NOVA
My first thought when I came home was it’s so cold in here. Maybe it’s because when I left it was still the summer, all warm, sticky heat clinging to my skin. Or perhaps I am the one who lost all my warmth, the one who returned changed and frozen.
“November? Earth to Nova!” Someone calls my name.
I am aware of the merry chatter stopping before I am fully free of the reverie I am trapped in. When I can finally focus, I find their eyes pinned on me. Dazed and confused, I look around the dinner table. The food was served without me noticing, and Dad is pouring wine for Mom.
“I’m sorry, I’m just a little tired,” I say. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
“That jet lag must be hitting you pretty hard. Do you want a glass? I know you don’t turn twenty one for one more year, but tonight’s a special occasion.” Dad smiles.
“Thanks, but maybe another night.”
Shocked outbursts follow my answer.
“Since when do you turn down a drink?” My cousin Grace pokes me in the ribs.
“Aw, come on, just one to celebrate with us.” My aunt pouts. She looks drunk already.
“Don’t worry, we won’t get you in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about.” My uncle roars with laughter as if he’d just cracked the funniest joke in the world.
“Alright, just one,” I sigh.
“That’s the spirit.” Mom pours a glass for me. I really don’t understand why they’re encouraging underage drinking, but she seems pleased that I gave in.
“To Nova being back home!” We raise our glasses, clinking them against each other, and everyone takes a sip. Before I can drink, loud laughter peels in my ears. Our dining room fades into the background and I’m back in Korea.
“Geonbae!” We throw the shot back. The alcohol stopped burning a few shots ago, and everything is woozy. Georgia yells something.
“What?” I shout back over the music.
“I can’t feel my lips!” Georgia giggles.
Georgia.
The music and voices dissolve into static, blocking out every other noise.
The glass slips from my hand and shatters on the floor, spilling red wine on my pants, the shards on the floor glittering like stars.
Trembling, I stand up quickly.
“I’m sorry, excuse me.” Without waiting to see their reactions or listen to their questions, I run off to the bathroom.
I splash water on my pants, but all that does is spread the dark red stain.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I curse under my breath.
I feel like I can’t breathe; air is coming in my lungs, but too little, too fast. I lean closer to the mirror, watching as the black of my pupils swallow me whole. I shudder, shaking myself back awake.
“Nova, are you in here?” Mom comes into the bathroom. “Did you wash the stain out?”
“No, I’ll have to go up to my room and change.” I wash my hands to avoid eye contact.
“Is something wrong?”
“I can’t stop thinking about Korea-”
“You don’t need to worry about that, the police are handling it. Let them do their jobs, and you do yours and be polite to your aunt and uncle. Lillian left her work trip early to have dinner with you tonight.”
My back stiffens up and I start to say something nasty back, but when I look up, Mom’s eyes are filled with unshed tears. My shoulders fall. This is hard on her too, and she doesn’t want to talk about it. I plaster a smile on my face.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
“That’s my strong girl.”
Back at the table, everyone is finishing up their meal.
“How was studying abroad? Can you speak Korean now?” My uncle asks.
“Not really.” I laugh. “All of my classes were in English. The only Korean I know is how to order in restaurants.”
“I bet there were a lot of cute guys in Seoul.” Grace grinned at me.
“There were, but no.” I gave Grace a pointed look. “I did not get a cute Korean boyfriend, and I don’t want one.”
“We don’t want to cut this short, but I have to get back home to pack for a meeting in Houston tomorrow, and Robert has to check in for the morning shift at the police station, but I’m sure we will hear more about your adventures abroad the next time we see you.” Aunt Lillian says.
“Of course, thanks for joining us.” Dad says, standing up to show them out.
“It was great seeing you, Nova.” She hugs me briefly before everyone says their goodbyes, and we are left to clean up.
Without needing to say anything, I stack all the plates, Dad goes into the kitchen to wash the dishes, and Mom grabs a washcloth to wipe the table down. We fall into our normal routine so easily that I’m taken by surprise. Even though I’ve been gone for three months, New York is so familiar to me that it feels like I’ve never left.
When I wake up, the sun is high in the sky. What time is it? Groaning, I move my hand around the floor beside the couch until I get my phone. 11:24 AM. Shit. I have assignments due tomorrow that I still haven’t started, and there’s the issue of my portfolio on top of that.
I sit down at my desk and open my computer. I sign into my school account and sigh; I have a ten page statistics paper due at 11:59 PM tomorrow.
I sit at the keyboard, impatiently tapping my fingers. My mind is blank as the open document in front of me. This should be easy for me; I’ve written countless similar essays. But for some reason, I can’t concentrate long enough to come up with a single sentence. I haven’t felt like this since the beginning of high school.
