Chapter 21
There was no actual garden at the Monroe Garden Inn.
They made up for it with window boxes and containers, as well as two very small but very lovingly tended flower beds outside the lobby.
Eunjae was willing to wager that the inn’s profusion of terracotta pots held more plants than most full-sized gardens.
A strong breeze rustled through the foliage. Hours deep into a quiet Thursday evening, moonlight dripped from every petal and leaf. He climbed out of the van as soon as their driver hit the brake. This was Ezra’s stop, not his, but he always walked his brother upstairs when they dropped him off.
On any other night, Eunjae would’ve paused to admire the contrast between the geometric lines of each planter and the wild profusion of greenery within.
He’d be wishing for his camera. Even now, it was easy to compose the image in his mind, to choose the correct angle and frame the shot.
Much easier than sorting out his emotions.
Eunjae kept returning to that moment with Ezra, rewinding and replaying the words that were said. But the memory had sharp edges. Regardless of how gingerly he held it, there was no avoiding the sting.
He wanted to get going, but a scuffle ensued in the van. “Aww, I want to go,” said Namgyu, unbuckling his seat belt. “Hang on, Ari.”
Kei blocked the exit with his leg. “Why do you have to go with him? Hyung can handle it by himself. He takes the kid up every night without any help from you.”
“I know.”
“So stay in the car.”
Namgyu hopped out with the energy of a gymnast sticking a gold medal landing. “Next time,” he told Kei, cheerful as anything. “Don't worry, okay? You're always so worried. It's really cute. I love it so much. But I'm the oldest here, and Ezra’s the youngest, so he’s my responsibility too.”
They looked over at Kazu, snoring softly, long limbs splayed all over the passenger seat.
He’d fallen asleep the second they left the diner.
“Gyu really is the oldest right now,” muttered Kei.
“Good luck to us all.” But he joined them a second later, and he didn't close the van door, avoiding the noisy process of sliding it open or shut.
Ezra stomped ahead of them, past the pool and down a breezeway lined with potted herbs, mint and thyme and lemon balm.
They took the exterior stairwell to the inn’s third floor, Namgyu chatting amiably while his companions walked in silence.
“It's so nice,” he mused, as a breeze ran its fingers through the plants, stirring up a fresh, vibrant scent that belonged more to summertime than autumn.
In careful English, Namgyu added, “Do you like it here, Ezra? I like it here.”
Ezra shrugged, tepid and noncommittal. “Guess it could be worse.”
“What did he say? He talks so fast.”
“He said it could be worse,” translated Eunjae. Namgyu’s expression contorted into one of pure bafflement. Why point out that things could be worse? That wasn't any fun. Of course they could be worse, but they weren't, right? Things were mostly good. What if they all focused on that part instead?
Kei shook his head. “We should all be like you, Hong Namgyu.”
“What? That's so crazy. You should be like you. I think you're the best. And Ari’s the best, and Zuzu’s the best, and Nicky—”
“Is insane.”
“Awwww!”
When they reached the stairs, Ezra threw a sullen glance in Eunjae’s direction. “I can go up by myself. If you just want to yell at Mum, she’s not back until Monday.”
Naturally, his mother wasn’t here to answer for what she’d done.
Eunjae had to say something, though. She had no business putting Ezra on that app and his father had no business sitting around, letting everything just happen without lifting a finger.
Pointless as it may be, he’d tell Simon what was going on.
He shared custody with Leila. Surely that amounted to some form of authority over a fourteen-year-old’s social media use.
Let’s try talking to Ezra about it, Jiyeon texted twenty minutes ago. But why was this a talking point? It shouldn’t have happened. The kid didn’t need a public account watched by thousands of strangers.
Simon must have been watching for their arrival; he answered their knock right away, offering the usual polite greetings. “Out late tonight,” he observed, while Ezra skulked into the hotel room, tossing his jacket onto a chair.
“We went out for dinner,” Eunjae replied. “Can I talk to you before I go?”
His father responded with a nod. Now that they saw each other nearly every day, Eunjae often found himself comparing their interactions to the years spent trading concise, clinical emails.
In retrospect, the emails were a lot wordier.
Dad wasn't the type to use a full sentence when a monosyllable would do.
“We’ll wait for you in the car,” said Kei. To Simon, he bowed and said, “Goodnight, sir.”
“Goodnight. Thank you for bringing him back.”
“Aww, I wish we didn’t have to bring him back.
