Chapter 2 : Why Stephanie?

For my sixth meeting with Stephanie, I proposed a picnic outside. Minjin-ssi had agreed right away but still demanded me to go through all the bureaucracy. I signed papers and did a long interview just to take the poor girl out in a sunny Sunday.

Stephanie wore stripped leggings with long-sleeved knitted top, obviously the best from all the clothes in her closet but still one or two size too big. It broke my heart just to imagine that all her belongings were hand-downs yet she managed to mix and match her outfit so well.

A denim tote bag was hanging from her shoulder, torn and frayed here and there. When I asked her what she keeps inside she opened the zipper and I saw the book we finished reading a week ago, a pencil case and a sketchbook.

How she had waited for my each and every visit to finish reading the book together was a gesture that made me sure that thing would work just fine between us.

“I haven't thanked you for the book.” She whispered from her seat as I drove my car slowly. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” I tried to look from the corner of my eyes and more than happy to know that there was a faint hint of smile on her face. “We can go shopping for clothes similar to the ones on the last page of the book if you want.”

“But Minjin-ssi said we're going to have a picnic today. I'm not allowed to go anywhere else with you.”

I laughed, as expected from the strict social worker. “You're right. I believe Minjin-ssi also told you to stay as close as possible to crowd, not to be alone with me in any circumstances?”

She nodded and I laughed again.

“Okay. Picnic at the park that is.”

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The picnic was nice. Stephanie wasn't as talkative as I wanted her to be but she listened intently as I told her my story. I mostly told her of what I did for living, adding bits of information about my family background and such. My wife was barely mentioned because I wanted Stephanie to know her by experience, not by my obviously-biased opinion.

After eating the sandwiches and downed her share of cola in one chug, Stephanie produced her sketchbook and shyly opened it to reveal her sketching. It was an amazing portfolio of dresses, bags, and and shoes all in pencil sketches. I watched intently as she reached a blank page and started to move her short pencil on the paper.

Stephanie reminded me of myself, a lot. And since I had been saved, I wanted to save her too.

“Why do you want me?” She croaked when her outline for an empire-line dress was halfway done. Her hand sketched rapidly, her eyes ref