Page 28 of Free Fall #1

“Because a lot of those young people were angry about their adoption. They had all kinds of big feelings and thoughts about it that I’ve never had.

” He flips his ponytail to the other shoulder.

“Like, for example, there was this one guy, eighteen or so, and he was distraught over questions about why his birth mother had given him up, and if she was okay now, and whether she was worried about him. Maybe I’m an asshole, but I’ve literally never thought that much about my birth mother?

It’d never occurred to me until that moment that I should maybe worry about her or wonder if she’s worried about me.

I couldn’t help but think maybe there’s something wrong with me that I’d never considered it. Do I lack empathy? Am I selfish?”

“Ah.” I can relate in a way. I never give a lot of thought to my mother or any of the foster families I’ve left behind.

Probably for different reasons, but I don’t find Sejin’s lack of worry for a woman he’s never met to be any evidence of a lack of empathy or a character flaw.

“Maybe you were just a happy kid with a happy family, and worry wasn’t something you tended to do much of anyway. ”

“You’re right. I wasn’t a very worried kid. I don’t think I ever spent a truly unhappy day until my mom got sick. Even when things were less than perfect, I was just…happy inside. I shrugged things off. Moved on.”

“Some people are just like that.” From what I’ve seen of him, Sejin doesn’t seem like a man bound by doubts or worries, even if he is uncertain about my free solo plans.

“How about you? Do you shrug things off?”

“No,” I answer earnestly. “I sure as hell don’t.”

He laughs. “Ah, you hold grudges?”

“With both hands.”

Sejin laughs again, and my heart flutters. It’s a rare feeling for me. One more typical of having sent a particularly difficult route, and almost never due to another human being, but I can’t deny Sejin’s done something funny to my insides right from the start.

“Did anything else make you feel alienated when you watched the video of adopted kids?”

I’ve got a lot of practice at feeling estranged, but I’ve always assumed if I were in a room full of former foster children, we’d have plenty of resentment to bond over. I guess Sejin had assumed something similar about being a Korean adoptee.

“Ah, it’s weird. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it means I’m not very smart?” Sejin says it like a question, and he finishes up his bowl of nachos, reaches for the bag of chips, and starts a second helping. I feel oddly proud, like I did more than warm up a can of vegetarian chili and throw it in a bowl over chips and cheese.

“You seem plenty smart to me.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I just don’t have the right priorities in life.”

“Priorities like?”

“Well, okay, so a lot of these adoptees were disappointed at what they’d lost, you know?

A bunch of them were angry that they’d lost their Korean culture, family, and the language of their birth.

A lot of them felt like they didn’t fit in here in the States, and never would, because they aren’t white, and they aren’t Korean—at least not in a way where they can mix well with first, second, or third generation Koreans here.

And I get that. I do. Because I’ve met plenty of Asian people now—Korean and otherwise—who assume that I’ve got similar background experiences as they do, but I just don’t.

You know, like…like this one woman made a lunchbox joke at me, sure that I would get it, and I didn’t. ”

“A lunchbox joke? I don’t follow.”

“So, apparently, a lot of first-generation kids, maybe even second-generation, I don’t know, get made fun of at school for having quote-unquote ‘weird stuff’ in their lunchboxes. Like kimbap.”

“But you had PB&J.”

“Right. Every day. No one ever thought my lunches were weird.”

“And these other adoptees in white families wish they’d had lunches other kids made fun of?”

“They wish they had their birth culture,” he clarifies. “And if that means having lunches that others made fun of, I guess they believe all the rest they’d have gained would have been worth it.”

“You don’t think it would have been?”

“I’ll never know. Until I watched this video, I admit I’d never thought about it much.

I mean, sometimes, yeah, my grandfather would be telling me about some family history like, ‘Your great-great-grandpa built that house,’ and it would occur to me that my biological great-great-grandpa hadn’t built it, or whatever.