Standing up and slamming my hands on the table, I make up my mind to text Hale. I just need some artistic inspiration, and he’s my go-to person for when I need to wander around museums to get over my artist’s block. Right after sending him a message, I put my phone down, already regretting my decision. But surprisingly, he responds right away and agrees to meet me in half an hour. I slip on a thick woolen sweater, brush my hair and teeth quickly, and grab my keys before heading out.
As I stand on the train platform, I notice the rats scurrying under the tracks, the amber light casting sharp shadows on everyone’s faces making them look sallow and skeletal, the layer of dirt and grime on the tiled floor and walls. After experiencing the spotless and sanitary metro stations in Seoul, I can see how one could walk down these stairs and be revolted by the smell of piss and the flattened gum stains. But I feel at home in this underground shaft; everything about it is familiar, and I like how no one tries to talk to me and everyone minds their own business.
The ride uptown is long. I flip through my notebook, reading my old poems. When I look at the writing, read the words in my head, I don’t recognize them. The lines seem foreign, like someone else wrote them in my notebook. I can’t understand what I’d meant by it all. I do anything but think about seeing Hale again.
I get off at 77th and Lexington. I walk up to 82nd, then turn left and keep going until I can see the food trucks and art venders on 5th Ave. I walk halfway up the steps and sit down. A tall teen approaches a European couple about his mixtape, a woman starts playing a guitar, singing and waiting for people to leave tips in the case by her feet. I’m watching a toddler chase a pigeon, and right as he’s about to topple over into the fountain, Hale appears on my right periphery. As soon as I see his flippant smirk, all my reservations disappear and I forget why I was anxious. He takes a giant bite of a bagel.
“You want some?” He sees me eyeing his bagel and moves it out of my reach. “This is all for me. No stealing my food today.” He takes another bite. Just as I begin pouting, he pulls a paper bag out of his backpack and gives them to me. “Here.”
“Is this?” I open it reverently and pull out a giant Levain Bakery chocolate chip cookie, still warm and fresh out of the oven. “Thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck. “When did you have the time to get this?” I ask.
“I worked nightshift, so I was already out.” He shrugs.
“If I’d known you didn’t sleep yet I wouldn’t have made you come out.” I look at him carefully for the first time. He’s still in his black tee that he has to wear for work at the bar, there’s a faint scent of alcohol underneath his cologne, like he’d tried to mask it, and the bags under his eyes are worse than usual.
“It’s fine, I’m not tired. Hurry up and eat, it’s going to get cold.” He says and takes a bite, not meeting my gaze. “How long have you been back?”
“Just since yesterday.” I moan as the sugary goodness melts in my mouth.
“You couldn’t even go a day being back without seeing me, could you?” He gives me a cheeky grin.
“Shut up, I just came here because I need some inspiration for my portfolio. It’s due at the end of the semester, and I only have one piece.”
“Oh yeah, weren’t you supposed to be studying abroad until winter break? What happened?”
I stop breathing. I want to tell him, but I can’t, not yet. If I do, it’ll make it feel real.
“I got homesick. You know, all of the parks, and coffee shops, and that piss smell in the Subway…” I trail off lamely. Out of everything I could have said, I chose the most unbelievable excuse. He knows I would give up anything to get away from home to see the world. He and I both know I’m lying, but he just doesn’t know why.
“I bet you missed my first-rate weed most of all. Smoking anything but cigarettes is really looked down on there.” Hale laughs. I breathe a sigh of relief. He let it go, silently saying that he knew I would tell him when I was ready.
“Hey, Hale?” I missed you.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing, I’m just glad to be back.”
We sit shoulder to shoulder, eating our food in comfortable silence. When we finish, we climb up the stairs and get our tickets in the lobby. It’s a weekday morning, so the crowds that would normally be filling the exhibitions up aren’t here.
We go upstairs to painting galleries. The interconnected rooms with large gilded frames hanging on the walls are empty; Hale and I have the art all to ourselves.
I look at the painted woman on the wall. I get the feeling like I’m supposed to feel something, but I’m not sure what. I’m left with an uneasiness, like something is missing.
“What’s wrong?” Hale asks me.
“Huh?”
“You look confused. And now I’m confused, because I thought this was one of your favorites,” he says.
“I don’t know, it’s just not the same as I remember it. The colors and tiny brushstrokes and shadows all used to amaze me and make me want to create something just as spectacular; but now, I can’t remember what I liked about it. It doesn’t make me feel anything.”
“Is art supposed to always make you feel something? Because then none of this is art to me, but that doesn’t change the fact that everyone else seems to think it is.”
“You have a point. I’m just not used to it, I guess.”
“Sometimes you just outgrow certain pieces, but that isn’t always a bad thing.”
