How to Say 사랑해 Out Loud

Chapter 6

One hour later, I sit at my desk, head in my hands. Someone knocks on my door, and Eomma doesn't wait for permission before coming in. She carries a cup of steaming mocha and a plate of cookies.

She sets the cup and plate on my desk. "I'm sorry," she says a moment after.

"Stop apologizing," I murmur, staring at the laptop on my desk. "That's not what I want."

I hate when they apologize for Sangmoon.

She leans in closer to  brush my hair off my forehead. Her voice is less timid this time. "I am sorry," she repeats honestly. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with this, too. I'm sorry that our dinner, something I cherish and love, got . . . um . . . ruined. I'm sorry you're feeling so angry right now,. You're my baby, I love you more than anything, and I am so, so sorry about these things."

Tears began to fill my eyes again. "I'm sorry" doesn't change anything. It doesn't make any of this better.

"Why can't he just stay at home until he can go somewhere else?" I whispered, desperately.

Eomma sit at the edge of my bed. "I thought of it," she admits, "requesting homeschool instructions, or a tutor." She sighs. "But in my heart, I know that if we let Sangmoon stay out of school for two months? If we give him that out? We'll never get him back, sweetie. He'd relapse a lot."

"And you don't think he's going to relapse anyway, making him go through so many changes in two months time?"

"I'm afraid so. If Sangmoon ever comes to believe that school is an option, he'll go back to fighting having to go with every bone in his body."

Her tone is resolute. There's no other way around.

I erase my desk with my pencil, leaving gashes behind. "When is this going to start?"

Eomma inhales deeply. "Probably by Monday. We need to get him back, somewhere, before he gets used to sitting at home. But I already have a list of a few potential schools," she added. "It's sixty days, at the most. If one of these schools can take Sangmoon sooner, the province is ready to move on it ASAP, okay? I just need you hang in for a little bit longer, and this will be all over. Worst-case scenario, it's still only two months."

I try to picture Sangmoon walking through my school. I think of the pressure us normal kids have to deal with, how it's like a rope - balancing, going along precariously without disupting the flow. Meeting expectations, impressing the crowds.

She doesn't get it. Two months will ruin everything. Two months will change everything.

Change everything for him even faster.

There is no sense in trying to make her understand.

"Fine," I mumble, even though it's not fine at all.

Eomma stands to leave, leaning down to kiss the top of my head on her way out. "Have a cookie; it will make you feel better."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble.

But the moment she left, I stuff two cookies into my mouth, barely trying to chew. And once it cools some steam, the mocha is actually soothing, and for the first time in two hours my head begins to clear.

I notice something behind my lamp in the corner of my desk. It is the first-aid quide from required summer training at the pool. I haven't looked at it in months, but now I read the first line on the cover.

You Shall Not Panic.

The steps are outlined below: Tame your emotions. Appy logic. Think of positive thoughts.

To me, Sangmoon showing up at my school is as much as a crisis as anything. I look at the final step to resisting panic. Take charge.

There's no way to make progress of a crisis situation. The best I can do is try to survive it.

Take charge.

I open my backpack and pull out my agenda. I turn to September and find Monday's block. I write the number one in the upper left corner. I count my way through September and October, making a sixty-day timeline. Maybe I will feel better when I see the actual end in sight. This will not last forever, and now I can see that in black-and-white. I just have to survive it.

I have sixty days. Sixty days to just survive.