Note: This chapter is written in the present tense 

ღ________Chapter 16: Acceptance Comes with a Price

Doojoon massages his temples, willing the headache to go away. There were numerous causes for this headache, one being that he was still awkward with Airiss because of their disagreement, the second being his work taking up most of his time, preventing him from going home to patch their relationship, and lastly, his dad leaving his office two hours ago.

He sighs heavily as he lies on the couch. He was planning on telling Airiss when he came home but she wasn’t home yet and his eyelids were dangerously close to drooping shut. He wished the effects of coffee would last longer.

*~*

I creep into the house late at night, careful not to make any noise. I stop the robber act when I notice a figure curled on the sofa. Sighing, I look at Doojoon sleeping soundly. Obviously he outgrown the sofa ages ago but still, he awkwardly shifted his body to fit. I bend down and bring the blanket closer to his face. He’s been torpid the past few days, exhausting himself from work like he always did but now, he has family problems weighting him down.

I stop breathing when I see him fidget and wait for him to wake up. He’s always been a light sleeper so the most negligible movement could wake him up. I watch as he tosses a bit and finally wakes up. He blinks a few times before his shoulders relax and he’s slightly smiling.

“Still mad?” Doojoon asks, sitting up. He rubs his eyes and muttered something about being tired – a clear understatement.

I soften at the sight and shake my head. How could I stay mad at him? I’m more worried about his health, work’s been really slaving away at him too much, eating at his youth. I swear, even in the dimness of the night, I can see strands of silver hair in the forest of ivory black.

“Nope. What’s with you sleeping downstairs when a luxurious bed awaits you upstairs?” I joke and my eyes catch the items on our coffee table. A round object (most likely a ball of some sort, knowing Dojoon, it’s a soccer ball), a medium size box and two smaller boxes. The smaller boxes closely resemble the black velveteen jewelry box Mae gave me. “Are you accepting bribes or something?” I ask, cracking another joke which he doesn’t find funny.

Doojoon ignores me and yawns, proceeding to obnoxiously exaggerate his stretches in order to draw time. He was avoiding something, I just didn’t know what. I narrow my eyes and purposely made my voice sound vitriolic. “Spill it.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad,” Doojoon chuckles, unpretentious and takes one of the smaller boxes, and sits it on my lap. “It’s for you.”

My fingertips glaze over the box, feeling the softness of the texture. It felt rich and was elegant to the touch. The box felt the same as the bracelet Mae gave me years ago.

Mae.

I wonder if she’s living well with her new life? If she’s doing what she likes and unafraid to speak her mind? There are days when I wonder if I’ll ever see Mae again but it cease to come lately because I don’t know what would happen if we met.

Her name brought back so many memories and a rush of remorse. We were friends after all so she trusted me with so many things to be met with devastation in the end. Our friendship caused too much suffering for both of us so it’s better that we don’t talk to each other. No matter how much I wanted to call, I didn’t because it’s the least I could do for her.

Opening the box, I see a large delicate heart-shaped pocket watch locket. Sitting in the center of the front, there was a daisy with vines curling around it with bud blossoming at the end. I catch the little diamonds shimmering in the center of the daisy and at the ends of the vine. It was a silver colour giving it an elegant yet polish antique look. Pressing the knob on the top, the front cover flips open to reveal a clock underneath with roman numerals. I didn’t miss the little diamonds bordering the clock either. This pocket was created by careful hands and under watchful eyes for the piece screamed grace and posh. Despite how refined the pendant looked, it was something I could wear casually hoping the diamonds wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention.

“Who gave me this?” My mind can’t think of anyone intimate to Doojoon and me, and opulent enough to gift us with these valuable presents. The only people who care for both Doojoon and I immensely is Mom and our grandparents in Singapore but even then, they wouldn’t throw money recklessly away like this.

“Bet you still can’t figure it out,” Doojoon blurts out, reading my thoughts out loud. I shake my head and he, with both hands, gives me the bigger present. “This is a big giveaway.”

Nodding, I slowly tear the blue wrapping paper. The gift is something cube and hard, maybe made out of wood and extremely heavy. There were things inside of it that rattled when I shook it.

“Doojoon, it sounds expensive.” I wrinkled my nose in disapproval, as if the locket wasn’t costly already.

“It’s worth it,” he replies and gestures for me to continue with hint of happiness lurking behind.

It felt like Christmas again with the present giving ritual and the curiosity and excitement that followed. It didn’t feel the same than the time I was little since there was no festive tree or cinnamon in the air but if it’s the closest thing to Christmas I can get, then I’ll take it.

