Almond(22)

36


There is no such person who can’t be saved. There are only people who give up on trying to save others. It’s a quote by the American accused-murderer-turned-writer P. J. Nolan. He was sentenced to death for murdering his stepdaughter. He pleaded his innocence throughout his prison term, during which he wrote a memoir. It later became a bestseller, but he never witnessed it himself—he was executed as planned.

Seventeen years after his execution, the real murderer came forward, and P. J. Nolan was officially proven innocent. The person who had committed the terrible crime against his daughter was his next-door neighbor.

The death of P. J. Nolan was controversial on many levels. While he was innocent of his stepdaughter’s murder, he did have a serious criminal history of violence, robbery, and an attempted murder. Many said he was a time bomb, and that even if he’d been acquitted, he would’ve caused other trouble sooner or later. In any case, while the world judged the now-dead man as they pleased, P. J. Nolan’s book sold like hotcakes.

Most of his memoir was an explicit account of his deprived childhood and rage-filled early adulthood. He wrote about what it felt like to stab a person with a knife or rape a woman, and the descriptions were so graphic that some states actually banned the book. He described it as if he were explaining how to organize the groceries in the fridge or put paper neatly into an envelope. There is no such person who can’t be saved. There are only people who give up on trying to save others. I wondered what might’ve been in his mind when he wrote these words. Did he mean to reach out for help? Or was it out of deep resentment?

Was the man who had stabbed Mom and Granny a type like P. J. Nolan? Was Gon? Or rather, was I?

I wanted to understand the world a little better. To do that, I needed Gon.





37


Dr. Shim was always calm no matter what I said, even when I said things other people would find shocking. He remained composed when I told him what had happened with Gon too. That was the first day I told him about myself in detail. About my naturally small amygdalae, the low reaction levels of my cerebral cortex, and the training Mom had given me. He thanked me for sharing.

“So you must not have been scared when Gon hit you. But you do know that doesn’t mean you were brave, right? Let me be clear—I won’t stand any more of this from now on. It’s also my responsibility. Put plainly, you should have removed yourself from the situation.”

I agreed. That was actually all Mom had wanted me to learn. But when there is no coach present, the player slacks off. My brain had simply gone about its business as usual.

“Of course, it’s a good thing to be curious about others. I just don’t like the fact that the object of your curiosity is Gon.”

“Normally, you would tell me not to hang out with Gon, right?”

“Probably. Your mom would have said so. That’s for sure.”

“I want to know more about Gon. Is that bad?”

“You mean you want to be friends with him?”

“How does friendship work, usually?”

“It means to talk face-to-face, like you and me now. To eat together and share your thoughts. To spend time together with no strings attached. That’s what it means to be friends.”

“I didn’t know I was being friends with you.”

“Don’t say you’re not.” He chuckled. “Anyway, this sounds like cliché but you’ll eventually meet the people who you’re meant to meet, no matter what happens. Time will tell if your relationship with him is meant to be.”

“Can I ask why you’re not stopping me?”

“I try to stay away from judging people easily. Everyone is different. Even more so at your age.”

*

Dr. Shim used to be a heart surgeon at a big university hospital. He performed many surgeries, and the results were great. But while he was busy looking at other people’s hearts, his wife’s heart started to ache. She went speechless, but he still had no time to look after her. One day, they finally went on a trip they’d always longed for. It was a deep island overlooking the blue ocean. Dr. Shim watched the sunset, sipping a glass of white wine. But all he could think about were the things he needed to do when he returned to work. Just before the sun sank into the ocean, he fell asleep. In the middle of the night, he was jolted awake by the sound of a sudden gasp. He saw his wife clutching her chest, her eyes wide. Her heart’s electrical signals were going haywire. Without warning, her heart had begun beating five hundred times a minute. Everything happened so fast that all he could do for his wife was to stay by her side, crying, holding her hands tight, telling her to hold on and that everything was going to be okay.

Then her wild, beating heart stopped altogether. There were no electrodes, and no one to rush to his aid when he yelled “Code Blue.” Dr. Shim frantically continued pumping her already-still heart like an amateur surgeon. By the time an ambulance came an hour later, her body was cold and stiff. That was how his wife left him forever, and Dr. Shim hadn’t held a scalpel since. All he could do now was reflect on how much he had loved her and how little he had showed it to her. He couldn’t bear to tear open a person to see a heart beat.

They hadn’t had any children, and so Dr. Shim was left alone. When he thought of his wife, he was reminded of the savory aroma of bread. She would always bake for him, and to him the taste of bread was nostalgic. It aroused in him his long-forgotten childhood and brought back faint little snippets of memories. When his wife was alive, there would always be freshly baked bread on the table in the morning. Dr. Shim decided to learn how to bake. He felt that was the least he could do to honor her. Logically, it didn’t make much sense. What was the point when his wife was no longer there to eat his bread?