CHAPTER SIX:

“Finally!” I shouted, as the door to the house finally opened. Yesung came inside the house right behind me. “Hey, at least I had the keys to the house. Otherwise, we could’ve been trapped out there.” He pointed out.

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes. “Why is it that the very last key you tried was the one that opened the door?”

“Because, I stopped trying after I opened the door.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes again, “Yes! But with you, it was the very last last key! You tried all 20 KEYS before you realized that, ‘Hey, maybe the twentieth key will open the door.” I said, frustrated at him.

This day was seriously a long one. It wasn’t just the key mishap. After we got out of the hotel, we went to the parking lot to Yesung’s car that he apparently left behind since yesterday. We, however, forgot that we had no idea what it looked like or where it was parked. We were just too happy that we finally had a mode of transportation, and that we didn’t have to call my sister again. We tried using the car remote waiting for the right car to make a ‘beep’ sound, but that didn’t work for another 30 minutes wherein we realized (after meeting a customer) that the hotel had valet services. Surely, the hotel must have since it is such a big one at that, and considering that Yesung and I were considered VIP status, he must have used valet. Except, that he didn’t. At which point, I turned and glared at him and cursed him in many different languages to hell and back, especially when the valet said that Yesung had refused such services and wanted to park the car himself. So, with the help of the valet, we started our search again and realized that Yesung parked the car right in front of the hotel. How could we miss that? We walked right past it?! At this point in time, I wanted to cry. So when we finally both sat in the car, the two of us spent another 10 minutes fighting with one another and a bunch of unsavory words were exchanged between us—which I don’t regret. I meant all of them. Then, he started asking me how I came to the hotel and where was my mode of transportation, to which I bluntly replied I couldn’t remember. Which was true, of course. When we finally decided to hit the road—figuratively speaking, of course (I mean we’re not that crazy to do it for real. Maybe, Yesung is though)—we realized that we had no idea how to get home. Which in itself proved to be a whole another problem. Thus, we tried to rack our brains and see what we could remember from memory. Until, like two fools in a pot, we realized that the car—which by the way was a freaking BMW—had a built in GPS system, which surprise, surprise, already had the house’s destination saved and used as the primary default destination.

So now we were finally on our way and were able to safely reach back to the house. Except now we didn’t know how to get in the house. We figured the key would be one of the many keys on the keychain—yes, that same set of keys (along with the car keys) that the front desk lady gave to Yesung. Except, of course, there had to be at least 20 keys to choose from. Yesung, who claimed that he was the smart one and the man, decided to randomly choose a key and open the door. To which he at; all three of them in fact: being smart, being manly, and choosing the right key. So guess which number was the lucky key. Number 20!! That’s what. At least it wasn’t 50 keys to choose from, God forbid. I still don’t know why he even had so many keys in the first place; what the hell do they all open? I don’t even want to know.

“You know you complain too much.” Yesung said breaking my train of thoughts.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do. And we’re not even gonna go there.” He held up his finger to stop me from arguing, knowing that another fight was brewing.

“Fine.” I stalked off towards the stairs. “I’m going to bed, because I’m exhausted and have a headache. You can sleep on the couch, for all I care.”

“Umm…why would I sleep on the couch?” Yesung asked.

“Because there is no way I am sleeping in the same room as you.” I argued giving him the cut direct.

“But there is two beds. We’ll be sleeping on separate beds.” Yesung argued back.

“So? Still the same room. A girl needs her privacy and a little beauty sleep.” I said with a little too much attitude.

“Why do I have to risk a bad back from sleeping on the couch? Why don’t you sleep on the couch? Why does the man always have to sacrifice?”

“Pfft. And you call yourself a man.” I crossed my arms. “Always whining like a little girl. Besides stop acting like your 100. I’m sure there are some painkiller pills around this house somewhere.” I shrugged before trotting up the stairs.

“Fine, I’ll give in this time. Besides, it’s for the best. I mean you snore at night. Really loudly too!” Yesung shouted up the stairs. I stomped back down on the stairs, “What? I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Something else I remembered.” He gave me a face that said “I know everything.” Except to me it was more of an “I’m so stupid, but think I know everything” face.

“No, you don’t. When you remember something, you put on a doofus looking face.”

“I do not!”

“I saw it twice today. So, yeah you do.”

“Whatever. I’mma go wash up.” He shrugged leaving me on the stairs. I scoffed. Guy knows how to take an exit.

“Whatever, too!” I yelled back just so I could have the last word.

“Eunmin!” He shouted.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up!” And with that, the door to the bathroom slammed shut.

