내 곁에 있어줘

When my brother dropped me off in the driveway, the windows were dark. The only light on in the house was the kitchen light. My mom and Richard had already gone to sleep. I opened the door as quietly as I could (which wasn't very), threw off my shoes, slipped on some house slippers, and tiptoed across the living room. The slippers slapped loudly against my heels as I inched my way closer to the kitchen. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up my step-dad. Just a little more....

"You're late."

I froze mid-step and turned with exaggerated slowness to see... it was my mom. She stood in the hallway, her hand on the light switch and her face still puffy from sleep. She wore her regular short shorts and over-sized t-shirt. "Mom, you scared me."

"Did you lock the door?" she said in a zombie-like voice. I nodded. "Did you get my text?"

"Oh, no, I didn't. Sorry, I forgot."

She waved her hand like it didn't matter much. "There was just some kid looking for you earlier today. Some scrawny Asian kid."

"Really?" I said, trying not to look as excited as I felt. "When? What did he look like?"

My mom rubbed her eyes a little. "I don't know. Maybe two or three this afternoon. He was real skinny and had a dorky-looking haircut."

"Did he have glasses and dark skin?" I said, unable to resist making an I certainly hope not face.

"No, he was pasty. No glasses, either. What's with the interrogation?" she said, folding her arms across her chest and looking suspicious. "Were you expecting him or something?"

"Not exactly. He's a friend from school." I was kind of surprised that my mom had forgotten about Jinyoung already. Then again, she had only seen him once, and that was months ago. There's no one else it could be, since he was the only Asian kid I talked to besides his brother. There weren't many others around and those who grew up around me were not my type of people. It had to be Jinyoung.

"Oh. Well, he seems like a good kid. Why don't you invite him over sometime?" she said, taking a step to the bathroom. It was clear that she didn't have anything else to say on the matter. I retreated to my room in the basement and peeled off my clothes, jumping into bed in my underwear.

Staring up at the beams and wires crossing the ceiling, I wondered what Jinyoung would want. Maybe he got beaten again. Maybe it was about what happened in the library yesterday. Maybe it was something totally unrelated... Why would he come to my house to tell me whatever it was, though? How did he even know where I lived?

I turned onto my side and tried to push the thoughts away. I needed to get some sleep. It was almost two in the morning. Tomorrow was the big day-- the day that I would go out to meet Jinyoung at the library. Just thinking of it made my heart start racing. What if I woke up late? What if I got something stuck in my teeth? What if I tripped and fell right in front of him? What if I accidentally told him how I feel? Yeah, yeah, he probably knew, but still...

Okay, seriously. I need to sleep. But I can't just let Jinyoung think I forgot about him. I grabbed my phone from the bookshelf by my bed and sent a text letting him know where I had been all day. I settled back into the pillow to wait for his response, but my eyes wouldn't stay open. Within minutes, my racing heart had settled, and I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jinyoung sat at his usual table in the library, with the huge SAT prep book in front of him. He scribbled furiously in a thick notebook with ratty-looking edges, scratching at his thick black hair sometimes. Seeing him like that, hunched over and absorbed in study, made me feel all warm and tingly. My heart fluttered a little and my legs felt weak as I crossed the silent library toward him. His reasons for visiting my house yesterday also weighed on my mind. I hoped he was safe.

As I had expected, he didn’t even look up from his work when I stood right behind him. He was relaxed and focused on studying, oblivious to me. I smiled and leaned close to him, until my chin almost touched his shoulder.

“Hi,” I whispered into his ear, making him jump and drop his pen.

“E-emiko!” he said breathlessly. Maybe it was my imagination, but a faint blush seemed to tint his cheeks. It disappeared before I could be sure. He laced and unlaced his fingers nervously in his lap. “You’re so close...”

“Sorry!” I said quickly, feeling my face heat up. I awkwardly stepped back, almost tripping over a step ladder. I steadied myself by grabbing onto the nearest shelf and the desk.

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he said, dropping his gaze to the floor shyly.

“A-anyway,” I said, my face now the color of a ripe tomato, “are you okay? I mean, my mom told me that you came to my house yesterday... I was kind of worried.”

He stared at me for a long time before speaking, as if he was surprised by my concern. “I’m fine. I was wondering if you would come to church with me tomorrow. It’s on the way to church for us, and it’s not far from your house.”

“You mean, you aren’t hurt?”

He looked away, but I noticed as he shifted that his back seemed to bother him. I recalled the purplish marks across his shoulders all those weeks ago. He had showed me the pain that he endured to tell me that we had similar struggles and that he could understand what I was going through. I wondered how many other times he had been hurt and hadn’t told me. I felt the breath leave my lungs as if being sucked out.

“Jinyoung, you can’t... You can’t just let this happen to you...”

“It’s my fault,” he said softly. “I deserved it.”

