Reply Forty

Almost Autumn 2009

The apartment looked exactly the way I would imagine someone like my aunt spending her whole life in. The walls were a beige-white, the windows looking slightly old and antique. The full-length mirror, that was leaning against the wall, was framed with the kind of wooden ornament that made it appear classy. The color of the furniture varied in hues of white, but it still seemed like you were entering a world of endless winter. It was like looking outside your windows when it had snowed overnight, or like admiring pictures of the North Pole.

My aunt was sitting next to me, her hands neatly placed on her lap. The half-empty mugs stood on the coffee table in front of us. I had my phone put right next to them. We said nothing for the longest while because we were both hesitant to say the things we were supposed to say. It was almost autumn so it became a necessity to wear long sleeves during windy weather, which led me to fail at confirming whether my aunt had filled the outline of the tattoo with colors, or not.

“So,” she began, prolonging the word a bit too much, “how do you find him?”

She was talking about last Sunday when she had brought her boyfriend over, an event that could be summed up into this: she and her boyfriend arrived at 5pm, they introduced each other, he showed his manners in front of everyone, especially my grandparents (maybe his future parents-in-laws), we ate dinner prepared by my mom, he talked to me a few times, showed me some material arts techniques, which was pretty cool, and then they left before midnight. And since I actually thought he was a fine guy, I realized I didn't even have to lie to answer her. “He's nice. Grandma likes him. I like him. Dad likes him. Mom likes him. He is okay.”

My aunt seemed pretty relieved. “And do you think he's handsome?”

“Not my type.”

“Good, because no one really finds him handsome. It's just me who does.”

Which made me think of Sunggyu for no apparent reason. And I said no apparent reason because a) Sunggyu is handsome, and b) people do find him attractive, and c) it's not only me. (It rhymed!) Eunji said to me, when I told her about his I know, that she would always prefer him over Woohyun, and the phone conversation was so random and funny, I couldn't help but repeat it in my head.

It basically went like this: I called Eunji on Sunday before my aunt and her boyfriend showed up, and she picked up after two rings. We updated each other on our lives, and then there was this comfortable silence, this silence that made me want to blurt out all the things that had happened to me for the past days I hadn't talked to her, and I wanted to annoy her with Sunggyu and Sunggyu and Sunggyu and Sunggyu (yes, four times!), but I couldn't say anything, like my voice was stuck in my throat, and I hated myself for being so hesitant until she asked me, “So, Hana, did you confess?” And I answered really slowly, “I did,” and she didn't say anything after that until I heard the slightest gasp, as if her brain had only now registered what I had told her, and she got all giggly, and asked, “What did he say, what did he say?” Which was so stupid for me to answer, but I answered anyways. I said, “He said he knew,” and her giggles stopped, and then there was silence again.

After a while, she asked that one question that hadn't bothered me until she pointed it out, “So he rejected you?”

Did he? Did he not? I didn't know. So I said, “I don't know. It does seem like it's a rejection now that you say it. Although I've never asked him out in the first place. I mean, why do people always assume you want to date them when you confess? Can't you confess without wanting to date?”

“Why would you confess when you don't want to date them? Imagine that person actually likes you back and you'll be like, 'Ah, no. I just confessed, but we can't date. Sorry for getting your hopes up.'” I laughed at that. “If you don't want them to like you back, you usually stay quiet, because confessing can either result in rejection or acceptance. And you want neither of them.”

“I just wanted him to know,” I argued. “Like, I wanted him to know that he is a great person, and that I've never met someone as selfless as him, someone so kind-hearted, you know. That was why I confessed.”

“Do you think he doesn't get that enough or what?”

“Maybe not from the right people.”

“But you belong to the right people?”

I groaned slightly. “No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to tell you thatㅡ” I stopped short because I didn't know how to continue. “Actually, I don't know what I'm trying to say either. I think we've lost the thread.”

“Well, anyways, I like Sunggyu. He seems cool, and I like him better than Woohyun.”

