Page 87 of Free Heart
Somehow it all works.
The next post he scrolls to is similar, but the song and specific editing choices are different. I recognize the song as currently trending. I’d tried to use it in a video myself earlier in the week. Again, the person has edited a lot of photos from our social media with the clips of us during the proposal.
Ping. Ping, ping, ping. Ping.
Sejin’s phone starts blowing up. Since his screen is projected up on the television, I see it all.
Celli:aw, my heart! you got engaged! congratulations!
Gage:good for you. tell him i’ll beat him up if he stops worshipping the ground you walk on
Nevaeh:You said yes! Congrats, sweet cuz! He’s cute! And wild!
Getting off the balance board, I go over to where I’d put my phone on the table next to the picture of Peggy Jo’s dead husband—turned off, because I was tired of dealing with people.
Climbing back on the balance board, I press the side until the apple appears.
Ping. Ping, ping, ping. Ping. Ping, ping, ping-ping. Ping. Ping.
My screen is full of a long list of enthusiastic congratulations from social-media subscribers, but also some more skeptical ones from trolls—aka my friends.
Sailor: This could have been primo material for your channel. Opportunity lost! But, hey, he adores you. Try not to screw that up
Rye:Take care of him. He deserves only the best
Lowell:Take it from a divorcé who lost it all because I couldn’t get a grip on what’s most important—give up Heart Route and keep your man happy instead.
“This isn’t how I wanted to tell everyone,” Sejin says, still staring at the TV screen. A message from Leenie comes in, screaming in all caps:WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE, SEJIN?Followed by one from Martin saying:Congratulations, cousin. Hope you and Dan are as happy as me and Leenie.
I say, “Why not? It saves us the trouble of making an announcement.” I’m trying to sound blasé, but the truth is I don’t love that the messages from my so-called friends—see, Peggy Jo? I really do have some—all have a skeptical bent to them.
Sejin scrolls his messages, and I see that most of his closest friends and family have all messaged him now. “I guess that only leaves my dad to tell,” Sejin says.
“And we need to tell Peggy Jo,” I add, stepping off the board again, suddenly aware I’ve been doing it without much effort while watching the screens. I’m getting stronger.
Sejin sighs, stands and comes to wrap me in his arms. I nuzzle his neck, breathe him in, and whisper, “You can take it back if you want to. Everyone seems to think it’s a bad idea.”
“Not everyone. I think it’s a great idea, and I’m the only one who matters,” Sejin says.
He has me there.
“Besides, plenty of people seem to love it.” He shakes his phone at me. “Look at this feed!”
But the feed’s notallpretty videos and tons of congratulations, though there is plenty of that. There are also some cruel memes too. Gruesome illustrations, not much better than Jeanie’s on my refrigerator door, all depicting awful stuff—like me falling or hanging by a fingernail. Sejin scrolls by all that quickly, not even giving it a second glance. He finds another romantic video.
“What on earth? Why are they doing this?” he says on a laugh, all Appalachian and sweet. He points at the big screen in mystification. “I mean, I’ve seen them do this for celebrities, but for little old us? Why?”
“Guess we’re that cute, Doc.” Though even I’m taken aback when he goes to my GoFundMe page and I see the dollar amount is currently going up, up, up, and up. “At this rate, we won’t even need the donations from the kids’ show.”
“Oh, we’ll need it,” Sejin murmurs darkly, all too familiar with the enormity of my medical bills. “Wow, this is insane.”
“Guess I should have proposed to you before now. Saved ourselves all this anxiety over cash.”
Sejin rolls his eyes and closes the app. He still doesn’t look happy.
“What’s wrong? Isn’t this good? We need the money.”
“It’s just…” he starts softly. “That wasourmoment. It wasn’t meant for the whole world.”
