Page 9 of Never Thought I'd End Up Here
“You know, likeJourney to the West? It’s a play on words. Because this is a journey to—well, the East,” she explains.
“Yeah, um, I got that part,” I say, still trying to decipher what this means.
“It’s a two-week trip around China’s cities to really immerse you in the culture,” she goes on. “The local Chinese school, Jiu Yin He, is hosting it. It’s perfect for kids like you, who’ve forgotten their Mandarin and barely know anything about China. Studies show the most effective way to relearn a language is by being in the environment. And,” she adds, like it’s an afterthought, “the program is run in collaboration with the Department of East Asian Languages and Cultures at Stanford, so your aunt is the one who designed the itinerary for this year. She’ll be receiving regular updates about the trip and will meet the participating students at the end.”
There it is. The real reason. I can almostseethe gears in my mom’s head working. This is her big plan for redemption—both hers and mine. Prove to her sister that she didn’t raise a completely uncultured daughter, that she hasn’t failed as a parent.
“Are you sure my aunt will want me to join her program?” I ask tentatively.
“Yes, because you’re going to commit fully to her itinerary and amaze her with your dramatic improvement in Chinese when you come back afterward,” my mom says, sounding far more confident than I deserve. There’s a distant look in her eyes, like she’s already fast-forwarded into the future, one where I’m probably reciting ancient poetry and pouring tea for my aunt while she smiles at me in glowing approval, the disastrous wedding forgotten behind us. “Plus, a program like this will look amazing on your college applications, which I know are currently a little … underdeveloped.”
“Underdeveloped,” I repeat under my breath. That’s a nice way of putting it. I’m willing to bet that I’m our career counselor’s worst headache. At our last meeting, she stressed that my grades areabysmal, my attendance record even worse, and that the last time I signed up for an extracurricular, it was to serve lemonade at a charity event for iguanas.
“… even though it’s last minute, one of the original participating students canceled, so there’s a spot open for you, and I snagged it just in time,” my mom is saying. She smiles. “Can you believe how perfectly everything’s worked out?”
No. I truly can’t believe this.
“Don’t worry,” she says, misinterpreting my silence. “You won’t have to miss the start of school. You’ll be leaving in a week, and you’ll be back just before your break ends.”
“Wait. But—” I drag a hand through my hair, my mind struggling to keep up. “But you can’t just send me halfway across the world on some trip. I—I hadplansfor this summer—”
Her smile vanishes at once. “You haven’t moved an inch from that couch all day. Not even to drink water.”
“I had plans to rest,” I elaborate.
“And that’s okay.” She tucks a strand of her long, always-straight hair behind her ear. “Your dad and I have been saying that you need a good, long break. But you don’t seem well rested. Do youfeellike you’ve been resting?”
The problem is, I don’t.
After I officially parted ways with my modeling agency last month, I imagined sleeping for fifteen hours straight, without having to worry about going to the gym or rushing in for hair and makeup or stressing over how my photos will turn out, and then waking up refreshed. Feeling like a proper person again. Dedicating time to my hobbies.
Instead, when I woke up, I felt an exhaustion so heavy and bone-deep I feared it would crush me. And as it turns out, I don’t have any hobbies. I never had a chance or reason to discover other interests, because modeling was an all-consuming force, coloring in every single aspect of my life, and now that it’s gone, there’s only blank white space.
Maybe my mom’s right.
Maybe a change of scenery will help. It’d be preferable to slowly losing my mind inside the house.
Besides, after the wedding, I owe it to my mom—and my cousin and aunt—to at leasttryto make amends. Make myself better. Show them that I do genuinely care about my culture, that I’m not an ignorant foreigner who goes around dooming my family members’ marriages. Learn how to hold a conversation long enough to apologize properly, in Mandarin.
“Okay, fine,” I say, holding out a hand. “Let me see that.”
My mom’s face breaks into a wide beam as she passes me the application, and I feel a pang in my chest. It’s been a while since she last looked so happy. So hopeful. Even if the Journey to the East can’t solve all of my problems, at least it’ll be worth this.
***
Later that evening, my phone buzzes with a text from Cate.
we’re heading down to sarah’s beach house next sat. u coming? xxx
This is how most of our conversations go. Short, to the point. Often, it’ll just be a question:Should I wear this dress or this? Is the jacket too much? Are you free tomorrow?I understand that the vast majority of the student body would consider it a great privilege to be trusted by Cate Addison for fashion advice, and I guess I do. I just wish we reallytalked, that I could feel comfortable confiding in her about anything without worrying I’d seem too weird. The closest we’ve ever come to having a heart-to-heart talk was when she got drunk on a martini and told me that she sometimes feels insecure about her music taste.
But I’m not sure if she’ll even want to talk to me at all once we return to school. I still haven’t told her that I’ve quit modeling. Partly because my gut churns at the thought of her reaction—it’ll no doubt be some vocal mixture of disappointment and confusion—and partly because I haven’t figured out a way to do so without bringing up the photo shoot. She wouldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to me, why Ihadto leave after that, for the sake of my own sanity and dignity.
At least I now have a legitimate excuse to put off telling her for just a little longer.
I’d love to, but I can’t, I text back.My mom’s signed me up for this trip to China and I’ll be gone two weeks. You guys have fun though!!!
Her reply is immediate.oh my god, you poor thing. why on earth would they send you to that place?
