How to Say 사랑해 Out Loud

Chapter 29

That night, after changing into my pajamas, I find myself pacing back and forth across my room. Even though it was a full day, sleep seems a long way off. I bite my nails as I walk.

Krystal is not mad at you anymore, I remind myself. And you did some good deeds for your brother and parents. There's no reason to be this upset.

But I can't stop remembering the dismissive expression on Sehun's face before he turned and walked away at the playground, and feel like I have plenty of reasons to be upset.

I stare at my car keys on my desk. A moment later, I grab them.

Telling my parents about Krystal being in the midst of her latest rommantic crisis, I drive across neighborhoods. Only it's not her house I head toward. I end up parked across the street from the oH household, fingers hovering over the keypad of my phone, ready to dail his number.

But I don't get any farther than that. Earlier at the park, I thought I was silent because I hadn't fully though through what I want to say to Sehun. Now I realize I don't have anything to say to him. Not anything worthwhile, at least.

Suddenly I remember thinking one time last month, when Sehun said or did something pretty great, that Jiyoung didn't deserve him.

Do I?

For over a year, I've held on to a memory. Countless times I've wished for a do-over for that moment when I pulled away from him in the supplu closet. But that one kiss was a long time ago.

If I consider the person I am now, the choices I've made since then . . . it's hard to believe that Sehun would want to kiss that girl anyway.

When I close my eyes against the troubling realization, tears filling in my eyes. I face the sad realization that if I didn't lose for good last year, I probably have now. As a potential boyfriend or a friend, it doesn't matter. I'm just sad that I've lost him.

And I decide, for the first time in forever, that I'm tired of feeling like the victim of my own life. It's always been so east to balme Sangmoon and my parents for anything that's lacking, to use Sangmoon's disability as an excuse for all the shortcomings in my own life. I've been so comfortable with this attitude, and Sehun was right - it's pathetic that I've never managed to step up and reach for something I've wanted if going after it presented any type of risk or put me in an unwanted spotlight.

It's a weak, tired attitude, as a I sit outside his house, accepting that it's indeed my attitude, it's hard to feel great about myself. It's hard to believe an apology alone could repair anything between me and the boy inside. I drop the phone onto the passenger seat and head toward home, clueless about how to fix us if I can't find a way to fix me first.

__________________________

Once a year, my parents need to sign off on my continued participation Special Talent program. Monday morning before homeroom, I stop by the small classroom to return the paperwork. Mrs. Lim isn't in the room, so I searched for an empty spot on her messy desk, hoping she'll see the envelope.

As I push some papers aside, a neon flyer, the one Sehun showed me a month and half ago, catches my eye. It's the announcement for the regional Prophet Society's upcoming high school competition. The date of the contest is little more than a week away. Yet for whatever reason, as I search for the registration deadline, I find myself hoping I haven't missed it. 

There it is. If I register by tomorrow, I can still participate.

I let the paper dangle between my fingers and laugh at myself. Am I seriously thinking about this?

I don't get up in front of crowds of people willingly, and I certainly don't do so by choice. Plus, the contest is just over a week away! I'm sure that other participants have been working on their speeches - editing, polishing, and practising in front of the mirror - for weeks, if not months. With one week to go, I'd probably just end up making a fool out of myself.

But I can't stop staring at this year's topic in large, bold text in the center of the page. "The Power of Speech."

When Sehun showed me the flyer before, I thought I had nothing to say on the matter, These days, I feel like I have plenty to say. It's just a matter of, you know, actually saying it.

Without further thought, I fold the flyer into a tiny square and shove it into my back pocket as I look around for bystanders, like I'm doing something really weird. Then later, in the library during study hall, I unfold the flyer, log on to the website listed at the bottom, and quickly complete the online entry form. I have to provide a teacher's name as a sponsor, and I assume Mrs. Lim won't mind that I use hers.

When I see the confirmation message pop up on the screen - "Congratulations, Bae Suzy! You are confirmed to participate in the nineteenth annual Seoul Prophet Society's high school speech competition" - and unfamiliar thrill goes through me. I'm registered. There's no going back now.

It's sort of liberating, doing something so entirely out of character.

Putting myself out there. Calling attention to myself, my thoughts, and my feelings. On purpose.

I might never tell my parents or friends about the experience, but it's something. It's a first step.

I lean back in the chair and cross my arms, thinking, focusing my attention on the speech that I now need to get cracking on.

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of speech lately, and it seems like a good place to start.

Remembering the video of Sangmoon's therapy session, I look over something. To a large capacity, my brother lacks the power of effective speech. I've wasted mine. He can't speak up; I simply choose not to.

We both need a voice, and it's about time I put mine to use, since I can. Even if I'm only ready to share it with a roomful of people I don't know.