The Freedom of Maybe

 

“Jihyun, are you nervous for the exam?”

“Not really, I studied super hard for it so I think I’ll be okay.”

“You should have said yes. It’s more comforting to know that I won’t go down alone when I fail this exam, but that’s okay, I’ll get over it eventually.”

Rolling her eyes at her best friend’s sarcasm, Jihyun gave her a pointed look.

“Do you want my notes—”

“No,” interrupted Haein, “don’t bother. I don’t need to be reminded of all the things I don’t know.”

“That’s definitely counterintuitive,” said Jihyun.

“That’s definitely counterintuitive,” was the mimicked response. She watched in routine amusement as her friend dropped her head from her hands to the desk, her short black hair haphazardly fanning out all around her.

Accepting that as the end to their conversation, Jihyun turned back to her own desk, staring at the neatly organized blurbs of highlights and underlines she had slaved over the past week. It was the final exam of the semester before they broke from summer, but there was no time to slack. The professor of the class made it very clear that if anyone failed the test, they would fail the entire course, regardless of how well they did on everything else. As a result, everyone in the room had their notes out as they scrambled to cram in any last minute studying they could, including herself—number one in the university.

Letting out a small chuckle as she heard Haein begin to pray behind her, she allowed herself to momentarily appreciate the other girl. Even though she shamelessly complained and often dramatically recounted the foreshadowed tales of her impending failure, everyone in the class loved her. When all the others were stressed or bored, she was the one to lighten the mood, even if it meant making fun of herself. She loved seeing people smile, and so she would hide the fact that she was actually a straight A student and had probably studied the entire weekend for the exam in order for the others around her to remember how much they actually knew (and when the others would ask what she got, waiting to hear a low grade as to make themselves feel better, she would put on a big production as to why she couldn’t show them because she was too embarrassed).

Jihyun wondered if it was actually worth it—for she was proud of her grades and would never let anyone else take that away from her—but when she had asked Haein why she dumbed herself down to the others, she received the answer that the girl “appreciated life by never taking it too seriously.”

What did that even mean?

But even though her friend was an unprecedented level of confusion, a mess of emotions, and more often than not, the reason she was never able to get a full night’s sleep, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Out of all the regrets Jihyun had, not getting up and leaving when the then-long haired blonde sat next to her at the bus stop, rambling about some western rock band she had never heard of, was never one of them. They had been with each other through thick and thin and she would gladly only get an hour of sleep for the rest of her life—fail every one of her exams—if it meant she could listen to Haein’s rambling. They had fought for a week in high school and the silence that had consumed them had been devastating. Without Haein in her life for those seven days, everything was substantially less interesting, the sky a little greyer, her ambition a little smaller.

They were green eggs and ham, pumpkins and coffee, Kim Namjoon and dancing—things that don’t seem like they belong together, but in reality, are the other’s perfect other half.

At the sound of the door opening, the flurry of studying ceased. Taking a deep breath, Jihyun packed up her notes, got out two pencils and waited for the exams to be passed back. She was not too concerned; she had sacrificed what little social life she had to study for this exam.

She would get an A on it if it were the last thing she did.

When the tests had finally made it to her, she quickly grabbed one and passed it behind her to Haein. Before she could whip open the cover page and furiously tear through the questions, she felt a tap on her back. She could feel the beginnings of annoyance starting to blossom—she was now in the zone and needed to answer the questions before her mind spontaneously erased everything from her memory—but it was quickly crushed when she made out the familiar letters being tracked on her back.

'Fighting.'

Smiling to herself, she released a breath and got started.

Relentlessly answering question after question, a wave of relief hit her when she turned the last page and saw the words “end exam.” Briefly going over her answers (for all her hard work, she hated double checking it), she raised her hand and waited for the professor to collect the papers. Given the okay to leave, she looked around and saw everyone else still working. Slowly collecting her bag, she was aware of a few gazes shooting up at her in both jealously and anxiety. There was no prize for finishing first—in fact, it probably made her more nervous than anything.

Why wasn’t anyone else done?

What did she do wrong?

Did she miss the back of a page?

Before she could plead for her exam back, she caught the glare of Haein.

Glancing down at Haein’s paper, she was not surprised to see all the questions in the packet already answered, but the answer sheet blank. The girl would finish last, per usual, and once everyone was out of the room, she would easily transfer the answers she had determined long ago.

Lugging her bag over her arms, she quietly exited the room. Wandering down the hallway, Jihyun walked slowly. There was no point in waiting for Haein, but that was her last official exam of the semester; she wanted to do something before she changed into lounging pants and continued her marathon of Park Shin Hye dramas.

Turning the corner, Jihyun let out a grunt as she collided with another figure. Blinking a few times as she backed up, she found herself face to face with a guy she had never seen before. With sun kissed skin, bright eyes, and a childish grin, she forced herself not to stare as he rubbed his neck out of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry about that! Are you okay?” he rushed out.

