“I heard a funny story about the boulder.” Jihyun offers. “One day, this guy climbed the suicide boulder to kill himself, right? But then, when he looked down from the boulder and saw how tall it was, he got scared. It was a stormy day, and he turned around to try to get out of there. But then what did he see? The sign: Think it over! So he thought it over, and threw himself off the boulder.”

Only Jihyun laughs. He glances at me, so I make a halfhearted snort.

“Alright. To Taejong Beach!” Jihyun turns the music on, and grabs the steering wheel. The sound of the guitar suddenly penetrates and shatters me.

Hey Jude, don’t make it bad.

Take a sad song and make it better.

Remember to let her into your heart.

Then you can start to make it better.

Someone once told me that the book on someone’s bedside table reveals a lot about the person—their tastes, but also the mental space they’re in. Perhaps Jihyun—based on this song—is dreaming of a simple, conventional life. He might always have been that way. It’s a good thing, I think, to listen to a popular song and be able to feel something. That means you are part of the larger world, the majority of people. I want that life—it’s a simple, pleasant way to live.

Listening to this song, I wonder, is Jihyun also afraid of letting “her” into his heart? Could that “her” be me? I hope he realizes that he is being stupid, acting so cool and nonchalant toward me. He might already know.

I wonder whether Hyunwoo thought of me as “her.”

Before he and I were estranged we used to listen to The Beatles together. We were in middle school then. He used to sing “Hey Jude,” his favorite song that he could actually sing. When the song reached the part that is playing right now—“Better better better, OH!”—he sang along with his eyes clenched shut, building up to the high pitch by screaming, playing air guitar along with the music. He was usually so withdrawn. Making those big movements while blasting the loud music through his headphone was the best he could do to let himself loose. When I told him my favorite Beatle was John Lennon, not Paul McCartney, he said he used to feel that way too but not anymore. I should have granted him his wishes. If I had, would he still be alive?