She’s the lone thought that pierces through the haze of pain and disorientation.
I have to make it to her. I have to make sure Black Shell is not going after her next.
My hand twitches toward my pocket, where my phone rests, but I’m so out of it that it proves more difficult than it should be.
My vision blurs. I’m being dragged under, consciousness slipping away.
Monroe. The baby. I have to?—
But the darkness swallows me whole first.
14.Monroe
Once word gets aroundthat I’m going on an indefinite leave of absence, the faculty at the academy insist on throwing me another party—this time, a small going away luncheon in the lounge.
I show up to find it’s once again been transformed by a few pastel balloons and a hand-painted banner that reads “We’ll Miss You, Ssaem Monroe!” in slightly lopsided letters.
There’s a cake on the center table, decorated with blue frosting and tiny fondant baby booties, and a small pile of wrapped going away gifts waiting beside it.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually leaving,” Kelly says, drawing me into a tight hug. “Who am I supposed to complain to now? Who’s going to understand my suffering?”
“You’ll survive,” I answer. “I’ll be back eventually.Witha baby in tow.”
“I need regular updates and pictures! I can’t wait to see who he’ll look more like, you or Jin.”
The other teachers gather around, offering warm wishes and congratulations. Mr. Quincy gives me an awkward but genuine side-hug and tells me the kids are going to miss me.
Then come the gifts.
Kelly gifts me a mug that says “World’s Okayest Mom” with a winking face emoji, which makes me laugh out loud. Another teacher by the name of Mrs. Park presents me with a lavender-scented candle “for relaxation during those long, sleepless nights ahead.”
There’s a gift card to a Korean spa, a cookbook in both English and Korean, and some chocolate candies I can’t wait to devour as soon as I get home.
“This is from Mr. Noh,” a history teacher explains. He holds out a tin can for me to take. “He had a personal appointment today and couldn’t be here, but he wanted to make sure he gave you his gift.”
I open the tin to find it filled with Saenggang-cha—the same ginger tea that’s been calming my nausea and helping me through bouts of morning sickness.
“This is all so thoughtful,” I say. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”
“You deserve it,” Mr. Quincy says. “You’ve done great work at the academy.”
Looking around the lounge at these people who have become more than coworkers, my heart is full. But I have a new chapter waiting for me. A baby boy who’ll need his mother and a life with Jin that’s about to change in ways I can barely imagine.
By mid-afternoon, I’m back in my classroom, standing at the whiteboard while my students practice their pronunciation.
“Repeat after me,” I say, pointing to the word written in large letters. “BUTTERFLY.”
“Buh-tuh-fly!” the children chorus back, their voices bright and eager.
“Good, good! Now try this one. ELEPHANT.”
“Eh-leh-punt!”
I smile, making a mental note to work on the ‘ph’ sound next class.
These kids have come so far since the beginning of the school year. Even Jung-suk, the mischievous little boy who so frequently makes paper airplanes during my class, has been improving in his schoolwork.
I pause long enough for a sip from the cup of ginger tea I’ve brewed, the pleasant warmth spreading through me. It’s helped once again to soothe the queasiness that sometimes comes during the final hours of school.