“But it’s not just this painting, it’s everything that used to look beautiful to me. How can I finish my portfolio and call myself an artist if I can’t express any feeling through it?”
“Then paint about that.” Hale says. Even though what he’s saying is so simple, I stop. How can I show how empty these motions that I’m going through to seem normal are? He looks steadily at me, and the rising panic in my chest goes away. I take a deep breath.
“Yeah.” I nod. Suddenly, I don’t want to be here anymore. “Let’s get out of here.”
We walk through Central Park. The quiet coolness of the shade is so pleasant and soothing, so unlike everywhere else I’ve been since I’ve been back, that the walk feels like my soul just took a breath of fresh air, and can finally see clearly for the first time in awhile. The colors and sounds around me take on a brilliant hue and tone, and I can all but stare in rapture around me and thank the universe for this euphoric peace that has suddenly overcome me.
“I have a welcome-home gift for you.” Hale pulls out a joint, a devilish look in his eyes. Grinning fiendishly, we climb up the rocky slope on the side of the bridge and push our way into a bush, and lean against a boulder wall. The path is still visible, but we’re mostly hidden behind the branches of little saplings, and we don’t see anyone walking. He hands me the joint and, cupping it to protect the flame from the wind, lights it for me.
I breathe in, the paper sizzling and burning red, my throat tightening as the chemicals make their way into my lungs. Exhaling, I pass it to Hale. It’s been so long since I’ve smoked anything that I know it’s going to hit me hard. The world softens at the edges, my body feels lighter, like gravity has suddenly taken mercy on me. My head starts to feel woozy, I can’t help but stare at the tendrils of smoke escaping from Hale’s parted lips. They curl and unfurl, moving like tiny dancers into the air.
“Last night I had probably one of the most awkward encounters I’ve had with a customer. This woman comes in already plastered drunk and starts ordering rounds of shots for her and her friends. She’s complaining the whole time about how incompetent students are nowadays, and how difficult teaching is, all the while she’s starts flirting with me. Only after I hand her the drinks does she recognize me from her class. It was my aerodynamics professor.”
I imagine how embarrassed she must have felt, and It all just seems so absurd that I start hysterically laughing. Hale starts laughing with me, a rich, melodious sound that fills the air around us with light, and we can’t stop.
“Hey!” A voice yells. “You two! You can’t smoke in the park!” A park ranger points at us from his golf cart stopped on the path below. Hale cocks his head to the side, and while making direct eye contact with the ranger, drags in another hit and slowly blows out a big puff.
“Y-you-” He stutters in astonishment. Before he can finish, Hale grabs my hand and we dash to the bridge and run off towards the street. The furious ranger chases us in his golf cart, but we still can’t stop laughing.
We jump over the fence and hurry across the street. The ranger is on our left by the entrance, looking around, and begins talking animatedly to the police. Hale pulls me into a small alcove between two buildings.
Out of breath, hearts racing, we stand with our backs against the walls and our chests pressed together. I giggle, and he shushes me, but his eyes are laughing too. We stay there, staring into each other’s eyes, not daring to move. I’m vaguely aware of the world moving outside, the taxis and horses and pedestrians; but for a moment, it’s just us in a world alone. Even though the police are probably searching for us, somehow that doesn’t seem important. Not with our hearts beating together as one, pounding against our rib cages in a furious attempt to touch. All other thoughts leave my head besides, I’ve never felt more alive and so at peace.
I don’t know how long we stand like that. Maybe it’s only been a few seconds, but these moments feel like a lifetime. If this is how forever feels, then I want forever.
“What?” He’s staring so strangely at me that I’m starting to feel self-conscious.
“I just can’t believe you’re back.”
“What, are you not happy to see me?”
“It’s not that.” He says, agitated. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t call, or send a single text.”
“I didn’t mean to leave like that, but we just started feeling different. I don’t know, I didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were-”
He reaches down and embraces me. He’s stiff at first; but then he slowly relaxes into me, burying his face in my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist and entangling his hands in my hair, and the utter weight of his shoulders nearly crush me. Even though he doesn’t say anything, I know we’re alright again.
“How’s Spiky?” I ask about my cannabis plant that I left in Hale’s care.
“She’s doing well. Do you want her back?”
“Yeah, I’ll take her off your hands. Thanks for taking care of her while I was gone.”
“Of course.”
By now, the street has quieted down, and we step out from the alleyway. We take the train back to his apartment. Although I’m paranoid and try my best to not look suspicious, Hale tells me I’m not doing that good of a job. He, on the other, acts as calm as if we were on our way to brunch.
I follow him into his apartment. Nothing has changed. The same math, physics, and astronomy textbooks are piled on his desk, and stacks of empty Chinese food take out containers are in the kitchen sink. I spot Spiky by the windowsill. We take our shoes off and go to sit on the ledge by the window.
