xxxvi. The Ironic Misadventures of Park Hyunwoo

Ironically, my life was not spectacular or dazzling to anyone who wasn’t me. To anyone who didn’t experience it, my autobiography means nothing. It’s insignificant, and ironically, there’s nothing misadventurous about my adventures from childhood to adulthood.

When I was born, my mother told me I was the most precious baby boy in the world. I didn’t understand the sentiment when I was younger, being called such endearing terms, having my rarity proven to me over and over again. It was all very unnatural. It was all very abnormal.

When I was four, I fell down a flight of twenty stairs. Everyone who knows me says that’s why I must have turned out the way I did. A bit too eccentric. A bit too unorthodox. A bit too happy to be true.

When I was six, I visited my grandparents’ house where I looked through old books and played in the backyard as old music chimed through the old farmhouse. I don’t know why I remember this. Maybe because not even a month later, they died in that same house surrounded by wheat fields and trees. Not by natural causes either. Rather, by supernatural causes. That’s when I first felt fear regarding my place in the world. That’s when I first felt the heavy burden of my title. Yes, I think that’s why I remember it so vividly. The smell of cinnamon. The tire swing. The rocking chair. The warm beds. The even warmer morning meals of oatmeal. All stained so easily. All turned red at the whims of another. That uneventful summer vacation of my childhood was one I’ll never forget.

When I was nine, I went hunting for the first time. The prey was small. He yelped when we first struck him down, fur damping with thick, red blood that made the air feel sticky to my tongue and repulsive to my nose. I still dislike the adrenaline rush. I still dislike having to kill another entity whose heart beats just as strongly, if not stronger, than mine. I dislike it, but I don’t hate it. Because I know it has to be done.

When I was thirteen, I dated a girl whose name I can’t remember anymore. Considering the fact that she was my first girlfriend only due to my ignorant scheme to make another girl in my class – who seemingly had no interest in the mating game that was taking place amongst our peers – like me, I’m not surprised I don’t. At least, that’s what I tell Hanbyul every time she brings up that pretty brunette from middle school. I did it out of spite. You know I love you the most after our daughter. You know I know you feel the same towards me. You know that, right, Byul?

When I was sixteen, I finally got up the guts to confess to Song Hanbyul, my shining Byul. My pretty little – at least to me – Byul. Her footsteps were akin to the sound of twinkling bells, pleasant to the ears and to the eyes whenever anyone saw her approach. Her rare smiles had the ability to light up the room, making me feel special for being able to be the one who brought it out of her the most. Her standoffish nature yet stern belief in the moral good made her too perfect to be true. Or, maybe I was biased. Biased when it came to my bling bling Byul. She accepted my confession and it was my sixteenth year I’d consider the third happiest moment of my life.

When I was seventeen, she learned what I was. What I did. Who I hunted. That’s when I realized my love of over four years wasn’t some fairytale. She wouldn’t accept it. She thought I was lying. She told me to stop joking around. So, I proved it to her. I showed her what I could do. And, she cried. She broke up with me right after, promising not to tell a soul. I gave up on what I like to call “true love” after that. At the end of my seventeenth year, I became the grinning weirdo who loved too much, yet ran away when someone tried to love me back.

When I was eighteen, I studied abroad in Denmark. I attended a few things. I met a few people. My father said they were important. My mother opted on not saying anything.

When I was twenty, I became an official member of the larger assembly I had been involved in since two years prior. I was appointed in a position higher than my father. I had responsibilities and obligations. I was never looked down upon by another. I was never judged for my character, my title taking precedence. I hated it.

When I was twenty-one, I met her again. I moved back to Toronto, where I grew up. I didn’t know what I would do there. I simply went, as though I needed to find her. I was in need of a companion. I was lonely handling business in Denmark. I didn’t want to do it anymore. Some would say I ran away. I caved under the pressure I never asked for. Ideals and morals that weren’t my own were pushed upon me to the point where I wanted to be with her again. And with my connections, it wasn’t hard to meet up with her: Song Hanbyul.

