My Seoul Man

Chapter 13

I felt like Dorothy whirling around in that Wizard of Oz tornado, swear to God. But it was more like a Marx Brothers movie once I landed.

Let me just bullet point the madness we went through that day right quick:

- My cousin Renee, who has three school-aged children, was the first caller to get through and bawl me out about all the teachers calling in sick as if I'd told them to do it. Hinted around trying to get me to watch those wild ass kids of hers for the day, too. Which wasn't about to happen. I mean, her eldest boy tore up Mama Sadie's strawberry patch one Sunday because he couldn't find a ripe berry to eat. And the youngest almost choked a neighbor's dog to death swinging it around by its leash. So it was an easy "hell to the no" for me...

- In the midst of being guilt-tripped I suddenly remembered our church had this phone tree thing for emergencies. So, I called Auntie Jennie—who had already tried to call me a dozen times—to use that to find volunteers willing to watch each other's kids for at least the one day. And that got the pastor and deacons to start organizing emergency day care at the church community center. Which dominoed into a bunch of other churches making similar arrangements.

- Some custodians went with me to convince the cops to let us into the high school kitchen through the loading dock so we could haul brown bag fixin's over to the makeshift day care centers, where high school kids with nothing else to do and all kinds of other folks made sandwiches and bagged them up with packages of chips, baby carrots, apple slices and Oreos. The Ahns fed the volunteers for us, too, bless their hearts. Set up a little Asian buffet. A few newbies showed up with stuff, too, and joined in making sandwiches.

- The teachers' bargaining unit or whatever you call it held an emergency Zoom meeting that got the teachers to promise to return when the buildings all officially reopened. But the districts had to promise to explain exactly how they were going to decide who to let go and what assistance those ones would receive at another Zoom meeting the next day. And they had to agree not to retaliate, too, even though there were lots people on both sides calling for disciplinary action against the teachers. The Superintendent had already written a letter of resignation. One "duplicate position" they wouldn't have to worry about...

I only heard all the district stuff on the fly, though. Running around fixing things and then fixing the things that the first fix messed up—that's the Marx Brothers movie part.

We actually laughed sometimes when it got so manic there wasn't much else we could do but laugh. And busting a gut together sort of brought us closer together on a few levels, actually.

In fact, being thrown together in a crisis that big showed us a lot of things. Reminded me of this friend of mine who said the world came into mad sharp focus the minute she went into active labor just before her first child was born. Said there was this moment when she could see everyone for exactly who they were because that baby was coming and would need to be protected. Holdover from our prehistoric days, probably. Even from before we were entirely human.

But anyway, that's what happened with us, I'm sure of it, that day. I looked up into eyes I knew I could trust and eyes that felt "wrong" and eyes that soothed me when I was getting all manic again—my brain took note of all that for future reference, too. Moved me, the little gifts I received in the middle of all that mess.

I also just knew without checking that AJ had called a few times. I'd find out later that all my inboxes were full after the first couple of tries. But he knew everything—the grandparents, of course.

I meant to call him back, but as soon as I got home, I fell backwards onto the bed and passed out with my shoes still on and my purse still slung over my shoulder after almost four days of stretching my body to the limit.

But that little part of me that was beginning to know that AJ was the antidote to almost everything that ailed me picked up on that special ringtone coming from the little pocket on the outside of my purse a couple of hours later.

I'm not even sure what I said when I answered. But I remember him saying, "I hear you saved the day, actually." And then, after I told him, "I don't know where you got that idea," he said, "Well, I got another idea. You've got a day off, right? Tomorrow?"

I know I said, "As far as I know." And that I responded to, "How fast can you pack a bag?" with, "I'll try." I think...

I liked how playfully he laughed and said, "Well, can you just haul yourself out of the house, maybe? Your ride'll be there in...well, I'm not sure, but it won't be too long. Okay?"

I promised to try, again. And he promised it would be worth it. Or...something like that.

So I sort of rummaged in my purse to make sure I had my wallet, keys—the basics you check before you leave the house. And then I actually got up and started throwing stuff in a backpack, too. Grabbing things out of drawers and closets "willy nilly" like Mama Sadie used to say.

Ate some leftover pork I microwaved right quick, waiting to hear a car horn beep at me. Both of those things make me laugh now...

But I was nibbling on that when I heard this real loud noise overhead somewhere—a plane flying too low, I thought. Cause there was a little poor excuse for an airport not too far away where you could take flying lessons or even jump out of a plane if you were that kind of nuts.

I have never had the urge to hurtle out of an airplane hoping like hell that parachute doesn't do something weird on the way down.

So, when that noise got even louder and the house started shaking and the living room window lit up I gasped and went running to the door like the mother of that cute little Barry boy in Close Encounters...

And said, "Okay...that's...not a car," as a friggin' helicopter eased down right in the middle of my front lawn.

I said the same thing to AJ when he rang my cell and one of the pilots of that helicopter hopped out and headed for my porch.

And AJ said, "Your chariot awaits," just as the pilot got to the top step smiling all sweet like this wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever seen, because of course it wasn't.

So, I said, "Can I...call you back?" to AJ. Who said, "I'll see you shortly," like I didn't sound as weird as I felt, either.

And...well...about a half hour or so after that I was literally jetting through the sky in a sleek black bullet, sipping champagne, eating private plane munchies and staring at a big screen TV a few feet from the table in front of the plush leather seat I'd just been freed to get up from whenever I felt like maybe freshening up in the big master bedroom in back...

Yeah, Toto. We weren't in Kansas anymore for sure...