And then I know it’s not clothes. I push myself up with my hands, and I scan the room for the shotgun. It’s on the floor next to Lloyd’s feet. I crawl to it.
Lloyd tilts the handgun so it’s aimed at Heather’s temple and stares at me. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? he says as if there isn’t a bleeding, moaning girl beneath him. PUT THAT GUN DOWN.
82
When I walked into the ICU’s curtained-off section they had for my mother, the drugs they’d given her must have been taking their toll. She sounded agitated and upset. The tubes and catheter had been taken out. She said to my father, “Why is Yoona here?” as if I couldn’t answer for myself.
“She came to see you,” he answered.
“Well, go back to school. I don’t want her grades to suffer because of me. And what about Willa?”
“You’re so silly, Ma,” Willa said, bending close. “I’m going to the community college, remember? I’m still going.”
“You promised me.” She looked at me and repeated herself.
“I know, Ma,” I said. “I know.”
“Make them go,” she said, looking only at my father.
“You’re very sick, Ma,” I said.
“I’m not. I’m fine. See?” She tried to raise herself from the bed and then gave up, letting herself sink into the mattress.
“They’ll be back for Thanksgiving,” he answered, nodding to us.
My mother closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said.
“Do you remember what happened, Ma?” I asked.
She nodded.
The doctor came in then and said that the worst was past.
“I’ll call. Go back to school, like she said,” Willa said.
“I can stay so you can take a break,” I said.
“Dad and I are going back to the house to sleep. Albert’s promised to come by. So go back to Weston. You heard the doctor.”
I sat with my mother for a few more minutes, and when she was able to squeeze my hand, I knew she was better. Relief flooded through me. She was going to be fine. “Go back to school,” she said, and her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded until I nodded with her and promised her I would.
Outside Lloyd was still in the car with his eyes trained on the doors. I walked to his side of the car, where his window was lowered. He raised his eyebrows. “So? How is she?”
I told him she was going to be okay, and he seemed visibly relieved. It softened me toward him. I tried to make amends. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I said.
“Apology accepted. Get in, let’s go back to school now,” he said.
“You need to go home, Lloyd.”
He looked away and then leaned over and released the passenger-side door. “I can’t leave you here like this. The bus was a nightmare. Admit it.”
I saw a trace of the Lloyd who’d found me at the bottom of the stairs after the party in the student union at the beginning of the semester. The one who said I could sit there and he’d sit with me, and everything else could wait.
Lloyd drove me back to campus, and I told him before I got out of the car that he should go back to the city.
He stared straight ahead. “You’re saying you don’t need me anymore.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. We’ll always be friends. And we’ll still talk. Maybe I have to go back to Korea, and you could go with me. We can’t know what happened to him from here.”
“How do you know how you’ll feel later today or even tomorrow? You’ll need me. I think I should stay for a while, and then after we go to your house again for Thanksgiving, after that I’ll feel better about leaving you here by yourself.”
“Thanksgiving? You’re not going home with me.”
“Your mom is in the hospital, Yoona. Everything isn’t fine. You need me. You’re in danger.”
“The boy you think was following you isn’t in class anymore. We’re not in danger, Lloyd.”
“That’s not proof of anything. It only proves he was never a student to begin with. You’re in danger.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. You can’t stay in my room anymore.”
He was silent. I opened the car door. “I’m sorry I was mad at you. I’ll call you in a few weeks,” I told him.
“If it’s about the room, I’ll find another place to stay.” He leaned toward me, and I jerked backward. “It was only going to be a hug,” he said.
“I’m tired, Lloyd. I’ve got to go,” I said and got out of the car.
“You’ll change your mind.”
“Go home,” I said and slammed the door shut. His car took off, spinning its tires. I went up to my room, collapsed on the bed, and slept like the dead. Isn’t that the expression? I slept without dreaming.
83
The side of my face throbs, and touching it makes it worse. It’s not over. None of it is. Outside there’s still the staccato thud of helicopters. Heather’s attempt at escape has left her gasping for breath, her face a bloody mess. Lloyd pushes the muzzle into Heather’s head, and she cries out. My friends are going to die if I don’t do something. No one can save us. Sax is doing nothing but giving Lloyd time to kill each of my friends. Lloyd is not getting a car or a conversation with the president. The hard knot in my chest unravels. You would say there’s got to be a way. I hold the shotgun out to him.
“You dropped this, thought you might want it,” I say. Nothing about it sounds truthful, but I have to think of something. Faye has her arms crossed over her knees, and she doesn’t look up. Lloyd lets Heather collapse on the bed, then he wipes the gun in his hand against his coat, and there’s a red smear now against the gray wool. I try not to look at the blood too closely. He gets to his feet as if the effort exhausts him, and takes the shotgun from me. Something about this is familiar—the feel of the gun, something about the gun.
I approach the bed and stifle a sob as I examine Heather. Stay still, Heather, I say silently to her. I know touching her will make her hurt more. “She needs medical help,” I tell Lloyd. My mother didn’t have head contusions like Heather seems to have, but Lloyd opened up a cut on her head, and she’s bleeding.
IT’S A FUCKING BRUISE, SHUT UP.
“No, she needs stitches. Look, she’s losing consciousness. She’s going to die,” I tell him.
STOP LYING. I HARDLY TOUCHED HER.
I turn away from Heather so I can control my voice. “Lloyd, of course you know all about injuries. Let’s ask the detective for a car, and let’s go somewhere. This can’t be good for the baby. Ask him for a car and some money, and we’ll drive to Canada, and we’ll keep looking for Jaesung. Maybe they’ll listen to us in Canada. But I need you to help me with this baby. Are you still willing to do that?”
PICK UP THE PHONE. ASK ABOUT THE CAR. Lloyd stands up from the bed and backs away.
Sax’s voice comes through. “Almost, Lloyd. Can I speak to the girls? We heard some disturbing noise. What’s happened? Anyone hurt?”
“She’s bleeding too much, she needs help,” I tell him.
“Who’s bleeding? Lloyd?” Sax asks.
SHUT UP. SHE DESERVED IT. SHE’S BEEN ASKING FOR IT. DID YOU SEE WHAT SHE DID? This is directed at me and Faye. I wipe my hands on my jeans.