“She actually has flowers now,” I notice happily.
“She’s had the best caretaker.”
When I look back up, Hale is staring at me. I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. I can feel the heat radiating off of his skin, see the flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes.
A loud knock interrupts the moment. I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding in.
“Hale, are you in there?” A familiar voice calls from outside the door.
“Is that…?” I mouth to Hale. He winces.
“I know you’re in there.” Grace says. “If you didn’t want me to come then you should’ve just answered your texts.”
“Hey, Gracie.” Hale opens the door and gives her an insolent grin.
“Finally. We’re already ten minutes late for lunch with my dad, so let’s get going.”
“Yeah, yeah, just give me a few minutes to get ready.” Hale starts closing the door.
“No, you’re coming with me, now.” Grace pulls him by the arm out of the door. “We made a deal, I held up my end, and now it’s your turn to pay up.” She stops and covers her nose with her sleeve. “Are you high? I told you about this lunch last week, I even texted you last night, and you still forgot.”
“Grace, I didn’t forget.” Hale says.
“Then why-” She sees me standing by the window. “Ah.” She says, as if everything makes sense now.
“Do you want to join us?” I ask. She glares at me.
“No, but I guess it works out better this way. Let’s go.” Grace grabs Hale. “Welcome home, by the way. I’ll see you around.” With one last look at me, she turns and leaves, taking Hale with her as he gives me one cheeky wink before disappearing around the corner.
I stand still in shock for a minute. Since when did Grace and Hale talk, much less get lunch with her dad? Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I go out into the hallway and lock the door behind me.
By the time I get home, my eyes are feeling heavy, and all I can think about is sleep. I forgot my keys at Hale’s so I ring the doorbell. Mom opens the door with a wide smile.
“Nova! Just who I was looking for.” And with that strange tight smile, she leads me to the study room. A tall man with a thick beard sits in the armchair. When we enter, he stands up and shakes my hand.
“This is Mr. Whittaker. Susan highly recommended him after he helped her through that difficult divorce.” Mom says.
“I’m not going through a divorce.” I say.
“I know that, but he’s here to help you work things out.” Mom has a pained expression on, pleading with me to understand.
“Things?” I ask. “What exactly do you expect a shrink to do? Talk about my feelings? Are you paying him just to make yourself feel less responsible for my mental health? Why’s it so hard to talk to your daughter?” I feel anger building in my voice against my will.
“Nova, please, I’m just trying to help-”
“If you want to help, maybe stop treating me like I have some kind of disease.” I hiss. Mom’s jaw clenches.
“You have weekly appointments on Tuesdays at 5, starting today.” She slams the door shut.
“Hi, my name is David Whittaker, and I’ll be your therapist going forward.” He sits back down and pulls out a clipboard. “I’m sorry that you don’t want to be here, but I advise that you give this a chance. The quicker we can learn to work together, the better your chance is of getting out of therapy.” He clicks his pen. “Although, I believe everyone can benefit from regular therapy sessions to help with stress and just everyday life. Are you with me so far?” I nod, looking out of the window at the setting sun. “Now, your mother mentioned you’ve been going through a rough time. Can you tell me more about that?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“You can sit here and fight me all night, or we can work through this together and finish under 30 minutes. It’s your choice.”
I stare at him in disbelief. What choice? There is none.
“Let me ask you something.” He says, clicking his pen. “Why are you so against professional help?”
“I’m not against it, I just don’t see the point. In my opinion, my mom is wasting her money. She already knows everything, she probably already told you everything, so I don’t know what else there is to say.”
“I want this to be a space of healing. You’ve experienced immense trauma, and your mom is worried about you. So can you tell me about how you’ve been feeling?”
I take a deep breath. This isn’t going anywhere, and I’m starting to get hungry.
“November-”
“Call me Nova.”
“Talking about things may not seem that important in light of what happened, but I’m here to help you through it.”
Exhaustion overcomes me like a heavy blanket. I’ve done this all before. Sat down and forced to revisit memories, repeating excruciating details for people who claim they want to help me but only care about the crime, not me. More, more, more, they want more tiny shards of torment plucked from my brain, going over and over again that sickening night, extracting information like mad scientists and I’m the specimen, only to leave me bleeding out on the operating table after hours of probing and slicing and peeling.
“Everyday is a battle to keep myself together. I’m trying so hard to move on with my life, but the longer I pretend everything is okay, the harder it becomes to believe there are better days ahead.”
“And what would happen if you stopped pretending?”
“That’s not an option.”
“Why? What would the real Nova do if she gave herself that chance?”
“I would lay down in bed and never get up.”
His pen stops, just for a millisecond, then continues on writing. He looks up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, I am too.” I say. Without giving him a moment to stop me, I get up and walk out of the door.
