Digital Connections

Digital Connections - Karina Yuan (11th grade, Princeton Day School)

As I sat down at the table in the furthest right corner of the Quakerbridge Mall food court that Saturday afternoon, the orange and white Popeyes bag crinkling in my hand, I couldn’t help but notice a family of four sitting a few tables away. There were two kids—a boy who looked to be around ten and a girl who couldn’t have been older than eight—and two adults: a bearded, middle-aged man in a white collared shirt and a lanky, black-haired woman in blue jeans and a red flannel. 

Amidst the melodic disarray of chattering couples, clanging pans, and screeching chairs against the tiled floor, this family alone glowed with the dark violet hues of separation. As I listened carefully, I could barely make out what the man was saying on the phone, his back turned to the others, his chicken and rice untouched: “Yes, of course. I’ll email Andy now to let him know about this development. Could you schedule a meeting with Sam to go over the files? If you think they’re up to standard, we should send them over immediately.” The girl, her chestnut-colored hair in carefully braided pigtails, had her eyes glued to her pink My Melody iPad, the reflected light painting her face blue. The boy was also holding an iPad, but underneath the table, his arms fidgeting as he shook in his seat. 

“Yes!” he cried, leaping up and pumping his fists in the air, “I won!” 

“Be quiet,” the woman hissed, briefly glancing up from whoever she was texting on her phone to glare at the boy, “we’re in public.” 

“Sorry.” 

The boy shrunk into his seat, a pout on his face, his gaze returning to his video game. I was tempted to roll my eyes or shake my head at them—who goes out to eat with their family, then spends the entire meal on their separate electronic devices? Have we fallen so far as a society that we cannot even eat without going on our phones and iPads? It was almost baffling to see. But then again, what right did I have to comment on what they were doing? Instead of going with my mom to cheer on my sister during her dance audition, here I was, alone, nibbling on the crispy crusts of over-salted fried chicken while typing meaningless symbols on my iPhone’s Notes app as if I was any better than the people I criticized. 

When was the last time my family had gone out to eat? The last time we all closed our notebooks, laptops, and phones to do something, like watch a movie or play a board game? I tried to think of any, singular example, but nothing came to mind. 

I looked back up at the family and watched as the father hung up the phone, placing it next to his plate and taking a bite. As he chewed, he reached over, tapping his daughter on the shoulder and whispering words I was too far away to hear. His daughter brightened, a loopy smile with a missing bottom tooth on her face as she chirped about what could’ve been a ballet class or a bar of soap. Either way, one by one, her brother and mother turned to her, putting their electronics down in favor of listening to her story.

I grabbed my bag and my phone, putting my now-empty box of chicken back into the bag. I felt a strange weight in my stomach as I stood up as if I’d done something wrong. I glanced at the family again, watching out of the corner of my eye as the father fed a spoonful of rice to his giggling son. I looked away. 

As I walked to the trash can, my phone buzzed. 

Mother: We’ll be here in five minutes. 

Ok, I typed—how I always responded to my mom’s updates. 

My finger hovered a millimeter over the send button but I couldn’t bring myself to press it. Before I knew what I was doing, I deleted the message and wrote Got it, sounds good. I’ll see you then! Send. I smiled. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. 

As I went down the escalator towards the front entrance, the Kung Fu Tea, with its red, white, and black panda logo, caught my eye. I walked up to the shop, grinning at the cashier. “One medium brown sugar milk tea with 70% sugar and coconut jelly please, and-” I paused for a moment, racking my brain for my sister’s order. “one medium passionfruit green tea with boba and double coconut jelly. Both no ice.” 

I pulled twenty bucks out of my wallet and gave it to the cashier, still smiling. 

Just as the drinks were ready, my phone buzzed again. 

Mother: We’re here, same place I dropped you of . 

I’ll be right there, I typed, give me one minute. 

As I walked out the door, I deliberately held my sister’s drink behind my back. After four laborious hours of dance, I wanted to surprise her. 

“You got boba?” her eyes widened, fixated on the brown and black drink clutched in my hand. “Don’t worry,” I laughed, climbing into the backseat of the car, “I got you one too. How was your audition?” 

“I think I did good,” she replied, staring unblinkingly at the plastic cups in my hands. “Nice!” I gave her a high five as I passed her the drink. “We should celebrate.” 

“How?” 

I smiled. 

“I know—let’s eat out tonight.”