He whirls toward me. I’LL SHOW THEM A DEAD GIRL. THAT’LL PUT PRESIDENTS ON A PLANE.
The phone rings, and Lloyd lunges for it. But this time he crouches down, huddling on the floor by me as if he thinks they’ll storm in and the bed will shield him. Daiyu remains underneath the window, a whimpering lump. Heather and Faye are as still as statues.
WHAT GAME ARE YOU PLAYING? Lloyd shouts into the phone.
“No games, Lloyd. I’m trying to reach the president, just like you asked. He’s a busy man. It takes time to work these things out. What were you doing at the window with that girl?”
GET YOUR MEN OUT OF THE HALL.
“No one’s in the building, Lloyd. It’s been evacuated. That’s the protocol. We get you your demands, and you free the girls, and everyone goes home safely.”
I’M DOING THIS TO STOP WORLD WAR THREE. TELL THE PRESIDENT THAT.
“While we’re waiting for the president, why don’t you tell me if there’s anything else you want? Maybe we can arrange for you to go to DC instead of him coming to you.”
THAT’S BULLSHIT.
“I’ve been straight with you, Lloyd. I’m just a local cop trying to reach the president of the United States for you. Let me help you while we wait.”
I TOLD YOU AN HOUR. IT’S BEEN THIRTY MINUTES. IF ANYONE COMES THROUGH THAT DOOR, I’LL START SHOOTING. ALL IN A ROW. ALL IN FRONT OF ME. DON’T MAKE ME DO IT.
His voice is rising, and any minute now he’ll do it, he’ll kill all of us. Could we pile on top of him, kick the gun away? He’s close enough to me for me to pound him with my hands tied together like a hammer. I look to Heather, and she nods. But then Lloyd lurches up suddenly and grabs Heather, yanks her, and she falls sideways, hard, to the floor. She cries out.
30
My first instinct when I met Lloyd on the bus in Korea was to be wary. I didn’t know why. You didn’t suspect anything, or maybe you already knew and understood him better than I did. You might have seen the signs from Lloyd that this was coming. You tried to tell me things.
The student tour took us around the country in a caravan of buses, with flags waving. We were escorted by government vehicles, cars, and motorcycles. We went through red lights. Cars, buses, and other police vehicles stopped for us. They saluted us. Us. Americans touring Korea. We looked out the windows and complained that the air-conditioning wasn’t on high enough in our luxury buses with their plush, clean upholstered seats and scented restroom (even if it was an awful, flowery scent), weaving through the streets of Seoul. We, the privileged young people from abroad, spoiled with the conveniences of modern life in America. You and I rolled our eyes at the entitlement we heard throughout the bus. You and I knew better, and I guess Lloyd did too, but he was angrier about it. He slammed the heel of his hand onto the back of our seats when he pointed out the injustices. I saw this early on, the peripheries of his rage.
You were tender in contrast. I never saw you rage out of control about anything. Like the tip of your shortened finger, your fury was born missing. And you were always giving money away, even though I found out eventually you hardly had any yourself. Your parents were professors at a community college in North Dakota, and their salaries were not high. You said you wished you liked biology so you could share your father’s passion with him, but you leaned more toward your mother’s expertise in ancient history.
We were taken to the Seokguram Buddha on one of the first afternoons on the Korea tour. After that first conversation on the bus, it had been harder to be alone with you. Lloyd and others were always there talking to you about what was in the news. They pointed out political demonstrations that were taking place throughout Korea. Remember Jerry with the Yankees cap who sat behind you and the girl from Michigan who disagreed with both of you about the aim of the protesters? I listened and asked questions, but they drowned me out. When we arrived at the Seokguram Buddha, I decided to explore by myself, and to be honest, I didn’t trust this sudden onset of whatever I was feeling toward you. It felt like the beginning of obsession or addiction or love.
I went ahead with the crowd and left you and Lloyd and Jerry to debate the merits of one political party over the other. When I saw it, I stopped in my tracks. Before me was a gigantic solid-gold Buddha, sitting on a lotus pedestal. A dozen feet tall on a pedestal half his size, he sat cross-legged in his classic pose, palms open, back of his hands resting on his knees. The massive, serene face. A labor of love and more—devotion, fervor, desperation?
“The great accomplishments of the Korean people,” Miss Ahn, the tour guide, said.
“What are you smiling at?” You joined me on the periphery of the crowd.
“Why do you care?” I said.
“You’re mad at me.”
“I’m just looking like everyone else. Why ask me? Ask her,” I said and pointed to a girl in a clump of boys and girls a few feet away from me.
“Why can’t I ask you?”
“I’m trying to listen to Miss Ahn,” I said and moved away.
“I can tell you more about this place than she can,” you said, following me.
“No, you can’t.”
“I can.”
“I want to hear what she has to say.”
“I have something better to show you.”
“Not interested.”
“But you don’t even know what it is.”
“I’m busy.”
“Okay, sorry,” you said. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“Good.”
“Good,” you said and walked away, walked away to Lloyd.
My cheeks felt hot. I wanted to cover them and run off, but there was no place to go. I tried to pay attention to Miss Ahn, but all I could hear in my ears was your voice. I have something better to show you.
My cheeks were still flushed when you returned a few minutes later. “I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
I was thrilled to see you, but I didn’t want to show it. I looked up at the Buddha instead. “Can’t believe human beings actually made something like this. It’s incredible.”
“Ridiculous waste of human energy and monument to human enslavement, you mean.”
“Enslavement?” I raised my eyebrows at you.
You had a beautifully earnest face. “Lloyd said this was built by slaves in the Silla Dynasty—even up through the Joseon Dynasty, they had slavery.”
“But they don’t mention that anywhere.”
“Let me show you,” you said and took my hand. A small current shot up my arm at your touch and calmed itself as we walked. I loved the nearness of you. You said, “If you think this is fascinating, wait until you see this.”
“You’re so sure of yourself,” I said, keeping my voice light in case you thought I was mocking you.
“Lloyd says he hated me when he first met me. I can be annoying. It’s true.”
“You’re not annoying.”
“Yeah, I am. I know it.”
“Lloyd doesn’t know everything.”