It really shouldn’t mean much.

They were absentee parents most of the time, anyway.

It isn’t exactly her first time to be cast aside like some useless afterthought, but she really thought that the circumstances would merit something more than a bouquet of flowers with a trite ‘get-well-soon’ card (coming straight from that odiously cheerful delivery guy knocking on her door). She would have expected, at the very least, a brief personal appearance on their part, just like that time she told them the news of her scholarship, or that time she graduated at the top of her class, or that time she had her first art exhibit. Or even that time when she accidentally poisoned the family dog.

She was expecting at least that, but this…

This is just so… pedestrian.

Apparently, this time can’t even be ranked as the same (it’s pathetic how a sick dog even ranks higher than this). And if it isn’t enough that they’re leaving their now broken daughter under the care of complete strangers, they had to tell her so in the form of a measly-worded letter. (She doesn’t see the words yet she feels them stabbing her just the same, and if that doesn’t rub salt into her already gaping wound, she thinks nothing ever will).

She prides herself as one strong and resilient woman, but when life stacks the odds so up high, she thinks she’s had enough.

Anyone would.

So when the paper crumples helplessly under her shaking fists, gets torn into odd little pieces, and then thrown blindly into the wind, no one is really surprised. She finds it almost offensive, the way everyone drowns her with a barrage of empty encouragement, and it takes much screaming and glaring from her part before they finally leave her be (though how the nurse falls for that is really beyond her).

She can’t see, she can’t feel, she can’t hear. She tunes out the rest of the world (just like what the world has done to her) and everything blends into one depressingly dark sight.

“You’re not really thinking about jumping down from there, are you?”

The voice comes out of nowhere and it startles her enough to make her heart tumble slightly (but not enough to trip her feet). She shuts her eyes tightly, steadies herself for a brief moment, and then continues on to take a few more shuffled steps. When her foot hits the ledge, she takes one deep breath and – 

“What? Are you deaf, as well?”

“Mind your own business, damn it!” she eventually half-shrieks in frustration, abandoning whatever plans she had on being discreet.  Her head whips violently towards the intruder. She takes notice of the faint echoes of music (a guitar, perhaps?) for the first time, and it irritates her even more so. “And just leave me alone!”

“Suit yourself. But just so you know, that fish pond you’re standing on the edge of isn’t even knee-deep. I doubt you’ll be able to do anything other than get yourself wet.”

That one completely freezes her on the spot.

“Your nurse brought you down to the botanical garden, here in the ground floor, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the voice nonchalantly adds, as if reading her thoughts.

(She really should have known better; no one gets intimidated by a non-existent glare.)

“Nurses here aren’t stupid as to take a blind person like you to the green roof garden and leave you there.”

Her shoulders slumps forward.

The whole plan goes crashing down after that.

//

It takes around a week for her to learn the girl’s name; the same amount of time it takes for them to take her bandages away.

“Yah,” she carelessly calls out to that someone who is surely lounging around the garden grounds somewhere. “You… person.”

“My name is not ‘yah’, or ‘person’; it’s Taeyeon. How many more times do I have to say my name for you to remember it, Jessica?”

“I don’t care. Taeyeon, or whatever it is you call yourself,” Jessica lazily retorts. She plays around mindlessly with the wheelchair her nurse insists that she takes, pushing herself slightly back and forth until her arms tire out. “For all I know, you could be an escaped psych patient waiting for a chance to chop me into parts, or worse yet, a non-existent figure that is only a figment of my overactive imagination.”

“Actually, I’m neither. I’m an earthbound ghost, cursed to haunt and annoy obnoxious patients like you forever.” Taeyeon finishes it off with a maniacal laugh. She strums the strings loudly for a dramatic effect.

“Tch. You’re bothering the patients, especially the one who’s right in front of you.” Jessica dismisses her childish antics with an irritated snort. “Don’t you have anything better to do that to hang out here in the hospital and fool around with that guitar of yours?”

“No, I don’t,” she answers a little too lightly. “What about you? Don’t you have anything better to do than to sit here in the garden all day and wallow in that never-ending pity party of yours?”