I lay on my bed, feeling cold and tight inside, like a hard knot is twisting around and settling in the pits of my stomach. There’s no chance of sleep now. I sit up, my stomach growling.
I sneak out to the stair landing, peeking down into the kitchen to check for my parents. Seeing no one, I go down and heat up leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. I open the microwave before the timer goes off, then make my way back up the stairs as quietly as possible. I’m sure my mom is already in her room, but I’m still off kilter and my emotions are a mess, and I don’t want to get into another argument.
I set the food on my desk and open up my laptop. I sobered up when I got to the house, so I was planning on doing my homework after dinner, but Mom took me by surprise with Mr. Whittaker. I take a bite, trying to clear my mind and focus on the work in front of me. For some reason, the ribs don’t taste as good as I remember them. It’s probably just because they’re a day old.
It’s 6:54. Just a week ago, I would’ve been going out with my dormmates after a day of classes for dinner. There would be a small discussion about whether we should get tteokbokki, bibimbap, or sundubu jjigae. If we’re feeling a little more festive, maybe even chimaek, fried chicken and beer; or if we’re being indulgent, samgyeopsal at our favorite barbeque spot.
Dusk would set upon the city, basking the streets and people in a soft glow. Shop and restaurant signs start lighting up, music can always be heard from one store or another, and life is good. I can almost smell the sweet scent of waffles and the aromatic heat of street fishcakes, almost see the lights twinkling all around me and feel the laughter bursting from my mouth.
I close my eyes, letting myself drift into daydream. But every time I conjure up these perfect little moments, savoring the sensations frozen in time in my memory, it’s spoiled by the feelings associated with each of the people next to me. Shame, anger, disappointment, betrayal, all taint my reminiscing with a putrid odor.
I shudder. That foul stench slowly fades, and I’m back in front of my computer. Even though I’m so mentally tired, I know I should do my assignment. The hours pass by, crawling at snail’s pace. A paper that would normally only take me two hours to do has taken me double the time to complete.
That night, in between sleeping and waking, I toss and turn in a deep pool of darkness. Sorrowful eddies lap at my ankles, dragging me under to the cool depths of silt and sand, rock bottom. At first, I claw at my throat, try to swim to the surface; but, after sitting there for a while, I stop needing air to breathe. The rich quality of the water soaks into my lungs, slithering into my veins, until I am more gloom and shadow than human.
I open my eyes in a panic. The room is not yet light; weak rays from the pink sunrise cast dancing shadows on my walls. I take a deep breath. My dream is already fading to the silhouette of my consciousness, half lost to the confusion of wakefulness.
Rubbing my eyes, I go down to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Dad is making coffee, humming to himself in his pajamas.
“Good morning.” He says. “Want some?” He lifts the coffee pot up. I shake my head. “Suit yourself. By the way, remember to give me your resume and portfolio as soon as you finish it. There aren’t that many spots left for the art gallery internship.”
I wince. I’d asked Dad about getting an internship through one of his connections at a gallery back when I was in Korea and I wanted to work during winter break once I got home. But now, I’m not sure I still have the drive to. However, he already reached out to his contact, so if I don’t turn in at least a resume, it’ll make my dad look bad.
“I’ll work on it today.” I say.
“That’s my girl.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead and heads to his study.
The days crawl by excruciatingly slow, the time ticking not in seconds, but as if waiting on dripping wax to cool and harden. I wake up just to look forward to the night so I can go back to sleep, and everything that I do in between then are things I know I must do, but have no idea why. Brushing my teeth, taking a shower, making breakfast, logging into online classes, studying, taking breaks to scroll on my phone, all take on a meaningless form, driving me mad with boredom and restlessness. I want to escape, be free from this heavy silence and mind fog, but where would I go? Outside to the city, where there’s endless noise and people that are just as nonsensical as the motions I go through at home; or the countryside, where I’ll be alone with my thoughts? There’s nowhere else to be.
Then what do I feel weighed down by? Why are my waking moments so unbearable, with no good way to explain why?
I shake my head forcefully. These thoughts circle in my mind like little eddies, but I can’t dive beneath the surface to see what’s causing them. A migraine starts building up in the back of my head. I fall back onto my bed and close my eyes.
My phone rings. Chloe is calling.
“Hello?” I say.
“Nov, are you on your way? Amber should be at my place soon.” She says. I slap my forehead. “Don’t tell me you forgot.” Chloe threatens. “Amber and I will drag you there ourselves. Hurry up!” She hangs up.
I was so caught up with my homework that I forgot I was supposed to go out with them this weekend.
I roll out of bed and go to my closet. I grab my most basic little black dress, leather jacket, and beat up Vans, and stuff them in my backpack along with my makeup bag. I brush my teeth and go to the subway.