When I was twenty-three, she told me she loved me. She said it first. Not me. We weren’t even dating. I hadn’t even brought up the topic. I thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. And I stopped running away for a moment. I laid my roots down, resolved to not run away again.

When I was twenty-four, we got married without my parent’s consent – my second happiest moment. Her parents always liked me though. They were kind, normal people. I yearned to be normal, too. I adopted Byul’s last name and pretended I was. Byul and I never thought it necessary to talk about my façade – specifically what hid underneath.

When I was twenty-five, this became an issue. She was pregnant with my child. I felt like the happiest man on Earth. We talked all night, until the sun greeted us with a hearty, bright, good morning.

When I was twenty-six, she gave birth to a baby girl – the third, and truly, happiest moment of my life. We named her Hyunjoo. Song Hyunjoo. I understood my mother’s words then. To us, to Byul and I, she truly was the most precious little girl in the world. Also, I’d like to make note that her first word was “Dada.” I didn’t think it was possible to live happier than I was then.

When I was thirty-one, our baby girl went off to school for the first time. Byul and I cried in the kitchen after the bus drove off.

When I was thirty-four, Hyunjoo climbed a tree. And I don’t mean the short kind. When she jumped down, she didn’t stick the landing as much as both she and I would have liked; and Byul, of course. Byul was definitely upset when she heard. Our baby girl walked away from the whole adventure with a measly sprained ankle. That day, she became my little monkey. My curious – just like her father – Joey.

When I was thirty-eight, Joey cried over accidently breaking my most prized Jaeger figurine – one I made by hand myself. I don’t remember its name anymore. I don’t remember how much time I spent making it anymore. All I remember are her tears. As a baby, she always had a strong wail that kept us up for hours on end. But, at some point, she stopped. And I had almost forgotten what she looked like, what she sounded like, when she cried. She cared too much about something so insignificant. That’s what made her different from Byul and I. She cared too much. She cares too much.  

When I was forty-one, Joey got her first boyfriend. He looked like a raccoon who came out in the middle of the night in order to snatch her away from me. He was different from me. In title and in morals, he differed from me. But, he had been her long time friend since elementary school. I accepted him, if only to keep up with the fancy of my imagination. I continued to pretend even though I shouldn’t have. 

When I was forty-two, my Joey and the raccoon broke up. He moved away. Going somewhere east. I don’t remember where exactly. I didn’t care, even though I should have. According to Byul, Joey was the one who broke it off. I still don’t know why. I really didn’t care why. He was too sketchy looking for her anyway.

When I was forty-three, I dredged up my roots. I left the two of them. My whereabouts had been revealed to my envious cousins and my enraged, aging father. Fortunately, they didn’t know anything regarding Joey and Byul, yet. Yet. So, I told Byul I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave so that my long forgotten family wouldn’t mess up my new one. I told her to stay away from it. I told her it wasn’t her duty to drag Joey down with me. We argued until the sun, caged by tremulous black clouds, peaked wearily at us through the window. And only when the clock struck noon did we finally realize how long our endless, unsolvable argument had dragged on. I left anyway. I ran away, again, anyway.

Now, I’m forty-four years old. I’ve been on the run for a year. I went to Brazil, the United States, Australia, Southeastern China, Russia – though it was a bit too close to Europe for my liking, causing my trip there to be brief –, and India. I found solace in the latter for a time but, I heard, through the web of connections I made via friendships I fostered through my travels around the world when I was in my early twenties all the way up until now, that there was talk of insurrection in Denmark. The balance was being tipped in favor of those who held deep-rooted hatred for a currently dying race.

I visited Russia for the second time two months ago, my curiosity always getting the better of me – an attribute I wholly passed down to my kin. There, I met an old man by the name of Mr. Hwang, who was the dignitary handling things for the assembly whose name I dare not speak out loud for fear of being connected to the soon to erupt civil war.