That was pretty much the gist of our conversation. And as I remembered the words we had shared with each other, I thought about the rejection. Because, in all honesty, it hadn't even felt like a rejection. I thought rejections were supposed to hurt or inflict pain upon you or just be anything that wouldn't bring you happiness or joy. But when Sunggyu said, “I know,” it was like he acknowledged my feelings, and that was pretty much everything I wanted from that confession. It didn't feel like a rejection, but it probably was.

And that reminded me that Sungyeol had once said about Eunji that it's okay to be rejected by the one you like so maybe that was why I felt this way.

My aunt was now staring at me, probably wondering why I looked so distant. She said, “Hana, I thought about your words.” Which was quite funny because a few moments ago I had thought about other people's words, too. Then, she continued, “And I love you, Hana. Really. You're my favorite niece after all. And I know, I know. You're also the only one. But shut up for a while and let me talk.”

There was this slight hunch in me that knew where this was going, but smiling to myself before she even confirmed my thoughts would look stupid so I sat back, nodded and let her talk.

“I thought about everything. What you said about my friends, my boyfriend pre-visit. Just everything. And I've realized that you were only partly right.” I wanted to protest, but she hushed me, and went on, “But I have to give you credits for being even a tiny bit right in regards of an adult who supposedly should know better.”

“Thank you, then.”

She nodded, and said, “Yes, you're right. My friends aren't perfect. And yes, they do stupid things and they don't really care about me much, and yeah, no one has such a perfect best friend like you.”

“Two perfect best friends,” I corrected.

“Ah, so you made up with Howon?”

I nodded although I didn't know why she knew about that.

“Anyways,” said my aunt, clearing , “so you were right that my friends don't give aㅡ”

“Don't use vulgar language in front of your niece.”

“ㅡdamn about me. And yes, I should probably stop meeting them all together because they only invite someone for drinks.”

I grabbed my mug, drank up the rest, and urged her to continue.

She did. “So yes, that was the part you were right about. Now on to the wrong part.” My aunt looked at me, then at my mug, then at my fingers around the mug, then back into my eyes. I didn't know why she was being silent, but then she spoke up again, and I didn't have to bother asking. “It was wrong of you to be so mad about everything. When you get mad, I get even madder, and when you see me getting madder, you get even more madder. And eventually this will lead to a fight, and I hate fighting with you because we've fought so much in the past, and like I said, I love you, Hana.”

It was strange to hear my aunt continually saying she loved me, but I didn't protest because she seemed pretty sincere right now.

“I never understand why people get mad at each other. Why there is so much hate and anger. Like, your grandfather, he always got mad at the smallest things. Like, when your dad couldn't get an A in History or when he came home later than promised. The whole house would quiver because of his yells. And when I saw these things happening to my brother, I would think to myself, 'Why is he like that? Why can't people sit down and talk properly without raising their voice? Why do they think yelling will solve problems?' Because, in fact, yelling at someone only makes you hate that person more. Really, and then we have only hate in this world.”

“What are you trying to say?” I asked, because I didn't get the digression.

“I love you, Hana. And when you love someone like a family, you shouldn't get mad at each other. In fact, you should never get mad when you love someone. Because in love there shouldn't be anger or fear or anything like that.” She paused for a second, then added, “I hope you take this advice from your young aunt to heart. Especially when you're older and you have a husband and kids.”

I steered the conversation back to the main topic, and asked her, “Will you change your ways?”

There was slight hesitation in her eyes, but she answered, “I will. You were still wrong about forbidding stuff for me, but I will change my ways. I will still go out for drinks sometimes, but not as often, and with the right people.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I put my mug away, and took her hands. When I squeezed, she squeezed back, and everything seemed so wonderful (although I hate using that word, and I'm only making an exception now) and perfect (another word I hate using) that I thought it was okay to forget all my other worries for a while, that it was okay to enjoy the things that went right instead of stressing over the ones that didn't. For once, I felt great and happy and a bit excited because I would start my nursing program in a few weeks, and I realized I loved my aunt more than I had hated her in the past. And that was a funny thing for me because the amount of hate between people can surprisingly turn to an even greater amount of love, I found out, and it was so cliché, I actually found myself getting embarrassed by my own words. But I also realized that, despite everything, it would be okay if it turned out to be rejection, and that I wouldn't mind either if it wasn't.

