Truth

"So you've been here as long as I have? You left the same day?" I stare, shocked at my best friend.

She grins. "Yup. After you did your audition, he told me, and I quote, 'You're weird. Come back tomorrow.' So I did. And he made me sing and then dance and then told me to pack my bags. I left on the flight after you."

I can’t believe it. "And your mom let you? What about Patricia?" Patricia, Nadine's thirteen year old sister. She looked up to Nadine as if she were a goddess.

She wrinkles her nose, and then switches to Spanish with a wary expression at Lucy, who hasn't moved from her position on the couch much to Joon’s contempt. “Lets not talk about that. And honestly, you don’t even want to know, girl.”

Unconsciously, I too switch to Spanish. “Why haven’t you tried to contact me?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Like you tried to get in touch with me? You’ve been gone over a month and you haven’t even called Alicia. The only way the woman didn’t eat her arm off worrying about you was because I updated her regularly on your damn health. Which, from what I hear, hasn’t been that great.”

“How do you know about the…thing, with Taemin?”

“You know,” she switches to Korean, looking at Taemin. ”She must think you’re an idiot.”

Taemin smiles at her as though they’ve been good friends for years. Then, to me, “I know we had unprotected , Ella. I don’t think either of us thought about it at the time, but by the time I woke up I became aware. I was prepared to deal with the consequences.”

Oh.

Still, “But how do you know I’m not pregnant?”

Lucy snorts, “I don’t know, the twelve bottles of soju in the dorm?”

There’s no way there’s twelve…But, yes, there is indeed twelve. Did we really drink them all?

“My head hurts,” she whines, staring up at her lover, who is glaring at her and has not moved from his position against the wall.

Finally Joon sighs and scoops her up, bidding us a good morning before exiting quietly. “So who are you studying under?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Nadine starts picking up bottles, capping them and lining them up.

“Why not?” I ask, sitting cross legged and noting that now that my attention is wrapped on my friend, the boys’ exhaustion becomes evident and they shuffle towards their room, and I hear a shower start. “And what are you doing?”

“Saving the planet, now shut up.” She sits down across from me, our knees touching. When her parents were fighting and I was sleeping over, we sat like this in her closet. We were much younger then; when she was twelve her parents were arrested on charges of dealing drugs, so she was adopted by a family friend whose home was much quieter.

“I’m not telling you because you’ve been a pain in my for the past month and you didn’t even think about me once so I’m not going to inform you on things you so blatantly didn’t care about.” She pretends to sound fakely annoyed, but I know she’s actually very hurt.

I slump. “Lo siento, mi Hermana. Between boys and class and trying to survive here I just became wrapped up.”

“Like I didn’t have the same problems,” she says. Then she holds up her hand, showing me the now rough surface of her fingertips, a few slight cuts on them. “Yet I still remembered you ever day.”

“Dean!” I grab her hands, holding tightly as she tries to pull away. “What the hell is this?”

Her eyes widen, and I can see the sarcastic, angry part of her come out. “And the angel curses! I must say I’ll have to write this in my calendar.”

My eyes water. “Nadine,” my voice breaks, “I’m so sorry.”

T-shirt clad shoulder drop and she sighs. “I’m not that mad. I do have a lot going on too, so I understand where you could become distracted."

“But you,” she turns to the side, lying back on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. “What’s been going on with you? What happened to innocent Ella?”

“I think someone slipped an aphrodisiac in my drink,” I joke, stretching my legs across her stomach. “Seriously though, I don’t know. We’d barely kissed on the plane and then we get home and…yeah. I don’t know.”

Now she sits up, knocking my legs rest on top of hers. “That’s not all I’m concerned about…” My best friend, my family, stares at the wall for a moment, contemplating. And then she turns to me, “Ella…I think you should see someone about your nightmares.”

I scoff, immediate barriers going up. “They’re just stupid dreams, Nadine. It’s nothing.”

“No!” She bursts, making me jump. “They’re not dreams! They’re nightmares! Taemin’s told me, you know, about how the only way you don’t dream is if he’s got his arms around you. I know that’s got to do with Christine, Ella, I’m not stu—”

“Don’t,” I plead. “Don’t bring my mom into this.”

“Your mom made this!” She shrieks, standing, pacing. I can see it in her, that this is something that's been eating her for awhile. “I know you like to believe that means she’s with you, or something, but those? Those dreams that make you crazy? Those don’t mean jack! They mean you can’t let go, you can’t even begin to accept that your mother is gone. Well guess what? She is gone.”

I can see the hurt, the anger, the confusion, the anxiousness in her eyes, as she turns to me, and says in a desperate voice, “Your mother is dead.”

What I did next I will never, under any circumstances, be proud of. The slap was loud, and my hand hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt before. But it felt good. Sickeningly good. “Get out,” I choked out.

She doesn’t back down. Her shoulders straighten, and the red tinge on her cheeks seems to only make her stronger, not weaker. I would’ve weakened. “Your first appointment with the therapist is in two days. And I’ve already talked with them,” she motions to the boys’ room where, although she can’t see it, Jonghyun and Minho are peaking through the cracked door, “and they agree that you need help. They’ll drag you there themselves if they have to.”

As she slips on her shoes and opens the door, I rush to her, stopping just short of hugging her. “Nadine,” I choke out. I don’t even know anymore. I just know I need to know we’re okay.

She grins, thwacking my forehead lightly. “I know, kid.”

And she walks out, the bruise on her cheek forming already.

Strong arms wrap around me, a familiar scent envelopes me. I lean back against his chest, crying into his neck. “You’re okay,” Taemin whispers. The Korean surrounds me in an easy way, comforting me like home, “You’re going to be fine.”

“How did things go so wrong so quickly?” I wonder aloud.

He laughs. “Things are fine.”

I turn, a fire in my eyes. “How can you say that?”

Both hands hold my face, warm and perfect, keeping me grounded. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes,” I answer without thought. Of course! More than anyone in my life, “I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, tugging me to my room. “Then trust me when I say you need to sleep.”

And, together, hands intertwined, I know that even the darkest moments, the people I trust will lead me to a dreamless sleep, a safe haven.

A place where no image will overtake me.