【Episode 4 – An Unexpected Roommate】
Vanderbilt Hall, the home of NYU Law School, was built in 1951.
The 4.5-story red brick building in the Neo-Georgian style was U-shaped; past the arched main gate lay an inner courtyard shaded by ginkgo and cherry trees.
Every year, the Welcome-back BBQ was held there, and at the beginning of the semester they sometimes handed out free coffee and bagels.
When the air inside the law school grew stifling, it also served as a small park where law students could step out to breathe.
“Heon.”
Since I’d arrived a little early, Sein was already outside.
“Did you eat breakfast? If not, they’re handing out coffee and bagels over there.”
“Oh—lucky. I didn’t buy any on the way.”
I grabbed the free coffee and bagels from the cart sponsored by the student government and sat on the bench next to Sein.
“What’s your morning class?”
“Commercial law. Yours?”
“Procedure.”
The law school class system was similar to undergraduate, except that in the first year there were simply more required courses—commercial law, procedure, civil law, criminal law, and so on.
“When’s our next Lawyering class?”
“Next Monday.”
And another unique thing was that they divided that year’s incoming students into several groups, like homerooms, for a class called Lawyering.
Unlike other subjects, it was a year-long course where the same “class” of just over thirty students met once a week.
(There was one official class per week, but there were also unofficial sessions with a mentor that weren’t quite classes.)
The course content was education to cultivate the qualities needed to become a lawyer. If other courses taught the law, then Lawyering taught practical skills—drafting legal documents, interviewing, research, counseling, and so on.
Since it taught you how to think, speak, and act like a lawyer, you could say it was the most important course in some respects; more than anything, because there was a lot of group work, you could also say it was the most difficult.
Perhaps because of that, while all the other classes started this week, Lawyering had already begun during last week’s orientation.
Sein, Dongwook-hyung, and I were in the same “class.”
“Did you read all the cases we were told to read?”
“What? Chimel v. California?”
“Yeah.”
“What. I thought you were busy house-hunting.”
I read it ten years ago.
“Did you find a room?”
“Not yet. But I have about two weeks.”
“You should find one quickly… I heard criminal law has quizzes starting right next week.”
It was similar to undergraduate, but truly every professor had a completely different teaching style.
Some professors, like Constitutional Law Professor James Madison, fostered an atmosphere for student discussion, but there were also professors like Criminal Law Professor Rachel Lindbergh or Commercial Law Professor Richard Cox who gave periodic quizzes.
Even accounting for the unavoidable nature of those courses, a quiz just two weeks after law school started?
I felt a slight twinge of guilt toward Sein, who was making a face.
Because I knew exactly what that quiz would cover.
“Want to study together?”
“Sure!”
“Alright, then. Let’s meet at the library this weekend. I’ll ask if Dongwook-hyung wants to join too.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
As Sein and I traded small talk in the Vanderbilt Hall courtyard, Michael approached, coffee and bagel in hand, having arrived at some point unnoticed.
“Morning.”
“Morning. You look like you had another drink last night.”
“Yeah. My brother’s friends told me to come out, so I went along. Think I got back past two in the morning.”
Michael (Yeongjae) had an older brother who was a lawyer.
He’d graduated from Columbia Law School and was currently working at a law firm in Chicago.
So among the five of us, Michael had the widest network and the best information.
“The bar we went to yesterday was in Greenwich. It was really nice. Let’s go together later.”
“Isn’t it expensive? If they’re your brother’s friends, they must be lawyers.”
“It’s a bit pricey, but not ridiculously expensive. There’s no dress code either. They say it’s a place firm lawyers frequent. We’re going to be lawyers too, so we should go network.”
The word I’d heard most often since entering law school, after the word “law,” was networking.
MBA programs were probably similar, but the thing most emphasized in law school outside of class hours was networking.
Law school was not an institution that purely researched and taught the academic discipline of law.
After finishing the three-year program, over ninety-five percent of students became lawyers and jumped into practice.
It was a kind of vocational school.
Therefore, from the first year, you had to network hard to find a place to work three years later.
The school also actively supported and encouraged this.
Law firms opened venues for networking to recruit talented students and observed them.