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I went downstairs to the kitchen to fix myself some breakfast when a distant memory appeared in my head:

The weather was beautiful, and the world was singing. She could hear the poetic verses of the birds chirping. Outside the grandeur of Nature shone—the sun an agate lamp from Psyche to Eros. She woke up to a start knowing how beautiful a day this would come out to be. It was then that she realized she had a task to complete. It was her ‘hubbie’s’ birthday, and she had to get him something he would surely not forget.

She went to the kitchen to go pop a pill because her headaches were starting to come again. She didn’t know why they came so frequent, but lately, she had been having them and needed to see a doctor.

Is there something wrong with my body? She thought.

“What the hell?” I said to myself. What was that?

She began humming to herself without even realizing it and was too busy thinking of one person, when that said person walked in. It was her ‘hubby,’ Yesung.

“Earth to Eunmin.” Yesung said from behind me. Shocked, I quickly turned around. “Wonderful timing,” I murmured. It’s like he knew what I was thinking about!

“Why are you making coffee? I thought you didn’t drink coffee. Or is that for me?” He asked.

“No, it’s not for you. It’s for me.” I said, then continued, “I don’t know why I’m drinking this stuff either, but I’m suddenly in the mood for some. It’s weird.” I shrugged off.

“I always knew you were weird.” He flicked my forehead.

I frowned. “Hey, can’t you be a little more loving. It’s the morning too.” He just chuckled. “Well that’s something that’ll never change. Not a morning person, huh.” I glared at him. “Anyways,” he said changing the subject. “Where’s my coffee?”

“Why would I make you coffee?”

“I don’t know.” He said a little confused. “Weirdly, I guess I was expecting you to make me some.”

“Now, who’s the weird one?” I threw his words right back at him. He gave me that look again from yesterday, you know the one that says, “I know everything, and you don’t, so shut up.” Yeah, that one. Except every time he does it, he looks stupid. Like right now, for instance.

He suddenly chuckled. I looked at him curiously. “Why are you laughing, and smiling to yourself like an idiot?” I asked. He just shook his head while smiling to the floor.

“C’mon tell me.” I probed some more. God, the curiosity was killing me. “It’s nothing,” he finally said. I gave him an odd look.

“You’re laughing at me.” I said more as a statement than a question.

“Alright then.” He looked at me and grinned. “Honey-dumpling.” He enunciated the words.

“What the hel…?” I dropped my jaw.

“Look, honey-dumpling,” she said as she turned to him.

Another sudden flashback. I looked at him with a look of shock and disgust.

“What’s wrong, sugar face?” He asked a little too sweetly. “Or should I say honey-boo? Hmm,” he rubbed his chin, “maybe you prefer darling, or cutie-pie. Or I know,” he snapped his fingers, and I jumped a little. I took two steps back, warily looking at him. “How about dearest, or my precious.” He said ‘precious’ like the ugly character in that long, boring movie he forced me to watch one too many times. I swear to God I grew 2 years older after coming out of the movie theater after finishing that movie.

“Well, how about it, sweetheart? Or do you prefer shortcake?” He gave me that lopsided smile of his that I hated so much. I would never, ever in a million years call him such dirty words. Never! But, the truth was that I was suddenly having bits and pieces of a memory of myself saying those same exact words to him. Suddenly, a whole bunch of endearments were swarming around my head, and I could remember little bits of different scenarios of me saying them to him. Unfortunately, it was the only parts of the scene that I could remember. I could go to denial land, but the truth was I remembered them clearly, and I was pretty sure he did too.

“Hey, honey-boo….Sugar-face, I’m going to go get some groceries, okay...You will not believe what happened, my little dumpling….Darling, have a good day at work today….Sorry boo, I have to go to my sister’s place today, you know the divorce thing…”

O’crap! Boy, was I screwed. I felt like fainting for the first time, or running away. But, that would only amuse him, and I would be called a coward later on, so I stood my ground. But, then I just had to remember something else, and my head started throbbing really badly. I was remembering too much at once.

He just smiled at her and caressed her cheek, as he grabbed his own mug of coffee that she had prepared for him.

I ran to the sink, practically tripping over my feet. I the tap and began scrubbing my face with soap and water. Yesung stood beside me and gave me a weird look, “Okay, now you’ve gone crazy.” He handed me a hand towel, “And you’re supposed to wash your mouth with soap, not scrub your face like a lunatic. Especially, since you said all those words to me. I don’t know how I could stand it,” he shivered. I gave him a mean look before grabbing the towel from him and wiping my face with it.