I gasp when I open the wenge wooden box. Five shelves of colours shone and I stared at every single shade. It was amazing, something every artist should own. There were regular coloured pencils, water-coloured, pastels on the three lower shelves. On the top two shelves were coloured and regular graphite pencils, pastel pencils, an eraser, blending stump, a sandpaper block and assortments of monochrome crayons, drawing pencils, a watercolour brush and even a delicate cup to hold water. There were no words to fathom my surprise. I look at the paper underneath to see my name printed on the English recipient and a serial number on the side. The wheels in my head were turning briskly to tell me that this box is a limited edition anniversary set from a company in Germany.

It was featured in an art magazine half a year ago and was said to be every artist’s dream to have it. It was extremely pricey so I could only drool and fantasize about it, let alone touch the smooth wooden surface with my bare fingertips. The wooden box also gave me a load of fresh memories to bare. Memories that clued me in on who the sender is.

“It’s from Dad, isn’t it?” I question, still in awe by the present. I close the box and put it on the coffee table. It was grand but it was also a promise he made me when I was ten year olds while we were watching an art channel. I’ll give you the finest art set there is when you’re older, it’s a promise.

He kept his promise. This is the most ingenious and prestigious art set I’ve seen in my entire life. Is it okay to use it though? If I use it, then am I implying that Dad is welcome back into my life? What if he does come back? Can we go back to being normal, as if the past didn’t happen and our future held countless opportunities together?

“Yeah, I knew you’d remember,” Doojoon says, a shade of bliss in his voice. A change from the lethargy and tension lately. I feel a jab of guilt because I added an extra load on his shoulders. Suddenly thinking about Dad desperately made me want to re-live the past where everything wasn’t complicated and required us to make choices.

“What did he get you?” I ask, changing the topic. Doojoon is tired but it doesn’t mean that he’s ever let his guard down.

“A soccer ball and a watch,” Doojoon picks up the soccer ball and holds it close to him. I know that Doojoon cherishes the soccer ball more so than the watch because like me, this was a promise Dad made to him as well. Doojoon loved soccer as a child and was a part of many soccer teams. He would come home, covered in dirt and glowing with elation. He had so many stories to tell and was too thrilled to register if we had heard it already. It was also because soccer was something he and Dad shared, their exclusive memory together.

I reach over to his little box to see his watch. It was silver as well but looked darker, probably due to the watch’s black face. There were white ticks and roman numerals. Like my locket, there were diamonds adorning the border of the watch’s face. The watch was simple yet wasn’t too simple for any relegation. It was a watch Doojoon could wear to work or to play tennis with his clients.

These were the gifts we would have received if we stayed a family. 

A family.

The words take me down memory lane as I try to remember what a family is, how does it feel to have a family and receive endless love from. I haven’t been deprive of a family – Doojoon, Kerin, Nia, Yoseob, Junhyung were enough – but I’ve deprive of my family from childhood; the one that sheltered me from the thunder, the monster lurking in the closet and under the bed, ghosts that came out at night. I suddenly long for one again for the years of solitude have done the opposite.

“He was the one that found my keys a few months ago when I lost it, wasn’t he? And the feeling of being followed, he was there?” It all made sense as the pieces fell into places. So I wasn’t paranoid but someone was on my track, hot on my heels. He was watching me for so long and I didn’t even realize it.

Doojoon clarifies, “Technically no. He hired a detective to follow you just to get information and out of goodwill, returned your key.”

I raise a brow. Dad was like the extreme version of Doojoon or rather, Doojoon was the mediate version of him. They both care for their family but don’t want to appear as over-bearing so they take other methods to care for their love one – sometimes their ‘other methods’ come off as even more over-bearing but it’s all done out of pure love so you can’t get upset with them.

“Even if you guys aren’t related, you do take after him,” I joke and Doojoon laughs sincerely. I steal a glance at the present on the table and whisper, “What does it mean though? Are we going to be a family?”

“I don’t think so,” Doojoon says and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Dad told me last time that we wouldn’t meet but he got sentimental when he saw the watch and pocket watch. Though he always had the soccer ball and art set, it was a matter of when he would give them to us.”

I sat and stared at the gifts, contemplating. 

I still wasn’t ready to welcome him back in my life but the thought of never having a father again hurts. It hit a spot only he has in my heart and now I know that the spot will always be vacant; free for the wind to pass by and for curious fingers to poke through.

When did it become so unbearable though? I’ve lived with the absence of a father for so long so why would it matter now if I didn’t have a father? Why do I feel so empty after all these years of a missing father figure? 

“There’s also something else we don’t know, Air. It’s about Dad,” Doojoon confesses and I look up, eager but concurrently scared to know.

Doojoon knows what it is but I don’t. I don’t know if I want to hear it because if I do, then I can’t erase it from my memories. He’s giving me a choice right now to accept or reject it.

