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“I was the worst,” I rasp. “And Becca went along with it because she couldn’t bear to see me so afraid. That’s why she agreed to fire the doctor who said there was no more hope, why she ate all the herbal medicine I gave her and did acupuncture even when her body was already hurting, and why she did the clinical trial that made her back fill with fluid. You see…” I whisper to Komal, my voice trailing off. “I overheard her telling my dad it was all about me. She didn’t want me to think I didn’t do everything I could to save her. Even though she wanted to rest her final days in our apartment, she was staying in the hospital for me. The brother so focused on fixing her that he couldn’t properly listen to her.”
Unable to bear it, I close my eyes. Just for a few seconds.
“I love rules. It’s better if I’m given rules. To be the person who never gets compromised, and who never forgets to listen. But it also means I’m failing right now, because sometimes when I see you, I forget about my rules. I start wanting to make everything right for you. I'm wishing again, when I shouldn't care. I need to not care.”
I miscalculated what saying all this feels like. It's exhausting. My consciousness drifts. I feel so tired and safe.
In a bit, I’ll get up. Only a few more moments, before I become responsible again. Before I force distance between us again.
Time passes. I don’t know how much.
I recall Komal tilting backward, looking at me.
But that was a dream.
NINETEEN
Getting up the next morning is hard. Mostly because I heard everything Huan said last night, and I know he doesn’t know I heard him for he fell asleep before I could say anything, and then I watched him for a while until I fell asleep, and now I’ve woken up alone in the bed.
If we had woken up together, I would have sweltered apart asking to hug him. And I wouldn’t have been in my head about it. My brain wouldn't float around above me, rationalizing that I’m trying to game myself with a certain experience. This wouldn't be a story for the sake of having a story. What is happening isn’t neat or mentally strategized.
The shower in the bathroom turns on.
He’s not gone completely. He’s in the bathroom.
Even from this distance, I'm feeling him everywhere. All his pieces—even the weathered ones he’s kept hidden—are collapsing, stacking, squishing, and rolling together to formHuan. Not my hot bodyguard with friendly manners. Or the robot-type I wanted to run from when he crashed my London trip. He isn’t boring duty or stubborn responsibility.
He isHuan.
I can't explain it properly. If you had asked me before this, I would have said that I'm an analytical person. Some call that being a control freak. I refuse to be labeled, but sure. Anyway, I've imagined falling for someone has to happen in a certain way. I would think feelings would appear reasonably and only after you've been on multiple dates over a progressive amount of time.
Caring about someone is supposed to be a responsible faucet. The basin of emotions fills the longer that faucet is on.
But I've been spanked in a dusty alleyway and almost climbed Huan with complete horniness, then we held each other in the same bed, sharing our most hidden intimacies and fears...
My faucet is broken. Gushing, rather.
I see Huan as more than I should.
Like I know he believes it’s perfectly acceptable to bulk-carry burdens. And he thinks he’s got to solve everything, even though he’s so afraid of repeating past mistakes and making wrong choices for the people he loves. That became clear to me when he spoke about his sister. Hefelt he got it so wrong. But also, wasn't it okay for his family to fumble? It feels contradictory to have arightorwrongwith cancer. Holding onto your loved one, feeling desperate, scared, guilty?—
I get off the bed and stand in the centre of the room.
The ragged intimacy of his past—and also mine—for there’s the adoption…
I’ve done a good job of forgetting about it, but then I told Huan about it out of nowhere. It felt like Ineededhim to know. Now, I'm not so sure. There's a sudden, anguishing urge to check my reflection in the mirror to make sure ADOPTED isn't printed across my forehead.
I'm not ashamed. I'm not.
Only my mom and I agreed that we don’t tell people, and now I've told him. I pace back and forth worrying about it—untilmy ears comprehend the shower turning off. I guess I should politely leave in case he wants to dress out here?—
My ear hovers by the door.
What’s he thinking about in there?
I don’t know, but I want to burst into the bathroom and yell reassurances, so he understands howmuchhe is. On the other hand, I might see him in a towel. Only a towel. My face flushes. I’ve gone mad, because along with all these confounding feelings, is that fiery desire licking to life inside me. With a sigh, entirely too forlorn sounding, my hand presses to the door—and too late, I realize it isn’t locked. I am thrust forward inside to come face-to-face with Huan… in a towel.
My body crackles awake.
