional (a dress shirt with a tie from Dad’s closet). Mom left breakfast for me this morning. I think she worries I haven’t been eating enough lately. I take a few bites for her, along with some coffee to wake me up a little. Then I head back to my room in search of something. There’s a white paper bag on my desk. It’s been sitting there for the last few days, untouched. I stare at it for a moment, wondering if I should take it with me. I grab it along with my phone as I leave the house.
The trains are crowded this morning. The interview is at Tribune Tower, a thirty-six-floor high-rise that looms over the Chicago River. I head through the revolving glass doors, adjusting my tie. It’s a sea of gray suits bustling through a marble- floored lobby, chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. I read over the email, wondering where I’m supposed to go. The interview is for an assistantship with CHI-23 Entertainment, an indie production company based here in Chicago. I saw one of their films at a festival a few years ago. The cinematography inspired the way I think about light and color. I thought it was a long shot, but I sent in an application anyway. It would be a dream to work in the film industry, even if I’m sorting through mail all day and answering phone calls.
I press the elevator button and step inside. As it begins torise, I imagine the scene—assistants running back and forth carrying trays of coffee; executives sitting around long tables, pitching ideas behind glass walls. Then the doors open to a small reception room with nobody there. A few boxes are stacked against a plain white wall. I look around, wondering if this is the wrong floor. I expected things to be exciting like the movies. I wander around the office, hoping to find a Stanley Tucci–like character to take kindly to me, offering some words of wisdom. A few turns later, I find a woman with short black hair sitting behind a desk. I walk up and give her my name.
“You’re a little early,” she says.
“Sorry.”
The woman smiles. “Don’t be silly. Leon, who’s interviewing you, isn’t back from lunch. Why don’t you sit in his office while you wait.” She rises from her chair and motions for me to follow. There is a series of white doors down a narrow hallway. She unlocks the second one on the right, allowing me inside.
“Leon will be here shortly,” she says. “My name is Sonny. Can I take your bag?”
I glance at the white bag in my hand. “No, that’s okay.”
Sonny nods before disappearing down the hallway. I take a seat in the black chair and glance around the office. The walls are lined with movie posters, a few with titles in different languages. There’s a bronze name plate on the edge of the desk.Leon Nguyen.So he’s Vietnamese, too. Then footsteps echo down the hallway. I straighten up as a man in a T-shirt andjeans walks through the door. He’s younger than I expected, maybe in his late twenties. He drops his keys in a glass bowl as he steps to the other side of the desk.
“So you’re Eric,” he says.
I rise to shake his hand. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Great to meet you.”
“Thank you for seeing me.”
I hand him my resume as we sit down. Leon blinks at it and sets it on his desk. He takes a good look at me. “You’re quite dressed up for this interview,” he says, swiveling his chair a little. “Things are more casual around here, if you haven’t noticed. Hope you didn’t put on that tie just for us.”
I look down at my clothes and back at him. “Oh, not at all,” I tell him. “I’m actually going to a wedding after this.”
Leon chuckles. “I assume you’re joking.”
“No, actually, I’m the wedding singer,” I add.
“Well, that wasn’t in your cover letter,” he says, pretending to be impressed, making us both smile. He laces his fingers together on the table. “Anyway, how did you hear about the internship?”
“I found it online,” I say, straightening up again. “But I knew of CHI-23 before. I wrote about one of your films for a class assignment.”
“Oh, what class?”
“Digital filmmaking. I took it last year.”
Leon takes out a pen, jotting something down. “Is that where you worked on your short film?”
“My film?”
“The one about the Star Festival,” he says. “In the link you included in the application. I shared it around the office. Everyone here loved it.”
“Really?” I lean back in my chair, surprised to hear this. The online application said it was optional. But I sent a link anyway, thinking no one would actually watch it. “Thank you, that really means a lot,” I say.
“I know this is essentially a mail room position, but we look for skills beyond delivering coffee,” he says, leaning toward me. “This isn’t the standard assistantship where you’ll be sifting through mail all day. We also look for talent. So tell me more about the film and the idea behind it.”
My mind flashes to last summer—paper wishes fluttering in the trees, men in robes playing wooden flutes, fireworks lighting up the Sumida River. I ended up stitching shots together for my senior project as I narrated the story of Princess Orihime and Hikoboshi over it, wishing for their star-crossed reunion. It takes me a second to gather my words. “I was visiting Japan last summer,” I answer. “I got lost one day and stumbled into this festival. I didn’t know what it was at the time. But someone I met that day told me the story.” I pause for a second, thinking about Haru. “The festival is about these two people who were separated by time and space, and somehow found their way back together. I guess I never really stopped thinking about it. A few months later, when I looked back at everything I had filmed, that was the story I wanted to tell. So it was kind of an accident.”
I remember watching the videos over and over again,hoping to see him somewhere in the background, a glimpse of his face. I touch the red bracelet around my wrist. I wish I had more than a memory of that day. It’s beginning to feel like a dream or something. Of course, I don’t mention any of this.
“Some of the best ideas happen by accident,” Leon says, nodding. “Sometimes it’s justthe process. So don’t sell yourself short.” He glances at his computer and back at me. “What else have you been working on?”
I stare at my hands. “Nothing at the moment. I took a little break.”