Looking at the wooden box set, I choose to believe in Dad. “Tell me.”

Doojoon starts immediately upon my request. “When Dad lost his company, it was a big blow to him. He was stressed out and eventually developed bipolar disorder.” Doojoon continued to speak but I couldn’t hear.

Bipolar disorder. I close my eyes as the notes about it come back.

Bipolar disorder. A manic-depressive disorder classified by the user’s extreme mood swings. The user cannot control their emotions. It’s not a problem with their personality or nature; it’s the chemical imbalance in the brain.

Genetics, physiological, environmental factors are the causes of bipolar disorder. Environmental factors include abuse, mental stress, or traumatic events.

Mental stress.

Dad’s guilty because of our pitiful situation and his incapability of taking the company back.

Traumatic events can range from the death of a loved one, lost of a job or some life-changing events.

Dad trying to get his job, status, and most importantly, his dignity back. Our family fall must have hurt him greatly and he blames himself for it. He blames his frailty, deficiency and most importantly, he himself. All of this must have equated to his bipolar disorder.

It’s curable though, the disorder. The only problem was that we didn’t have the money nor did Dad have the pride to seek medical help.

How could we have helped him without money?

“Is his bipolar disorder under control?” I ask and Doojoon looks up from his hands.

“Yes, he found out after a year and a half in prison and transferred to another ward to receive psychiatric help immediately. His bipolar disorder was the main reason for the abuse so his sentence got lifted. After his psychiatrist confirmed that his bipolar disorder was under control, he went to Taiwan afterwards with his old friend to start another business.” Doojoon pauses and watches my expression. I take in a deep breath and hope that he doesn’t see the colour change in my face or the slight shaking of my hands.

“Did the business go well?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the thoughts. If I didn’t reply then Doojoon would be even more worried. I can’t let him worry over me, not when our past wasn’t what it seemed. Dad didn’t abuse us because he hated us or because he blamed us, but because he couldn’t control himself. This explains why he would cry after beating us, made promises that he would never do it again, then drown himself in alcohol and then the cycle repeats. I would always believe he meant what he said even after the cycle repeated itself again and again.

I was right to believe him.

“For the past five years, the business did pretty well and he continued living there until he ran into a Korean client who carried the magazine we were featured in as a couple. He contemplated for a bit and decided to come back to Korea to find us. He’s not trying to reconcile or anything, he misses us.”

After all those years of solitude, he finally worked up the courage to see us; just a peek which turned into a glimpse and then an explicit gaze. It must have taken so much for him to do that.

I realized that in all those years of his solitude, there was my loneliness and longing as well. I missed him and I missed Mom, Doojoon and my grandparents. I missed everyone who once claimed to love me and I would doubtlessly trade anything in the world back for my old life.

“I wished we were together Doojoon,” I mumble. “I wish Mom and Dad were here with us…” I trail off, tears pooling in my eyes. Christmas would be festive, birthdays would be fun. Breakfast wouldn’t be rushed and coming home wouldn’t be lonely.

He turns his body towards mine to let my cry on his shoulder as he pats my head. Things haven’t changed at all despite the years. He’s still the big brother with his broad shoulders and I’m his little sister who trusts him with my entire world.

“Shh Airiss,” Doojoon lulls just like he used to years ago when Dad was louder than the thunder with his roars. “I want that too but we have to make the best of what we have. We still have a dad, a mom and now we have a grandma and a grandpa. I’m not saying we should count our blessings but now we know that Dad loves us, he didn’t mean to hurt us. I’m so happy knowing that. I’m still trying to figure out what it means now but regardless, we’ll be fine Airiss.”

The big brother who always knew what to say without overdoing it – he’s back. He’s been back for two weeks now but I haven’t spoken to him enough to fill a week’s worth of chatter. He’s back, Dad’s back, is anyone else coming back too?

Dreams of what it could be and realities of what it is races through my brain, giving me the best and the worst images. Hand-in-hand they run, making reality seem more awful than it already is.

Everything would be right if Dad’s company didn’t fail. I didn’t care so much for the money as I did for the countless memories we could have had as a family. It wasn’t fair that it happened to us. I knew of the unfairness and always blamed myself to cope with it. It helps me live through the days – it was always easier to hate myself than wishing for something that couldn’t happen.

My nails press into Doojoon’s arm, trying to make sense of my life right now and figure out the answers to the questions my mind spurts out.

Now it wasn’t the case: it wasn’t Dad’s fault, it wasn’t my fault.

There’s something on my chest. It’s light but it lingers, planting its roots in my lungs and rapidly grows. My muscles contract and my airway grow narrow, shrivels and writhes.

