Page 89 of Follow My Voice
He looks surprised when I nod, blushing, and then he presses his lips to mine. For a second, I forget what just happened, and the world around me falls away. All I feel are Kang’s soft lips against mine. He holds my face gently and I grip his arms when it feels like my legs are about to give out beneath me.
It’s amazing how much things can change from one moment to the next: I just had a bad panic attack, but was able to get through it on my own; I couldn’t handle a regular movie date with the guy I like, but now I’m kissing him. I guess that’s what life is: a collection of good and bad moments. Right now, I want to focus on this good moment; dwelling on the bad won’t change it.
Kang pulls back, his face still hovering close to mine. “Damn,Klara, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says, nestling his nose against mine, his chest moving rapidly. He gives me another short kiss.
“I can say the same about you.” I smirk.
Kang straightens up and drops his hands from my face. “Should we go get some ice cream?”
“Yes.” I take his hand and he looks down, blushing.
“We have a lot to talk about, Klara with a K.”
We hold hands as we walk to his car.
“Over ice cream, I’ll tell you about someone very special to me: my brother, Jung.”
38Confide in Me
KANG
TWO LARGE CUPSof ice cream on the table between us. I play with the spoon as I prepare to tell Klara everything I remember from that day—every detail, every emotion.
I squint in the bright light of the hospital hallway. My eyes are irritated from crying so hard at my brother’s funeral. I walk past nurses and doctors who look at me without saying a word. They’re probably used to seeing people crying in these halls.
In my hand, I clutch a small slip of paper I received only days ago with the name of the psychiatrist who was scheduled to see my brother. I walk quickly, checking the office doors for the name. I’m a mess, I don’t even know what I’m doing.
I turn a corner into an empty hallway where I finally find the door with the name I’m looking for. I knock desperately.
A nurse opens the door and looks at me quizzically. I can see her desk and another door behind her. I imagine it leads to the doctor’s office.
“Can I help you? Are you okay?”
“Where is Dr. Rodríguez?”
The woman frowns and looks me up and down. I’m still wearing my black suit from the funeral. I’m disheveled and I don’t even want to imagine what my face looks like.
“Dr. Rodríguez is making her rounds. She should be back any minute. Do you have an appointment with her?”
I shake my head.
“Are you all right? What’s your name?”
“Kang,” I whisper.
“Well, Kang, do you want to come in and wait? The doctor will be back soon.”
“No, I don’t…” I crush the slip of paper in my hand. I notice movement to my right and turn to see a young doctor with dark hair in a messy bun walking down the hall toward me. She’s wearing a white coat and has one hand in her pocket while the other holds a plastic cup of coffee.
“Dr. Rodríguez, this young man—”
“You!” I say from between gritted teeth, running toward her with my fists clenched. “You!”
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me.
“Why couldn’t you see my brother the day we came to the psychologist? Why?! He was already here, you would’ve only had to see him for one second, one fucking second!” I don’t usually talk like this, but I’m out of control. “That would’ve been enough! Why? He was so bad off, he needed you to see him, but instead you were off that day, probably on a fancy vacation instead of doing your job.” Tears of rage flood my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. “My brother is dead because of you!”
Dr. Rodríguez’s expression softens and her eyes fill with sadness.
