I Wish You Knew: A Novel

By Dasom Lee

I Wish You Knew - A Novel celebrates the flawed normalcy of two individuals who reunite under serendipitous circumstances. After more than a decade of separation, two childhood best friends cross paths in the most humorous way. The healing potential of human con

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: May 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885041768

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I Wish You Knew

I Wish You Knew

A Novel

Dasom Lee

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2022 Dasom Lee

All rights reserved.

I Wish You Knew

A Novel

ISBN

979-8-88504-070-9 Paperback

979-8-88504-626-8 Kindle Ebook

979-8-88504-176-8 Ebook

For my parents, who gave me the world and then some.

Contents

Author’s Note

Prologue

Part One

Chapter 1. Jenny

Chapter 2. Jenny

Chapter 3. Anthony

Chapter 4. Anthony

Chapter 5. Anthony

Part Two

Chapter 6. Jenny

Chapter 7. Jenny

Chapter 8. Christina

Chapter 9. Jenny

Chapter 10. Anthony

Chapter 11. Jenny

Chapter 12. Jenny

Part Three

Chapter 13. Anthony

Chapter 14. Jenny

Chapter 15. Anthony

Chapter 16. Jenny

Chapter 17. Jenny

Chapter 18. Jenny

Part four

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love.

—Sophocles

Author’s Note

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

—F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Dear Readers,

Don’t let this novel fool you. Serendipity doesn’t always shed its good graces.

Discomfort became my norm at the budding age of five when I immigrated to the US from South Korea. A foreigner in my new home, novels were my source of escapism and a means to self-discovery. I lived out multiple lives through books like Anne of Green Gables and Charlotte’s Web. The more I read, the more I recognized these book scenes developing in my own life. My literary sixth sense itched at me to recognize the story unfolding within their worldly confines.

One hot summer day in Austin, I was riding back home on a party bus when one of these scenes materialized before me. This bus was crowded with dozens of twenty-somethings dancing to blasting music, faces glazed over with looks of pure bliss. We had just reveled in an afternoon of splashing around on a boat barge, chatting about nothing in particular, and indisputably living our best lives as captured in our carefully crafted photos.

As I swayed to the music and plastered on my best attempt at happy to appease those around me, these questions rang through my head: What is everyone trying to escape from right now? What is brewing beneath the surface? What growth journey, inner turmoil, or doubts are they experiencing?

I was consumed by curiosity on the deeper backstories behind every stranger I met. I wanted to peer inside their souls and uncover the intangibles that would impact them as they left this hazy scene to resume their realities.

Especially on the cusp of adulthood, some level of stress is guaranteed to be humming in the background. What is your purpose? Are you satisfied? Are your work and relationships fulfilling you? Once this bus ride was over, we would all return to our extraordinarily ordinary lives. We would resume our routines of striving to work hard without much direction and indulging in activities that numb us. It would all serve one purpose: escaping from the difficult task of figuring it out.

Everyone has baggage, and it only piles on further as we grow older and experience more. So I wondered, what would it be like to acutely explore this period in one’s life where young adults are experiencing love and the more existential questions for the first time? How would it shift them from a person who escapes discomfort to someone who embraces it?

Hardships are especially difficult to embrace. Yes, they produce our thick skin, emotional resilience, and understanding of iron-hard perseverance. The kind that is required to combat the inevitable pain that will ensue in its many, complex forms all over again. But they also break you, and it requires a keen proximity to maturity to face them head-on.

And there are no shortcuts. We don’t heal simply because we forget or let time fleet on. We heal because we learn to cope and see the beauty in our pain.

When I was six, not so unlike Jenny in the prologue of this novel, I clutched onto a daily prayer that next year would be better than the last. I felt increasingly uncomfortable in my own skin, surviving through online worlds, television, reading, and writing. I experienced persistent nostalgia for the people I missed (from the grandparents we left in South Korea to the friends I left behind in Pullman, my first American hometown) and struggled to enjoy the present without envisioning how it could be better. Before I knew it, seven became eleven and then fifteen. Life flew by, and my yearning only grew stronger. My dissatisfaction reached an anticlimactic epiphany: all we really have is today.

Go love someone zealously today; go remedy that friendship or relationship today; go change everything you wish was different in your life today. Why can’t we just wake up one day and decide to be different? Not to solidify ourselves in those ways forever, but to simply test the waters and risk gaining the world.

Sometimes, it requires another living, breathing human being—a serendipitous encounter—to flip that switch in your soul and turn the gears toward liberation.

