“Lloyd, they want to send some people in, I can’t hold them back,” Sax says, and it’s a plea. If he’s been an expert negotiator for twenty years, why does he need to plead?
I put my hands on my stomach. “All of this is upsetting to the baby,” I say. He narrows his eyes at me.
“You’re responsible for all this, Yoona,” Faye hisses with her head still buried in her arms.
“Let me see,” I say and put the phone down and move over to Heather.
“You killed her, you murderer,” Faye screams.
“What’s going on in there, Lloyd?” Sax shouts.
SHUT THE FUCK UP OR YOU’LL BE NEXT.
“You’re a monster, a fucking monster. You had to hit her that hard? You just had to?” Faye continues.
YOU THINK BEING A MURDERER IS THE WORST THING YOU CAN BE? he howls at Faye. KNOWING YOU STAND BY WHEN PEOPLE—THOUSANDS, HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS—ARE BEING MURDERED. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW.
“Lloyd, I can’t protect you if they come in,” Sax says, his voice calmer now.
GET ME MY CAR.
Sax’s voice sounds again: “You’ve broken your promise, Lloyd.”
Lloyd waves the phone at me. TELL HIM IT’S A SUPERFICIAL WOUND, THAT’S ALL IT IS.
“Wait, Lloyd, if someone is hurt, we have to talk about that,” Sax says. “I can’t protect you if they go in.”
I’M NOT NEGOTIATING ANYMORE.
“Send out the girl you hurt, or there won’t be a car.”
OH, THERE WON’T? Lloyd’s voice is sarcastic. YOU SURE?
“We’re close to the end, and this is what you do? I’ve gotten through to the White House. I’ve spoken to the president’s aide, and he agrees that this is an international concern. The president’s arranged for you to have special immunity as a temporary agent for the FBI. We’ve located a minivan to transport all of you to the airport, and we’re packing it with money now for your use. I told you, I haven’t lost anyone yet, and I don’t intend to today.”
NEVER HEARD ABOUT A TEMPORARY FBI AGENT.
“Serena told me they have them,” I agree.
“But the president wants to make sure no one dies. That would cancel everything.”
Lloyd puts the phone in my hand. TELL HIM. And then he hurries to the window.
“She’s breathing,” I tell Sax.
“You’re pregnant, are you?” Sax asks.
“If you can get someone from the State Department to talk to him, even if it’s not the president—”
“Your name? The names of the others with you?” Sax interrupts me.
I tell him before Lloyd can make it back over to take the phone from me. I KNEW PRESIDENT REAGAN WOULD UNDERSTAND. CARTER’S A WIMP, BUT I KNEW PRESIDENT REAGAN WOULD BELIEVE ME. I’M READY TO BE PART OF THE FBI JUST TO GET JAESUNG FREE.
“There are instructions in the car. Drive the car to Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Airport. That’s the way we handle all our agents. There are special instructions in the glove compartment.” Sax speaks slowly, as if he’s passing along a password to Lloyd.
IS THAT WHY THE MAN WITH THE RED HAT IS OUTSIDE WITH YOU? HE’S FBI, ISN’T HE?
“Can’t fool you, Lloyd. That’s the kind of thinking President Reagan says he needs in the FBI.”
HE’S CIA THEN?
“You were right the first time. FBI. Sent to make sure those North Koreans didn’t kidnap any more American students.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Was Lloyd correct all along? But then I see the fear on Faye’s face, and I know Sax is playing a dangerous game. A temporary FBI agent? But Lloyd nods along to everything Sax says. If Lloyd suspects he’s lying, what will Lloyd do to us?
84
I woke up having slept for twelve hours straight. The nurse had told me I could make an appointment at a clinic in Scranton. It was a two-hour bus ride. I called them, and their earliest available appointment was in fifteen days. I’d be nine weeks pregnant. Though the receptionist told me I was still eligible for the D&C, I felt panic surge in me. I couldn’t wait another day with this knowledge. Fifteen days seemed impossible.
“With so many closures, everyone is coming to us. October twenty-second is the best we can do,” she explained when I pleaded with her to move up the date. “Come in at nine a.m. and speak to a counselor about your choices. They’re very good at helping people here. They’ll explain everything then. It’ll be fine,” she said. I hung up not feeling anything would be fine. My life was on hold. Classes didn’t matter, Lloyd vanished from my consciousness, and other college students seemed to have no idea how lucky they were not to have what I had hanging over their heads. My life had veered toward a cliff. If you were dead, this might become the child we could have had together, but I wasn’t ready, I’m sorry, but I was not in any way ready, and I couldn’t handle this. Not any of it. I needed my life back.
I started walking without an idea of where I was going. Downtown I stopped in a diner and ate a huge breakfast of pancakes and eggs. I was craving ice cream, so even though it was morning, I ordered that too. The waitress raised her eyebrows. “Why not?” she said.
Eventually, by afternoon, I made it back up to campus. A large group had gathered by the founder’s statue. Someone was speaking into a bullhorn about the divestment movement. Faye was standing by the walkway, listening. I felt such relief to see her, but I felt guilty too. I couldn’t explain. “Where have you been?” she said when I walked up.
I told her about my mom. She listened and told me about her father’s illnesses over the years. She’d never shared much about her life at home. I’d spent all this time with Serena and not much with Faye, Heather, or Daiyu. And yet these three had welcomed me from the beginning. Faye was headed to the shantytown, where Heather and Daiyu were working on their makeshift house. I walked with her.
The roof was the first thing I saw. A roof fashioned out of aluminum sheets and plywood boards nailed together for walls. Large metal staples held smaller fragments together. The door was special, with a circular window that Faye said Heather had cut with a jigsaw. I traced it with my finger in awe. Between studying and all their clubs and activities, how had they managed this? My friends had made a rain-impervious shelter, complete with a decorative front door, with a small bench inside. “Daiyu made the bench,” Heather said when I opened the door and greeted her. “And the floor is our next project. We really need a solid floor.”
“I think these houses are supposed to make us feel bad for people who live in places like this,” I said. “Don’t get carried away.”
“Good point,” she answered, laughing.