Then whose fault is it? The flawed mind? The chemical imbalance? Us who couldn’t be there for him?

Who.

The weight on my chest gets heavier and heavier. The roots dig deeper and cuts through tissues, the jagged ends start the air from my lungs. How do I cope with this information? Where do these new feelings go? It doesn’t turn into hate and guilt like it used to but it can’t wander inside my body forever, trying to find a home. So they settle down at my heart. They’re sitting on my heart, sending it in a frenzy of panic. I take a deep breath and my body protests against it. It hurts to breathe and I feel myself losing the grip on reality. My mind is slipping away and I find it harder to breathe. 

“Doojoon – I – can’t breathe.” I clutch my chest and the world goes blurry. There’s a tingling in the back of my mind and I can’t think straight, I can’t see. All my senses are being cut off as the panic slithers inside of me, the venom eating me alive. The pain is unbearable and I can’t stop it no matter how hard my hand pressures my chest.

I’m dying, aren’t I?

So this is death: painful and unmerciful.

*~*

Doojoon’s mind does infinite numbers of backflips before he could think straight. Airiss’ grip on him loosens as she winces in pain. He couldn’t tell if the tears falling from her eyes were from physical agony or nostalgia for something she never had. He’s seen the symptoms too many times with his mother to forget the name of it.

Panic attack.

Airiss is having a panic attack. It happens when her mind enters a state of extreme fear, a flight or fight mode. Airiss always had anxiety attacks but there was always a stressor (something causing the stress) and once that stressor was gone, so was her anxiety attack. Panic attacks are unexpected and can hit any time.

“Don’t worry Airiss, I’m here,” he assures her and envelopes her completely in his body. She’s extremely frightened right now and her body’s running from the fear. It’s coping with the fear in any way possible. He wish he could ease her terror but he doesn’t know how to. His broad shoulders aren’t enough to hold the house from collapsing. She holds onto him for her life depended on it and he felt the urgency.

“I’m going to die,” Airiss whisper in tears, scared.

“I won’t let you die, Air.” He closes his eyes and search in his memory desperately for help. Her gasps for air become quicker and more frequent. It was like she was drowning but there was no water. The waves of sorrow crash down on her and the oxygen suffocates her, stabbing holes in her lungs. She was drowning in a sea of oxygen, of life. “Please be alright Airiss, please.”

“It hurts,” she winces and he feels her hands go limp, fingertips barely grazing the sleeves of his shirt.

Their mother had frequent panic attacks and they would hit erratically. The first time Doojoon called the ambulance and the doctors told him she wasn’t going to die even if it seemed like it. They advised him to use a paper or plastic bag to regulate the carbon dioxide so he spent most of his adolescent year with a paper bag tucked in his backpack, always fearing for his mother’s panic attack. He guessed this is what caused her to stay holed up in their house back then because she didn’t want to have an attack outside.

Paper bag.

Doojoon starts to move to the kitchen to find a plastic bag when Airiss stops him with another plead, “Don’t leave Doojoon. Please don’t go,” she says in-between hasty breaths.

“I’m going to find a plastic bag to help you,” he explains calmly. As much as he didn’t want to leave her, he had to or else she’d take in too much oxygen, throwing off the oxygen-carbon balance in her body. She might faint from it and he didn’t want her waking up in a hospital.

It takes her a few seconds to generate an audible answer and when she did, it broke his heart. “I’d rather die,” she weeps, her body shakes from the sob that escapes. “Don’t’ go.”

Ever since he left for Singapore, he never knew how hurt she had been. He always assumed that she was strong – not the strongest but strong enough for him to come back years later, actually able to help. He trusted Dr. Myung, her friends who promised to take care of her, Gayoon, Gina and even himself to call her frequently. He didn’t think she’d be terrified of people leaving to this extent. He didn’t want to cause her more sorrow.

Doojoon resorts to another method that the doctor taught that night; it never worked for their mother but it was one of his last resorts.

“I’m going to count up to four. When I say two, inhale and exhale at four,” he tells her. “I’ll never leave you Airiss, it’s a promise,” he says before he starts counting down. Her mind is scared so he’s taking a chance to distract the mind from the panic.

After a while of counting, Airiss’ breathing has slowed down and her heart stops hurting. He breathes a sigh of relief for the second time today; he didn’t leave Airiss and she’s alive but pulsing with sorrow still.

“Doojoon?” Her voice sounds small, like the little thirteen-year-old who woke up because of a nightmare.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for not leaving.”

He smiles at her expression of gratitude. He had expected her to apologize for worrying about her but it looks like she’s accepting help without remorse tailing her.

“We’re family after all.”