The weirdest thing about liking someone is, you see yourself gradually changing. There will be a time when you stop and look around, and you'll suddenly see how the things have shifted in positions, and an apple is a not an apple anymore, but the fruit he likes, and a black snapback is not just a black snapback, but the leather snapback that he wears so often, and the color blue isn't your favorite color anymore, but the color that looks good on him, and everything suddenly reminds you of that person you like, and every little reminder will stimulate you to do unthinkable things.

The me who was not in love would have never followed her mother to the post office when the sun was shining, but the me who liked someone would gladly go out to deliver a letter when it was raining cats and dogs. I see it like that, when fate won't be as nice as to let Sunggyu show up in front of my doors, and I'm sure it won't, I will have to show up in front of his doors. But not quite literally.

We just passed by a small grocery store, which was on our way to the bus stop, when I asked my mom, “To whom are you sending this letter?”

She didn't answer for the first seconds of silence, and just stared ahead. She pulled the umbrella I was holding above us more to her side before she said without looking at me, “It's for Dongwoo's mother.”

“Why for her, though?”

My mom looked almost dumbfounded. “Because she's my best friend and because writing letters is meaningful.”

“You can always call each other. Or text,” I suggested. “Why going all the way to write letters?”

“Hana, you were young once. You wrote letters to your crush, too, didn't you?”

I kept quiet.

“I know you did. I found this letter to a certain Johnny in your drawers.”

“That'sㅡ”

“I know. That was probably just a joke. Especially regarding the fact that it was from an Elizbeth to a Johnny. But anyways, you write letters because they are meaningful. Because writing letters demands your personal efforts. You can easily call someone or text them, but writing a letter... It's like you can almost imagine that person worrying about their words or their handwriting. And you know how personal a handwriting can be.”

I looked at my mom from the corners of my eyes. “But you're not writing for Dad. You're writing for a friend.”

“Because she means a lot to me,” answered my mom. “When you find someone who means a lot to you, you will want to write a letter to them. Even if they live next door.”

We entered the almost empty bus, with me holding the umbrella away from us and my mom fixing her hair with a comb. It was still raining outside, and the drops of water on the windows started racing against each other. I thought about letters and about that one from Elizabeth to Johnny, and how I still kept that in place somewhere in my room, and how a lot of things had changed because of that stupid letter, and how not only my journey with Woohyun had started since that incident, but also my journey with Sunggyu, and how ridiculous it actually was, but how much I, in fact, loved it.

After a few minutes, we arrived at that one bus stop where I had confessed for the first time in my life. Surprisingly to a guy I hadn't expected. And although it had only happened a few days ago, I still felt awkward and slightly embarrassed. I wouldn't necessarily say I was regretting my words. It was more of a matter of accepting my feelings now. And for strange reason, I felt nervous, as if my mom could read the memories that had happened here, although it was humanly impossible.

The post office soon appeared behind a corner, and that was when my heart really started to slam against my chest with a kind of enormity that actually scared the hell out of me. A few days ago, I had confessed, and I had gotten rejected (or maybe not), but now that I was actually right before meeting him, I started feeling the aftermath of all of it. My brain couldn't calculate all the awkwardness and tension between us, if we were to meet again, and it also couldn't grasp the amount of excitement and curiosity before the actual thing would happen. I was excited; I was curious. I wanted to know how he would react upon seeing me. I wanted to know what would come after his, “I know,” and his, “I'll see you, then.” I wanted to know what would happen after his smile.

My mom was oblivious to all the panic and excitement going on in my head so when she waited for the automatic doors to the post office to open, I kept silent. When we entered, I also kept silent. When she walked to the counter with me, I still kept silent. My energy was completely spent on looking around, calming my nerves, finding Sunggyu, inhaling and exhaling, hoping for him to appear, and on some more exercises for the lungs. In the end, there wasn't any energy left for me to spend on talking.

The man behind the counter wore thick framed glasses, causing his eyes to appear even smaller behind them. He gave my mom a stamp, and told her to sit on one of the benches in order to glue it onto her letter. When she left, I stayed behind, and looked around.

