Page 2 of XOXO

My stomach sinks. “Saturday.” I give him a bitter smile. “I got the results back this morning.”

“Yeah?” He frowns. “How’d you do?”

“I won.”

“What? Really? Congrats, girl!” He pumps his fist in the air. “My niece is a champ,” he adds to the couple sitting at the bar, startling them from their tacos.

“Yeah...” I trace the letters of two sets of initials carved on the surface of the counter and linked by a heart.

“What’s up?” He puts the glass and rag down on the counter. “Something’s bothering you, I can tell.”

“The judges left me feedback.” I take out the paper from my pocket, which has been noticeably crumpled, then smoothed out, then folded into a square, and hand it over. “It’s supposed to help me improve before the next competition.”

As Uncle Jay reads the note, I replay the words I’ve already memorized.

While Jenny is a talented cellist, proficient in all the technical elements of music, she lacks the spark that would take her from perfectly trained to extraordinary.

Next year, hundreds of cellists just like me will be applying to the best music schools in the country. In order to get into one of the top schools, I can’t just be perfect. I have to be extraordinary.

Uncle Jay hands the paper back. “Talentedandtechnically skilled. Sounds about right.”

I stuff the note deep into my pocket. “You missed the part where they called me a soulless robot.”

He laughs. “I definitely missedthatpart.” Though he must feel a tad sympathetic because he adds, “I can see that you’re disappointed. But it’s just critique. You get them all the time.”

“It’s notjustthat it’s critique,” I say, trying to put my frustration into words. “It’s that there’s nothing to improve upon. Emotion in music is expressed through pitch and dynamics. I’m great at both of those things.”

Uncle Jay gives me a sidelong glance.

“They said I lack spark!”

He sighs, leaning against the bar. “I think it’s more that you haven’t found your spark yet, something that lights that fire within you to go after what you want. For example, your dad and me deciding to open up this karaoke bar, even though so many people told us it was a waste of money. Even your mom, though seeing as how she didn’t grow up with much, I don’tblame her. We knew it’d be hard and that we might not succeed but we still tried because it was our dream.”

“But...” I say slowly, “what does any of that have to do with impressing music schools?”

“Here, let me explain it to you in Jenny-speak. You know that movie we watched earlier tonight?Ajeossi. There’s a quote Won Bin’s character says that roughly translates to, ‘People who live for tomorrow should fear the people who live for today.’ Do you know why that is?”

“No,” I drawl, “but you’re going to tell me.”

“Because the people who live for tomorrow don’t take risks. They’re afraid of the consequences. While the people who live for today have nothing to lose, so they fight tooth and nail. I’m saying that maybe you should stop caring so much about your future, about getting into music school, about what’ll come after, and... live a little. Have new experiences, make new friends. I promise you can get the life you want now, if you just live in it.” The door chime jingles as customers walk into the bar.

“Welcome!” Uncle Jay calls out, leaving me to stew in my thoughts as he rounds the counter to greet them.

I think about texting Mom, except that I know what she’d say; I should practice more and maybe schedule additional lessons with Eunbi. Also not to listen to Uncle Jay. If Uncle Jay is all about living in the moment and following your dreams, my mom is much more practical. I can have a successful career as a cellist but only if I work hard and focus completely.

Anything outside of that is a distraction.

Though, it’s not like Ihaven’tbeen working hard—Mrs. Kim, and presumably Eunice, would know—andstillI got that critique.

Maybe Uncle Jay has a point.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” he says returning from helping out the customers. “You’ll figure it out. Why don’t you go home early, rest up? Bomi should be here soon.” Bomi is the surly UCLA student who usually works the night shift. “Just check in on room eight before you do. The time ran out on their machine but they haven’t left yet.”

I sigh. “Okay.” Slipping off the barstool, I trudge down the hall. Confronting customers is one of my least favorite tasks at Jay’s. Why can’t they just read the rules?

In most karaoke joints in the States, customers are charged at the end of the night, usually by the hour, and the customers are the ones who keep track of the time and how much they’re spending. Uncle Jay runs his karaoke business like they do in Korea, charging in advance for a set amount of time that appears as a countdown clock on the screen inside the room. That way, people aren’t overcharged. If they want to sing for longer, they can add more time to their room. Mom always says Uncle Jay doesn’t really have a head for business.

The door to room eight is closed with no sound coming from inside, but that makes sense if their time has run out. I knock once, then open the door.

---