The flippant comment unexpectedly barrels through Jessica’s fragile pride (or what’s left of it) like a two-ton truck and hits her smack dab in the face. Her hands curl into tight fists as she reels from the impact, because the wound it makes burns with the unmistakable truth.

“What exactly do you know? You’re not the one who’s blind and useless, are you? You didn’t get robbed of your future, did you? No? I don’t think so.” Jessica lets out a dry laugh, her words turning so bitter that she could almost taste it in . A self-conscious hand reaches up to rub her eyes and she belatedly wonders why the bandages had to come off like it did (because this is a reality she’s still not yet willing to see).

“If you think it’s going to be easy for you to deal with something like this, then good for you. But I can’t live with myself knowing that all of this is true.”

Everything abruptly comes to a standstill. All the light pretenses of jest disappear into thin air, leaving only heavy silence.

Taeyeon takes a moment to answer, and when she does, Jessica strains to catch her fleeting whisper.

“You can. You just don’t know how.”

She thinks it’ll definitely take her more than a week to learn that.

//

They don’t really talk to each other after that little incident, although that didn’t stop either of them from hanging out in the same garden with each other. Surprisingly, Jessica starts finding Taeyeon’s constant presence strangely comforting and her melancholic music pleasantly soothing.

“Hey, Taeyeon…” Jessica meekly interrupts her music during one those instances, directly addressing her unseen company for the first time (in a long time). It feels a bit weird, and not to mention awkward, but she thinks it’s about time she breaks the cold war they’ve been waging against each other. “Is that the only song you know how to play?”

“What?”

Or maybe that’s just her. Taeyeon certainly sounds just as cheerful as when Jessica first heard her, with no trace of veiled hostility or awkwardness in her voice whatsoever.

“I asked if that’s the one you know how to play.” Her head turns slightly in the direction of Taeyeon’s music (or at least, where she thinks it is) and repeats herself, a little more confidently this time around. “I always hear you singing that same song whenever you’re here.”

“Oh, that. No, I do know how to play other songs. But this one is the first song I learned to play with this guitar, and it’s also my favorite.” Taeyeon easily explains while she lightly plucks out the familiar chords. The music pauses briefly and she asks, “Want me play a different one instead?”

“No, that’s fine. Keep playing it.” Jessica finds herself leisurely bobbing her head with the beat when Taeyeon does continue. A rare smile tugs on the corner of her lips as she mumbles to herself,

“I like the way it sounds, actually.”

(Like a much-needed salve to her tender and aching heart.)

//

Taeyeon doesn’t really tell Jessica anything about herself, other than the fact that her mother works as a nurse at the hospital, and that she lives with her somewhere nearby.

Not that Jessica minds, though, because Taeyeon’s keen sense of curiosity piques her own, and when the two of them spend their time together, they seem to keep each other’s curiosity well-satisfied.

“You haven’t forgotten that I’m blind, right?” Jessica asks dryly when she feels two soft hands wrapping itself over her eyes (she would’ve given Taeyeon an eye roll, too, if she actually could).  “There’s no need to keep my eyes covered.”

“It’s because you keep on searching things with them when I told you not to,” the girl playfully whines. Taeyeon’s honeyed voice floats somewhere behind her left ear, and she’s standing close enough for Jessica to feel her breath tickle her bare skin. “You should really learn how to appreciate the little things, instead. Now, what do you hear?”

“The annoying sound of your breathing?” She easily shoots back. Jessica struggles briefly to pry Taeyeon’s hands off her eyes, but after a few seconds of trying, she ends up giving in with a sigh. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to hear?”

“Just listen,” Taeyeon insists. “Don’t you hear that?”

“Hear what? There’s nothing there except…” Jessica lets herself be immersed in the moment as she tries to catch whatever it is that Taeyeon is trying to point out.

“….the birds…”

“And?”

“….the bees….”

“…and?”

“…the flowers and the trees?”

Taeyeon pinches her cheeks lightly. “Smartass. Pay attention and listen carefully.”

