Sehun…

His name suddenly sounded smooth and cool. He watched her go through the sliding doors and into the elevator. Suddenly, he felt very lighthearted. Now he was certain that despite Namjoo’s cold shoulder, she didn’t dislike him.

As he drove out he glanced back at the apartment building. He’d remember this place for sure. Next time, maybe he’d even get to go up to where she lived.

When he returned home he showered and once in comfortable clothes, he went over the recipe book he’d used that morning. If the meat had been too salty he’d just cook it again.

The following day at work he waited in his car for Namjoo to drive into the parking lot. Sehun checked the time three times before he was nearly late clocking in. He’d made lunch again, had cooked with less salt this time. Whatever good may have happened last night, Namjoo didn’t come to work.

¤¤¤¤¤

Namjoo’s heart was still beating fast. She had checked her rearview mirror several times on the way back and Sehun had indeed followed her just to make sure she arrived safely. Knowing it made her feel warm. Positive feelings for him engulfed her on her ride up to her apartment. She couldn’t stop thinking about how he talked to her so comfortably as if he’d known her a long time. Who else had ever made her feel this way but Yeol? Sehun came so close to it she couldn’t keep from wavering.

The good feelings came to a pause when she spotted a woman sitting in front of her door hugging herself, appearing tiny and afraid. Nearing Namjoo recognized Yeol’s younger sister, Mina.

“Mina?” Namjoo called out stopping at her side.

The young girl sobbed. Turning around to look at her Namjoo saw a face streaked with tears and running mascara.

“Namjoo,” the girl cried, “what do I do? It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault!” Mina buried her face into her hands, sobbed harder, louder.

Yeol’s father had been rushed to the ER after a heated argument with his daughter about her dreams. She wanted to drop out because an entertainment company was finally making love calls. Yeol had always been the patient mediator between the daughter and parents, because he had been the eldest, he was wise, smart, and successful so his parents heeded him. They looked at Namjoo in the same light. Now that Yeol was gone, Namjoo had to stand in Yeol’s place.

She expected Yeol’s father to spend the night in the hospital, be better after some intravenous therapy but that wasn’t the case. Park Chunghee had been diagnosed with high blood pressure when Yeol started high school. At times his father’s high blood pressure waned due to his diet outside of the house. That was when Yeol’s mother started taking a step up to control the food in the house, but after Yeol’s death it seemed depression spread among the household.

Nowadays, Park Chunghee only worked in his tiny workshop, spending a lot of his time refinishing projects. Controlling his blood pressure was a challenge. The man ate homemade meals sometimes and a lot of other times, drank and ate fatty foods. It looked like he was trying to shorten his life span.

Yeol’s household seemed to be on the verge of breakdown. There was Mina, a college student, who may have her own goals, but on the contrary, she was still a student. Yeol’s parents had saved hard to send her to college, get her a decent education. Their effort was going to naught. Mina barely studied. Her parents no longer gave her attention. They mourned for their elder son more than they loved their only daughter. Yeol’s mother struggled to juggle her husband’s needs and Mina’s. The old woman was breaking down inside her steady shell.

And Namjoo was unable to move on from this crisis. Glued right there in the middle of their family.

It hurt and it hurt, and it hurt some more.

She didn’t want to walk into the ER. The winding white hallways haunted her. The bright ceiling lights threatened to blind her as she bravely sauntered forth with Mina clinging to her arm still a crying mess. She had to hold herself together for the family if she couldn’t do it for herself. Yeol had been important to her, so his family was hers as well.

Those cries of despair deafened her ear when she stopped to let a nurse wheeling a patient with a freshly broken leg through. The echo of heart monitors made her want to collapse to the ground and block her ears. She didn’t want to hear the life revolving around her. Not the grief, the despair, or sadness. She was already heartbroken as it was. No more.

But Park Chunghee, Yeol’s only father, had gone into a hypertensive emergency state. The argument with his daughter had elevated his blood pressure and he’d suffered a . They had yet to wait for further results. His heart may be damaged, part of his body may become paralyzed. He may never be able to feel his arms or legs again. Never be able to touch his projects again.