But I didn’t linger on the thought, or feel hurt by it, or wonder what my biological great-great-grandfather had accomplished…

” He scoops more chili onto the chips, adds cheese, thinks a moment and says, “Though now that I’ve said that, I do wonder what he did with his life?

It’d be cool to find out. But if I never do, then that’s all right too.

I’m fine with some stuff being a mystery.

Like, I don’t know where my mom who raised me went when she died—like if there’s a heaven, or if there’s just nothing, or if she was reborn.

And there are things about her life I will never have a chance to know now that she’s gone.

Little things and big ones. There’s so much in death you have to just learn to be okay with not knowing.

Otherwise the questions can paralyze you. ”

“I agree. It’s important to make peace with the unknown.”

We sit in silence for a few seconds, both of us pondering another great unknown—the sky above.

Sejin shrugs. “Anyway, yeah, so that video was confusing to me. I think about it a lot now, how all these other adoptees are angry about being adopted, how they feel stripped of their heritage and are upset about being given to an American white family. And I have to wonder, you know? Am I doing my life wrong? Because it never occurred to me to feel that way? Was I robbed?”

“Yes, you were robbed, and no, you weren’t robbed. You lost one thing and got another instead. How you feel about it—how they feel about it—it’s not right or wrong. If you’re not mad, you’re not mad. If you stay not mad, that’s fine. If you get mad later, that’s fine too.”

“But should I be mad?”

“I don’t know. Should I be mad that I was passed around foster homes and—”

“I mean, I don’t know the details, but I’d say yes! You should be furious about that.”

“Well, you were loved. Maybe that’s the difference.”

“Some of these other adoptees were probably loved and they’re still angry about what they lost. But, right now, in my life? The thing I’m most angry to have lost is my mom, you know? The woman who raised me.”

I clear my throat. “That makes sense. It seems like she was a good mom to you.”

I feel like I’m vomiting up words from some how-to-be-a-human-being-in-hard-situations manual, and I wonder if this has been instilled in me from Peggy Jo, or Rye, or who exactly gave me the training to not make an utter ass of myself right now.

In the past, I’d probably have fucked this up badly enough that Sejin would get up and walk away.

“She was.” He sighs. “It’s okay. You can ask.”

“What?”

“How she died. I know you’re curious. Everyone always is, and most people ask eventually. Let’s just get it out of the way.”

“Alright. How’d she die?”

“It was breast cancer. She was fifty-nine.”

“That sucks,” I say again. What else is there to say in a situation like this?

“It changed everything.”

We sit in silence again, and then I ask, “What about your dad? Are you close with him?”

“Not really. Or not the way I think you mean. But he’s the reason I’m out here tonight with you.”

“How’s that?”

Sejin shrugs. He looks down at the now empty bowl in his hand, his lashes touching his cheekbones, and his lips curve up slightly. “What would you say if I told you that I think you and I are going to do more together than just fuck?”

“I’d say that’s pretty observant since we’re currently eating nachos and camping out while not-fucking.”

Sejin laughs, and I think I can see his cheeks darken in the light from the portable camp stove. Is he blushing? “Yeah, we aren’t fucking right now, are we?”

“No.”

“What I mean, though, is if we keep seeing each other, it’s going to turn into more than sex.”

“It already has,” I say, collecting his bowl and mine, and starting to clear up the food so that we can seal it up good and tight. “You officially know more about me now than anyone except for Rye and Peggy Jo. You probably know more than Lowell, to be honest.”

“Lowell Moody?”

“Yeah.”

“You know him?”

“Carried me out when I twisted my ankle a few years ago. We’re not close, but I consider him a friend. I think he probably considers me…annoying.”

Sejin laughs.

“ You know Lowell?” I briefly wonder if they’ve fucked, but then I remember Lowell’s ex-wife, and that he very recently confirmed that, while he is open to sex with a guy, he hasn’t done that yet.

It shouldn’t have mattered anyway, except that it does.

I really don’t want Sejin fucking anyone else for the time being, and some scary part of me, deep down, suggests that maybe I don’t want him fucking anyone else ever again.

