"What do you mean, you've never read it?"
     His hands flew to his head, his eyes slammed shut, "I remember about the damned citrus fruits. But never once have I held that book in my hands."
     "Who is Gatsby's love interest?"
     "Daisy."
     "Why is her husband lousy?"
     "He's having an affair with a woman named Myrtle."
     "What happens to her?"
     "Daisy runs her down with a car, I think."
     I looked at him square in the face, suspicion glowing in my eyes, "And you say you've never read it?"
     "No," he gazed into the palms of his hands, "I've never owned the book, or any books. Or anything, for that matter. At the lab, we only read the beginner readers they give to elementary students. Most of us started with nothing."
      "Most of you? I take it your knowledge of Gatsby's citrus fruits means you were ahead of the curve."
     He nodded eagerly, "I demolished the reading material they had for us. Eventually, one of the janitors slipped me a copy of The Catcher in the Rye. It's the only book I can remember reading."
     "Don't even get me started on that book. I read it in eighth grade, was confused by it, and never repeated the experience. Present day, all I'm left with is a vague notion of what it was, and of course the negative opinion of my thirteen year old self." I propped my head on my hand, and looked at Mark, belly full of chicken.
     "Sometimes I get the feeling that there is more to me than I remember."
     I looked at him quizzically, "Like a past life or something?"
     "Maybe. I'm not sure."
     "You full?"
     He nodded. I gathered the bones and threw out the wreckage of our midnight meal. He was staring into the wood grain of the table. Noticing the worried look on his face, I slid my arms around his shoulders. "Today has been a lot for you."
     "I really thought I was never going to see Jin-young again. When they told me someone would be coming for me... I mean, it was the moment I dreamed of. Life away from non-stop 'schooling' and the over-packed dorms we slept in. But when that hope became real, I almost didn't want it anymore. He meant so much to me."
     "I know what you mean. I feel like the luckiest person alive, living across the street from my best friend. Em is always in my corner. I've known her since kindergarten, when I punched a boy in the face for calling her ugly. It knocked out one of his teeth. It was my first and only school suspension."
     "You knocked out a boy's tooth in kindergarten?"
     "It was already loose, anyway." I laughed. He nervously fidgeted as I checked the time on my phone. Just as I placed it back on the table, he heaved up and pulled me into a tight hug.
      "Please don't make me go back home. I know I have to, just... not yet."
     I was being selfish and I knew it. I knew Angela was at her house, snoozing away, none the wiser that 'Henry' had snuck out once again. I couldn't tell what was blinding her to the obvious; her stubbornness, or her confidence that bordered on grandiosity.
     "I don't want you to go back home." I gave him a quick kiss, and broke free to change into some pajamas. I heard him come up the stairs just as I pulled my shirt on. I turned to see him standing in the doorway. I tied up my hair and padded off to brush my teeth. He followed.
     "You're getting ready for bed already?"
     "When I am this full, I get sleepy." 
     He watched me silently as I rinsed my mouth. I started taking my makeup off with a wipe.
     "I don't know why you wear so much makeup. You don't need any of it."
     "According to Angela, this seems to be the only right way to present my face," I spitefully blurted. "Sorry, that was uncalled for," I said after a moment of reflection. I broke up what was left of my eye makeup and lipstick with an oil cleanser and rinsed it off.
     "Shes just jealous, I think. I could see how she might feel unequal to you, Em, and Kirsten. And not just from the perspective of youth. You're all educated, working hard, and having something to show for it."
     "Other than money to pay off my student loan debt, I don't have all that much to show for my education and work," I finished my skincare and moved past him out of the bathroom. I began digging around for the box in my closet that contained my long-lost books.
     "From what I understand, Angela spent most of her time raising her kids. I think she wishes she invested in her career more," he sighed, "I think all of you are really lucky. I came from nothing, and I have nothing."
     I stopped dead, a book in each hand. I turned to face him, slipping my copy of The Great Gatsby into his limp fingers. I clutched a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice in my other hand. "It hurts to hear you say that. There aren't really words to respond to it."
     "I've spent a few nights turning that thought over in my head. That I have nothing. I have nothing, and yet for some reason you still entertain my attention." He flipped through the pages of the book nervously.
     "What do you mean, exactly, by having nothing?"
     "Well, other than my clothes, and I guess my phone. I don't have a job or money. I have nothing to offer you."
     I flopped onto my bed, "Look around this house, Mark. It's full of crap. My parents' old crap, my crap, even some of Em's crap. That's all this is, just stuff. And I would trade any of it for even just a day more with my parents. I don't want more stuff."
     "I couldn't even take you on a date if I wanted to,"
     He had a point, there. But I wasn't about to be defeated. "So you wouldn't call the past hour a date? I think we have been on several 'dates.' Do I need to bring up the time you were tweaked out on steroids?"
     "That's another thing I've spent too many hours thinking about," he palmed his face, "I'm still so embarrassed."
     "You don't have to be. What they did to you was out of your control."
     "That's not what I'm embarrassed about," his face turned beet red, "You may not like me anymore after I tell you, but... I'm embarrassed, because I would like very much to do it again."
     "What, the steroids?" I joked.
     He rubbed the back of his neck, "No... the other part."
     My heart quickened in an instant, I could feel the blood gushing in my ears and the heat prickling across my face. My brain quickly re-hashed the scene at the park, his lips on my neck. "Why so shy now? At the park, I thought you were going to devour me whole."
     "There were other people there, and I knew things wouldn't get out of hand with Jin-young and Kristin waiting around for us."
     He didn't have to say anything more. He was worried that when we were alone, things might go too far. Thinking about it, I wondered if he would end up feeling used if we did get that far. What would I feel if we went that far?
     "It wasn't an immediate request," he stammered, "I just wanted to tell you that." He glanced at the book again and saw what it was. "Why did you hand me this? I thought neither of us like this book."
     "I can't really explain why I never sold it, although I was positive I did. You seemed to remember some pieces of something when we talked about it. I was thinking you might gather some more pieces if you started reading it again," I stroked the spine of the worn out book I was holding, "Maybe I wasn't meant to sell it. 'Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.'"*