And quite frankly, I learned this by falling in love for the first time. When someone chooses you for the first time, it feels ridiculously special. It makes you feel invincible.

During this period, rather than writing to escape, I wrote to remember, to reignite the soul of my inner child who scribbled dramatic love poems instead of paying attention in school. I was that twelve-year-old who wrote a thirty-thousand-word novel on her iPod Touch on the subway once. I would see leaves falling and metaphorically tie that into seasons rolling over in my life. Now, where did she go?

I Wish You Knew celebrates the flawed normalcy of two individuals who reunite under strange, almost fateful, coincidence. The healing potential of human connection is unveiled through mirrored halves of a cracked whole who impart empathy unsparingly on each other and then themselves for the first time in a long time.

This story divulges the cathartic power love has on us. When you impart your love on someone, it takes on a life of its own. It fills the cracks and holes like a mending yarn that spins them perfectly back into place. Love conquers even the cynical with unexpected fervor; it illuminates the darkest of corners.

With special consideration, I chose the setting to be New York City, to which my love affair began only a few moons ago. The Big Apple’s buzzing energy is burned into my memory; I feel undeniably alive here. In my research, I’ve unpacked this modern yet historically rich microcosm of capitalistic society, energized by diversity and art. I’ve tapped into my prior life as a violinist, analyzed the creative finesse of painting, and most interestingly, scrutinized the experience of being a male teenager. My cognizance of my brother’s teenagehood has certainly expanded.

We all carry remnants of our teenage selves. Teenagers are raw in their humanity. In their pubescent chaos, they have magnified responses to the most minuscule of interactions. They are grappling with identity crises, physical transformations, and harsh realities that can, at times, tear them away from their childhood innocence. Although this is a young adult fiction book, I hope it resonates with anyone who seeks to awaken their youthful spirit or battle their darkness with teenager-esque optimism.

This story is a labyrinth of fortuitous circumstances and plot twists, opening up with a childhood scene of Jenny and Anthony playing as children. They’re defined by their naivete, the kind that can only come from an unblemished ideality on life. Be the girl on fire again, he urges her.

So I turn to you all, with a plea:

Be the one on fire again.

With gratitude,

Your author, Dasom Lee

Prologue

April 13, 2009

Dripping Springs, Texas

The warm sun rays playfully dance across Jenny’s face. They stream in from the makeshift windows of the 121-square foot suspended box in her backyard. She’s sitting cross-legged in the Magic Treehouse her father, Jeremy, used his skillful carpenter hands to build her. The light shines briefly on the bright crayon doodles taped to the high walls. She’s exaggerated the yellow swirls on Anthony’s head in her drawings with extra care.

Anthony is her sporadic nutcase of a partner in crime, with wild blonde curls you can’t help but get entangled in, if you so dare. His relatives often gossip that he’s had a distinct devilish charm since his toddler days, predicting herds of swooning women dotting his future.

Wearing a lopsided, red plastic firefighter hat, he’s sprawled on his back across from her. It stands out against Jenny’s light-blue princess costume and tiara nestled into her dark-black hair. A spatter of freckles dot her face like Orion’s Belt. The stars on her cheeks darken as she blushes, unable to hold Anthony’s hardheaded gaze. They’re in a staring contest. His large, sapphire eyes bore into hers. Suddenly, he wiggles his blonde eyebrows.

A giggle erupts out of her. Ew, they look like caterpillars, she says.

"You’re a caterpillar," he retorts, a grin peeking through.

"You think you’re so funny," Jenny huffs. She sticks her tongue out.

Teasing Jenny is probably Anthony’s favorite pastime. Besides banging on his toy piano, of course.

"You blinked! I win again," he shrieks, dangling a chubby finger in her face. He pumps a victorious fist in the air. Much to his pleasure, she shrieks in protest, her shrill voice echoing like bells.

Life is heavenly in Dripping Springs, where the Yoo and Sanders families have nurtured a tight-knit friendship due to their dads, Paul and Jeremy, being best friends since middle school and their kids being born three months and two days apart. Jenny and Anthony have been inseparable since birth. And so, their parents rely on each other more than their own blood relatives. It’s the kind of bond that seems armored in a devoted alliance.

Your eyes are too sh-shiny! I can’t focus. Jenny scrunches her face together with a hefty sigh, crumpling her cheeky constellation. They’re also pretty, like diamonds, she thinks, comparing them to the ring on Mommy’s left hand. She clumsily slips it on every now and then and pretends she’s married to Daddy. It makes her happy.