“It’s not your fault,” I argued, disturbed by how casually he said it, by the fact that he actually felt that way. “No matter what you say or what you do, you don’t deserve to be hurt like this. Don’t ever say that again.” He refused to look at me, but I couldn’t let this go. “Jinyoung, please look at me.”

With agonizing slowness, he met my eyes. They were so vulnerable... I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. My heart tried to tug itself free from the growing pain in my chest. Tears rimmed my eyes as I thought of all the excuses Richard made for hitting me. All the times I was told that it was my fault, that I deserved it. The same things were probably happening to Jinyoung. Maybe worse than mine, but I’d never really believed the excuses. How could he?

“God, Jinyoung... How can you say that? How can you think so little of yourself?” My voice broke and, to my shame, I began to cry right there in the library. Thankfully, I was a silent crier, so I didn't draw any attention.

For a while, he seemed at a loss. He just stared at me, frozen and watching the tears pour down my face. Then, he put his arm around me and pulled me into him. He held me close for a long time, even though he was the one who should have been crying.

I didn’t bother trying to say anything else. I’d just draw attention to us and embarrass us both. A shameful part of me also liked the fact that he was concerned about me and held me so near. Instead of speaking, I clung to him, careful not to touch his back or shoulders. He was comfortably warm and not so thin that his bones stuck out. Being held like this felt pretty nice, despite the circumstances.

After several long moments, he let go. “I don’t understand,” he said. “It really is my fault. Your situation isn’t like mine.”

“What do you mean?” I said, finally able to get my wobbling voice under control.

“The reason we came here... It wasn’t because we wanted to. It’s because I caused trouble for my family. I used to stay out late with friends all the time. I ran away from home for weeks before coming back. I stole money from other people. My parents brought me here and taught me about God to help me stop hurting people.”

I couldn’t imagine Jinyoung like that. No matter what he said or what he did, he had a good heart. Even if he did bad things, he must have had reasons for it.

“My mom gets mad at me because I don’t do the right thing.” He paused. "I don't do what she says."

It sounded like he was just repeating something he’d heard a thousand times. I shook my head, fighting against more tears. “It’s not okay for her to hurt you because you don’t do what she wants. Punishment is normal, but to hurt you like that...”

“That is punishment,” he said like he didn’t understand.

“But that’s not right. She can’t just beat people because they don’t do what she wants them to do!”

My outburst took him aback. He stared at me for a few minutes with wide eyes before looking down at the desk. He looked small and desolate like this. “It’s not normal for you. You’re a good person. I’m... I’m not good.”

When I thought about his going along with what his mom did to hurt him, it made me feel sick. And it made me angry, frustrated that he was so weak that he couldn’t even stand up for himself. Didn’t he realize that he was a good person? Didn’t he know that there were people who cared what happened to him? Didn’t he know that I cared?

“Maybe I should go,” I said, trying to hold all of the emotions back. I felt like a dam that was going to burst, and I didn't really want to explode in front of Jinyoung, the one person who cared about me without expectations. “I can’t handle this... The way you think of yourself.”

“Please don’t leave,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. “We can talk about something else.”

The way he said it, so defenselessly, made my heart ache. The thought of him enduring abuse all alone made me hurt enough that I would swallow my frustration and the pain that came along with seeing him hurt himself. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

Jinyoung made room for me on the bench, so I sat next to him. Like last time, our arms touched. Unlike last time, there was a wall between us. It felt tall and impenetrable. “Is something wrong about church?”

His question took away the thoughts I’d just had a few moments ago. A new discomfort took its place. The memories I had of church were horrible. The church I recalled from my childhood was cold and hard, like the stone it was built from. The priests were strict and cruel, like those from horror movies rather than real life. The other kids that went to church were liars and hypocrites, bullies who stole my things and laughed in my face. The adults were uppity and gossiping. I couldn't think of anything I liked about church.

“Not with yours... It’s just that my experience with church has been kind of terrible.” At his resigned expression, I quickly said, “But don’t worry. I’ll still come.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he said, staring at his hands. “I mean, I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

But the church I imagined with Jinyoung was wide-open, friendly, even warm, just like he was. It was interesting and different. I imagined serious but kind-hearted people in attendance and priests who played with the children who attended. It was abstract, but I had a feeling that this church would be different than the one my grandparents sent me to as a child.

“Jinyoung, I want to,” I said, and my body felt light and energized as I admitted this feeling I'd been holding back. Gathering my courage, I reached for his hand under the table. When my fingertips brushed his palm, his head snapped up.

“Emiko...”

He hadn’t moved an inch other than to look at me, but my heart already felt like it would burst. The way he said my name was so lovely. His Korean accent made it sound exotic, and his voice was gentle and full of emotion.

I smiled a little as heat crept up into my cheeks. “If you’re there, then I want to be there, too."

His hand finally curled around mine. It was warm and pleasant, just like the faint smile that graced his face. “I want you to come with me tomorrow.”

"I will," I promised, and it was true. I would have gone to the ends of the world with Jinyoung, if he wanted it.