“You’re really pregnant, Yoona?” Daiyu repeats. I still can’t look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The phone rings, and Lloyd stands. The shotgun falls by his feet. He takes the handgun out of his pocket and begins hitting his forehead with its grip. We wait for him to answer the phone, but he continues hitting himself. Blood appears on his forehead. Will he knock himself out?
51
“Look under the surface, and there’s tons more to Lloyd,” you had said. “Lloyd knows everything there is to know about Korean history, the history of every country. He’s read everything. He’s going to be someone important someday. Watch.”
That second week in September, as much as I tried to concentrate on my classes, I couldn’t stop myself from looking up Korean newspapers in the library, looking up databases for news about Seoul, looking for anything that might tell me about car accidents and political problems, anything at all that might be a clue. But there was nothing. I couldn’t get an international line from my phone to ask my aunt about any accidents the day of my flight like the one Lloyd had described. I asked my mother to ask her. And then I called Lloyd again and then hung up after it rang ten times. I reminded myself of your trust in Lloyd. He said you were alive. You had to be alive.
Sometimes I ran into Serena Im, usually around four in the afternoon, when my eyes hurt from looking at the screens and there was something in me that would knock all the machines to the floor if I could, a fear and a restlessness I had to hold in check. You had to be alive. Lloyd said so.
I first met Serena in the stairwell of the student union. I was lost in between the ground floor and first floor. She was looking for a practice room, her cello in a case on her back. I didn’t know then that she was the Serena Im, musical prodigy, hiding out at Weston College for a year rather than going on a concert tour. She saw a photo of you with me standing at the DMZ fall out of my art history book. She picked it up, held it to her nose. “Bet he smells good,” she said. Serena made odd comments, that was true. But she was right. You smelled better than good; you smelled like fresh-cut grass and the sweet grape juice poured into ice cube trays in summer. And in the room with the radishes on the floor where we had sex, you smelled like garlic and cinnamon.
Serena told me things about her parents, who sounded like my parents except her father was a famous violinist, and she said she’d told him to treat her mother better or she wouldn’t play cello ever again. “He listened to me for the first time. That’s why I’m here,” she said. “There’s a concert in Seoul next year that he wants me to play in with him, and I’ve refused. It’s his big moment to show me off, all his hard work, but I’ve told him if there’s even a single raised voice at my mother, then it’s over. And my brother is my spy at home. He knows he won’t get away with it.”
Serena and I talked about sex during one of our coffees at the student union. She said, “I met this guy the other day in my music theory class who knows how to have a good time.” Leaves fell outside the window like giant snowflakes, big maple leaves, taking their time falling to the ground. It was later than our usual time to meet. I’d opened my book and was reading a section for class while I waited when she appeared. Sunglasses off. Her cheeks flushed.
“Do you love him?”
“Why’s that necessary?” She scoffed. “I’m here to learn about the world outside music. That’s the goal. I told my parents I want to know what I’m going to miss.”
“I thought it was to help your mother?”
“Both. I didn’t go to sleepovers or birthday parties, Yoona. I’m seventeen, almost eighteen years old, and I’ve never gone to a party.”
52
“Lloyd, the phone.” We’re all calling to him, louder and louder, when he suddenly seems to break out of his trance and answers it.
“Everything all right in there?” Sax’s voice sounds tinny in the room, but we can make out every word.
WHERE’S OUR CAR?
“It’s coming. Look, I know you’ve kept your promise, the girls are safe, but the president’s security detail, they’re nervous. What is it you want to talk to the president about exactly?”
I DON’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. I TOLD YOU: JAESUNG KIM, KIDNAPPED AUGUST TWENTY-FIRST OUTSIDE SEOUL IN A CAR FIRE. ASK THE KCIA ABOUT IT. THEY KNOW ABOUT IT.
“That’s a serious allegation. A diplomatic solution is required, Lloyd.”
MY BEST FRIEND IS BEING TORTURED IN NORTH KOREA. AN AMERICAN IS BEING TORTURED IN NORTH KOREA. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? AND EVERYONE IN SOUTH KOREA AND THE UNITED STATES KNOWS ABOUT IT. HE COULD DIE AT ANY TIME. HE COULD BE DYING THIS VERY MINUTE.
“Stop it.” My words tumble out before I can stop myself. I can’t stand to hear him talk that way.
“You’re saying an American citizen was abducted,” Sax says.
YOU’RE A PART OF THE CONSPIRACY, AREN’T YOU? SAX? IS THAT YOUR REAL NAME?
“Look, we’ll find your friend, I promise. Let the girls go, and I’ll work with you, I promise.”
I’M NOT GIVING YOU THE ONLY PIECE OF EVIDENCE I HAVE.
“Lloyd, let me see what you have,” I say, my heart beating loudly in my ears. Could you be alive?
I DON’T ACTUALLY HAVE IT, BUT I SAW IT. I KNOW WHAT I SAW.
“You don’t?” My heart sinks. It’s just a delusion in Lloyd’s head.
Sax is speaking. “Are you still there, Lloyd? Listen, I believe you, Lloyd, but if you can send one of the people in the room out right now, that would go a long way to convince the president’s security of your intentions. If you would let at least one girl go right now. What do you say? We’ll keep working on releasing your friend in South Korea.”
NORTH KOREA. DAMN IT. THAT’S WHY I NEED THE PRESIDENT.
“Right, North Korea. Let one of your friends in the room go so I can show them you mean well. How about it, Lloyd?”
NO ONE HERE IS MY FRIEND.
There’s such despair in his voice that I know he means to end his own life. “I’m your friend, Lloyd,” I tell him.
He stiffens.
“Lloyd? You still with me?” Sax continues.
GIVE ME A MINUTE. Lloyd looks as if he’s counting. His mouth moves: one, two, three, four.
“Just let her walk out of there, I won’t send any men to escort her, just let her walk out to us, and we’ll get the plane in the air. A private plane for you. That’s something I can arrange. And then we’ll get you to the White House and go from there. Come on, what do you say?”
HOW DO I KNOW YOU WON’T HAVE A SNIPER SHOOT ME WHEN I WALK OUT?
“Look, it’s my job to get you what you want. All of us want this situation resolved. You get what you want. We get what we want. No one gets hurt. Deal?”
Lloyd looks at me. THE BABY COULD HAVE BROUGHT US TOGETHER, YOONA. YOU COULD HAVE INCLUDED ME. I WOULD HAVE FOUGHT FOR YOU.
“What did you say, Lloyd?” Sax’s voice.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t know for sure,” I tell him.
THAT’S BULLSHIT.