Page 57 of You Had Me at Hello World
I decide that the minute we reach dry land, I’m bolting for the nearest shower.
But I don’t get the chance. Once we dock and Jenni-with-an-i starts derigging the boat, Khoi touches me on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you?”
We sit on the far end of the dock, away from everyone else, still dripping wet. Khoi’s shirt clings to his torso, and I make a point of looking away.
The water is so serene, like dark glass. Deceptively serene. Who knows what’s lurking beneath the surface?
“Do you know the common advice for saving a drowning person?” he asks.
“Check that they’re actually drowning first?”
“The advice is to not jump into the water yourself. Because somebody who is drowning will drag you down with them.” He shakes his head. “Char, why would you even try? I weigh more than you.”
“You never know. Maybe I’ve got superpowers,” I say. Now that he says it like that, it does feel ridiculous that I tried to save him. “It’s not that serious.”
“No, itisserious. You could’ve gotten hurt.”
Why is he so hung up on this? “As you pointed out, we were both wearing life jackets.”
“I don’t want you to try to save me.”
“Khoi, you’re always so eager to help everyone else. Now that I tried to help you, you’re being weird.” I mean, he’s usually a little weird, but he’s being even weirder than normal.
“Because it’s different whenI’mnot the burden!” He screws up his face, like he’s said more than he intended to.
Something inside me twists.
“You’re not a burden,” I say quietly. “Who told you that you were a burden?”
He’s silent for a long time. I wait.
When he finally speaks, he says, “Growing up, my parents werealways stressed about my medical bills. We were upper-middle-class but my health issues were expensive. And when my dad got arrested, it felt like I was the reason he had done… what he did.”
“Khoi, I’m sure that’s not true.”
He does this noncommittal nod-slash-shrug that indicates he thinks I’m wrong, but he’s too polite to say that out loud.
“When my dad left, I thought he did that because I was defective in some way,” I say. “It took years to realize that, even if that were true, it doesn’t excuse my father’s actions. He was a grown-up who couldn’t face his responsibilities. That’s on him. Not me.”
“Char, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
Khoi lays his head on my shoulder and I let him, even though it feels like a not-entirely-platonic gesture.
“My dad did bad things because he chose to,” he says to the river. “I was a child; he was the adult. Sure. I know that intellectually. But even if I repeat those facts over and over, I never feel less guilty.”
“That’s a mood,” I say. “Knowing that I shouldn’t feel inadequate only goes so far.”
“Too bad we can’t debug our brains, right?”
“Khoi, I think that’s what alcohol is for.”
He laughs, a gorgeous bellyful of mirth, and something flutters inside me. For the stupidest second, my brain decides I’ll do anything to make him laugh again.
Anyway, it makes sense now, why he’s always tried so hard to help me. To help others, too—his fake relationship with Aisha, his conversations with other students whenever they ask for advice. As if he’s trying to prove to himself that he’s good and useful. That he’s enough.
But he’s already enough for me.