A tangle of wires was inserted into Yeol’s father. The monitor beside him confirmed he was alive but he was still in sleep. And he lay on a white bed identical to Yeol’s death bed. Beside the man, his beloved wife cried sorrowfully.

Namjoo was numb. All she could do was try to keep her heart from plunging any further into the ground. It might even go six feet under where Yeol lay in peace.

“I’m here,” Namjoo announced her presence.

Yeol’s mother, eyes severely red and swollen, turned. She let out another wail before standing up to cling onto Namjoo’s arms like her daughter.

“Namjoo, what are we going to do?” she cried. “Your father won’t be able to move his arm again. Oh, what are we going to do? What is your father going to do?”

“It’s all right,” Namjoo hugged the woman. It was all the comforting she could do. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.”

Namjoo spent the entirety of the night with them. Lab tests took forever so results wouldn’t get back to them till tomorrow at the earliest. Maybe in the evening if it took longer. Namjoo persuaded Yeol’s mother for over an hour until the woman willingly went home to pack some of her belongings before returning. By then, hopefully Yeol’s father would be transferred to another room. In the meantime, Mina would stay behind.

The drive to Yeol’s home was quiet, desolate. Yeol’s mother, Ahnjong, had stopped crying altogether but she was still sniffling. Namjoo hadn’t come back to the two-story blue home with a pretty garden Yeol’s mother tended to in the warm seasons. All her effort showed in the beautiful wild flowers blooming happily under the sunlight.

Driving into the drive way Namjoo stopped the car and they got out. Since Yeol’s burial she only visited during special occasions. Too much of him existed here. She feared she might smell him if she walked through the threshold. If she saw his baby pictures she might cry, wondering if their son would have looked like him. They had made love in his room when his family were gone during the weekend. Had Yeol hidden things in his room she had never found before?

The dread splashed through her when Yeol’s mother unlocked the door. The living room stretched into the kitchen. A stairway led to the bedrooms. School taken pictures were plastered on the wall. His parents hadn’t taken down Yeol’s. She saw a new addition of pictures that showed off Yeol in his blooming high school years on the track team.

Her heart ached.

So much of him here paining her.

“You must be hungry,” Yeol’s mother, throat dry from the lack of water and crying so much, said. Leading Namjoo into the kitchen she pulled leftovers out from the fridge. Yesterday’s uneaten dinner sat on the stove. It appeared the argument had taken place just before the evening meal.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Yeol’s mother touched her arm. Her voice broke and she cried, “I don’t know what we would have done without you. I’m so glad that Mina still has someone she can trust if not us.”

“It’s all right. Don’t cry,” Namjoo hugged the woman. “It’ll all be ok.”

“I’ll go pack now.” The woman moved back. “If you’d like to rest, you can borrow Yeol’s room.”

As the elderly woman walked away Namjoo sat down to eat. Alone again, by herself. Even in Yeol’s home she was eating alone. Picking up the spoon Namjoo fed herself. Yeol’s mother returned after a fresh shower explaining she would be heading back to the hospital by cab. Namjoo ended up staying. The only room she wandered into was Yeol’s.

His home smelled of family and brokenness. Despite all the homey pictures and lovely items sitting on the table and counters beside sprawled out mail, Yeol’s family was still slowly and struggling to move on. Yeol hadn’t been able to bid his farewell and they hadn’t been able to say their part. That was where it hurt most.

Namjoo traced the smooth wall of Yeol’s room. Since they got married and Yeol moved out his room had become some kind of storage room, but after his death it went back to being a memory of him. There on the table was a dusty old computer no longer used. Yeol had played with it daily after school, only when he’d finished his homework. It had been a privilege for him. Namjoo remembered sitting between his legs as he hugged her from behind while showing her the games he had stored on it.

His poster of Sonic the Hedgehog was still plastered on the wall. Beside that was a girl group he adored. A small shelf of his Gundam and car collectibles was still there, untouched. She had his old audiotapes and everything else he’d brought with him when they married, leaving fragments of him behind.

Dust had gathered over so many of his things and it spoke of how long he’d been gone. His twin bed was still there against the wall. The sheets were clean. Yeol’s mother must have changed it right before announcing her leave.

