Seventy-Five Minutes Before the SAT
I SHOULD BE AT SCHOOL, sitting on the front steps, cramming words my brain has no more capacity to contain. I should be preparing to take the biggest, most important test of my life. But today I question the validity of my beliefs.
Sitting on Seung’s front steps, I legitimize myself to an audience of one. He won’t talk, but I only need him to listen. Besides, I think he knows anyway. I just need him to hear the truth from me.
I unzip my backpack. “Dinner rolls I took from your kitchen. Bacon, wrapped in brown paper towels.”
Seung stares at my hands filled with food, then slowly shifts to walk inside. I pause, unsure if he wants me to follow or never speak to me again. He hears my thoughts, cracks the screen door, and whispers, “Come in, Linden. You need to eat breakfast.”
I trail him to the table and continue spilling truths. “I paid you back with help on chapter four’s trig problems sixteen and twenty-four. It’s what I owed you for the dinner roll and bacon slice.”
Seung pauses and makes a popping noise with his mouth. He won’t talk, but his eyes are warm and inviting, just like his home.
Mrs. Rhee bustles in from the kitchen and pushes a plate of cheesy eggs and orange slices in front of me. She suggests I eat and tells me the English muffin is on its way.
Seung keeps popping his lips. His eyes so fixed on the wall behind me that I almost turn around to find the spot he’s staring at, through me. Mr. Rhee walks in with a miniplate of toasted muffins and sets it down in the middle of the table.
He says, “Want some honey?” but nobody answers. We’re too busy not-staring at each other to reply. “Well, just in case,” Mr. Rhee says, placing the plastic bear beside the muffin plate before disappearing into the kitchen.
Seung forks his eggs, holding them in the air for a moment before tossing them into his mouth. He overchews. He wants to say something, anything, everything, but says nothing.
Instead, I won’t shut up.
“I found Ham homecoming night. Found him before anyone else did. I made an anonymous call and ran. I would’ve had to talk to the police, you know, about me. About where I live. I got scared and took off. I believed with all of my heart that Ham was dead.”
I share how I held Ham in my arms, kissed his cheek, and hid in the hills behind the school. I discuss our drive to the hospital, how I thought we were going to see Ham’s dead body. How I couldn’t handle viewing another dead body after seeing my mom, my grandmother. I don’t stop for air, or for eggs.
I’m starving, about to take the biggest exam of my life, and all I care about is passing this test with Seung. I don’t know where I stand because he won’t talk. The only things I know for sure are my eggs are cold, blood is beginning to soak my underwear, and I’m in love with my best friend.
Seung bites into a muffin, and the honey drips onto his plate. I watch him dip his finger into a pat of butter and put it into his mouth. I want to yell at him to listen, but I’m afraid if I do he’ll shut me out, of his house, his heart. I want to tell him I love him and I always have, but instead, I keep chiseling away at truths. Digging my way out of the hole I created with my own two hands. Rescuing myself.
“I chose you,” I say.
Seung looks at me this time, not through me.
“You, and Ham.” I smile, remembering the day. “I saw you, Ham, on the first day of school. The way you hugged and patted and laughed. I wanted that kind of friendship. Simple and be-yourself.” I stare at my eggs, my eyes stinging with tears. “I wanted you. I always have.”
We don’t talk. What else is there to say?
Minutes feel like hours, and then Seung whispers, “You need to eat,” and I fork my eggs and take a bite, then another.
Mrs. Rhee returns and squeezes my shoulders with both hands. “You two kill it today,” she says. She sweeps my hair to the side of my neck, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s impossible to feel a mother’s touch without my eyes burning. “Ten minutes until it’s time to go.”
I nod, wipe my nose with my sleeve, and ask Mrs. Rhee if I can talk to her in private. She looks surprised and pleased at the same time. When I tell her about my period, she presents me with six pads the size of pillows, then offers a fresh pair of underwear. I accept. Even the underwear. I slip out of my jeans and into a pair of Mrs. Rhee’s jersey jogger pants. They’re as cozy as she is.
When I return to the dining room, Seung isn’t there, and neither are our plates. I grab the bear filled with honey and head into the kitchen.
“Why don’t you just say it?” Seung says, scraping our plates into the garbage disposal.
“Say what?”
“I already know, Linden.”
“Know what?”
He shakes his head, shuts off the water, and stands in front of me. We’re three inches apart. “I don’t get why you just won’t say it. To me.” He reaches for my hand.
I’m too weak to grip because all my strength is pushing my pride aside.
“The whole homeless thing, Linden,” Seung says. “I’ve known for a while. It’s obvious to those who look. We see.”
Hearing someone else say your secret out loud hurts, in a good way. I blink and my eyes dump tears that run all the way into my mouth. I taste a mixture of salt and regret. Refreshment brewed with relief.
I turn around, incapable of facing Seung, at least for a moment while I catch my breath. I drop my chin to my chest. He drapes his arms over my back and plants his cheek against mine.
“I knew,” he whispers in my ear.
“I figured you did when you dropped the ten-dollar bill at the dugout this morning.” My head falls against his shoulder.
“Well, I wasn’t certain until then.”