“Do you need something, Miss?” he asked me after a while, peering up from his glasses.

I nodded, and cleared my throat. “Yeah, um, does someone like, uh, Kim Sunggyu work here?”

“Yes.”

“And is he working today?”

“Yes, but he is currently out,” answered the man. I thanked him politely, and allowed myself to look around once again. There weren't many people in the post office, and it didn't seem like someone wanted to talk with the man behind the counter, so it wasn't like I was a nuisance or a burden to him or anyone else in the room. Most of the people were busy sitting on the seats and gluing the stamps onto their packages or letters. I told myself it would be okay if I didn't get the chance to see him today because it wasn't like I missed him that much in the first place. I couldn't miss people who were still living in the same city. Besides Myungsoo. But that was a whole different story.

The automatic glass doors opened again, and a small breeze rushed in. The man behind the counter looked past me, to the doors, then back at me, and said with a smile in his voice, “There he is.”

And I turned around to look, and he really was there. Almost the same way I had left him a few days ago. Only with the difference that there wasn't a leather snapback on his head, and the hair on his forehead was brushed up. He didn't seem to have noticed me because he was smiling at his phone with a small package held between his arm and his hips. I turned back around, slightly getting shy, and put my hair over my face.

“No one was home so we couldn't deliver this,” was the first thing he said when I felt him standing right next to me in front of the counter, his scent gently passing over. I tried really hard to act like it didn't affect me, but who was I kidding?

There was this sound of him putting the package onto the counter, and then silence, and I started believing he really hadn't noticed me after all, but I realized that it didn't really matter because I had noticed him, and that seemed pretty enough, until I could still feel his presence next to me, as if he hadn't even thought of leaving yet, and I had this slight idea that he was even actually looking at me, and then I felt his fingertips close to my temples, and he was suddenly brushing away the strands of hair I had purposely allowed to fall over my face, and then he revealed my rose cheeks, and he almost put the hair behind my ears, when I leaned back, and said, “Why are you touching my hair?”

But he only laughed in this really attractive way before asking, “What are you doing here again?”

“My mom wants to send something away,” I answered, and he looked surprised, as if he had expected a different response. Then he looked past me at my mom, and quickly walked over to her. I decided to stay behind and watch them.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Son. I didn't see you,” said Sunggyu, holding my mom's hands without much hesitation. She smiled so affectionately in return that I started believing he was more of a son to her than I was her daughter. “It's nice to meet you here.”

“Oh, Sunggyu, it's always nice to meet you.”

“How have you been?”

They started catching up on each others' lives, and Dongwoo was also a subject in their conversation, and today's weather as well, and they talked so intimately with each other that I wondered when they had the time to get so close like that. Over the course of their dialogue, Sunggyu sat down next to my mom, and when they started talking about my father, I decided to join them.

“How's Mr. Son? Is he doing good?”

I sat on my mother's right, and he was on her left, and when he was talking, I had the perfect position to look at him. Which I did, while Mom answered, “He's gaining weight, but besides that, he feels great.”

“How about Hana's grandparents?” he asked, looking at me for a second. I suddenly tried measuring my heart rate.

“Couldn't be better.”

Later that day, he told us that his shift had just ended, and my mom went to the counter to send the letter away. While she was talking to that man with the glasses, I felt Sunggyu's eyes on me so I turned around to confirm, but he wasn't actually looking at me. He was only smiling to himself, and I felt my chest tightening at the sight.

Then we were standing outside the post office, and my mom noticed how he was staring at his phone with a shy smile on his lips, and I thanked God millions of times when she blurted out, “You're texting your girlfriend, huh?”

The surprise in his eyes looked so hilarious, I almost laughed at him. But then he shook his head, and said, “I'm sorry if I came off as rude for staring at my phone. But that's Howon. Not my girlfriend.”

“But you have a girlfriend.”

“No, I don't.” At which point, I subconsciously sighed in relief.

The whole time Sunggyu was with us, I had this notion that my mom was trying to get rid of me because, when he said Howon was coming over, she tried persuading me to go, too. Thanks to the desire of meeting Busan guy having made me forget the disappointment of a Mom trying to dump you to the next guy, I agreed. Which, in retrospect, had turned out to be a mistake. Or maybe not. Depending on the perspective.