He said he recognized me when we first met at a local pub. Apparently, his granddaughter was a good friend of a young girl whose demeanor matched my own.

I never liked the taste of alcohol so I wasn’t so drunk as to not be able to coherently put together everything he proceeded to tell me then. I learned many things regarding matters I had attempted to escape from. Though, there was only one which took precedence in my mind above all else.

A town called Springfield is where Byul took Joey not even a year ago. A town called Springfield is the epicenter where the struggle for power and a right to survive is about to ensue.

So then, Byul didn’t listen to me. She never did like to, so I don’t know why I keep putting my trust in her, even after all these years. Maybe because I feel guilty for everything I’ve put her through. Maybe because I feel guilty for running away from not only my first family but, from my precious second as well. Maybe because I love her too damn much. Yeah, that one sounds about right.

I loved her too damn much to simply sit still upon hearing about what she had done.

“Coffee.” Byul announced stoically, placing a hot pink coffee mug down in front of me. She always did like the color pink. It suited her more than the white scrubs she’d wear for work. Though, I found her attractive in most anything. I still do

“How have you been?” I reached out for it, taking it in between my fingers as I watched her. Her hair was cut short now; a healthy, fluffy looking bob that hugged the curve of her jaw making her look younger than she was. She was still tall and thin. She was still just as unapproachable looking as she used to be. She still pursed her lips and made expressions of anger when she was in a state of deep contemplation. Her eyes still twinkled chestnut brown, her steps light as she rounded the breakfast table in the quaint kitchen of the home she shared with Joey. It was simple and basic, desiring merely of the necessities of daily life with only a few cute trinkets here and there, just the way she always liked it. Her footsteps like jingling bells, Christmas having come early, just like they always were. She was the same. I was the same.

“Save the pleasantries,” she averted her eyes, speaking as blunt as always, “I know you came here to scold me. So, say what you have to say, drink your coffee, and then leave.”

I quirked an eyebrow, leaning back in my seat, pulling the coffee mug up to my lips to take a sip after singing out, “Wrong.” When I met eyes with her again, the pink blur that was the mug no longer blocking my view as felt warm, bitter liquid scorch my throat, I managed a smile despite myself.

She was visibly irritated as she plopped down into the seat across from me, upset, frustrated, annoyed, all that and more. She never did like when I played ambiguous – though she had no problem playing the game right back. We’re two hypocrites who found each other. “Then why did you come?” Her shoulders straightened as though she suddenly remembered something, something that didn’t serve to satiate her current turbulent feelings of anger with me, “Why did you have to call the house phone? How did you even find our number? How did you even know we were here?”

“Phonebooks exist.” I explained as though it were the only logical answer. And, it was. Springfield was a small town. It didn’t take long to find the number for the house at the town’s library. As for her other questions, I decided I’d elaborate. I’d not anymore than I have to, as we haven’t seen each other in a long while now, even though I want to, “I heard about the two of you from a man named Mr. Hwang. Whether you know him or not doesn’t matter – he knows Joey. Which is, I assume, the reason you’re so upset.”

She went silent.

I continued.

“I called and she picked up. That’s why you’re angry, isn’t it?”

She nodded, not saying a word.

Another side of her rarely seen by others. The side that gives in. Though, she didn’t give into all of it. She certainly didn’t give up her vendetta towards me. Because I was a coward. She’s Athena. The mighty Goddess of War. The one who faced it all. And I’m Icarus who upon feeling the Sun’s vengeance once, I dare not fly again.

“Sorry.” I said through a grin, making light of the situation. Trying to get her to smile back at me. Trying to be sixteen all over again, when everything was seemingly normal between us. When she didn’t have to act tougher than usual in order to deal with the messes I’ve made.

She sighed, shoulders slumping down, eyes turning away from me, “It’s not okay, Hyunwoo.”

“I know, Byul. I’m sorry.”

“You left almost a year ago. Hyunjoo had stopped thinking about you as much and all of a sudden, you decide to call? It’s not okay at all.”

“I miss you both. You and Joey.” I admitted. “A lot.”