They had lain here together some time ago but it was all memory now. Namjoo bit back the urge to cry as she slowly laid down to bury her face into the pillow that no longer smelled of him. God, she missed his musky scent.

¤¤¤¤¤

Two days now and Namjoo hadn’t come back from where she’d gone. Maybe if they were closer he could have gotten her number.

Sehun turned from his chair to peer out the doors when heels clicked by. It was just someone strolling past. Turning back to his desk he got back to work. If Namjoo was sick, he thought, he could visit her. At least he knew how to make rice porridge.

The day ended. He declined karaoke night with the others and headed home to find out he was fresh out of food. Heading back out he stopped at the mart groaning when he realized he’d forgotten to make a list. He ended up having noodles that evening.

The next day he waited in the parking lot to see whether Namjoo was coming to work or not. He had been on the watch for her when a knock on his window made him turn. Tall guy Hyeok Seok smiled and waved him out.

“What you doing?” he wondered then glanced around. “Don’t tell me you’re office dating.”

Sehun scoffed. “I haven’t been seeing anyone.”

The friend nudged him. “Don’t lie. That’s why you’ve been rejecting my invitations for a drink, right? So, who is she?”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Sehun repeated.

Hyeok Seok frowned at him then narrowed his eyes, “Then who are you waiting for?”

“The team leader.”

“Oh…why?”

“I’m just curious where she’s been.” Sehun said, forced to turn and head inside the building.

“Why would you care?” Hyeok Seok said. “She’s probably on vacation. Anyway, did you see Iseul the other day? I think she was sending me a signal. I’m thinking about getting her number.”

Sehun zoned out as they rode the elevator up. Sure he’d gotten acquainted with the other new hires and even other senior co-workers, but Namjoo was still far from the list. And she seemed the most interesting just because he’d only learned a thing or two about her. Their senior co-workers didn’t seem curious about her whereabouts which made him wonder if they knew about her at all. He would ask but he didn’t want to look nosey and didn’t want them to think he was up to something inappropriate at work.

Sehun declined drinks after work again. Today he intentionally went walking around the bank he first saw Namjoo with her dog. The sun was starting to droop but the air was still fresh and the streets hugely occupied. He waited, sat at the potted flowers, and watched vehicles drift by. In the end, he went inside the bank because he was starting to heavily sweat.

He peered out the window to see women and men walking hurriedly. Finally standing when he recognized a tiny dog in the distance happily bouncing he hurried out. Namjoo wasn’t dressed in her business attire that mismatched with her boring shoes. She was in shorts and a t-shirt. Wide black-rimmed sunglasses covered her eyes.

Raising a hand to wave, he greeted, “Hi.”

Stopping she turned to look at him. She hadn’t seen him. Instead of returning the greeting, her pug sniffed his leg before jumping and placed his tiny paws against him. There was a loud bark that made passersby turn.

“Down, Olly,” Namjoo called.

“Olly,” he repeated then bent down to pet the tiny creature that was panting heavily with tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He turned his head, his bug eyes looking elsewhere as Sehun rubbed him. Straightening he glanced at Namjoo, “Thought I might run into you here.”

“We’re just taking a quick walk,” Namjoo said impatient to pass.

“Did you take a vacation?” Sehun wondered. “I haven’t seen you at work recently. I remade lunch the other day but you didn’t come. I used less salt this time.”

“I’m taking unpaid time off,” Namjoo explained.

“Oh…” he mumbled. “Why? Is something going on?”

He wondered if it had to do with her husband. Olly sat and whined.

“Can we do this later?” Namjoo asked. “Talk, I mean.” Twisting her wrist, she glanced at her watch, “I’m running late.”

“You mean, meet up later?” he asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Namjoo said starting to pass by.

“Then, lets meet at the drinking stall we were at last time?” he questioned. Namjoo was already on her way down the sidewalk. All she did was raise her hand before disappearing around the corner.

