Somewhere Only We Know(46)

“What do you mean?” Lucky’s face was turned up to mine, the brim of her hat pushed far back enough so that I could see her eyes. They were open and curious.

“I think human history is, in essence, sad. Since the beginning of time, we’ve been stuck in this cycle of abuse and suffering,” I said.

She was quiet for a second. I wondered where she fit into this history. What her life was actually like. Was it glamorous as it appeared on her social media, full of first-class flights and free clothes? Or was it more of a miserable prison? She wasn’t here with me because her life was all Instagram vacays. Maybe it was something in between.

“Do you really think we’re stuck?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, look at us right now. We’ve had wars. We still have wars. We never stop being terrible.”

She made a face. “Yes, I can’t deny awful things have happened throughout history. Unspeakable, terrible stuff that still continues to happen. But I think it does happen less.”

“That’s not quantifiable, though.” It was so obnoxious of me to say that, but not untrue.

“No, but I have a brain,” she said, walking quickly ahead. Fueled by self-righteousness, it seemed. “And even without a list of statistics right in front of me, I could say the quality of life and general safety of human beings is, oh, ever so slightly better than the dark ages?”

“Ever so slightly,” I said with a small smile, trying to keep up with her. “By the way, do you know where we’re going?”

“No!” she said.

“’Kay, just checking,” I said. “Keep going straight until we hit the water.”

“Fine,” she clipped. “Anyway. I’m not some Pollyanna. Things are messed up. Human beings are both evolving and devolving constantly. We found the cure for polio but also we have automatic assault rifles. I get it. But I don’t find any value in like, cynicism.”

“Are you low-key insulting me right now?” I asked, amused and not offended somehow. I caught up to her so that we were now walking in step, back near the luxury stores, the crowds growing thicker.

“No.” She paused. “Maybe. I understand cynicism. I just don’t think it’s very valuable at the end of the day.” She slid an inscrutable glance at me, and I was trying to find a way to defend my jaded worldview when she pointed a finger in the air. “Human beings are messed up. But we are not beyond fixing!”

“Oh my God,” I said with a laugh. “What is happening right now?”

“You got me on a roll!” she exclaimed.

“Are you running for president?”

“No. But I could,” she said with a huff.

I imagined future Lucky doing great things, even greater things than she was doing now, and it suddenly struck me that I wouldn’t see Lucky tomorrow, let alone future Lucky. That this was the only Lucky I would ever see in real life.

The clock would strike midnight, and she’d be gone forever.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


LUCKY


I could be president.

Once, when I was twelve, I said, “I could be a K-pop star.” And I did it.

What happened since then? Why did I, at some point, when I achieved that exact goal, stop thinking I could do anything I wanted to do? Here I was, dispensing life-coach stuff to Jack, when I was kind of mired in the same fears myself.

Had I changed? Did what I want from music, from the K-pop industry, change? It didn’t matter, though, because the industry would never change.

The energy I felt earlier kind of zapped out of me.

We walked past a Porsche dealership where men in tuxedos were standing outside with trays of champagne proffered to potential buyers. The crowds were getting louder, so we grew quieter.

Then I heard the faint, soothing sound of flutes. It grew louder as we walked until we came across the source: a group of older women in track suits doing tai chi in a giant courtyard surrounded by various fancy stores. A small wireless speaker was playing the flute music at the front of the group where one woman in a raspberry-colored sweatshirt was leading them.

The juxtaposition of these calm older women with the bustling high-end shopping around them was surreal.

And I wanted to be a part of it.

“See you in a few,” I called out to Jack before I jogged up to join them.

“What are you doing?” I heard him call out behind me as I stepped into place with the third row of women. No one said anything, but shifted over and made room for me.

I’d never done tai chi before, but I could learn choreography by watching a single pass. Soon my limbs were moving in sync with everyone else’s—arms lifting above my head, feet shifting slowly from left to right, my knees bent at a slight angle throughout the whole thing.

Raise arms to chest level, lower slowly. So slowly. Push hands away from body. Bring back gently, pivoting body to the right. Then left. Bend the knee.

Jack watched us with his arms folded and a huge grin on his face. When I turned left and looked over my shoulder at him, he threw me a thumbs-up sign.

I felt so incredibly at peace.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


JACK


It would have been a perfect picture.

LUCKY FINDS HER GROOVE

Golden hour. Lucky surrounded by a dozen older ladies in track suits. She was a head taller than everyone else. And so graceful in her movements, as if she’d been doing it her whole life.