Jessica chuckles from her own joke, and though she means her words to be taken lightly, the music she hears really does paint the picture of spring – from the gentle rustling of twigs and leaves, to the symphony of melodious twits and peeps. If she tries even harder, Jessica thinks she can even hear the distant sound of merry little children playing and laughing in a field.

Wait. What?

“Is there a school nearby?” She snaps into attention and listens some more. Amazingly, she really is hearing things right.

“The kids usually have their PE class this time of the day,” Taeyeon triumphantly confirms when Jessica eventually gets it correct. “Sometimes they do the exercise, but most times they just play around. Sounds really fun, yeah?”

“It sounds like they’re having a blast.” Flashes of her own childhood flood Jessica’s mind, and the unforgettable memories of her own childhood spring days bring a pleasant surprise. twists into an unmistakable smile. “How was your childhood like? Did you lug around that guitar of yours even when you were a kid? Or were you someone who was actually cool? Like the queen of Phys. Ed or something.”

“Actually, I was home-schooled most of my life. But I’m sure it would have been fun, playing dodge ball and all those other stuff,” the other girl casually replies. Jessica’s eyebrows knot together when her own arms suddenly start flailing around on their own. “Do you still remember how to do it?”

She pulls her arms away from Taeyeon’s grasp and tries to swipe at the girl’s head (it fails). Taeyeon just giggles off her futile attempt.

“The exercise? American schools don’t really have those kinds of things. Wait, you were home-schooled? I would have thought – ” Jessica cuts herself off when she hears the slightest breathe of movement. Her hand darts out from nowhere and surprisingly catches Taeyeon’s arm with it. “Where are you going? You’re not leaving me alone here, are you?”

“No, not just yet. My foot just fell asleep.” The girl reassuringly squeezes her hand with small laugh. “I didn’t know you studied in America. What was it like?”  

//

“Taeyeon?”

“Yeah?”

“What does this garden look like?” Jessica asks out of the blue.

She’s sitting against a massive tree trunk, legs stretched out in front of her, while Taeyeon is settled somewhere on the other side of their favorite shady tree (Taeyeon tells her it’s oak). It’s become a common routine for them during warm and lazy afternoons, when they’re both feeling too tired and too hot to move about and Taeyeon is actually out of hospital exploits to expound.

Jessica shifts from her current position when an odd knob digs uncomfortably in her back.

“I’ve been spending so much time here for a few weeks now, but I still have no idea what this garden looks like. Is it really beautiful?”

The music stops playing as Taeyeon stops humming a very familiar tune, and with that lilting voice of hers, Taeyeon throws the question back at her, “What do you think? Can’t you guess?”

“Life is going to be one big guessing game with you, isn’t it?” She observes defeatedly. “Just go ahead and play your guitar or something, then.”

“Always the cynical one. Why is it that you always seem to find it hard to trust yourself? It’s not going to be that hard for you to guess.” Taeyeon clucks her tongue at her. The instrument gently hits the ground with a hollow thud. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Jessica stumbles lightly when Taeyeon pulls her to her feet. It’s one tentative step after another, but Taeyeon’s firm hold on her arm calms and steadies her. She lets herself be freely guided as they stroll along the cobblestoned path.

They stop a few moments after.

“Did you know? Every flower has a hidden meaning behind them,” the other girl starts. “People barely remember this age-old art form anymore, but it does exist.

“Takes these sweet peas for example.” Jessica hears a faint sound of twigs breaking, and seconds later she feels a stem of flower being pressed softly on her palm. With Taeyeon’s help, she brings the flower closer to her face, just enough for her to breathe in its sweet and sensuous scent. “In the language of flowers, sweet peas mean blissful or lasting pleasure. Some other times, it’s also used to say ‘goodbye’.”  

Taeyeon pauses and then laughs lightly. “That’s one sweet goodbye though, isn’t it?”

She bobs her head in agreement.

The girl gently nudges her forward and they resume walking down the short winding trail.

One by one, Taeyeon enthusiastically explains each flower they encounter along the way. While she does, Jessica grins from ear to ear, all giddy from excitement (because Taeyeon just gave her back her precious painter’s palette and now she’s completely free to brush and shade and paint her otherwise black canvas of an environment).