“I know. I’m grateful.”

*~*

Gina gets a frantic phone call at approximately 2am and is on the driveway 30 minutes later with worry coursing through her. Airiss is like a sister to her all throughout her high school years. When she entered high school as a freshman, she made sure to take care of her and helped her transition into the student council the following year through her connections.

Her brother, Doojoon, is that irreplaceable friend you only meet once in your life and is willing to stay for the rest of it. She’s grateful to have met and gained his friendship so his troubles became hers. She knocks on his door and he opens it immediately, as if waiting beside it.

“What happened?” She inquires and Doojoon’s hollow eyes stare back. He talks and talks for what seems like hours because the information she’s given is definitely worth that amount.

Gina inhales and takes a long exhale, digesting the information and then formulates a hypothesis:

“It’s probably too much for her mind in one night – getting gifts and then being told the truth, I think anyone would break. Airiss always used guilt to cope with the pain because she couldn’t fully take it. Suddenly you’re telling her that she’s not at fault, she doesn’t know how to deal with the new truth and flees in fear,” Gina explains and Doojoon nods. She wished that he used words to speak so she knew that nothing else was on his mind. There was something else bothering him and he wasn’t being honest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong though,” she reassures him. Like Airiss, Doojoon was fast in embracing the blame upon himself.

“After Airiss recovered, she went to bed right away. She woke up an hour later with nightmares and cried so much. Gina, I’ve never seen her so…broken. It was just like when Dad went to jail and Airiss was haunted with remorse but she wasn’t that scared. She’s only sleeping now because she took sleeping pills,” Doojoon says, aging as he speaks. Gina could tell that he’s holding the guilt next to him, repeating that it’s his fault that she’s like this. Nothing but her knowledge of the mind can help him free himself from it.

“She’s probably scared of the future. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next or –” she purses her lips, contemplating if she should tell him the raw truth. Giving in, she continues, “if she’ll ‘screw up’ like she did when the neighbours heard her cry.”

She watches Doojoon’s pensive face as he thinks long and hard about her words. At a lost, he sighs. “Spill whatever’s on your mind.”

This time, he spoke in a low, slow tone. “I want her to see Dr. Myung again. I have to leave soon because of some paperwork in Singapore and I’m torn between staying and going back. I don’t want to leave her again but I owe Father so much, I can’t let him down – he’s done so much for me and my mother in Singapore.” He buries his head in the palm of his hands, as if they had the answers he was looking for.

“Whatever happens—”

“That’s not even the worst: I want to really help her this time so I want to know how she’s been while I was gone. I know Dr. Myung would never tell me because of confidentiality so I called Hyunseung through Geurim.” He confesses, the ultimate burden falling off his chest. It’s funny how confessions usually free people from their worries but this only made Doojoon fall deeper into his pit of self-despair.

“Oh Doojoon,” Gina says. It must have taken a lot for him to talk to Hyunseung – the man who Doojoon would gladly punch, much rather than talk to. He’s doing it for Airiss though so it justifies all of Doojoon’s hesitation.

“I’m going to meet with him in half an hour. I don’t even know what to say. I just want to know how Airiss in the past year and –”

Gina says the one thing that she knows he wants to hear, the reassurance that he needs the most right now. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Doojoon faintly grins. She said the right words. “Thank you.”

*~*

Hyunseung doesn’t know if he’s making the right decisions but he can’t tell what is ‘right.’ Right to him is wrong to his family and what’s wrong to them is absolutely right to him. Unfortunately, this conflict caused years of unspoken words between them, hardly making them a family minus Geurim who’s always maintained a good relationship with both. Geurim is the only one that is right in both of their eyes and the intelligent girl knows it and uses it to her advantage to bring them together.

Hyunseung feels time ticking only because he’s early. He’s anxious because he never dreamed that Doojoon would call him, asking to meet up. Though the call was short and brisk, Hyunseung felt the earnestness. Since the only thing connecting the two is Airiss, it made him more frantic, worried.

The magazine articles about Doojoon were myriad. He could be a mini celebrity if he wanted to. So he recognized Doojoon the moment he took the seat across from him. True to the magazine’s words, Doojoon carried himself well with that self-sufficient, arrogant look. He’s a man of decisions, no regrets and certainly no apologies and with CEO Hong’s guidance, he’ll bring the company down the road of success.

Doojoon barely glances at Hyunseung and calls a server over, giving the atmosphere of two old pals having a drink; he’s intuiting normalcy, drawing ties between their companies in the media’s eyes. When he’s done ordering, the server looks at Hyunseung and he replies with ‘the usual.’ The server leaves and Doojoon’s sinking to posh president mode with his righteous posture and analytical eyes.

