Chapter 17 Keep Me Out
“SO, WOULD YOU like to tell us about your first day of college?” I’ve been expecting this question.
Kamila has done a good job of keeping herself from interrogating me; we’ve just finished dinner and she managed to make it all the way to dessert without grilling me.
Andy shoots her a disapproving look, but she blatantly ignores him. “Did you like your class?”
I bury my spoon in my slice of chocolate cake and smile. “I guess so, it was…” My mind flashes back to every moment: the pretty girls, the redheaded guy, Perla, Kang… I clear my throat. “Yeah. It went well, I think.”
Andy beams. “I’m so glad.”
Kamila takes Andy’s hand and then mine. “We’re so proud of you, Klara.”
“It’s only been one day.” I shrug. “It’s too soon to make a big fuss about it.”
Kamila squeezes my hand, rubbing her thumb against it. “You’re wrong. This is a huge accomplishment. Every little achievement counts. You’re a fighter, Klara. Don’t underestimate any battle, no matter how small, because that’s how you win the war.”
“You’re such a psychiatrist.”
She laughs and her eyes light up. “And you’re so you .”
We joke, talk, and fight over the last piece of chocolate cake. It’s a normal, happy family dinner, and it feels great. Kamila is right: Every step forward, no matter how small, provides a little more reassurance that I can make it, that I will be okay, that I will be able to overcome my fears.
My cell phone vibrates against the table, announcing a new message.
Kamila raises an eyebrow. “Looks like someone made new friends on the first day.”
I open the message and my heart races, as usual, when I see Kang’s name on the screen.
Kang: You’ve been strangely quiet today. Have you had enough of this intense radio announcer?
I smile. If he only knew I was just a few steps away from him today.
My mind travels back to the moment when I heard his name, how close he was when he walked past me.
The black shirt that matched his hair, his jeans, his height.
But what I remember most is his voice. Without the radio, telephone, or PA system as a filter, his voice sounded so much deeper, more captivating.
“Klara?”
Kamila’s voice pulls me back to reality. She and Andy are watching me with amused expressions.
“What?”
Andy takes a sip of his juice.
“Nothing. It’s just been a while since we’ve seen such a huge smile on your face. It suits you.”
I blush. “Oh, it’s just… I remembered a scene from a movie I saw… beautiful.”
Andy nods. “Right, right.”
I stand up and excuse myself by saying I have homework to get to, then I go into my room and close the door behind me to respond to Kang in private, where no one will notice any unintentional smiles.
Me: Always so over the top. How was your day, Kang?
Kang: Boring. Went to practice, had class, did some homework. How about yours?
It was one of the best days of my life because I started college and because I got to see you. You have no idea how close we were, I want to say, but I opt for a less crazy response:
Me: It was good, very eventful.
Kang: Can I call you?
We’ve been talking on the phone a lot lately, and it’s always Kang who calls me. I guess somehow texting isn’t enough anymore. I dial his number and he picks up on the third ring.
“Ms. K.”
“Mr. Kang.”
I hear him laugh and I love it, it’s contagious. Kang is addictive. I’m drawn to everything about him, but most of all I love how comfortable I feel talking to him. It comes so naturally.
“Did you finish watching your Korean drama today?”
“No, I spent all day…” I pause. “Out.”
“Out? Are you this mysterious with everyone or just with me?”
I shake my head. “I’m not mysterious.”
“No? You won’t tell me anything about yourself. I don’t know where you go to school, you’ve blocked me on social media…”
“What, no… I don’t have any social media accounts.”
I hear him sigh. “Are you afraid of me, Klara?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why do I feel like you put up a wall between us? Like you’re trying to keep me out?”
It’s the only way to keep myself safe, Kang, I think.
“I am doing no such thing,” I say. “Besides, I still don’t understand why you’re so curious about me.” I say it without even thinking about it, and I instantly regret it. Before I can panic and take it back, I hear him sigh again.
Kang takes a deep breath. “I told you… at first it was because of the quotes you’d sent to the show.
It showed me how well-read you were, showed me we liked the same type of literature.
I get a lot of my inspiration for the show and the topics I choose from books, so…
I don’t know, I wanted to talk to someone else about them.
You know, since it’s not something my teammates or Erick and I talk about.
But now that we’ve actually begun talking, to be honest, it’s gone past that.
I think you remind me of myself, of a time where I put all the walls up and didn’t let anyone or anything get to me.
I was lost in a dark place, wishing for someone to reach out to me. ”
His words sound genuine and it takes me a moment to process them.
“So, you think I’m lost in a dark place?” I joke.
“No, I think you need someone reaching out to you, and I want to be that person, if you let me.”
“I don’t know. There are so many candidates,” I say with a nervous chuckle. What am I doing?
“Oh, really?” he goes along, “I thought I was your favorite.”