As I sit, with the lights rushing by the windows and the wheels screeching and the tracks thumping, I wonder how tonight is going to be. I’m tense with trepidation, but the sliver of excitement that comes with getting out of the house glimmers more than the foreboding gurgling in my stomach.
Tonight won’t be the same as last time, I repeat to myself. Tonight is different. I have my best friends with me, nothing is going to happen. I won’t drink. Still, no matter what I tell myself in reassurance, the fear growing in me only looms bigger.
I don’t feel ready, and I don’t want to go, but I must. I have to prove that I’m still the same, that there are people to trust and believe in. I won’t let this urge to hide in a corner control me, no matter how tired of fighting the desire to give up and sleep forever gets. No, now is not the time to be afraid; now is the time to stop thinking and start partying.
I text Chloe that I’m here. Amber opens the door.
“Finally! We thought you weren’t coming.” She says. I follow her in. She pours a shot of Jack and hands it to me. “Catch up to us!”
“Don’t peer pressure me.” I laugh.
“What, you’re not going to pregame?” She asks.
“It’s 4 in the afternoon!” I protest.
“Day drinking doesn’t count when it’s the weekend.” She says. “Come on, just one? I’ll take one with you.”
“Fine, just one.”
“Hey, hey, hey, wait for me!” Chloe runs out of the bathroom.
Amber pours two more shots out. I take the shot glass, so delicate and miniature and filled to the brim with liquid poison, between my fingers, hold my breath, and gulp it down like cough syrup. My vision turns black, and a blurred face appears in the dark, swimming closer until it hovers over mine with heavy breathing. I blink, hard, and the image disappears, but the ghost of it lingers in my mind, and in the throbbing of my heart. Chloe slams the glass down on the table and wipes the back of her mouth with her arm. Her phone dings.
“We have an hour until Andy comes to pick us up.” Chloe says. “I just need to do my hair, so you two need to hurry up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amber grabs her bag and goes to the bathroom.
“Nov, you come with me. I have a goodie bag for you.” She winks. Chloe and I go into her room. She digs around her purse hanging on her chair, and pulls out a Ziploc bag and hands it to me.
“Did you get me shrooms?” I laugh.
“And acid,” she says proudly. “It’s for when we house trip during winter break. You’re still on, right? Because we already booked the Airbnb upstate.”
“Oh shit, I thought was supposed to happen during spring break. I’m applying for an internship for the winter.”
“Nov! I knew this would happen. Too bad for you, we’re stealing you away for one weekend.”
“If it’s just the weekend, then fine.” I give in. She grins and hugs me excitedly.
“So who’s Andy?” I ask. I start doing my makeup in front of her full-length mirror.
“He’s my brother’s coworker that I met when we went bar hopping. Oh yeah, Alex is coming tonight too, but I think he’s with Andy right now. I think you’re going to like him. He’s so hot.” She plugs her curling iron in and wraps strands of hair around it.
“Your brother, or Andy?” I ask. She throws a shirt off the floor at me.
“Andy!” She chucks a dirty sock at me and I fall back laughing. “Ow, shit.” Chloe sucks on her finger that she just burned on the curling iron.
“Remember how I told you I want to open up a gym?” She asks.
“Yeah, you promised me I’d get premium membership.” I say.
“You will, I won’t forget. But guess what? I passed my personal training certification test today!” She squeals. I run over and hug her.
“Congrats! I’m proud of you.” I say.
“I know, that’s why I wanted to tell you first.” Chloe finishes curling her hair and sets the iron on the table to cool down.
“What did you mom say?”
“She still thinks I’m going to Queens College.”
“What? I thought you said you were going to tell her in September. Chlo, you have to tell her you dropped out.”
“I know I should, but if I tell her, she’s just going to force me to go back. And you and I both know I’m never going to graduate. It’s better if I start working and help out financially until I save enough up to get my own place.”
“Do what you have to, I got your back.” I say.
“This is why I love you.” She grins. “What about you? How’s NYU treating you?”
“I declared graphic design, but I’m finishing the semester online since I was still supposed to be in Korea. There’s this internship at an art gallery my dad lined up for me, but I still haven’t made my resume or portfolio.” I wince when I think about that deadline. It’s due soon, and if I don’t turn anything in, I’ll miss out on this great opportunity.
“Wait, why are you back?” Chloe asks.
“Well, actually-”
“How do I look?” Amber comes in, dressed in a mini denim skirt and a tiny tank top. She does a small twirl.
“Yes! You’re stunning. I think we should take another shot.” Chloe says and pushes Amber out of the door. “You coming, Nov?”
“I’m almost done, just take it without me.” I say.
