Jongdae

Look, I’ll admit it, I’m not the smartest guy on the planet.  I didn’t try too hard in school, slept through some (most) of my classes in college, and found myself in more parties than actual lectures.  But I always justified it to myself. I was just doing what everyone else did, playing by my own rules and ignoring all the consequences.

            Maybe you could say I deserved my fate.  Maybe you could say I had it coming for me.  But I can assure you, what I have now is something I never would’ve imagined.  You ask me five years ago where I saw myself today, and I can sure as hell tell you it wasn’t schlepping through Babies R Us, pushing a double stroller with two identical boys screaming at each other over a power ranger.

            To be fair, I had a choice.  When she first told me she was late, I acted like she was kidding.  But as I kept laughing, and she kept looking like she wanted to punch me in the balls, I started to realize that the scowl on her face wasn’t going to go away, and neither was the little surprise growing in her belly.  She told me straight she was giving it up, that there was no way she was going to raise a child, much less my child (she so lovingly added) while she was still in school.  And there I had my chance, my opportunity to ignore any and all of the responsibility, like I had done all of my life.  But in that moment, something came over me.  I am convinced to this day a domestic-demon alien hijacked my brain and compelled me to tell her that no, I could take care of them.  I would do it, even if she didn’t, because it wasn’t just a kid, it was mine.

I signed my life away with that statement.  I knew deep down, she had wanted my to say that all along.  I told myself I could handle it.  The next nine months consisted of me working hard for the first time in my life, for something I really wanted and really cared about.  I got a job, I cleaned up and went to class.  I put down the deposit for a tiny apartment and prayed I wouldn’t get fired so I could keep rent.  I don’t consider myself to be particularly spiritual, but I figured this was my way of repentance.  This is how I would pay up for my actions, my stupidity and carelessness.  Still, it would’ve been nice of her to tell me beforehand just how many little bundles of joy she was carrying.

I found out the hard way.  I was just getting off work when I got the phone call from her sister, or roommate, or friend or someone.  Though I hadn’t spoken to her much after she dropped the bomb, we did discuss how this significant moment would transpire.  She didn’t want anything to do with them.  The minute they were born, I was given full custody and my last name was put down on their birth certificates.  You would think with all of this, they would let me in the delivery room, but they didn’t.  And you would also think I would be told about how many there were by the doctor.  No, instead I found out after I ran to the nursery room.  The place all newborns go right after they are born for family to see.  I ran to the hallway and looked through the window.  Wondering, which one could be mine.

I asked a nurse who came out.  She asked for my name and pointed to two small bundles, in adjacent cribs, both with pale blue beanies on their little pink heads.  Like an idiot, I asked why there were two.  As she explained (with a rather worried and judgmental face, I might add) it hit me, and it hit me hard.  I started making the calculations in my head.  Twice as much formula, a second crib, twice as many clothes, and , double the diapers.  My head was spinning.  I stared as my sons through the thin glass and started to panic.  I was in way over my head. 

The nurse was still there and asked me if I wanted to hold them.  Wearily, I nodded and she led me to a room where she could bring them to me.  As I held my sons, one in each arm, I felt an overwhelming sense of protection.  I held them close, kissed their heads, and forgot about all my problems.  They were my sons, I knew I would do whatever it took to give them everything I could.  They would have the best life I could give them, no matter what it took. 

And I made a firm mental note that I would push them in school.  They were not going to end up like me; they were going to be better.

Kyungsoo

You know why I like numbers? They are simple. Exact. They always mean what they say and never change.  They aren’t as unpredictable as people.  They don’t have opinions, they aren’t spontaneous and they can’t change their mind.  That’s why I like numbers. They are logical, and I always know I will understand them more than I will ever understand other people.

            I never thought I would find another person who I understood.  Growing up, I was immensely awkward.  I kept to myself partially because I didn’t know how to talk to people, and also because people never seemed to want to talk to me.  Not that it bothered me.  I was content with my solitude.  It was stable.

            When I met her, it was like meeting myself.  She was quiet, I was quiet.  She was small, I was small. She was brilliant, and I was working on it. I have to thank my first-year professor for setting us up with the group project, otherwise I never would’ve spoken to her.