She suddenly sat up straight again, her eyes glaring daggers, tossing them with each flutter of her eyelashes, piercing me with her cold manner. And she made direct contact with my heart. It almost broke in two right then and there at her very next utterance, “If your whereabouts weren’t changing so often, I would have divorced you last winter.”

“Don’t say that, Byul.” I reached over the table, stretching out my fingertips in order to take hold of her slender palm in mine, “You know you always say things you don’t mean.”

“No,” she shook her head, retracting her hands, pulling them out of my reach, “you’ve always heard what you wanted to hear. You’ve always just ignored that which was inconvenient for you. You’re not going to make Hyunjoo and I do the same. The choice is hers if she wants to get involved with your family’s tradition. It’s never been either of ours.”

“Then,” I paused, mentally counting down the days to June nineteenth, “you’ve told her already?”

“Did you ever know me to be so tactless?” Was what she retorted with, standing up as anger fueled her actions and her words once more. “I’ve warded her from it multiple times, I’ve given her chances to back away from it all, I’ve stated my own preferences regarding it all, I’ve also called her quite a few choice words I dare not say anymore. But, telling her is something I will not do. It’s something she has to learn on her own if she’s to fully accept it in the end. Besides, she’s already surrounded herself with those who’ll help her figure it out anyway.”

And the meaning behind the latter of her sentences set me off.

I stood up as well, slamming the coffee mug down onto the wooden tabletop, my own frustration bubbling to the brim, “She’s what?”

I tried to wrap my mind around it to no avail. I only became more enraged at the idea. I only became more upset with Byul, my twinkling star. It only made me want to take Joey and run, to protect my baby girl. We’d go to India. The weather is hotter there, but she’d get used to it. I have many allies there who protect my secret. And they’d protect hers too. And as I stood there, beginning to entertain the notion of bringing Byul with me as well, she stopped me. She put an end to my fantastical imagination. She brought me down to earth. She metaphorically slapped me in the face with the reality of my life. Of the life I upon the two of them without even thinking twice.

All because I wanted to be normal.

“Don’t you dare start deciding things on your own again.” She snapped at me, our long history together always and forever working in her advantage, “We’re not going anywhere.”

“But, if she’s surrounded herself with those kinds of,” I didn’t finish my statement, being wary of the words I chose to say, something I had done for the past year, something that was slowly becoming undone in her presence. She always did have an affect on me. With her rough charm. With her rougher words. With her softer smile. “They won’t accept who she is, Byul. They’ll reject her.”

She simply shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

“And if they do?”

“Then they do.”

I gaped at her, wondering how she could subject our daughter to such chances. To such fifty-fifty three-pointers. I had not an inkling of what she meant to accomplish by bringing Joey here. I couldn’t even begin to deduce the reason. I wouldn’t have been able to, if she hadn’t revealed herself, her motivations which lie behind it all, right then and there.

“When the lives of a race are at stake, I don’t see why even one ally should be kept from the fray should she choose to involve herself in it.”

I never knew she cared.

We never talked about it.

We never talked about what Hyunjoo could do for the never-ending struggle between those like her and those not. We only ever discussed how we’d raise her so that she wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. And all this time, I had taken silence during said discussions as her acquiescence to staying out of it.

She read my expression again, as though I were somehow always obvious regarding my thoughts, as though my expression always betrayed me, and she said, “She may be different from them. They may not accept her. She may regret it. But, it’s her regret to have. I’ve decided that when the truth comes out, when she finally realizes what she is, who you are, what you do, it’ll be her choice how to deal with it. Not mine.”

“You’ve changed.” Was the phrase that came tumbling from my lips reflexively.

She used to be more stubborn. More unwilling to change simply because her settings and her conditions had. Yet, here she was. Here she was, different from before. Here I was, the same as always.

“Hyunjoo’s changed as well.” She revealed to me, and one of those rare smiles lit her face. As though she was so pleased with the statement, as though she couldn’t have been prouder, as though the woman, her 18th birthday fast approaching, little Joey was now was worth seeing.