“For your information,” I finally spoke, “I know why you thought I would make you coffee, and next time, no touching my face without my permission. I may have said disgustingly sweet words to you—which by the way, you don’t deserve—but you, my enemy,” he rolled his eyes at that word and crossed his arms, but before he could interrupt I finished pointing out, “are the one who’s all touchy, touchy. What were you: deprived of love, or something?”

He was about to interrupt when suddenly it looked like he remembered something. I watched in amusement as an array of expressions crossed his face: confusion, shock, denial, more shock, astonishment, dumbfounded, rejection, anger (probably at himself), and disgust (probably at himself again), and then finally resignation at the thoughts. He probably remembered something along the lines of: him giving me a hug, him caressing my hair, him touching my cheek and kissing my forehead. I smirked at him, and he tried to shrug the whole matter off by trying to act nonchalant and indifferent about it. But, I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily, not after the embarrassment he made me feel. I mean, why of all things did he—or rather we, because I’d rather not ever remember such things—remember that. He could have been more useful and remembered why we were in this mess (which was probably his fault), but no, as usual he has to make my life a living hell.

“Well?” I finally spoke, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He pretended to wipe an imaginary piece of dirt of his sleeve. Denial, huh. I thought. So, that’s the way he was going to play. “I do that to all the girls I know. It’s part of my charm, you know.” He abruptly grinned.

“So, you admit to it then?” I asked, wringing the towel in my hand.

“If you mean the little skin ship. Then yeah. It was no big deal. Don’t misunderstand.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I slapped the towel a little too harshly against the countertop. I walked out of the kitchen.

“Where you going?” He called after me.

“To tour the house!” I shouted back.

So, the rest of that morning and much of the afternoon was spent touring the house. There wasn’t much really. I mean the house was pretty big: There were huge chandeliers everywhere; 5 bedrooms on the top floor, and 3 on the basement floor, and one on the ground/main floor. There was also a wide variety of plants, antique furniture, and decorations strewn throughout the house. It looked high-maintenance, but was also well kept. There was vines of some sort of plant on one wall, and a picturesque drawing of a Japanese cherry blossom tree on another wall, with branches sticking out that held picture frames. It was pretty beautiful. Except, I stared sardonically, the pictures were of me and Yesung and our friends and family. I’d much rather put the pictures of my favorite stars in the frames, instead. It would have looked more homely to me. Not that the house didn’t look homely already. It smelled of cinnamon and lilacs. Probably the candles, which seemed to litter every room. It also smelled a bit like home-baked chocolate chip cookies, though at the moment the smell of coffee was strong, especially on the first floor, where the kitchen was located.

But other than that, there wasn’t anything interesting. I mean if you discard the pictures of Yesung and me posing happily in the pictures of us that were everywhere! Also discard that huge wedding picture of ours that was on the mantle in the living room. Who does things like that?! If there was any question to who this house belonged to, one look at it would have answered it. Which did answer my question: that the house belonged to Yesung and me.

On any other, normal day, I would’ve enjoined touring the house. There was a sense of familiarity about it, but it was probably because I stayed here during my memory lapse. Or something. But, I was touring the house for a whole another reason.

I met Yesung in one of the rooms and asked him, “Did you find anything?”

“Nope, you?” We were both looking for clues or answers that would help solve our predicament. It seemed the only room that neither of us looked through was the “forbidden room”—the master bedroom. Yesterday, we didn’t look at it properly (except of course we noticed the two separate beds), and when we came home last night I was too tired, shocked at the twist of events, and frustrated to even bother. In other words, I jumped the bed and straight away fell asleep, sleeping like a log. I can’t be sure of Yesung since he slept on the couch, but that wasn’t my problem.

The other room that the both of us also didn’t search was the room connected to the master bedroom, but that was because it was locked, and who knows what spiders and cobwebs were lying in there.

I walked to the side table by the armoire chair, and picked up the calendar. There was something circled on it. When I got a closer look, I gasped and called out to Yesung.

“Yeah?” He asked absentmindedly.

“Hey, we have a dinner date with both our parents.” I said with a straight face.

“Oh, really? When?”

 “Oh, you know, today.” I said casually, staring at today’s date that was circled on the calendar, with the reminder written inside of it.

“What? What time?” He looked up at me.

“At 6 o’clock.”

“What?!” He shut the drawer. We both looked at our watches, then looked at each other with identical faces of shock, before he shouted: “That’s in half an hour!”

We scrambled out of the room in lightning speed.