One Week Later
WHEN I WALK INTO THE newsroom, Mr. George and his husband are the first people I see. They smile. I smile back. Mr. and Mrs. Rhee are sitting in desk chairs with grins spread across their lips. They nod. I nod back. Mrs. Rhee rises and walks toward me with her arms open. I go in for the hug and the squeeze.
Ham’s parents are there, too, motioning to an empty chair beside them. The Royses insisted I move in with them, following the big reveal, but after a week of sleeping in a room next to Ham’s, I’m ready for some space. We’re working through some sibling rivalry, especially where the bathroom’s concerned.
The social worker assigned to my case taps at her phone and scribbles notes on a yellow legal pad.
“We’re waiting for Principal Falls,” Mr. George announces.
“And Seung,” I say.
“And Seung.” Mr. George smiles, winks.
On cue, Seung enters, followed by Principal Falsetto. Seung tosses his bag into a chair and sits beside me. “Sorry I’m late,” he whispers.
Principal Falsetto greets the parents and perches on the edge of Mr. George’s desk. “Linden,” she says. “Thanks for coming.” As if I had a choice.
I nod and mouth, “Thank you,” and it flows from my heart.
“The reason for this meeting, as you all know, is that we’re concerned about Linden’s living arrangements. The Royses have been kind enough to offer their home, but things need to become formalized. At least temporarily. Decisions must be made.” Principal Falsetto nibbles the tip of her pen. “Correction,” she says, and motions to me. “We need Linden to make some decisions.”
I glance at Mrs. Rhee. She’s in front of me, and her entire face beams. “Linden,” she says, “we thought you could come live with us. We’d really love it if you would move in with our family.”
Seung shifts in his chair.
“We have a spare bedroom,” she continues. “And, although you’d share a bathroom with Seung, you would have your own space. We’d make sure of it.”
I side-eye Seung. His chair shifts have become squirms.
Mrs. Rhee’s smile is contagious, though. She tilts her head, eager for my answer, then glances at Seung. I puff my lips and blow air too loud, too much. Seung slips his hand into mine. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yep,” I peep out like a chick.
Seung laughs and we both fall back against our chairs. My shoulders relax and I drop my head against Seung’s arm.
“Seung,” Mrs. Rhee says, “tell Linden how much we want her to live with us.”
“Mom,” Seung says, his voice serious, “I’m not sure your idea is going to work.”
I sit up in my chair.
“I mean, we’re together.” Seung points at me with all five fingers, then at himself. “Together, Mom.”
“Together?” Ham’s dad interrupts. “Ham? Is this so? I thought you and Seung—”
Ham groans but a smile spreads from lobe to lobe. He stands and shuffles up to an invisible podium. “Dad. Mom. Seung and I are not together.” He pushes at the air with his hands. “We are so incredibly not together.”
“But I don’t understand, Son.” Mr. Royse’s voice whines, then turns into a whisper. “You’re not gay?”
Ham laughs. Oh boy, does he laugh. “Oh no, Dad. I’m gay. As gay as Seung is straight. And he’s not my type. I mean, have you seen his chest, those thighs, his arms? They’re spaghetti noodles compared to—” Ham whips around to face Seung. “Sorry, dude.”
Seung rolls his eyes.
“But you are gay? Right?” Ham’s dad scoots to the edge of his desk chair, leans in, and whispers, “Please, Son. Tell me you’re—”
“At ease, Dad.” Ham pats his father’s shoulder. “I’m gay. I’m seeing Jarrell. And the world is ours. Happy now?”
Mr. Royse exhales and Ham plops into his chair, grinning.
“Well, then.” Mr. George claps his hands. “I—I mean we—want to present an offer as well.” Mr. George and his husband walk to my desk. Mr. George squats beside my chair. “You’re welcome to live with us,” he says, and takes my hand. “We”—he motions to his husband—“want you to live with us.”
“Hold up!” Seung blurts, his finger in the air. “I need to talk to Linden, alone.” He stands and motions for me to follow to the back of the room. “It will only take a minute. Promise.”
We rush to Mr. George’s coat closet, and Seung reaches for my hand. When we feel everyone’s stares, Seung yanks me inside and slams the door.
“Linden,” he says, fumbling in the dark for my other hand, “my parents really want you to move in with us. I want you to move in with us. But I don’t think you should.”
I nod, but Seung can’t see me. “I don’t, either.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t.” I hear Seung exhale.
“It could get weird.”
“Incredibly weird.”
“Why mess up a good thing?”
“We’re just getting started.”
Seung traces my arm, wrist to elbow. I slip my hand behind his back and pull him toward me. We bump chins and noses until our lips find each other and lock into place.
“What if we have a fight?” I whisper at his mouth. “Things could get complicated.”
“And what if we decide to have sex?” Seung whispers back. “Things could get even more complicated.”
I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t. My face does, though, with heat. And my lips, my tongue, never stop responding.
We aren’t ready to live together. I’m still learning how to live.
For several minutes, we forget we’re making out in Mr. George’s coat closet with teachers and parents in the room. When we finally open the closet door, Mr. George and his husband welcome me with open, inviting arms. The perfect helicopter parents I never had.