Too bad there’s no room left in our little shed.
” Namgyu pantomimed eight men plus one teenager attempting to coexist in a cramped cottage, packed like a fancy can of sardines.
The performance could be compared to an avant garde interpretive dance sequence.
“Too many brothers!” he clinched, in English.
To Eunjae's surprise, Simon laughed. What a rare sound. Had he heard this very much as a child? He couldn't recall.
Ezra didn't laugh. His expression crumpled, collapsing inward. He reeled away as if he'd been slapped. “He doesn’t have too many brothers. Why do you guys always say that?”
“Oh no, I really need to get better at English,” Namgyu whispered to Eunjae. “What’s he saying?”
There wasn’t any time to translate. Dry-eyed, Ezra sucked in a shuddering breath, then railed at Namgyu with everything he had. “Eunjae doesn't have too many brothers! The only brother he's got is me. Just me, but he doesn't even care!”
Simon admonished him to calm down. His words fell short of their mark. “He'd rather have you,” Ezra yelled. “I wish I'd figured that out before I came here. I wish I'd never tried!”
Rendered speechless, Namgyu reached out to him, poised to move in the direction of the attack when just about any other person would’ve flinched away from it. Kei intervened, predicting correctly that he'd just keep trying.
“That’s enough,” said Eunjae. “Fight me all you want, but leave everyone else out of it. They haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Yeah, of course not. They can’t do anything wrong and neither can you.
You’re perfect, and millions of people love you, and I owe you for a million things I never even asked for.
I get to go to a school that I hate so much.
I have lots of friends because Mum tells everybody I’m related to you.
People forget my name but they never forget yours. It’s all because of you, you, you.”
A school he hated. Friends who didn’t feel like friends. How could Eunjae even begin to fix this? How much sooner could he have fixed it if they’d only talked more? “Ezra, I’m sorry—”
But there was more. “Your dream came true just like that. Someone flew you to another country just to make you famous. You’re so special that our nanny went crazy and tried to kidnap you—”
“Ezra!”
He felt terrible and he sounded terrible, the fury burning so brightly in his voice that everyone recoiled from it. “Who told you that?” Eunjae demanded of his brother. In hindsight, he’d already known the answer.
Ezra bolted out the door and into the night. Eunjae lurched after him, apologizing to Namgyu as he went. But then his father told him to wait.
“What?”
“Let him go. I’ll talk to him when he comes back.”
“You’ll talk to him? You expect me to believe that?”
“I will. He never runs far. He's a little bit like your mum,” Simon added, with a rueful smile, “and a little bit like me. I never run far, either.”
The light of a street lamp sliced through the blinds, carving sickly yellow lines into the opposite wall. Eunjae turned the knob, wrenched the door open. He’d heard Ezra’s last sentence, the one that came out in a sob as he fled the room: I should've known that you don't need me.
“I’m going. This is my fault.”
Simon winced. “It isn’t your fault.” Four words with an impact of four tons, uttered many years too late. Eunjae left anyway, pelting past his father, rushing out before Namgyu and Kei could hold him back.
The property was small, just two buildings and an office, a courtyard and the parking lot. There weren’t many places to hide, not unless Ezra strayed past the bounds of the hotel and into downtown Monroe. It didn’t take long to find him, but Eunjae stopped short of calling his name.
He kept to the shadows, beyond his brother’s line of sight. Who was he, to fix this? What did he know?
Kei dashed down the steps, catching up easily. “We should go, hyung. You’ll only make it worse if you chase after him like this.”
“Give Ezra some time,” Namgyu concurred. “You can try again when you’re not upset.”
An image flashed in his mind: his brother’s jacket draped on that chair, forgotten. Eunjae found that he couldn't speak without his voice breaking. “It's cold,” he said. “He’ll be cold out here.”
“He was pretty mad. Probably won't even feel it. Trust me, I'm mad at you idiots every minute of every day. You could drop me into a blizzard and I'd feel nothing.”
“Aww, Keiichi. You're not mad at us every minute. That's just too crazy. Don't try to be all tough right now. If you feel bad, just feel bad.”
Kei opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he said, “You're right, Gyu. I do feel bad. I feel awful.”
It was Namgyu who led him away, meeting no resistance. But the bright fragrance of everything green and growing, confined to pots and yet flourishing— it was too much, suddenly. Eunjae stumbled, thinking of Ezra somewhere near and all alone.
Surrounded by friends, yet all alone.
Growing and growing, all alone.