“Suit yourself!” Chloe shouts from the living room. I thought I would be able to drink again, but I was still shaken up, and had no intention of repeating that experience. I wait until I hear them finish drinking to join them by the table.
The doorbell rings.
“They’re here.” Chloe says excitedly, gets up and opens the door. Three guys stand in the doorway.
“Hey, gorgeous.” A tall guy with really good hair and a shoulder tattoo peeking out from under his tee shirt kisses Chloe on the cheek, and comes inside.
“Hey, watch it, Andy. Ugh, it smells like Jack in here. Why didn’t you open a window or something? You fucking daydrinker.” Alex, Chloe’s brother, says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Hi to you too.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “Hey David.” She hugs a skinny guy with round, wire-framed glasses. He takes his shoes off and starts pulling bottles out of his backpack.
“Amber and Nova, meet Andy. And you both know Alex and David.” Chloe introduces us all. I’ve known Alex for almost as long as Chloe, since I was in third grade, and Alex had brought David to one of his parties last New Year, and we’ve all been hanging out since.
“Let’s get this party started.” Andy says, leaning back into the couch. Chloe locks the door and sits next to him.
“Bacardi or Crown Royal?” David asks.
“Bacardi.” Chloe says.
“You’re gross.” Alex says, but opens the Hennessy anyway.
They all take a shot. I sit back and watch as Amber starts giggling, her face already bright red.
“My toes feel weird.” She giggles, wiggling her toes in her socks.
“I want to feel whatever she’s feeling.” David laughs.
“How many shots have you had?” Alex asks her.
“Uh, three?” She tries to count on her fingers. “Maybe four?”
“She’s definitely had at least four.” I say.
“I’m cutting you guys off for a while.” Alex says. Chloe groans. “We need to catch up.”
Andy, Alex and David take a shot. Alex gets up, and comes back from the kitchen with a six pack of beer.
“Catch.” Alex pretends to throw the beer to Amber. She screams and covers her face. Andy guffaws.
“Bet I can chug that faster than you.” David says to Andy.
“No way, dude.” Andy scoffs. “You’re on.”
“Hey, don’t spill any on the carpet.” Alex says.
“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” Andy says. He and David open the beer and start chugging. Before I can count to five, both of them are done.
“Who won?” Andy asks Chloe. She points to him.
“Hey, you can’t ask your girl. Who finished first?” David asks me.
“Sorry, but Andy.” I laugh. Andy gives me a smile.
“Damn, I’ll beat you next time.” David says. He pulls a bag out from his bag. “Who wants to get crossed?”
“What is that?” Amber asks.
“It’s weed. But in a brownie.” Andy grins. Amber crawls to David and stares at it.
“Can I have some?” She asks.
“Yeah, go ahead-”
She takes a giant bite from the corner. David’s eyes widen.
“You-that’s-you’re going to trip the fuck out.” He says in awe.
“Oops.” Amber looks up guiltily, like a kid who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Let’s get you some water.” Alex sighs. He helps Amber from off the floor and takes her to the kitchen. David takes a bite from the brownie and follows them. I pick the brownie up from the table. I know I’m not going to drink for the rest of the night, and I still feel stressed out and high strung. I take a bite.
“Are you Korean?” Andy asks me.
“What? Do I look Korean?” I say, surprised. “I’m pretty sure I look Chinese.”
“Yeah, you do, but Chloe told me you just came back from Korea. 한국어 할줄알아?” He says.
Something in me freezes. Tenses and burns, writhing to run away from the sound of Korean coming from this man’s lips. And when I place this feeling, I realize it’s fear and hatred, intertwined so finely that I am repulsed by him; something in me hates him for being Korean, for being anything remotely associated with Korea.
I struggle against the hate that grips me. I don’t know him, he’s done nothing to me, so why does he deserve this? I try to think of all of the Korean things I like. The food is delicious, that’s for sure, and Jungkook! Who could hate Jungkook?
“아니.” I say. “No. I went knowing zero Korean, and I only learned the very basics to help me order food and buy things at stores.”
“I see. I only speak Korean at home, so mine isn’t that great either.” Andy says.
“What did you guys just say?” Chloe asks.
“I asked her if she can speak Korean.” Andy explains.
“I don’t know if we should still go out.” Alex says, supporting Amber as she stumbles into the room. “She’s pretty gone.”
“Nah, she’s good.” Chloe says. “How’re you feeling, Ambs?” Amber lifts her head up for a split second, grunts, and gives us a thumbs up. “See? She’s fine. By the time we leave she should sober up a bit too.”
“She’s obviously not ‘fine’, but whatever. As long as you’re the one taking care of her, I don’t care.” Alex says and puts Amber on the couch next to Chloe.
“I’m going to head out for a smoke.” Andy says. “Anyone coming?”