Oh wait, there’s a fire in here! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it! Anthony points to an imaginary fire, distracting her momentarily.

Are you putting out fires again? Anna’s voice echoes. She emerges from the steps, a pitcher of pink lemonade in one hand and three-year-old Maya, Jenny’s baby sister, in the other. Maya gurgles happily and smacks her chubby hands together.

Anthony’s parents, Paul and Anna, own a convenience store on Eighth Street. Recently, a fire devastated a large portion of their inventory. Anthony now has his sights set on being a firefighter. His ambitions are commendable.

I’ll help you! Jenny accidentally pushes Anthony’s firefighter truck straight into a pile of pastel-colored circle pillows.

Truck down! Anthony exclaims in protest and reaches for his makeshift hose: a cylinder of cardboard paper wrapped in an exorbitant amount of tape. Oh wait, it’s getting bigger! He makes a spewing noise with his mouth, sweeping the hose all around their wooden world.

Jenny stomps her feet and crosses her arms. I’m tired of this game. Puh-lease, can we play Ice Princess and the Frog? she whines. Anna chuckles, setting Maya down and pulling a riled-up Anthony into her lap.

Planting a kiss on his soft head, she says, C’mon, Son, let her skate some figure eights and whisk you into a prince.

You messed it all up. I was going to save everyone and be the hero, Anthony pouts, overextending his front lip. Defeated, he melts into Anna’s warm embrace, his baggy, blue overalls folding over in exasperation. They’ve endured his antics for too long.

Why do you always have to be the hero? You can be rescued, too, she complains. Her tiara loses its balance and her long locks bounce furiously. Anthony shakes his head in protest.

"Let me be the hero this time! I-I can save you!" she continues, her eyes lighting up at the idea.

Jenny is thoughtful for all of her six years, simply because she perceives things and ponders them rather than accepting them as truth.

Be the girl on fire again, please, he begs.

My sweet boy, you can’t save everyone, Anna croons, running her hands fondly through his hair.

She’s right. And I dressed up so we could play. I look too pretty not to play. Even Daddy said so, Jenny protests further, her face falling.

I did, didn’t I? Jeremy peeks his head above the ladder.

You’re home early! Jenny exclaims. She scrambles toward him. He hoists her onto his hip and twirls her around, letting her tutu float in a heavenly flurry around her, until she’s giddy—or quite literally dizzy—with joy.

I come bearing gifts. Jeremy reveals a pack of Oreos from behind him. He knows they’re Anthony’s most prized edible possession.

Anthony screams in delight and snatches one up, crumbs scattering like wildfire. When Jenny’s face scrunches up in true disgust, he sticks his tongue out to expose the Oreo’s poor remains. Anthony doubles over in laughter.

"Gross! You’re supposed to lick the icing first. It’s way yummier that way." Jenny carefully grabs an Oreo, splits it in half, and proceeds to lick the icing as if to prove her point.

That’s boring. Race me down the ladder? Anthony suddenly suggests, his eyes wide with elation at the thought.

Be careful, sweetie. Anna’s motherly care seeps into the both of them like no one else. She’s their protection.

Only if we use the stai— Jenny starts to protest, still licking her Oreo half while her other hand clutches her fairy wand.

Without lingering for her response, he dashes to his feet and climbs down the ladder without hesitation. He doesn’t question things like she does, he just does them. There are stairs on the opposite side; Jeremy had built them especially for her since Jenny is scared of heights. Of course, Anthony doesn’t bother to consider what she’s comfortable with. They each do what they want and expect the other to follow. That is their unspoken rule.

"Anthony, you know I can’t go down the ladder!" Jenny yells.

Don’t worry, Jenny! Anthony breathes out heavily as he lands at the bottom, staring up at her with an expectant smile. Anna follows behind. You’re an ice skater princess; you can do anything! He meant what he said.

I’m scared, Daddy. I can’t do it! she shouts across the seemingly endless abyss, her eyes filling with tears, and not the good kind this time. She’s the nervous type, and people mistake it for little foreseeable potential. Jeremy wipes the tears from her face.

You can do anything, baby. His eyes sparkle at her.

I’ll catch you! Anthony shouts, his small hands cupped around his mouth and his neck arched all the way back. His offer is as sincere as it is preposterous. He’s her exact size excluding an additional layer of Oreo-induced