Page 4 of Paradox
“I’m not working with your brother.”
“I’ll call him then. See you in March.”
Come on, come on, come on.
“This one. Right here.” I tap the back right window of the Uber and have the door open before the driver has even come to a complete stop. With a hurried, “Thanks,” I slam the door shut, and like a freak, I’m gripping the side of our mailbox with my eyes up to the slot. But I’m too late, because right there, in black and white, on the corner of a business envelope is the emblem of my university.
At least, itwasmy university.
Until a month ago.
When I stopped going to classes.
And everything had been fine until an hour ago.
One week to clear out my dorm.
I say, good riddance. I’ve got far bigger problems right now.
Forcing my hand through the letter slot, I strain until the sharp edge is grinding against my knuckles, but I still can’t reach it. Then, like a fool, I tug at the handle, but my parents havenever left it unlocked in the fifteen years since they bought the house.
I check my watch—crap!It’s 5:20 pm. I only have half an hour.
“Hey, wait! Stop, stop, stop!” I slap on the passenger window of the Uber as the driver pulls away.
The window lowers; “What d’ya want, kid?”
“Can you please wait? I’ll only be ten minutes.”
“I’ve got another job—”
“I’ll pay it—and mine. I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
“Look, kid. It’s only a few minutes away. I’ll be there and back in fifteen.”
Wallet already in hand, I’m diving inside and waving my last fifty dollars cash inside the car. “Here, take this.” I drop it on the passenger seat. The driver's eyes pan down to it then back to the desperation on my face before picking it up. With a huge grin, I tap the door with both hands. “Awesome, thank you so much. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I promise.”
It took me less than thirty seconds to get inside the house, but now I’m just standing here frozen in the entryway, gripping the strap of my backpack with my dirty college clothes and textbooks sitting in two bags by my feet. I know the place like the back of my hand, but in the six weeks since I was here last, it just doesn’t feel like my home anymore.
Snapping out of my daze, I sprint up the stairs to my room.
After tossing the two bags into the corner, I throw my backpack and a black Adidas duffle bag on the bed, then rummage through my drawers and the clothes that didn’t make the cut when packing for college.
Jeans. My high school sweatshirt and track pants. Some old t-shirts. A pair of pajamas my Halmae (grandmother) sent over from Korea a few birthdays ago. Some socks. Some underwear. My brother's letterman jacket because it’s the biggest andthickest jacket in my closet. The army green sleeping bag I haven’t used since camping in the backyard when I was twelve.
Swinging by the bathroom, I find a new toothbrush under the sink and shove it, along with a half used tube of toothpaste and the hand towel hanging by the sink, into the duffel as well.
Tossing the duffle bag to the bottom of the stairs, I backtrack to my room and empty everything out of my backpack besides my laptop, hard drive, and the Korean copy ofBrave New WorldI’ve been carrying around since the start of the semester.
With a running jump, I clear the stairs and head straight to the fridge like an idiot. Flinging the door shut, I side step to the pantry and start with the basics: a tub of gochujang and a bottle each of soy sauce and perilla oil. Rising on my toes, I search the back for some black bean paste, but a car drives past the front of the house and I almost crap my pants.
In a panic, I stuff every packet of ramen I can find into the backpack. Then, as I step back in retreat, I stumble over my mother’s step. At four foot nine, she needs it to reach everything, but she still needs my dad for the top shelf.
Figuring,screw it—I may as well go down in a blaze of glory,I kick it towards the pantry and take down five bottles of soju.
With the bottles safe inside the backpack’s front pocket, I scribble down a note on the back of a packet of batteries I find in the junk drawer below the cutlery;
Tossing the pen back inside the drawer, I grab a spare phone charger and gulp my stomach back down.
