I did the right thing because it’s a whole different world that Jihoon lives in. It might be defeatist, but I can see Kit hadn’t lied: there’s no space in it for me.
Twenty-Eight
The problem with heroic self-denial is that after the feeling of nobility wears off, you’re stuck back in your regular life.
But now you’re sad.
Jihoon doesn’t contact me. I expected that and tell myself it’s what I wanted. The problem is that although I thought he would eventually fade into memory, he hasn’t. My brain knows I did the smart thing, but my body seems to disagree. I almost physically crave his company, and it takes all my willpower to not watch the several million online clips of him on repeat.
Life isn’t doing much to distract me. I have no travel itineraries to plan for friends, and work is somehow both hectic and tedious. Dad calls regularly to bestow advice on how to talk to Richard so I can get ahead. I spend a lot of time making affirmative noises into the phone so I don’t snap and tell him his experience helping people navigate adoptions and divorces isn’t quite the same as dealing with the suited sharks at Yesterly and Havings. I try to talk to him about his health, but he cuts me off each time. Eventually, I give up because I’m not eager to talk about it either.
Phoebe, surprisingly, has been in touch with me. After I told her what happened with Jihoon, she told me she was around if I wanted to talk.
I didn’t want to talk.
Well, I want to talk a little bit, and I can’t talk to Hana. Once she got past her initial shock, Hana had refused to talk about Jihoon at all, citing friendship rule number seven.
“Which one is that?” I’d asked. Our friendship rules covered issues such as not leaving each other at a bar, no matter how hot someone was, to total honesty when asked for an opinion on clothing choices. I thought we had six.
“It’s like that amendment Americans have about not saying something that will get you in trouble. They’re always pleading it in crime shows.”
“Friendships don’t have a fifth to plead.”
“This one does as of now because you’ll get upset if I say you’re being a total ass about this entire situation and you should grow up and expand your world to give Jihoon and your life outside that awful law firm a chance.” She takes a deep breath, having let that all out in a single burst.
“I feel the whole keeping it to yourself thing was more of a hypothetical exercise.”
“Sorry.” She wraps her arms around her knees. “Sorry. It’s that he’s a mess, and you’re also a mess but also being utterly asinine about this and…”
I hold my hand up to stop her before she runs on again. “You were right, friendship rule seven.”
We’d avoided the topic after that, but what she said about Jihoon stung. Despite my better judgment—and honestly, where is that getting me these days?—I tune into one of StarLune’s video updates. It’s Kit, and beside him is Jihoon. A tight feeling binds my throat when I see him. He looks tired, barefaced, with his hair hidden under a hat and a mask cupping his chin. I watch for a few minutes as the two tease each other about a burned meal.
Jihoon looks like he’s been gutted, and the concerned commentsin the chat tell me I’m not the only one who noticed that he looks dull and his eyes don’t smile. There must be more going on in his life since there’s no way I could have done that to him. He told me how busy he was going to be. No doubt it’s exhaustion. I can’t feel guilty about doing the right thing.
Phoebe meets me in a derelict parking lot that’s been transformed into a hidden pop-up patio complete with sand and beach umbrellas. The Beach Boys play softly on the speakers as we drink radlers out of mason jars.
Phoebe kicks off her sandals and digs her toes, blue polish chipped, into the sand. “Almost like being at the beach.”
A car beeps its horn as it passes on Dundas Street. “Almost,” I say, looking at the chain-link fence that surrounds the lot.
“My new place gets hot at night, so it’s nice to be out.” She leans her head back, the setting sun lighting up her bleached hair with bright streaks of orange and gold. “Worth it to have my own space, though.”
I take a sip of the radler. They’ve used grapefruit juice, so it’s not too sweet. “Don’t you wish you could settle down in one place? It must be tiring to keep moving.”
She slips on her gigantic sunglasses, which sit on top of her tiny nose and make it look like a button. “Not for me. The same routine is stifling.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Phoebe’s eyes are hidden, but her face moves to look at the couple holding hands to our left. “Why do you think it’s a judgment? I don’t live my life at you.”
“It seems that way.”
Off come the sunglasses, but when she looks at me, I wish she’d kept them on. “Why?”
I’ve already said too much. We may share history, but thisPhoebe—the woman in front of me and not the one I’ve created in my mind—is a stranger. “Never mind.”
“Talk to me, Ari. Please.”