            Our conversations started small, weak almost.  She asked me my name, I asked for her’s.  We divided the work.  We made lists and schedules.  We were planning on doing the project the way we had done everything else in our lives, alone.  But our plans didn’t work out.  Somewhere between that hellish assignment, the long nights cramming together to finish it, and the lack of desperately needed sleep, I found a person I finally understood.  She said things right as I thought them, she could finish my sentences as easily as her own and I found myself falling for her faster than I had ever gotten to know someone before.

            After that class, we became inseperable. We worked together, lived together, and when we were together, there was always something to be said.  I found that as long as I was in her presence, there was never a dull or boring moment.  I thought I had found my soul mate, the one person in this world that I could understand completely and who understood me just as well.

            To this day, I never regret having a child with her.  Even after she betrayed our love, I found myself still happy that he was ours.  I still try believe that there is no better person for him to call his mother.

She didn’t’ leave right away, either.  We had our picture perfect family for a couple months before she walked out.  Those were some of the happiest times of my life, which just made it hurt even more to watch her walk away from it so easily.  When she left, part of me was sad to lose her, but most of my heart was just dumbfounded that I didn’t see it coming earlier.  I was blindsided.  It all happened too quickly and unpredictably, something I never thought I would have to experience with her.  She had been my rock, the one steady person in my life who I thought I could depend on forever, but even she had proven to be no better than all the other people I knew.  She was, in the end, still so unpredictably human.

When she left, I lost my trust again.  She had made me think that not all people were the same, that there were some people out there that I could count on.  Watching her leave with nothing more to say for herself than petty excuses shredded my soul to bits.  I relearned that people are not that dependable, they weren’t as stable as the numbers I understood. Everyone has flaws and an unpredictable nature, and only people who can identify these can make it in this world.  It hurt to realize I was not someone who was able to identify them, but if I know one thing my experience has taught me, it is that I’ll make sure my son will.

Yixing

My whole life I have spent waiting.  I was always the last in line in primary school and the last to get picked for sports teams.  I waited for one year to end and for the next to begin.  When I got older, I began waiting for more important things.  I waited to graduate school, I waited to save money, and I waited until I was finally able to leave.

I had realized at a young age that all of my waiting was pointless unless I had something to wait for, so I chose my own goals.  I graduated school and left my home, traveled somewhere new and foreign where hopefully, I could stop waiting and start finally living my life.

Of course, nothing changes over night and old habits die hard.  Even in a new country I waited, but I also found my way.  I was no longer waiting just for the sake of waiting, I felt like I was doing something with my life.  I was enjoying myself, I was trying new things, and after enough long waiting, I finally found love.

I fell in love with her for one reason, she didn’t make me wait.  She was adventurous, spontaneous, and never waited for something or someone to come to her.  When she had her eyes on something, she went for it, and I was lucky to be able to follow her.  Together, we explored this new world.  We shared a common background and history, but were determined to create a new future together.  She led and I followed, and we were never far apart.

I kick myself every day for not following her the day she left.  She made me stay, not wanting me to go back with her because she was sure it would only lead to trouble.  It was the first time I had ever seen her look so scared, so small.  But, like a fool, I listened.  I followed her words instead of following her actions.  I stayed behind in our future while she ventured back into her past.  She said, do it for the sake of our son.  He cannot ever go to where I came from, I would die before I ever bring him there.  I figured she knew best, I wanted the best life for him as much as she did and I knew deep down she was right.

She promised me she would come back, she even said it would be soon, so I waited.  For the first time in a long time, I found myself waiting again.  But never before had it been so hard.

Now, even a year later, I’m still waiting.  I haven’t heard from her since she left. I’ve called, emailed, I even sent her a letter, but she never wrote back.  I can’t bring myself to accept it, that she may not be coming back. I hold her in my heart, hoping that someday she will reappear again before me and we can continue our adventure.

It’s not the same without her here anymore.  I miss her everyday and I worry for our son.  Without her confidence surrounding me, I have become more of my old self.  I want him to have her in his life.  He needs to grow up remembering her, inheriting her shining confidence.  I fear I’m not enough for him, that I can’t do this on my own.

But as always, I’m waiting.  Dreaming of the day she returns and our adventure can live on.

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