Chapter 42 Release Me
OVER THE PAST week, I’ve relied on my friends for a distraction, meeting up for study sessions to prepare for finals.
I haven’t talked to anyone about Kang, because I don’t think they would understand, and because I don’t even know how to explain it.
I like Kang a lot, but I don’t want to hurt him after everything he’s done for me.
I’m still processing so much that I don’t know if I can deal with anything else right now; I need time.
I want to spend winter break taking in all the changes I’ve experienced.
I want to focus on my victories and be comfortable knowing setbacks will come.
I want to strengthen my relationships with my new friends.
And even though Kang is part of the group of good people who have come into my life and helped me make positive changes, worrying about the negative effect I may have on him is too much for me to handle right now. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but…
After taking my Personal Health/Wellness final, without realizing it, I’ve made my way to a completely different building, through a hallway where the art classes are held.
Standing in front of an open door, I’m hit with the smell of fresh paint.
I see blank canvases, unfinished works, and completed paintings.
I’ve spent a lot of time in classrooms like this one.
I can almost see myself sitting there, headphones on, listening to music, my head bobbing to the beat as I paint.
I can also picture my mother coming in, smiling, to remind me that I’ve lost track of time again and she’s come to pick me up.
“It must be hard, I imagine.” I’m startled by Ellie’s voice suddenly beside me. “I mean, it must be hard to lose something that used to be so important to you.”
The memory of my mother’s smile as we walked out of the art classroom, joking and laughing, is still so clear in my mind. “It is hard.”
“I know it doesn’t compare to everything you’ve been through, but I imagine I would feel something similar if I couldn’t read. Books are my way of escaping reality, losing myself in other worlds.”
I sigh. “It’s not just that I’m not able to paint anymore. It’s that I associate painting with sadness,” I say. “One day I just became afraid to paint, to see that sadness in my paintings.”
“Our brains work in strange ways, don’t they?”
“I think our brains have many ways of dealing with trauma so that we can survive.”
Ellie takes my hand. “Come on, my finals are over for today.”
I follow her silently. That’s not the only thing that’s over.
I’m back between my four walls.
I now find my room stifling, boring. It used to be my safe haven; I’ve spent so much time here.
That all seems like a distant memory even though it’s only been a few months.
Things can change so much in just a short time.
When we’re in a slump, in the dark moments, we believe that we’ll feel that way forever, that we’ll never get better.
But that’s not true. We just have to push back against that belief that sadness lasts forever or that crippling anxiety will be our daily bread.
We have to accept there will be good days and bad days, and hope there will eventually be more good ones.
It’s something I’m still working on believing.
“Are you ready?” Kamila pokes her head through the half-open door. “They’re here.”
I smile and then sigh as I approach the mirror. I still struggle with my reflection, with what I see, but I’m learning to love myself a little more every day. I’m ready for the Christmas party my sister has arranged in order to meet my friends.
“You look great,” Kamila assures me.
“You don’t have to compliment me all the time.”
“Yes, I do. Before, Mom…” Kamila’s voice trails off. “Mom always gave you compliments, so now it’s my job.”
“Well, you’re doing a terrible job.”
She laughs. “Believe it or not, I love your cruelty.”
Kamila wears a casual black dress with an apron over it, stained with flour and other mysterious substances.
I am immediately reminded of my mother, who used to spend all day in the kitchen around this time of year.
It’s the first time Kamila has baked anything since Mom died, and that brings a tightness to my chest.
“What did you make?” I ask, trying to sound calm even though it makes me very emotional.
She dusts some flour off her apron. “Strawberry shortcake.”
Mom’s favorite.
We both fall silent for a moment, not feeling the need to say anything. This is a huge step for Kamila, who has also had a very difficult time, and I’m happy that she’s making progress.
“You’ve been such an inspiration to me, Klara,” she says warmly. “Seeing you take classes this semester and make friends has motivated me to take a few steps myself. So”—she holds up her hands—“we’ll have strawberry shortcake for dessert.”
I walk over and hug my sister tightly. “You’re doing great, Kamila,” I whisper against her hair.
“The cake might be horrible, Klara, don’t congratulate me yet,” she jokes.
I laugh as I pull away from her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me, for always being there, even while you were fighting your own battles. You’re the best sister in the world.”
Kamila’s eyes redden and she throws her head back, huffing.
“No, no tears! Come on!” She loops her arm through mine and we go out into the living room where Diego is standing beside Ellie.
“Hoodieeee!” Diego says, wrapping me in a huge, warm embrace.
I give Ellie a hug and the doorbell rings.
Andy opens the door for Perla, who squeals when she sees us.
“Hey!” she says, corralling us into a group hug. “It’s been five days and I literally feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen you guys, I missed you so much!”
We sit down. Perla introduces herself to Andy and Kamila and jokes with Ellie and Diego. My sister seems charmed as we begin serving ourselves. I sit next to Andy, who is wearing a big smile. He nudges me with his elbow. “Where’s the famous radio host?” he says.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper. “Diego, pass me the salt,” I say, and Andy seems to get the message.
Perla is telling a funny story about New York and some pigeons when my cell phone vibrates with an incoming message. I open it and a feeling of warmth and sadness fills my heart. It’s from Kang: Merry Christmas, K.
I send a Merry Christmas message and then put the phone away. Ellie and I exchange knowing glances. For some reason, she’s the only person I’ve told about what happened between Kang and me. It’s strange how we can develop an instant sense of trust with certain people, unexpectedly.
The truth is that I miss Kang a lot, in spite of everything. He and I used to talk or text every day, even before we started dating.
“It was awesome, wasn’t it, Klara?” Diego’s voice brings me back to the present moment, around the table.
“What was awesome?” I ask.
Perla shakes her head. “Klara has her head in the clouds, as always.”
“I was saying that Kang’s last show before the holidays was great, wasn’t it?”
Oh…
Diego waits for me to respond and it takes him about four seconds to realize that I didn’t listen to the show. “Did you miss it?”
Now everyone’s attention is on me, and I don’t know what to say.
“Wasn’t that the day we watched Queen of Tears ?” Ellie says. I’ve told her about that Korean drama several times. “We were so wrapped up in it that the time got away from us,” she lies effortlessly.
Diego is still looking at me, eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, I guess it slipped my mind,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
Perla looks at Ellie and then at me, but says nothing.
I know I have to tell them that I broke up with Kang, but this isn’t the right time.
“Here comes dessert!” Kamila saves me by showing up with the strawberry shortcake.
It looks beautiful, and, tasting it, it’s clear that my sister has inherited my mother’s baking skills. It’s delicious.
We toast and eat the cake that means so much to my sister, smiling and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, my heart overflowing with love.