¤¤¤¤¤

Park Chunghee had suffered a . He was diagnosed with aphasia and paralysis on his right side. He would have problems controlling his bowels and bladder and with moving. These could end up being long term problems. Yeol’s father would be bound to a wheelchair, a bed even worse, if he couldn’t recover. Upon hearing that Yeol’s mother had broken down in tears. His daughter had turned away ashamed of herself. Yeol’s father would need to go through therapy and take medication to prevent any blood clots. The doctor specifically encouraged antidepressants.

Yeol’s father sent them a steel hard gaze. From the moment he woke up to the news he angrily shoved the hospital food with his only mobile arm. Namjoo listened to him grunt angrily like a wild beast. She watched him send Mina sharp death glares that said he would never forgive her for making him like this. Yeol’s mother cried and cried. All Namjoo could do was stand there as their pillar. For Yeol’s angry father, to soothe his wrath. To comfort Yeol’s broken mother. And stand for Mina’s dreams.

Yeol’s father would be discharged the following week. If they followed the doctor’s plans and cautions and made sure he took his medication as instructed, recovery would not be far. Still, Yeol’s mother refused to come home. Mina, the abandoned daughter, wept from guilt, crying so hard she finally fell ill. Namjoo took her home with her until Park Ahnjong was ready to have the needed conversation with her daughter.

“Where are you going?” Namjoo asked. She’d just returned from walking Olly. Mina who had been bedridden was now up and dressed in short shorts. A hot red crop top covered her upper half. Namjoo could see her ribs poking out.

As she pulled on long black socks she replied, “The squad is doing a mob dance tonight at Gwanghwamun Square.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still sick,” Namjoo closed the door and released Olly’s leash. The dog went running to his water bowl and noisily drank up his water.

“I’m going. I can’t stay cooped up here. It’s…” her eyes became teary, “it’s suffocating.”

Namjoo pursed her lips feeling sorry and guilty. “Ok,” she gave in, “but you can’t stay out too late. Do you have money?”

“I have a little.” The girl quietly said.

“Wait here.” Walking into her bedroom Namjoo pulled some twenties from her purse. Heading back out she placed the cash into Mina’s palm. “Don’t starve. You have a copy of the keys?”

Mina nodded. Sniffing, she hugged Namjoo and tightly this time. “Thank you so much, Namjoo. I’m so happy Yeol married you.”

After she left, Namjoo fed Olly sitting on the ground to watch him eat. She his back gently in order not to interrupt his meal. As his meal crunched between his teeth Namjoo felt emptier than ever. Three years Chanyeol was gone and it felt just like yesterday he’d left, leaving his family with her. If he was at least there to give her a pat on the back it might not feel so difficult. But this constant wallowing emotion from missing him made it a little harder. The tears his family was shedding made it all heavier.

“It will be ok, right?” Namjoo asked her dog who gave her no attention. “It will.” But even as she said it aloud she felt no confidence.

¤¤¤¤¤

Sehun waited nearly 45 minutes ordering and reordering the same bowl of soup as he waited. The night waned and more customers entered the drinking tent. He peered out into the street hoping Namjoo would keep her word. He ordered another bowl before a figure glanced into the tent and walked in without sunglasses this time.

“So you came,” he greeted. “Want food?”

“Just a drink.” She sat down. He noted she wasn’t wearing makeup. There were bags under her eyes and she looked tired.

“Have something,” he urged and called out for another bowl of soup and a drink on the side. “You haven’t slept?”

“I’d probably be drinking coffee instead, don’t you think?” Namjoo asked as the owner brought over a bowl and a drink. She also placed an extra glass down for her.

“Guess you’re right,” he nodded. “So, where’ve you been?”

“It’s personal,” Namjoo said tasting the steaming broth.

“Family matters, huh?”

“It’s complicated.” Namjoo reached for the drink and poured herself a cup. “I wasn’t going to come, but I thought I needed to get away for a bit.”

“From what?”

“A lot of stuff,” Namjoo sipped the alcohol. “I’d like to relieve some stress.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You can talk to me.”

For a second her eyes shined then he realized they were actually brimmed with tears that wouldn’t fall. Her glazed eyes sat on his face as if hypnotized. “I wanted to see you.”

***There it is. The biggest reason why Namjoo can't move on. She needs to be the rock for Yeol's family before she can be a rock for herself ;;