That’s a bit much, though. That part of me needs to calm the fuck down.

“I know everyone in this town at this point. Working at Papa Bear, it can’t be helped. As for Lowell, I don’t know him, know him. He’s just an interesting person. Hot too. And straight.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh? Interesting. I just know he’s got that scary archangel vibe going on, and if he asked me to get in his bed, I’d put out.”

I waver between enthusiastic agreement about the whole “archangel” description, and a definite spike of anxiety at the “I’d put out” comment.

“Speaking of…” Sejin hesitates and gives me a very strange look before saying, “Are you still hooking up with other guys?”

“Are you?” I ask too quickly.

His eyes widen. “No. I’ve been way too busy. But the season has officially started, there will be offers, and I just want to know—”

“No,” I blurt out. “I mean, I don’t intend to hook up with other guys right now.

” Since when? And, Jesus, why? Just because Sejin’s pretty?

Because the sex is great? Because of his smile?

Because of the way he just talks to me like I deserve his life story?

I don’t know. But I’m not fucking anyone else if I can fuck him, that’s for sure. “I’d like it if you didn’t either.”

“Hmm,” Sejin says, considering, and my gut churns anxiously.

“I’ll let you know if I change my mind, but I’m okay with agreeing to fuck only you for now.

I mean, it’s not like I have a ton of spare time, and the sex we have is great.

If I’m going to spend my limited free time getting laid, I might as well do it with someone I know is gonna get the job done and do it really damn well. ”

“I take fucking very seriously. I won’t let you down,” I say, and it sounds ridiculous as soon as it’s out of my mouth.

Sejin laughs and puts his hand out. I take it, and I’m surprised by how cold his fingers are.

Mine are warm, and he curls his in around my palm, stealing the warmth from my skin.

“This isn’t a job interview, but I believe you, and I accept your proposal for a limited period of monogamy, to be renegotiated if things get unfun for either of us. ”

“Limited?”

“Well, you’re just here for the season, right? Surely you don’t expect me to stay virtuous after you’ve gone?” He squeezes my hand. “Or do you agree with me that if we continue on, things are going to get real between us super-fast?”

“No, I…” I clear my throat. “I kind of just thought we’d camp out tonight, and I’d get to fuck you again soon, and that would be that. But I guess what you’re saying is that you and I are…what’s happening between us is…” I fumble.

“It’s not going to stay casual,” Sejin says firmly. “I don’t think there’s any way. I mean, look at you.” He gestures at me, and I look down. “You’re holding my hand by a fire on top of a dome you made me climb, and I’m here with you despite my fear of heights—”

“Fear of exposure,” I correct.

“And we’re talking about our lives, and we ate nachos, and…

I don’t know. I just don’t think this feels casual.

Though, I guess if you were someone else, and I were someone else, it might still be.

But as it is…I just feel like if I keep seeing you?

If I keep having sex with you, or climbing with you—”

“You’ll climb with me again?”

“Maybe. But if I do these things, I’m going to fall for you, and that’s what I told my dad. I told him you’re into danger, and your lifespan might be shorter than usual—”

“Into danger.” I snort.

“And he told me a story that made me decide to go ahead and see you tonight. So, you have my dad to thank for the fact that I’m here at all.” Sejin’s hand clenches a little in mine. “Is any of what I just said a problem for you?”

I stare at his face in the light of the portable stove. The stars are tiny, glowing perforations behind him, and his hair is coming down all tumbled around his face, and I can’t imagine him not being here or missing this moment.

“No. I don’t have a problem with that at all.”

“Good, that’s good to hear.”

He leans in and kisses me. The world dissolves in a swirl of emotion I don’t understand. Feelings I’ve never had before swell and push against my skin and I murmur, “Oh, Christ,” against his lips before clenching the front of his jacket and dragging him close.

My heart pounds like it does when I try the dyno on Heart Route and miss. Falling hard and fast through space. Crash-landing into rock, solid and inescapable.

This time, though, my inescapable crash is into Sejin and his sweet lips.