That was precisely why law firms held receptions called “wine and cheese.”
“I heard Wachtell, Lipton is hosting a ‘wine and cheese’ at Sexton Lounge this Friday. Everyone’s going, right?”
“Haaah—.”
At the words “networking” and “wine and cheese,” a sigh escaped Sein’s lips.
This American culture wasn’t easy for her, having come from Korea.
Honestly, it was the same for me. Still is.
In today’s terms—or no, future terms—I’m an “I.”
But this time would be different.
“Let’s go together. We have to go.”
I tried to encourage her, seeing her discouraged.
“Oh, right. Did you find a room?”
“A room? Not yet…”
The moment I tried to answer Michael’s question, Eleanor walked past in greeting, wearing a sukajan-style jacket embroidered with stitching.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Eleanor.”
She definitely had a special aura.
Not just us—the eyes of other students in the courtyard were drawn to her as well.
As she crossed the courtyard and entered the building, Michael asked with wide eyes.
“You know her?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“We’re in the same ‘class.’”
“Being in the same ‘class’ doesn’t mean she’ll greet you like that.”
“Ah—she asked for directions once, and I helped her.”
The guy narrowed his eyes.
“What’s with this coolness? A gorgeous white girl like that says hi as she passes, and you act like it’s nothing. Is this confidence? Did you know she models?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She’s a model. I think she’s even walked runways sometimes.”
“How do you know all that?”
“You know I’ve got good intel. There’s this guy named Clemens in my criminal law class who said she went to the same university. UCLA. She was famous as an undergrad too. Pretty, good grades. Apparently from a wealthy family.”
“Amazing. You’ve found all that out just one week after school started.”
“The guys in our dorm are already going crazy. They say she’s in the ‘Top 3’ of this year’s incoming class.”
“Ah, seriously, men… It’s been less than a week since law school started, and you’re already ranking the female students by looks?”
Sein, who had been listening quietly, added a word.
“That’s why they’re men. Love over study.”
“What?”
“Hahaha. Isn’t that right, Heon?”
Funny.
I remembered having a similar conversation once, though not exactly the same.
“Heon, if you still haven’t found a room, check the Craigslist board. There aren’t many, but there are still people looking for roommates.”
“I already checked, but nothing really suitable. I was thinking of going by the Center for Student Life office to see if anything’s posted there.”
Information on off-campus housing could be obtained from The Center for Student Life, a student life support office.
“Where? Kimmel Center? You’re going after class? Want to go together? I have something to take care of there too.”
“No. I have somewhere to go after class.”
“Where?”
“Professor James Madison’s office.”
***
After morning criminal law class ended, I went to Professor James Madison’s office.
I had interviewed with the professor there yesterday, and last night I’d received a confirmation email hiring me for the research assistant position.
I was there to submit copies of my visa and other required documents, and to hear from Mia Ishihara, an LLM student under Professor Madison, about what I would be doing going forward.
“Hi, you’re Heon, right? I’m Mia Ishihara. Nice to meet you.”
This half-Japanese LLM student was the woman who would become my supervisor.
I felt like I’d passed her a few times on campus, but I couldn’t quite remember.
“Hi. I’m Heon. Nice to meet you too.”
Her tone came off slightly demanding, but she wasn’t irritable or unfriendly.
On the contrary, she explained the work in detail and asked various personal questions, so for a first meeting, it was comfortable.
Still, I hadn’t expected her to make that kind of offer at the end.
“But how did you know there was a research assistant opening? The professor told me to post it on Handshake next week.”
“I just asked on a whim.”
“For a whim, you were awfully smooth about it. You must be good at networking.”
“I’m trying.”
Buzz. Buzz.
Just then, my phone rang.
“One moment.”
“Go ahead.”
I’d posted notices here and there that I was looking for a room, so sometimes calls came in like that. I asked a few simple questions, said I’d call back later, and hung up.
But then…
“Are you looking for a room by any chance?”
“Yeah. I’m staying at a friend’s place temporarily, but I have to move out soon.”
“Really? Hmm… Is a little far okay?”
“How far?”
“Third Avenue and 100th Street.”