I sat on the couch like I would always do whenever I was at his place (which wasn't frequently), and stared at the blank TV screen. This time, he wasn't in the kitchen, preparing food poison. In fact, he was sitting next to me, texting someone (probably Howon) and leaving me to rot. I didn't say anything, and slowly regretted having come over because the awkwardness seemed one-sided, and I was too much of a feminist to leave it like that. I contemplated whether to just go and lie to him that something came up, but then someone rang the bell, and I said, relieved, “This might be Howon.”

But Sunggyu looked up from his phone with a confusion between his eyebrows that made me stop and wonder. Unfortunately, though, this stopping and wondering didn't last long enough for me to understand what was going on because I already stood up, and went for the doors, knowing it was going to be Howon after all. Only it wasn't.

Who greeted me was a woman in her late 40s, the corners of her eyes wrinkled beyond repair, her thick hair bundled into a bun at the back of her head. She seemed as surprised as I was, causing us both to just continue staring at each other, not saying a single word. I slowly started noticing the familiarity in her lips and the eyebrows, and somehow everything made sense, and I was able to connect her face with someone else's.

“Hello, Mrs. Kim,” I said, a bit nervous. “You are Mrs. Kim, right?”

Sunggyu must have heard me because he bolted to the doors, his eyes rounding in disbelief, then stopped right next to me, a few inches away from his mother. He had this distant look on his face, and I suddenly felt so sorry for him. I suddenly just wanted to reach for his hand, and squeezed it, and I wanted him to squeeze back, but nothing of it happened because I said, “I'm Sunggyu's friend, Son Hana. Um, I'll be going out for a while.”

I walked past her with a stiff smile when she walked in, and I closed the door behind her. There was silence for a while, and I only truly understood what was going on when I slipped down to the ground, my back leaning against the cold door, and the loud voices began booming in my ears.

I didn't try to hear what they were saying; I just sat there, looked up at the corridor's ceiling, and hoped Sunggyu was going to be okay. It reminded me of that time when I had found out about Howon and his relationship to his father. Only it was different. Because I could hear Sunggyu's mother crying after ten minutes. And there were tears in his voice, too.

A part of me thought I shouldn't be here, that I shouldn't be witnessing this fight between him and his mother, that it was too personal to be heard by strangers, but another part of me believed he needed someone right now. And I couldn't just leave him like that, not when I liked him so much, and not when I felt the greatest desire to be with him.

After a while, the voices ceased, then stopped all together, and I was suddenly only be able to hear silence from the other side of the doors. I wondered when I was going to go back in to see whether Sunggyu was okay, and decided to do just that when his mother was leaving. As if on cue, the doors opened, and I almost fell back, but was able to prevent any more embarrassment by supporting myself with my hands. And then I looked up, and saw Sunggyu who wasn't looking back. He closed the doors behind him, and slipped down, and then we were quiet. Not soon after that, he started burying his head into the crook of both of his arms that he had placed on his bended knees.

“ ,” he said constantly. “ .”

My mind was too blank upon having seen his teary eyes that I didn't know what to answer so I just inched closer to him, making sure he knew I was there. I traced my eyes from his covered face to his hair to the nape of his neck, then I stared at his earring while he continued repeating that word. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry, but he didn't. He just kept on saying, “,” and wasn't looking up, so in the end, I just called his name. And he stopped.

The corridor was so cold, I noticed. The floor was cold, the door behind us was cold. A slight breeze came from the windows down the hall, and it was almost autumn. My hands were cold because I had placed them on the cold floor for such a long while, and despite that, I reached over to his hands, that were slightly warmer than mine, and I held them. He tensed a bit at that, but I didn't pull away, and he didn't either. The way we were holding hands looked more like shaking than actual holding or interlacing, and I was, in truth, only touching his fingers instead of his whole hand, but we still felt connected. I knew he was there, and he knew I was there, too. And when I squeezed slightly, he squeezed back.

Hours must have passed, or maybe just minutes. Either ways, he started lifting his head up, and looked at me. With the usual smile, he said, “Let's go back in.”