Nodding, she replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m more than fine, actually, because you’re here. Wait, that sounded wrong, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, it’s just that I need to film something today and the guy who was supposed to film me cancelled and I’ve been searching this entire freaking university but everyone is gone or cooped up studying, and just when I was about to accept defeat I ran into you! If you don’t mind, can you please be my fill in cameraperson?” he begged. “I know you don’t know me, but I know you and you’re super smart and I think that you’ll pick up how to work the camera quickly.”

After a beat of silence, he let out an awkward laugh.

“I swear I’m not a creep.”

Unsure of what to do other than stare, she paused. How did this attractive human being know who she was? She had never seen him before and she would definitely remember a face (and voice and personality) like that. But that aside, he wanted her to use a camera? For as intelligent as she was, technology was not her calling. It took her multiple tries to learn how to use the front facing camera on her phone and he wanted her to film him?

What this a prank?

“Sorry, but I’m not really comfortable with tech—”

“Please!” he interrupted, the most adorable puppy face she had ever seen on a grown male masking his features. “You don’t even need to move the camera, just watch it on the tripod.”

She was not sure why, but part of her begged her to say no. He seemed like a nice person with honest intentions, asking nothing of her than a few minutes of her time, but she wasn’t one to trust easily.

What if he kidnapped her?

What if mugged her?

What if he laughed at her?

She hated “if’s” to her core. The possibilities were too many—too terrifying.

But she had nothing to do.

If Haein were with her, she would have said yes with one look at his chiseled face.

The other girl had told her that she would get nowhere in life by betting on things she already knew the answer to. She had thought about that statement for years, and while she still didn’t really understand it, she had to accept that she had not gotten anywhere but the top of her class by remaining static.

Giving him the once over, she crossed her arms.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, right! Sorry, it’s Kim Jongin.”

“Do you have a cellphone?”

The boy was clearly in a rush, not even questioning her as he pulled it out of his pocket and held it for her to see. Grabbing it from his hand, she slipped the phone into her pocket.

“I’ll give it back to you when we’re done. Call it insurance, if you will.”

A look of shock crossed his features, only to be swiftly replaced by a wide grin and loud, butterfly-inducing laugh. She could feel her lips threatening to pull up into a smile as he grabbed her hand and broke out into a run. 

 

***

 

“I did a horrible job filming his video. It was shaky, blurry, and quite frankly a hot mess, but in my defense, he told me I didn’t have to pick up the camera. He dug his own…”

Trailing off, Jihyun clenched her fists. She couldn’t do this—she couldn’t say the word yet. It had been two years and she had gotten better, but whenever she thought about it, she could feel the demons in her mind yanking her backwards.

She needed to overcome this.

She wanted to overcome this.

“Grave, Jihyun, he dug his own grave.”

Giving the woman an apologetic smile, she forced her hands out of their fists.

“What happened next?”

Smoothing out her pleated skirt, she took a calming breath.

“Even though we were done for the semester, he kept showing up in places I had never seen him before. The coffee shop, the library, makeup stores—wherever I was, he seemed to be there as well," she said, smiling to herself. "Eventually we started talking and suddenly my life was ten times more interesting. On those days when I’d just wander around the apartment he’d drag me outside and take me on a road trip. When I was sad, he’d show up and take me to karaoke. He consumed my entire life and honestly, it terrified me.”

“How so?”

“It was just—” Nervously crinkling her skirt, Jihyun broke eye contact and looked outside. She wanted this session to be over with. “I didn’t know how to be with someone like him. He was always moving, always looking forward to the next surprise, and I tried to keep up with him, but every time I matched his pace I—” Breathing labored, she covered her face with her hands.

She wanted to get better, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Or maybe she didn’t want to get better at all? Maybe she had deluded herself into thinking that she was finally back to some shade of normal when she was just as much of a ing mess as she had been a year ago. Tears pooling in her palms, she choked out a sob. “Every time I moved I found her father and farther behind.”

Opening crying in the woman’s office, she lazily wiped away the tears.

She was still broken.

Everything had been for nothing.

There was no point to any of this if she were still the same wreck.

“Jihyun, crying is good,” the woman soothed. “You’ve made a lot of progress on your own. A lot of people who come to me don’t want to come to me, but you’re already there. You are not broken, Jihyun. You are not being fixed and you are not being repaired—you are recovering.”

Accepting tissues from the woman, Jihyun nodded. She knew that, she really did, but it was so difficult to remember in a world where depression was a choice, not an illness—in a world where this therapy was a waste of money because she should just be able to get better on her own by positive thinking. She had tried by herself and it had gotten her to leave, but once he was gone, she had hit a wall.

“We can stop here today if yo