“Third and 100th… That’s East Harlem! If it’s in Manhattan, I’d be grateful. But my budget’s a bit tight…”
“You don’t have to pay rent. Just utilities. It’s a bit complicated, but the person who was supposed to be there paid the rent and went back to Japan, so I was wondering whether to sublet it or not.”
“Really?”
“It’s a three-bedroom apartment that I share with one other friend. I’ll ask if you want. But all of the original room owner’s stuff is still there. He might come back next year, so he can’t sell it. That’s why subletting is a bit awkward, actually. Is that okay? That’s the condition.”
I’d have to see the room, but it didn’t sound bad at all.
On top of that, rent was saved.
“If it’s fine, could I come see it this evening?”
“Of course.”
“Ah, but who are the roommates? Is it okay if I ask?”
“A high school classmate of mine, currently attending Columbia Law School.”
A New Connection (1)
Beep.
“Who is it?”
“This is Heon. I’m here to see Mia Ishihara.”
“Come in. It’s the third floor. Right when you get off the elevator.”
Beep—click.
The corner of Third Avenue and 100th Street.
Mia Ishihara’s apartment was in the upper Manhattan area called East Harlem.
East Harlem broadly belonged to the Harlem district, but it wasn’t the Harlem generally known as a Black community. Rather, many Latin Americans, such as Puerto Ricans and Mexicans, had settled there, so it was an area known as Spanish Harlem.
After 2000, gentrification had occurred throughout Harlem, and into East Harlem many Asians led by Chinese people had been moving in.
“Wow—this is really nice.”
Though it was an old building, the apartment inside was spacious and clean.
“Yeah. We’re satisfied. That’s Takashi’s room. If you move in, that’s your room.”
“May I take a look inside?”
“Of course.”
Except for the embarrassing posters and pictures haphazardly stuck on the walls, the room itself was spacious and clean. The bed and desk looked good too.
“Can I really use this place?”
“Yeah. I called Takashi, and he said it’s fine. As long as his stuff is exactly as is when he comes back.”
The conditions were so much better than I’d expected that I couldn’t readily accept on the spot.
“The owner isn’t going to suddenly come back or anything, right?”
“Yeah. He can’t come back because of visa issues, anyway. Plus girl problems, and it’s complicated, but at the earliest he won’t be back until next summer. So you can use it until then. How about it? Interested?”
“I really want to move in.”
“There are a few rules you absolutely have to follow if you move in. First, there’s a curfew, and if you want to bring other people over…”
Click.
While listening to Mia talk about the room’s owner and the rules, someone came in.
“Mia, I’m home.”
She was a tall, slender Asian woman. Unlike Mia, she didn’t appear to be mixed-race; she looked like an East Asian born in America.
“Didn’t you say you’d be late because of a group meeting today?”
“It got canceled. Who’s this?”
“This is Heon, the student from our school I told you about. The one who might move into Takashi’s room. Say hi.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Introduced by Mia, I lightly raised my hand in greeting, and she did the same.
She seemed aloof, but not fierce, and above all, she didn’t look like a party animal.
“Is this okay?”
“I don’t mind. It’s Takashi’s room anyway. As long as he follows the rules.”
“I was just telling him the rules.”
“Okay, then.”
After a brief exchange, she went to her room and didn’t come out until I left. Once she went in, Mia continued her explanation.
“I think I can follow those rules well enough.”
There were more rules than I’d expected. I had to return home by 11 p.m.; if I wanted to bring friends over, I had to get permission from the roommates first; and I should avoid cooking strong-smelling foods…
It was a point where I could understand why she hadn’t rashly put the sublet out. Still, nothing was so inconvenient or unpleasant that it would be hard to live with. Rather, it felt like they respected each other’s privacy, which I liked.
“Let me know if anything’s uncomfortable. We don’t plan to be that strict; we just wanted to mention it beforehand because we hope you’ll be respectful. Jennifer and I are used to these things.”
“Was that friend Jennifer?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s okay with me moving in?”
“You heard her earlier. She said she doesn’t mind. She’s a bit shy, but once you get to know her, she’ll be fine. Did I mention she got into Columbia Law this year?”
“Yeah.”
No matter how much I thought about it, there was no reason not to move in.
“Then could I move in tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’ll give you the key after you move in.”