“What happened?” Hyunseung blurts out hastily, impatient from the miniscule wait.

Posh president scans his surroundings before he opens his mouth: “How has Airiss been in the past year?”

Hyunseung is thrown off by his hasty question but hasty meant emergency. Her name sounded so intimate and warm when he spoke it and he missed the warmth of uttering her name without hesitation.

“What aspect of Airiss are you asking about?” Hyunseung inquires further. His stomach drops to his pit. A haunting feeling leaves an untasteful sting on his throat. Did something happen to Airiss? The thought sends him over the edge in anxiety and a quench pursuit to find out about her wellbeing. Doojoon never ever initiated a meeting before so this signified the drastic change in her behaviour that calls for help.

“Psychologically.”

A punch in his gut is what he felt when Doojoon answers immediately, not wasting a single second. “Did anything happen?” Hyunseung shifts in his seat but frankly, he wanted to jump out of it and grab Doojoon by the shoulder, shaking him for the answers. He suspects he would have gotten a fist to his jaw or a black eye but he was willing to risk it.

“Answer my question first,” Doojoon demands. Geurim warned that Doojoon didn’t like him but he wonders if she was simply sugar-coating his attitude for his sake because Hyunseung can tell that he hates him to the core with his death glare right now.

Hyunseung sighs inwardly. Of course, this isn’t what he expected with an over-controlling brother of your ex – of all the times he’s been with Airiss, the term ‘girlfriend and boyfriend’ never seemed right and ex most certainly didn’t flow; if he had a choice, Airiss wouldn’t be an ex at all. He always felt they were something more tangible, less puppy-love and more of the forever kind.

“Well, she had anxiety attacks but it wasn’t as frequent as the guilt-trip she felt. If I remember, she did have some psychotic episodes. They were always followed by an anxiety attack though,” Hyunseung says, recalling the memories. In the beginning, Airiss was very unwillingly to admit her fragile state but he was just as stubborn as she was unwilling in convincing her that he didn’t care if she had anxiety attacks, it wasn’t going to change him.

Doojoon curses under his breath and Hyunseung looks up at him. “Airiss did a good job hiding it. I knew she had anxiety attacks but everyone gets them. Of course she isn’t going to be unaffected by Dad but a psychotic episode…” Doojoon cusses more and Hyunseung wonders what happened to stress him out so much.

“Did she progressively get better afterwards?” Hyunuseung asks, referring to after he was banished from her life.

“Fairly well, hence she stopped seeing Dr.Myung,” Doojoon answers.

“Did she get another attack?” Hyunseung induces from his reaction and the urgency of the whole situation. Doojoon can’t even muster the energy to reply but nods instead, the kind where it was too fast to recall or if he was imaging things. Somehow it had turned into Hyunseung asking Doojoon questions instead of the other way around.

“It was a panic attack.”

The gravity of it hangs in the air. Panic attacks are worse than anxiety attacks but he could never tell the difference. It didn’t matter though, they were all serious.

“What triggered –”

“Our dad triggered it.” Nice and short; gave away the bare minimum and yet still conserved the privacy of their family. It was in the same manner that Airiss always spoke to him. Hyunseung understands and respects it. “Were her attacks always triggered by Dad?”

Doojoon says ‘Dad’ with such love and with so much ease, Hyunseung wished it was that easy for Airiss.

“Yes it was,” Hyunseung says. Any form of attacks from Airiss always caused him emotional pain and he knew that Doojoon felt the same. Doojoon breathes the third sigh of the day and wants to fall back on his chair in exasperation.

“Do you know how to calm her attacks?” Hyunseung realizes that Doojoon has taken control and is now the one leading the conversation. 

Thinking back, she was always the one who came back from her attacks. She’s strong-willed in that sense but receiving support never hurt anyone. Hyunseung always held her, assured her that he was there and never left her alone. He found that in the aftermath of her attacks, it was when she was the most honest with herself. The barrier in her mind broke after her mind collapse from the psychotic episodes.

“I found that exposing her arms or anything that related to her sense of touch brought her back,” Hyunseung says. He refused to tell Doojoon that she calmed down after his tears fell on her because it was a moment that belonged to them exclusively.

“Exposing her arms?”

“Just remove her arm-warmers; ironically, it’s that that calms her attacks the most.”

Doojoon felt a pang of jealousy. In less than a year, Hyunseung has grasp Airiss’ psychological state better than he has. He’s her older brother; he’s been with her since she was born up until she was 16 and visited as frequently as possible. Doojoon tried to be there for her but maybe, in the moment he decided to take the choice that he wanted, he lost her. He knew that he would lose parts of his life but he didn’t know it would include Airiss. He never regretted it until now, when he realized how big the sacrifice was, yet he can’t really call it a sacrifice because he was truly happy. He always wanted to envision his family when happiness came to mind and still strived for it. It was hard when his family was so fragmented and now, he felt lost at how to deal with Dad.