We were still holding hands when we went in. But he quickly let go after having told me to pick a movie, and then he just disappeared into his room. There were still a lot of questions left unanswered, and I was thoroughly confused about things, but I still followed his order, and went over to the TV counter. I found a movie called My Sister's Keeper, starring Cameron Diaz, and I thought it would be a good one, so I decided to let this be our miracle.

I had already set everything ready for watching (with much efforts since I wasn't used to his TV) when Sunggyu came back. He smiled at me, and it seemed so real and sincere that I just believed it was real and sincere. He sat down next to me, and covered both our legs with the blanket that had been lying untouched on the couch for this whole time.

Before we started the movie, I said, “Sunggyu.”

And he said back, “I'm okay. Let's watch the movie.”

So we watched the movie, and in the middle of it, I started crying, mostly because the actresses were just this good at acting, and partly because of Sunggyu. It was the first time I had seen him break down, the first time he really cursed in front of me. He hadn't actually cried, but he almost did, and the solely thought made me cry more. Cameron Diaz was lying next to her leukemic daughter on the hospital bed when I just couldn't stop the tears from emerging and falling, to the point that Sunggyu paused the movie, and asked, “Are you okay?”

I said, “No,” because I wasn't, and he seemed amused by my response. Then he hit play, and we continued watching, and I continued crying, and then he said, “Come here,” but I shook my head, and tried wiping away the tears, and he repeated, “Really, now. Come here,” so I did. I approached him, and he opened his arms, and I inched closer, and he smiled and said, “It's okay.” Then he wrapped his arm around me, and his scent entered my nose, and I was literally in his embrace, and he repeated, “It's okay,” but he was almost laughing. He patted my head, and held me close, and my heart didn't know where to go anymore, and my chest started hurting real badly, and he constantly said it was okay, but I didn't know whether he was saying it to himself or to me, and when the movie ended, he let go.

With amusement twinkling in his eyes, he said, “That was just a movie.”

“A movie can be real when the actors act well,” I protested, because it was the truth.

He said nothing at that, and just smiled back. I decided to wipe away all the remaining tears from my face while he continued staring at me. I fixed my hair a bit, and he was still looking at me. I turned to him, and he hadn't averted his eyes away yet.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said.

Then I thought it was okay to ask questions so I asked, “Where's your mom?”

And he responded with a smile, “Peacefully sleeping in my room.”

“And Howon?” Because that guy hadn't showed up yet.

“He won't come.”

I left it at that. I stared at the screen when the credits were rolling, and thought about my aunt's words. I thought about the hate and the anger, and I wondered about Sunggyu and his mother, and how she was sleeping in his room right now, as if the fight hadn't happened at all, and I wondered about his relationship to his parents, and while I wondered, he stared at me, and it made me feel uncomfortable. Only until he spoke up.

“Hana,” he said, and I looked back to show him I was listening, “you like me, right?”

So I began to stutter a bit in response. “Well, um, yes, uh, that, you know, is, uh, yeah.”

“And if you like someone, you want to know everything about them, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you curious about me?” he asked, looking sincere.

I told him I was with a small nod. There was this slight difference in his gaze and his eyes and the furrow in his forehead, but he was still Sunggyu. Although I couldn't completely recognize him because he was somehow different. Even the way he talked.

He swiftly swept his tongue over his lips. “I don't know why I'm like this right now. Maybe because we just watched this movie, and I just saw you cry, and when you cried, I wanted you to stop, but not in this angry and annoyed way, more like in this I-care-about-you way, and when you were sitting there, crying and all, I couldn't help but want you to inch closer. And I really don't know what I'm talking about right now, but I know that I want you to ask me what happened.”

The credits ended at that moment, and I looked at him sincerely, and asked, “What happened to you, Sunggyu?”

Looking back, I realize it was the first time Sunggyu was ever selfish towards me, and that was also the only difference I had noticed in him. I know people should be compassionate and selfless, but Sunggyu was selfless all the time. He was always the one giving in, always the one worrying about others. It was time for him to think about his own needs and desires. And at that time, I wanted to be the one he could lean on, the one he could be selfish with.