CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I wake up with a pounding headache and an empty bed. Beside my pillow is a phone box with a note that reads, “As promised, here is your new phone. You can’t return it because it’s already activated. I put my phone number as your first contact.”

As promised? I can’t remember when— Oh. Last night he had that conversation with the stranger.

She threw her phone in the river.

You should buy her a new one.

I will.

Yujun from Seoul.

I curl my fingers around the edge and smile ruefully. I do need a phone.

I push myself out of bed and get ready. First order is to text Ellen.

ME: Am coming home soon. Give me a call. I don’t care what time it is here

That sounds inviting rather than threatening. Actually, if I really want a response, I should send some vague panicky text like omg pls call right now, but I don’t know what to say to her yet. I’m hurt and mad and maybe this conversation would be better in person, but I can’t swallow this down like I’ve done everything in the past. It’s too big to put in its own box and be forgotten.

I don’t really want to talk to Wansu until I talk to Mom, and I’m not sure what I should do about Bomi. Yujun is working, so that leaves Jules. I go downstairs to find her.

Except it’s not her at the kitchen table. It’s a good thing the phone is in my pocket and not in my hand or I would’ve dropped it.

“Mom.”

Ellen rises, an uncertain smile quavering across her mouth, before she pastes on a bright expression and rushes over to hug me.

I step to the side and her arms fall to her sides.

“One of your roommates let me in before they left. I decided to come over and surprise you.”

“I know.”

I can tell she’s about to say something else, some excuse, so I shake my head. I don’t want to hear the lies anymore.

“Are you going tell me about it or try to pretend like nothing is wrong?”

“There are options?” she tries to joke. Her voice wobbles as tears threaten to spill. I look away because crying makes me uncomfortable. Plus, I might be tempted to rashly move on.

“No. No options.” I jerk my head to the chair. “Let’s talk.”

Ellen slumps into the chair and it reminds me of the times when I got in trouble as a kid and she would tick off all my wrongs on her fingers, including the ones I’d committed years before. Ellen had the memory of an elephant.

“I’ll start. I met Choi Wansu.”

Ellen flinches as if I struck her. I fold my arms across my chest and wait as Ellen looks at the ceiling, rubs her lips together, and basically does anything but answer my question. When I was eight or nine or maybe ten—it was before Pat left us—I’d snuck into Ellen’s bathroom and tried on her Yves Saint Laurent lipstick. It was a gorgeous red color and I’d always wanted to use it. She told me no because I was too young and because it was expensive at thirty bucks a tube. Not having much of any experience with makeup, I wound the whole stub up and applied it one day while she was running an errand. The lipstick broke off and dropped on the counter. I cleaned up the red stain, placed the broken makeup back into the tube, and shoved the container back into Ellen’s purse. Three days later, she dragged me into the kitchen, sat me in a chair, and waggled the tube in front of me. I remained silent, thinking stupidly that if I never spoke, the problem would go away. I guess I learned that tactic from her.