“You are.” I respond way too quickly and proceed to blush.
A few seconds of silence pass. I hear only his breathing on the other end of the line, until he finally speaks: “I want to see you, Klara.”
I bring my free hand to my chest.
“I’m nothing special, Kang.”
“Why don’t you let me decide that?” I notice a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Klara—”
“Why don’t you tell me more about what else you did today?” I interrupt before he can say anything else. I know that once he starts asking about me, he won’t stop.
“I don’t have much to say, and I have to go now, the show starts soon. Will you be listening?”
“Always.”
“Okay, we’ll talk after Follow My Voice , Klara.”
“Okay.”
I hang up and immediately reach for my headphones.
“Good evening, thank you for tuning in and being here with me tonight. I want to welcome you to today’s evening program, Follow My Voice . This is Kang, your friend and companion for this hour.”
I drop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling as I listen to him.
“It was a beautiful sunny day today, but don’t get too excited; apparently an unexpected cold front is moving in and, combined with the chance of thunderstorms, it could bring sleet or even snow.
Snow in September? I know, sounds impossible, but those of us familiar with North Carolina’s crazy weather know that anything can happen.
In any case, it’s important to always have the essentials at home: drinking water, canned goods, and plenty of blankets, in case of a power outage. ”
Kang’s always worrying about others, which leaves me confused about Perla’s tense expression as it flashes in my mind.
Why did she warn me against liking him? I’ve been listening to his show for a long time, and we talk on the phone regularly, so I think I know him fairly well.
He’s always seemed like a great guy. I’ve never gotten any bad vibes from him.
Am I being naive? I don’t think so. Kang has given me no reason to think badly of him, so I won’t let other people’s opinions affect how I see him.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep bugging Perla until she finishes telling me what she started to say about him today.
When Kang’s show ends, I take off my headphones and stare into space for a few minutes, my mind wandering. I wonder if I will run into Kang again the next time I go to class. Just thinking about it produces a mixture of excitement and fear.
I stand up and walk over to the mirror. I still look so pale and thin.
I’ve had more of an appetite lately, but I’m well below my ideal weight.
At least my bones don’t jut out so prominently anymore.
My brown eyes have a new sparkle to them that I like.
I smooth down my hair and look over at the shelf where my wigs hang.
I stare at the pink one and recall Andy’s words: “Pink looks good on you.” Next to the pink wig is the purple one, my neighbor’s favorite. “I love the purple, it’s your color.”
I glance back at my reflection. Today I’m wearing my short black wig, and I remember Andy’s words again.
“Black, huh? I liked the pink.” Personally, I feel most comfortable in the black wig because it’s the closest to my natural hair before I lost it completely to chemotherapy.
Carefully, I remove the wig and run my hands through my short hair.
It’s growing in fast, which makes me happy.
I miss the bouncy curls that used to brush my shoulders.
Cancer…
When my mother died, I thought the nightmare of that disease was gone from my life; it had already taken enough from me.
I was wrong. My own cancer diagnosis, almost immediately after my mother’s passing, kept me from processing the pain of that great loss.
It was an abnormally sunny January afternoon when I felt the hard lump in one of my breasts.
I told myself I was being paranoid after my mother’s death, but then Kamila examined me, and I saw the concern in her eyes.
Tests, analyses, hours of waiting; returning to the hospital was terrifying. “We need to do a biopsy,” the doctor said, and his tone conveyed everything. I knew what it was, but that didn’t make it any more bearable when the biopsy came back positive. I had breast cancer.
Chemotherapy, hormone therapy, and an operation to remove both my breasts.
The other one was healthy, but a DNA test revealed that I carry a brCA1 gene mutation, which makes me more prone to breast and ovarian cancer.
My mother and grandmother probably had the same gene, but, fortunately, Kamila does not.
There’s a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting it, and I’m glad that my sister is safe, at least.
It was not easy to make the decision to remove the other breast after chemotherapy, but I had to do it. My mental health was already destroyed, so living in constant fear that I might have to face that nightmare all over again was not an option for me.
I take off my shirt and sports bra to examine my breasts.
I was never large-chested, but the mastectomy still made me feel like I’d lost my femininity, the proof that I was a woman.
I had both breasts reconstructed, but it’s not the same; there are scars.
I run my finger over them and the skin is sensitive to the touch.
Fortunately, after almost a year of treatment, I was declared cancer-free, but I still have to go in for checkups every three months. Because this relentless disease could come back, especially in my case, due to the brCA1 gene mutation I carry.
My depression and anxiety went through the roof during all this; my fear of death intensified. But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to move forward, without fear.
I look at myself in the mirror and smile sadly. How could I ever let you see me, Kang? I’m not good enough for you. My body is too full of scars and imperfections.