“These exuberant azaleas stand for love, romance and sometimes, first love. The Chinese actually use it as the symbol of womanhood and femininity.

“Those delicate freesias, on the other hand, mean innocence and friendship.

“The striking and colorful gladiolus flower symbolizes strength of character, infatuation, or sometimes, remembrance.

“Purple lilacs, like this one, symbolize the first emotions of love, and to many, lilacs are considered to be harbingers of spring.”

Their short trip winds down and in no time, Taeyeon is leading her back to their initial spot.

“And last, but certainly not the least,” Taeyeon suddenly declares, just as Jessica plops down and once again settles against the tree trunk. This time, it takes Taeyeon more than a few seconds to speak, and when she does, a small bouquet of flowers simultaneously falls in Jessica’s lap.

“Lily of the valley. This small and simple flower means the return of happiness.” The other girl sidles and takes a seat right alongside her. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, these flowers are growing near your favorite spot.”

With an appreciative smile, Jessica fiddles with its petals and nods her head.

“So, what do you think?”

“I didn’t expect this garden to be as beautiful as this,” she readily admits, head lolling sideward to rest on Taeyeon’s shoulder. In turn, Taeyeon rests her own head on top of hers. “I bet it’s just as amazing as that one in Namsan.”

“Is it, really?” The vibration from Taeyeon’s voice tickles her.

“You haven’t been there?”

Taeyeon shakes her head lightly. “My mother gets lonely too easily, and I’m always afraid of leaving her alone. I’m all that she’s got.”

The words all come out casually but Jessica swears she can hear the faintest traces of sadness seeping from the girl’s voice.

“What’s the garden there like?”

“Well, their flower garden has a larger variety of flowers compared to here. I mean, it’s a national park and all.” She taps her chin thoughtfully as she racks her brain for the picture.

“And unlike the fish pond we have right here, they have a small lake there instead.” The images start to flood in and Jessica quickly finds herself caught in its pleasant memories. “They also have a hiking trail, which I even got lost in, once. Our stupid dog ran off-trail and had me chasing after him deeper into the forest. Took me an hour to figure my way back.” 

For the next hour or so, Jessica regales Taeyeon with her own stories about the Namsan Garden, the Pyeongchang-gun Garden, the Geumgang Garden, and all the other gardens she’s been to in her whole life. It’s nothing really special, just a few stories about the little trips she made while she was still an actual painter (and not just an imaginary one). But Taeyeon’s enthusiasm infects her, and Jessica can’t help but be swept with her own stories as well.

“It sounds really beautiful,” Taeyeon marvels enviously when Jessica finishes. “I wish I could also go and visit those places someday.”

“You and I should definitely visit at least one of those gardens in the future. Maybe we’ll start with the one in Namsan, then work our way south, towards Busan,” Jessica thoughtfully suggests, mind already teeming with the possibilities concerning their hypothetical open-ended quest. She excitedly drums her fingers, which up until now, have been playing with Taeyeon’s own. “And when we’re there, you have to tell me what each and every flower means, alright?”

The other girl intertwines their hands. “That sounds really nice.”

(Once in a while, it crosses Jessica’s mind that Taeyeon may not be as free as she thinks the girl is.)

//

It’s not like they can even do anything much, considering that Jessica is still blind as a bat and the place is just but a garden.

So on the rare cool nights that they spend with each other, when the crickets and fireflies have all come out to cheerfully play, they sit in silence under the sparkling moon and stars, basking in the moment’s tranquility instead (it doesn’t always sound convincing but she’s a bit of a romantic, so even though she doesn’t see it, in her mind that’s how she paints it).  

“I want to see your face.”

Jessica breaks the silence of one such evening. Her hands each plant itself firmly beside her as she leans slightly forward, head tipping up to face her starry, starry sky. 

“Why? You still think I’m just a ghost or figment of your imagination after all this time?” Taeyeon kiddingly asks with an exasperated sigh.

“No, silly. I really just want to see your face,” she earnestly insists. “Just because.”