Should Doojoon welcome Dad back into his life? But Airiss is a big part of his life and Dad would certainly then be a part of hers. Deep down though, Doojoon also knew that he can’t completely ignore Dad. He can’t act like he didn’t exist and continue to fib that his dad died (though it was true), but he never knew his biological dad so to call that dad ‘Dad’ didn’t seem right. Doojoon wasn’t saying that his biological dad wouldn’t have fulfilled the father figure that Airiss’ dad did but it was the cold hard truth that his biological dad couldn’t be the father figure in his life.

Doojoon nods, forgetting that he didn’t reply to Hyunseung – even if he did loathe Hyunseug, he did agree to meet him in the middle of the night on short notice but it was never enough to lift the odium in his heart. “I see.”

“How was she doing prior to the attack though?” Hyunseung takes the risk to ask about her even though he knows that he lost the privilege a year ago. Hyunseung sees the stone-hard look on Doojoon’s face.

“Airiss wouldn’t want me to tell you so I won’t either,” Doojoon replies nonchalantly. His voice reminded him of the monotonous voicemail message people would record; it sounded generic and practiced. Hyunseung hated it but the world doesn’t spin for him so he shouldn’t expect luxury such as luck.

“I’m going to be heading out now,” Doojoon speaks up and Hyunseung nods. Now that Airiss was out of the talk, they really had nothing to discuss. As much as Hyunseung felt awkward being interrogated, Doojoon probably couldn’t afford to spare himself up to any more emotion – not after today’s event at the very least.

*~*

I’ve pulled all-nighters before but for the reason that ‘I simply can’t sleep’ is the first time in a long time. There were some because Kerin got held up with dramas and we went on a night-long marathon crying with her or because inspiration hit me at night and I ended up painting it at 4am.

Now, no matter how many times I close my eyes, my thoughts won’t rest. The silence didn’t lull me to sleep, the ceiling weren’t soothing and everything that had once comforted me now confused me. Everything I thought was true, wasn’t.

The sleeping pills should be kicking in but it’s only been ten minutes since I woke up from the second nightmare in a row, beads of perspiration on my forehead and breathing as if I was drowning in my sleep.

I was in an abyss, a dark abyss with no flickering lights. It was as if I was blinded but I could dimly see the outline of my fingers. No sound came out when I open my mouth to speak. To wonder in an endless maze with no notion of a path or stripped of the ability to call for help, it was frightening. I walked and walked until I felt scratches on my arms. Wherever I ran, I got hurt.

Nightmares are warnings from our subconscious minds, telling us that there’s an unresolved problem in our lives. The mind is making us aware of it so we can fix it. Speaking meant I can’t express my inner feelings. Darkness is the fear of the unknown, hidden. I’m insecure about my life, uncertain about whatever’s happening in it. I don’t understand what’s happening and it’s an emotionally dangerous situation for me which needs to be resolved.

I know what this means but I don’t want to encounter it. I don’t want to think about it anymore, I simply just want sleep.

Rolling over, I let the thoughts eat at my mind thoughtlessly. It was better than fighting it.

Dad loves us, he was sick.

I should be the most empathetic from all the psychological readings I do, I should be the first to welcome him but deep down, I can’t. I want to be my dad’s pride but acceptance comes at the biggest price. I can’t accept him back into my life, drinking coffee in the morning or calling to ask about our days like they’re the most natural things in the world.

I just can’t.

I contemplate taking another sleeping pill but I didn’t want to become too dependent on them. It was incredibly hard to sleep and I desperately wanted to escape from my thoughts.

*~*

With the help of the sleeping pills, I woke up unknowing of the time. It looked like morning with the sunlight dancing through the curtains but it was too bright to be early. I peered at my alarm clock and jumped out of bed, tangled in my blankets.

I was late. I missed my morning class and was on the verge of missing my next. Running down, I see Doojoon at the dining table as if it wasn’t near noon. He should be at the office by now, skipping lunch and making contract agreements.

“Doojoon, why didn’t you wake me up?” I question, half-yelling at him. He looks up, happy and relieved – more relieved though – and a hint of exhaustion clearly on his face. “Did you sleep?”

“Somewhat. I called your friends and they should be recording whatever lectures you’re missing,” Doojoon explains, settling the situation in a clean cut manner. Typical of him.

“Thanks, shouldn’t you be at work though?” I further question and he smiles, true happiness on his face.

