Page 56 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
Iris grimaced, and I hated myself for even bringing it up. But it was a fair question, it wasn’t just me grasping at straws to try and make my sister stay. “Honestly? I don’t know. He hasn’t really asked about her, and last I saw on Facebook, he’s dating somebody. So I’m kind of hoping he forgets her existence?”
As absurd as it sounded, I could see that being the case with someone like Erik. I’d seen his Facebook posts too, although I hadn’t shown them to Iris. Picture after picture of him with a woman who looked like she would make most Chindo parents happy. A woman who was much like me—straight shoulder-length hair, slim build, pale skin. The anti-Iris. I wondered if she knew about his past. Part of me itched to warn her. The other more selfish part of me thought:Maybe if things got serious with her, then he’d want to divorce Iris.
“Where would you stay?” A stupid question, I know, but I was running out of questions that would make her realize she was making a mistake. Except she wasn’t making a mistake, was she? She was doing the best thing for her and Hazel.
“I’ll rent somewhere,” she said easily. Then she took my hand, her eyes softening. “I wish you could come with me.”
The thought of LA, that bright, endless Californian sky, took my breath away. I knew then, all of a sudden, like a lightning strike, that I had to go with them. Left behind, I would die, I was sure of it. It would be a slow death, unnoticeable on the surface at first. I would continue playing my role as a good Chindo wife while I withered quietly inside. And at some point, I would give in, bear Parker a child, then another and another. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I would snap, and the jagged shards of me would slice into everything I had built until it fell apart in shreds around me.
“I’ll come,” I said.
Iris gave a confused smile. “Huh?”
“I’m joining you in LA. I don’t care what it takes. I’m going to figure it out,” I promised. It was the first promise I’d made to my sister, and I would be damned if I had to break it. One way or another, I was going to get to LA.
Chapter 19
MAGNOLIA
2009
It took much longer than I would’ve hoped to get me to LA, but I finally did it. I see you wondering how the hell I pulled that off. Aha. Your grandmother has a few tricks up her sleeve. Don’t make that face, Izzy, I didn’t use sex as a bargaining tool. Well, I did. But not just sex. If it had only been sex, I never would’ve gotten my way. Listen and learn. And wipe that judgy expression off your face.
Remember what I said about how the thing that every Chindo family cared about the most was saving face? Saving face wasn’t just about avoiding scandals or protecting the family name. It was also about increasing your status within the confines of your social circle, whether it be through wealth, marriage, or education. Parker wasn’t immune to this. Like everyone else I knew, he was always trying to get a leg up, to rub shoulders with those above him on the social hierarchy.
As Iris prepared for her move to LA, I went back to what Idid best—staying quiet and observing. I didn’t try to persuade Iris out of moving; instead, I helped her with everything she needed to make the move as seamless as possible, scrolling the web for a suitable apartment, looking up secondhand cars, and searching for a baby gym for Hazel to go to, even though I knew Iris wouldn’t have the time to take her. And I observed Parker. I asked him questions about everything. How his day went, what sorts of meetings he’d had at the clinic, what was discussed, how the clinic was doing. For the most part, he was gently dismissive; he didn’t think I had anything useful to add, never mind the fact that when he first started there, all of his bright ideas had been my suggestions. He didn’t put me down in an abrasive way, like many husbands would though. I’ll give him that. It was more of an “Oh sweetie, you don’t have to worry about such things.” Still, I persisted. I wrapped my questions under thick layers of wifely interest, and whatever morsel of information he gave me, I rewarded him with kisses and smiles.
Did I feel guilty about manipulating my husband to get my way? No, not really. Because I still held that helpless rage that had coursed through me as I watched Iris’s world get torn apart by Erik. It still burned a hole in my stomach, the knowledge that at the end of the day, Parker could do whatever the hell he wanted to me, and no one was going to help me. This became painfully clear the day that Iris and Hazel flew off. I clung to them at the airport, and the memory of Iris leaving for LA so many years ago crashed over me. Sobs racked through my chest. Parker looked uneasy; I was causing a scene, but I didn’t care. Hazel wailed and screamed, and in the end, Iris, her face tear-streaked, had to wrench Hazel out of my arms so they’d maketheir flight. By the time I wiped my tears away and turned back to face Parker, I knew I was done being a pawn. I wanted to be a player too, and by god, I knew I had what it took to be good at it.
You see, I did have a good head for business. From the tiny pieces of information Parker dropped here and there, I was able to get a better picture of how Mama and Papa’s clinic was doing. It was chugging along decently, but growth had largely stopped, and the mood teetered between fearful contentment and simmering frustration. Same old story. They wanted to grow but didn’t want to take any risks—no bank loans, no leasing of new buildings, no recruiting of younger doctors. Parker had big dreams. He wanted the clinic to be more than just a family operation. He saw it multiplying, sprouting several branches, eventually turning into a nationwide corporation. And it was this dream that I decided would turn into my bridge to LA.
Are you taking this in? Okay.
How to Get Your Way and Make It Seem Like It Was Your Husband’s Idea in the First Place
Identify your husband’s innermost wishes and insecurities. Like I said, I figured out pretty quickly that Parker was ambitious. But not just that; he was insecure. He had a chip on his shoulder about not being the eldest son. His older brother got to dive into his parents’ business, which was far more lucrative than my family’s business. And Parker hated that. He had thought, when he met me, that the clinic would be his chance to makeit big. But he hadn’t foreseen the numerous obstacles in place. He’d failed to see how the doctors at the clinic, my parents included, were old and stuck in their ways and afraid of change.
Lean into his insecurities. I started saying things like “I hate how they don’t take you seriously at the clinic,” and “I wish they’d treat you with the respect you deserve,” and “Why can’t they see that you’re so brilliant?” I also said things like “Oh, I talked to your mom today, and she mentioned that Percy is taking the family company to new heights. Sounds impressive.” These comments had to be made with extreme caution though. Push too far, and Parker would get mad (understandably) and the conversation would be over.
Offer him a solution. My solution was very straightforward, actually. Get an MBA. I’d thought long and hard about this. Did Parkerneedan MBA? Of course not. Who in the world needs an MBA? But would it help him? Sure. Having an MBA would open doors for him, help him forge new connections, teach him the crucial steps it took from having ambition to realizing that ambition. And most of all, having an MBA would very much enhance his reputation. He’d gain confidence in himself as well as from others. It was a worthy investment. But of course, I couldn’t just say, “Parker, go get an MBA.” No, I had to lightly sprinkle in suggestions, mentioning how so-and-so just came back from the USwith an MBA and now heads his own company, or how Papa mentioned at dinner last week that an MBA was the most respectable degree one could strive for.
Once he starts talking about MBAs as though he were the one who came up with the idea, it’s time to act surprised and delighted. “You want to get an MBA? Wow! What an amazing idea. I love it, sweetie!” Go through the list of universities that offered MBAs, and gently steer him to go for ones in LA. UCLA, USC, Pepperdine, LMU. Nothing too straightforward, because if he detects even a hint that you’re at the helm, everything would come to a halt. You have to appear clueless, well-meaning, and eager to hear his points of view. Have I mentioned the sex? There has to be a lot of it. Then, while stretching languorously in bed, you say things like “Oh, sweetie, I can’t wait to do this on the beach in Santa Monica. The waves crashing on the sand at night, nobody around…” Or as you’re eating tacos for lunch, you might say something like “There’s nothing quite like tacos in LA, is there? I miss the carnitas at that food truck two blocks down from PCC. Did you ever go there? God, I miss PCC, don’t you?”
