“Hi there,” Casey said, trying to sound buoyant. She approached Tina and remained there. Leah kept smiling at Casey, wanting to say something but not knowing what exactly.
“Doesn’t Tina look like a television star?” Leah asked.
Casey nodded yes, admiring her younger sister’s prettiness. The beautician had put too much mascara on her sister, but the suit was perfect. The luster of the raw silk fabric made Tina look like a girl raised in a prosperous yangban family. This had been Casey’s intention when she’d selected it—her sister’s dress and shoe sizes in hand. Sabine had gotten the image instantly and accompanied Casey to the shoe department to help pick Tina’s shoes, too. Sabine’s parents had been merchants, and she knew what it was like to have yangban people think you were less somehow because you touched money. Chul’s father was a physics professor and his mother a doctor—all three sisters were lawyers, and Chul was pursuing his medical degree. The Baeks had come from the yangban class and had stayed that way. Joseph was born into the yangban class, but he’d fallen off, and Leah was born poor. Rather unkindly, the townspeople would have called Leah’s father—a poor man from the country—a ssangnom.
Joseph was looking at the newspaper, but he was listening to Leah talk to the girls. She had missed them. And Casey had come after all. He was relieved. She’d aged in just two years. Being on your own in the world can do that, he thought. He himself looked older than most men his age. Taking care of yourself came with a strain. And in life, there were many disappointments for which you couldn’t prepare.
“You know, you look even nicer than a movie star. You could win the Miss Korea contest. The smartest Miss Korea in the world,” Leah exclaimed.
“Oh, c’mon.” Tina shook her head, slightly pleased but uncomfortable with everyone staring at her.
“But you look amazing, Tina. Absolutely beautiful,” Casey said.
“This is all useless, stupid talk. What does it matter what Tina looks like?” Joseph said this, facing Leah. “She’s going to be a surgeon. It doesn’t matter how she looks or what she wears. That stuff is garbage. A surgeon has to—”
“Daddy, I’m pretty sure I’m going into endocrinology. Not surgery,” Tina said quietly, afraid to look up. She hadn’t meant to talk about this now, but it just came out.
Joseph opened his mouth, dumbstruck.
“My adviser thinks it’s the most natural fit for me. I’ve no talent for something like surgery, and I’m more interested in research than clinical practice, and—”
“I thought you were going to be a surgeon. A heart surgeon or brain surgeon—”
“Well—that’s when I was in junior high school and watching TV shows. I didn’t know what I was saying—”
“My daughter’s supposed to be a surgeon. That’s what I told everybody. That’s what they think you’re going to be. That’s what you said.” Joseph was stunned by this change. Did he not understand her English? What was endocrinology? He felt as though she’d lied to him. “What do you mean?” he asked, his throat choking up.
“I, I—Daddy, I—” Tina had never seen her father like this with her.
Casey felt sorry for Tina. Their mother was already wringing her hands.
“Maybe we can talk about this later,” Casey said, trying to sound as polite as possible. They had to be at the restaurant in five minutes.
Still in shock, Joseph looked at Casey; then, disgusted, he looked away. If only she hadn’t changed her mind about law school, working in a stupid job on Wall Street as an assistant after graduating from Princeton and now going to NYU’s business school, just throwing away a Columbia Law School acceptance—he couldn’t stop shaking his head. Who’d go to business school when you could’ve been a lawyer? And now Tina was talking about research? Not working with patients? Was that what she meant? For years, he’d pictured Tina’s medical office where she’d see her patients and her working in an operating room. Saving lives. These pictures had puffed him up with pride and happiness. It was as Tina had said, like on television, but his daughter had been the star. What was she talking about? This was her life—how could the girl be so careless about it?
Leah checked her watch. There was no time left. She got up quietly and picked up the shopping bags. Casey took the heavier one from her mother’s hand. She wanted to do something, move her body somehow, to run. Outside the plate-glass window, the streets were strewn with the well-heeled residents of Sutton Place—good-looking older women with ash blond hair and men wearing polo shirts and khaki trousers being led by terriers on ribbonlike leashes. The August evening was still bright, and Casey yearned to bolt out the door and hail a taxi. She had thirty dollars in her wallet. It wasn’t too late. She could be back at the apartment in five minutes, order a pizza. But then she remembered: Unu was expecting her at Mr. Chan’s.