Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“Barely,” Harrison tells me. “I lost most of it when I came here, but I still remember some words.”
“Have you been back to Seoul since you were adopted?”
“No.” He snorts into his coffee. “We didn’t have money to take trips to Asia. Have you been?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’d like to someday. It’s funny—when I was a kid, I didn’t care to learn about where I came from. My parents wanted so badly for me to connect to the Korean culture. They would take us to Korean restaurants, read me books about the country, tried to make me learn how to speak the language. And I always resisted it.”
“I did too,” he confesses.
“Really?”
He nods. “Made me feel too different from my peers.”
“Me too. And I didn’t want to feel different. I just wanted to fit in. But the older I get, the more curious I am. That’s why I signed up for BioRoots. These past couple years, I’ve felt this need for answers. I wanted to know why my birth mother gave me up. Where is she now? Where is my father? Did he die?”
Harrison gives a wry chuckle. “And I’m no help at all, huh? I can’t offer you a single answer.”
“Maybe there are none,” I say with a sigh. “We might never know why we were dropped off at that orphanage. Or one day, we might get another DNA hit. Maybe find an aunt or a cousin who could provide insight into our birth mom’s decision to abandon us, into the identity of our birth father.”
“What if it’s the first one? Never knowing?”
I think it over. “Then at least we got something out of the search, right?” I smile shyly. “Each other.”
The waitress returns then, asking if we’re ready to order food, but we’ve been so engrossed in conversation we haven’t even looked at our menus yet. As Harrison picks one up, his sleeves slide from his wrists to his elbows, revealing his forearms. My heart stops.
Are those cigarette burns?
He doesn’t notice me looking at the scars, and when his gaze begins to lift, I hastily lower mine to my menu, pretending to study it.
When I put the menu down, Harrison’s sleeves are back at his wrists.
God. I can’t think of another reason why he might be walking around with what appear to be years-old cigarette burns on his arms. A reason other than abuse, that is. I want to ask him about it. I want to reach out, to comfort him, but I don’t know him well enough to do that. It feels like we’re on opposite sides of a chasm, connected by blood but separated by everything else.
“I still can’t believe you kept Tokki all these years,” he marvels after the waitress leaves.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to blink rapidly to keep them from spilling over. “I kept him because he made me feel safe. And because he was the only link I had to where I came from.”
“Well, I’m glad he helped. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more than that.” He smiles suddenly. “Actually, maybe I can give you something else. Do you remember your Korean name?”
I suck in a breath. “I didn’t even know I had one. My parents showed me all the adoption paperwork when I was old enough to read and understand it, and my name was listed as Baby Girl followed by a number.”
“It’s Hae-Won.”
I can’t hold back the tears anymore. A dam of emotion breaks inside my chest. I have an actual name.
Even if this…whatever this is with Harrison…even if it explodes in my face like a supernova, it’ll still be worthwhile for this one gift he’s given me.
“What’s yours?” I ask through the enormous lump in my throat.
“Ki-jung.” His eyes fill with a mixture of discomfort and sadness. “I don’t like to be called that, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not who I am anymore. Ki-jung is the kid whose mother didn’t want him.” He shrugs, reaching for his coffee again. “Harrison is the one who survived everything that followed.”
Pain stabs my heart. His words are confirmation that his childhood wasn’t a good one, although the cigarette burns had already told me that.
Seeing my expression, his softens. “It’s okay, Charlotte. It wasn’t your fault.”
But it doesn’t feel okay. I’d been given everything, while he’d obviously been left with so little. Yet he’s the one comforting me.
“I wish I could change things,” I say, my voice trembling.
He reaches out, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently places it over mine. “Look, we can’t change the past, but we can start fresh. Get to know each other as brother and sister. If you want.”
I nod, blinking back another rush of tears. “I’d like that.”
When I get back to Delta Pi, the weight of the encounter feels like it’s crushing me. I hurry upstairs and end up doing another first: napping the day away.