“’Just because’? What are you, twelve?” The other girl snorts. “You’re going to have to say something better than that, or else I’m really going to think you don’t believe me.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking…” Jessica pauses, thoughtfully scratching her head as she contemplates on her answer. “We’ve known each other for quite some time now, but I still haven’t seen your face. I’m really curious as to what you actually look like.”

“Does it really matter?” Taeyeon questions pensively.

“Of course it does. I want to know what kind of face a person like you have. Besides, I think it’s only fair.”

“Fair? Fair what? I didn’t know this was some kind of a game.”

“Yah, Kim Taeyeon. Just because I’m blind, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel you staring at me all the time. Fair is only fair.”

“I think I’ve taught you too much,” the girl regretfully expresses. With a faint smile threatening to overcome her face, Jessica wordlessly notes the utter lack of denial on the other girl’s part. “What’s the point? I can’t even compare to you.”

“No, you’ve taught me just enough.” A warm feeling spreads in her cheeks (and in her chest) and Jessica is sure she’s blushing. She waves the embarrassment off with a few flicks of her wrist. “And let me be the judge of that. Now come closer and let me see.”

Taeyeon laughs her off but ultimately, she relents, moving in closer to her that their legs and knees completely touch.

Taking both Jessica’s hands in hers, Taeyeon slowly guides them until they touch her face. For the longest time, Jessica doesn’t take a breath as she runs her dainty fingers along Taeyeon’s cool and smooth skin, gently making out the shape of her nose, the depth of her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. 

The other girl covers Jessica’s hands on her face with her own. Jessica literally feels the moment when Taeyeon cracks a smile. “How is it?”

“It’s just as I thought.”

She breaks into a (self-satisfied) smile herself.

“A pure and angelic voice like yours could only belong to a beautiful person such as yourself.”

Times like these are when Jessica briefly forgets all the feelings of regret for ever having to figure in that life-changing accident.

//

She knows they’ve always had it coming – every ‘hello’ always comes with a ‘goodbye’. But when theirs approaches inevitably, Jessica stubbornly decides she isn’t ready to say the word just yet.

The next time they sit in that wooden bench, the rest of the world stays unobtrusively quiet (and if she doesn’t know any better, she would think they’re all trying to listen in).

“I think I’m going to be leaving soon,” Jessica opens without so much as a preamble. The air surrounding them is decidedly somber, not even a peep coming from their usual companions during the nights. “I can’t stay here in the hospital forever. They say they’ve found a possible donor for me, and I might be getting the operation real soon. In a week’s time, maybe.”

“That’s good news, right?” Even Taeyeon’s voice sounds positively weak. “Aren’t you happy? The next time they take off your bandages again, you’ll finally be able to see.”

“I am happy,” she replies, although she sounds anything but. “It’s just that… I’m kind of getting used to this already.”

“…and?”

Jessica hems and haws for a second, fingers fiddling absently with the edges of her shirt as she tries to come out with the other answer.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? Of gaining what you lost?” The other girl prods perceptively. “Or losing what you gained?”

She doesn’t answer because it’s such a cruel question (nobody should ever be asked to choose between their left and right hand). If gaining what she has lost means she’s losing what she has gained, then Jessica doesn’t think it makes any difference, and would rather not choose and just keep everything all the same.

“Don’t be. You’ve already come this far, haven’t you?” Taeyeon quietly reminds her. Jessica feels Taeyeon’s cool hand cover hers and give a light squeeze. “You’re ready. Whatever it is that’s waiting for you, I think you’re ready.”

“Am I, really?”

“You’ve only been waiting for this,” is what Taeyeon only tells her.  

“Can we still meet here, like this?” Silence briefly ensues and her breath hitches for a moment. “Taeyeon? I can still see you after, right?”

“Of course you can.” Stirrings of a soothing music drift softly around.

Jessica slips both arms around Taeyeon’s waist, rests her chin on the girl’s shoulder, and hums along ever so softly when Taeyeon starts singing that familiar song about the broken bird waiting for her moment to fly.

They spend the rest of their borrowed time sitting amidst the stillness of the night.

