Page 199 of Paradox
My pace quickens and I hug myself tighter.
Just one more block and I'll cross back over the street and cut through to the parking lot.
Stores pass by me; one, two, three.
A labrador on one side of the street barks at a maltese on the other.
That baby is crying again.
The bell above a shop's entrance rings loudly in my ear.
"Jeon Jintae."
I take another step, but high heels quickly click-clack on the pavement to get in front of me.
"Jeon Jintae," the voice repeats. It's not a yell, but it's far from quiet.
I'm frozen in the middle of the sidewalk.
I can't hear the dogs or the baby anymore.
I stare at my mother's hands—both gripping the strap of her Chloe handbag, the one she only brings out when she wants to look important. But it's not because I refuse to look at her. It's because I can't.
My gaze and my head are weighed down by guilt.
It's why she's so good at her job.
It's why I spent six months in college.
It's why I went there in the first place.
Unable to move forward, I creep back. She comes with me, matching every step I make. It's like she's inside my head, knowing my movements before I even do. Like she's controlling them.
Like she always did.
Each time I gathered up enough strength to confront her about college, her heel was already grinding my rebuttals back into oblivion, so I know that no matter what I say to her now, she won't hear me. Even if I had a running start, even if Eden was right beside me, it would make no difference because when she's in this state, it's her way—the highway isn't even an option.
Forcing my arms to unwrap from around me, I hold them straight by my sides, and turn my back to her. I don't move for several seconds, but when I do, I don't get a yard away before she's clinging to my shoulder.
I want to scream. I want the same courage I had all those times I yelled back at Eden. But instead, it's a mirror image of the other times when I couldn't look at him. When I was a shell; emotionless from the outside but frantic on the inside.
I want to tear her hand away from me.
I want to tell her that all the times she was kind and caring feel like they mean nothing when she gets like this.
I want to run.
"How could you?"
How could I?
How couldyou, Mom? You're the one who drove me to this.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but… "I'm sorry."
She tugs on my shoulder, and I turn back to her. "I'm sorry isn't going to cut it, Jintae."
My answer is an apathetic shrug. She hasn't surprised me so far.