And I wanted to.

So, I asked to.

“Can I see her?”

She didn’t look to the clock that flashed above the stove, nor did she avert her eyes at all when she answered, “She won’t be home for awhile.”

Which meant, yes. Yes, I could see her.

 But, it also meant that wherever Joey was, her departure for the night had been pre-scheduled.

“She went to her friends’ graduation party at the Mayor’s home.” Byul explained, and then proceeded to elaborate after noticing the look I was giving her; because no one in power in a town like this, like Springfield, is good news. “It was her choice.”

And yet, I couldn’t help but feel proud of not only Joey, but Byul as well. She was growing up despite being a year older than me. She was still growing despite me staying the same. I’m not proud to admit it only happened after I left, but that doesn’t make me like it any less. That doesn’t make me love her any less. But, before I could profess my affection for her for the umpteenth time – maybe she’s right, I’m amazed she hasn’t divorced me yet what with how sick she must be of me fawning over her – my vision went black.

Actually, everything went black.

More accurately, the lights went out.

I could now only see a small sliver of her face not hidden by the shadows of the moon that shone through the draped window. Though, I had memorized her features enough to be able to picture her expression in response to my question then, “Does that happen often?”

“No.”

A blank expression that ironically spoke a thousand words.

A gunshot in the distance that rang with the cacophonous melodies of a thousand symphonies.

And I moved with a purpose towards the black duffle bag by the front door of the house; one I had brought with me on my visit to Springfield. Inside were clothes, toiletries, the obvious things a person thinks of to bring with them on a trip. But, there was something else. Something else that gleamed silver, hidden beneath the clothes I pushed back upon ping it. I heard her approach me from behind, walking slowly, already knowing what it was I was doing and yet, questioning it anyway.

As though that would somehow change my impulsive decision – as they all usually tended to be.

“You’re going hunting, again?” Byul took a step closer, eyeing the contents with disdain, as she always has, “With that?” And she looked up, locking big, brown eyes with my own, “Again?”

At the very least, despite her resigning to allow our daughter her right to choice, she had retained her own opinion regarding the hunt. The loss of life. The danger that accompanied it. The worry for me she always had, even if she proclaimed she didn’t.

“Not all of us have fangs and claws.”

She approached me, closing the distance she hadn’t even attempted to all of this night – despite how long it’s been since I’ve seen her. And she mumbled four words beside my ear, fingers wrapped around my shoulders, the soft pads of her feet barely straining to reach my height, before she placed a soft kiss on my cheek. And when she pulled back, something I took note of despite being in a state of shock, she smiled in that mischievous way she used to. Truth be told, she was always the one teasing me. Truth be told, I loved it when she played hard to get. Honestly, I love her too damn much.

I left after that. I never did see my Hyunjoo that night. I ran into two boys I had known when they were still children who followed around an upright, virtuous girl who followed orders as though her life depended on it – and it did. They explained the situation to me. And, in the end, I left it be.

I left Hyunjoo, my Joey, to make her own decision. Just like Byul, her mother, had.

And I made my own.

I returned to Denmark the very next day.

I was no hero. I am no hero. I didn’t go on a brave journey across the seven seas. I didn’t battle armies for the larger purpose of proliferating justice. I didn’t discover wonders that caused me to almost risk the lives of those most dear to me. The only mishaps were those I created myself. There’s really no more story to tell than what I’ve outlined already. Yes, there’s what happened next. But, it’s all predictable from here on out should a person knows who I am. What I am. What I do. Who I kill.

However, I consider myself to be my title second, and a father and a husband first.

As such, just know that I acted for the benefit of my family, my entire family, as I should have done in the first place.

What was my own decision?

I would finally stop running away from it all.

I would face it, head on.

I hoped I would change too, just like Joey and Byul.

My name is Park Hyunwoo, and I think it’s time I started getting used to being abnormal.

I think it’s time I started embracing it.