(It rains heavily the day before her operation, leaving her stranded and with nothing to do except mope around by the open window of her room. The pitter-patter of raindrops overcomes the rest of her senses, but Jessica swears she still hears the sound of Taeyeon’s music whispering to her in her sleep.)

//

It takes one week, two days, and five hours for Jessica to completely gain her eyesight back.

Only now – Jessica thinks – it doesn’t matter, because she doesn’t see Taeyeon after that particular night. Not anywhere in the garden, and certainly not in their spot; it’s as if the girl’s existence was a mere shadow in the (now non-existent) dark.

(The bandages have come off but she’s still blinded just the same. If it isn’t for the fact that she can see herself while her eyes are wide open, she would have thought that the operation failed.)

It’s not until she encounters a sympathetic nurse that she finally finds the right path. Jessica doesn’t understand the rueful stares and the hushed whispers she’s getting, nor does she understand why she’s even headed to a room at the end of some hallway, as she’s directed.

But then she sees the sign, and her heart sinks with realization.

(She doesn’t want to accept it. She doesn’t think she can accept it. But this really is Taeyeon’s cage, and nothing she can do will change that.)

There’s nothing for her to do other than brace herself.

She pushes the door open. The darkness unveils itself…

Cold and lifeless room.

Tubes snaking all over a frail-looking body.

A tired and sheepish smile.

It’s reality staring right back.

“Not as beautiful as you think, right?”

It’s almost mechanical, the way she drags her heavy feet across the room and comes closer to the bed. Taeyeon’s grin widens a little when Jessica eventually drops down hopelessly on the empty seat.

She takes a moment to answer.

“No.”

Closing her eyes, Jessica takes Taeyeon’s hand with hers, knits them tightly together, and then gently lays her head down on Taeyeon’s chest. Everything once again fades into nothingness (because that is their real world, and it always will be). She only hears the slow sound of her breathing, smells the sweet scent of her being, and feels the steady warmth of her heart.

“You are more than perfect.”

Jessica struggles to collect the pieces of her own heart.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry for me,” Taeyeon tells her softly, reaching out to wipe the hot tears b from her sorrowful eyes. “I am just as ready as you are, Jessica.”

She grabs hold of Taeyeon’s hand on her face and keeps it there.

“Because I am you, and you are me. We’re both ready for this. We’ve both been waiting for our moment, right?”

Jessica numbly nods head.

“If anything, I just feel so sorry that I can’t visit those gardens with you, like what we promised.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to.” Biting her lip, Jessica accepts Taeyeon’s apologetic smile and returns the favor with a brave one (she falters at the last minute, but Taeyeon doesn’t seem to mind). “But if you think you’re getting off easy, think again. You have to do something else to make up for it.”

She spies a weathered-looking guitar resting near the bedside, abandoned, and it makes it even harder for her to keep her smile.

“How about singing that favorite song of yours? I haven’t heard it in quite a while. I miss hearing you sing,” for the first time, Jessica freely admits. She thinks there’s absolutely nothing better than listening to broken birds singing in the dead of the night. “Can you sing it for me, please? One last time?”

“Of course.”

Jessica tightens her hold on Taeyeon’s hand and plants a chaste kiss on her forehead. The other girl smiles at her gratefully.

Soon enough, a melancholic music fills the air. (There’s no one left to play the guitar this time; the emptiness it leaves becomes palpable. Even though Jessica believes she isn’t capable, she still fills the void with her broken voice and sings out the familiar words herself.)

“…all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

Time fleetingly passes, and no matter how much she wishes, it doesn’t really stop for either of them. (She knows she can’t stay in that place forever, and sooner or later, she does have to say goodbye.)

The room finally grows silent (for the last time).

It’s time for her to take her leave, and when she does, Jessica doesn’t even try to stifle her anguished cry. Before she completely goes, Jessica picks out every kind of flower there is from the garden just so she could have something to remember everything by (she doesn’t forget to leave the sweet peas in Taeyeon’s bedside).

Jessica stands at the threshold and takes a deep breath.

Taking one last look back, she steps out of the hospital, takes the broken wings Taeyeon gave her, and flies into light of the dark black night.

-FIN-

A/N: Taengsic story circa 2010/11