“The best news of the day: I called Jihyun asking her to take care of things in Singapore for me and she agreed. She has family there so she wanted to visit them anyway. I’ve also contacted Father and he agreed, as long as he’s not left alone with the work in Singapore and someone’s taking care of Horizon in Korea.”

I chuckle as he rambles on. I must interject: “Translation please?”

“I’m staying in Korea for a while,” Doojoon proudly announces and this time, glee was on both of our faces as I scuttled to hug him. Doojoon laughs, holding me again but for a much happier reason than last night.

“You’re staying in Korea!” I exclaim and he nods.

“I’m not staying at the hotel tomorrow so I’m bringing my stuff today. I’m in your care now,” Doojoon teases and I smile widely.

“Always here for you Brother.”

*~*

What I didn’t tell Doojoon on that day due to the euphoria was that I emailed Dr. Myung after my second nightmare, telling him what happened and I received a reply after Doojoon left to finish some paperwork. He did promise to eat lunch together so he’s coming home early but not early enough because Dr. Myung asked to see me a little before 11.

The only reason I contacted Dr. Myung was because I knew I needed to get better. Since Doojoon’s going to be living with me, I want us to return to our youthful, much happier selves and I can’t do that with my current self. If I could somehow fix the unkempt discomfort inside of me and not fight but embrace it then we can do that.

Staring at the tall building with the sun hiding behind it, it seemed so much more omnipotent, gloomier than it usually did. Staring at it head on had that effect and I knew that this is the first step I have to take.

Dr. Myung welcomes me to the familiar chaise chair and like the usual, he started off by asking how my day went. An open-minded question that leads him to see what’s bothering me based on my response. I knew what it all meant but I also knew that I needed help so I spoke to him honestly just as I did with the email. I told him everything – Dad, Doojoon, what this could all mean, and how much it scared me.

“I should be happy that Dad still loves us and Doojoon’s back – it feels that it’s most I can get to being a family again but then Mom…how much change needs to happen?” I whisper, not strong enough to say it out loud; if I did then I’ll surely cry because of the heavy weight of the words.

“Change is happening in our everyday lives, Airiss. With change comes sacrifice and growth. In particular to you, instead of seeing how far you have to go, stop and just look around. What’s around you is worth looking at and you should cherish it instead of seeing how far you have to go. You’ve been down a tough road Airiss, so give yourself a chance to breathe,” Dr. Myung speaks up and I let the words sink in. Stop and see how far I’ve gone instead of seeing how much longer the path is. I’ve never thought of my life like that – I’ve been living for almost 23 years, surviving for 23 years, been through a lot and still have a beating heart. Yet I don’t know where I have to go, what I have to do.

“I’ve gone through a lot,” I remark and he nods.

“Sometimes you need to stop expecting so much from yourself. Yes, there might be some changes and you have to accept some things but you don’t need to plan everything out, especially when life can be so unpredictable. You aren’t sure if your dad is definitely going to live with you and with that, everything varies already. Airiss, you don’t always need to fight the current but sometimes, going along with the flow is nice as well.”

“And if the flow doesn’t take me to where I need to be?”

“Do you know where you want to be and if that place is where you want to stay?” Dr. Myung asks, forcing me to actually think for myself rather than what I should do or what I should do to not screw the future up for my family again.

I realize that I didn’t even know where I want to be. I just knew that I had to get better mentally, I can’t get anxiety or panic attacks as often, certainly not psychotic episodes but I know myself that mental illnesses don’t go away immediately. Recovery takes a long time (maybe a life time) and there are relapses, a lot of them.

Recovery is where I want to stay but where would I be then? With Doojoon, maybe Dad or Mom? With my best friends definitely but that’s a given whether I recover or not. Would recovery change anything in my life except for my mental state?

“What do I want then?” I ask out loud, knowing that Dr. Myung couldn’t answer the question and even if he did, he would only guide me to the answer. Ultimately, I had to find it and realize it myself.

“I know you want to want to get better hence you emailed me; you never reached out in the many years that I’ve known you so it’s the biggest step you could take. Stand and bask in that accomplishment Airiss, don’t worry about the long road ahead but look back at how far you’ve travelled.” Dr. Myung encourages and for the first time in a long time, I believe him. He was right; I was always forcing myself to run and constantly meet the finish line but never looked back at the distance I’ve run.

I need to give myself some slack.

“From the look on your face, I think you’re already swimming in your self-glory,” Dr. Myung’s smile slips and I nod.

“Thank you, Dr.” I say and he smiles fully this time.

“Talk to the secretary about scheduling and I’ll see you next week?” Dr. Myung advises and I nod.

“Definitely,” I bow to him before walking out the door, smiling.

I feel lighter already. 

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