“Yeah.” Chloe joins Andy and starts putting her shoes on.
“I could use a cigarette.” Alex stretches. “You coming?” He asks me.
“Nah, I’m going to chill for a bit.” I say.
“Whatever you want.” He shrugs.
I sit next to Amber, who’s curled up on the pillows. She snuggles into my side when I put my arm around her, and mumbles something incoherently.
“Where’d everyone go?” David says, coming out of the bathroom.
“They went out to smoke. Pretty sure they’re right outside, if you want to join them.” I say.
“Eh, they’ll be back soon anyway.” He says, and sits down on the couch on the other side of Amber. “What do you want to watch?” He takes the remote controller from the table and turns Netflix on.
“What? Ip Man 4 came out? Let’s watch it.” I point.
“Good choice.” He says, and starts the movie.
I don’t know when the room disappeared and I got sucked into the world of martial arts and Ip Man, but suddenly I forget that I am sitting on a couch in my friend’s house. It’s like I am in this weirdly colorful San Francisco, one hair’s breadth away from the fighting. I feel like if I take one step closer, I would be in the middle of it all, but my body feels too light and airy for it to do anything of substance.
I feel shaking. It’s far away, and the movement is foreign, like my mind can’t comprehend what’s going on. I grasp onto the shaking, and tug myself back into the living. David is twitching, his leg bouncing erratically up and down, and a paranoid look enters his eyes when he sees me look at him.
“Hey, are you alright?” I ask him.
“I hate this, I hate this feeling, why?” He groans. “Why me?”
“Why what?” I try to catch his eye, but he pulls his hair roughly and puts his head in his hands.
“No, not this, go away, no, no no!” His voice starts escalating. I’m beginning to get worried. Since I’ve known David, he’s always been good natured and friendly, never one to get into moods like this. Sure, he was dramatic and had anger issues, but I’ve never seen him so upset.
“Fuck, David, you took too much of the edible. I’m going to get you some water, so try to calm down. Stay there, okay? Don’t move.”
Feeling fuzzy and light headed, I drift to the kitchen, fumble with the lightswitch, and somehow manage to pour a glass of water with only a few spills. Holding the cup with both hands, I walk as quickly as I can without spilling any more on the floor. After I put the water on the table, I look up to try to get David to drink some.
He’s bent over Amber, his back crooked and misshapen like jagged mountain peaks, his arms wrapped around her sleeping body in a lock. Every muscle in me tenses. I grab his shoulder and pull him off.
“Get off of her.” I put my arm in front of Amber.
He looks up at me. We make eye contact, and for a split second, clarity registers in his face. But a moment later, all that was recognizable about his expression disappears. He grabs my leg, his fingers digging into my flesh, and the shock of his unwanted skin on mine sends a jolt of fear through me. I kick my leg, throwing his hand off of me, and back up as far away from the couch as possible. My breathing is shallow and my limbs feel numb.
I can’t see what his hands are doing, but his arms are wrapped around Amber, and I feel sick to my stomach. My mind is screaming at me to move, to wrench him off and lock him in the bathroom or throw him out of the house, but my body is frozen and refuses to move one inch closer.
“Nov, you would not believe-” Chloe comes in the door, Alex and Andy behind her. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, we were watching a movie, and then David started bugging out and hugging Amber, and when I tried to tell him to stop he grabbed my leg, and I don’t know what to do.” The words come out faster and faster until they jumble all together.
“Are you okay?” Chloe rubs my shoulders and hugs me.
Alex and Andy rush over to the couch. Andy pulls David up, and Alex carries Amber to Chloe’s room.
“You can’t be doing that.” Alex says. David giggles, then bursts out laughing. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Alex shakes his head in disgust.
“I think he took too much of the edible.” Chloe tries to help David up. He grabs the back of her neck and pulls her towards his face. She pushes him away, but he grips her tighter.
“David, stop!” Chloe says, struggling against his grip. Alex pulls his hand off, and takes Chloe away from David. Andy looks furious; he looks like he’s about to punch David, but Alex holds him back.
“That’s it. You need to leave, right now.” Alex says to David. David yells something, gesturing vaguely in the air.
“We’re going to take care of him.” Andy says, grabbing David by his arm, and drags him outside.
“Where are you guys going?” Chloe asks.
“We’re going to take him for a drive. He needs to calm down before we drop him home.” Alex shrugs his jacket on and closes the door behind him.
We stand there for a moment, stunned.
“You guys ran out of Oreos.” Amber says.
“Are you okay?” Chloe asks her.
“Yeah, but I think I’m still high.” She smiles, and her eyes crease into two thin lines.
“You’re high as fuck.” I laugh. “I have the munchies too.”
“Let’s go get food.” Chloe rolls her eyes.
