☆ Twenty-Seventh Star

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It was five in the morning when my alarm woke me up, and I groggily got off the bed and walked to the bathroom. A usual Saturday for me would have meant sleeping in and staying in my pajamas the whole day. But this Saturday was different. At seven o’clock, I had a train to catch, and a place to be. So this naturally meant my usual Saturday had to wait for next weekend.

I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face. Applying toner on my palms, I rubbed my hands together and spread the liquid across my skin. Then I took off the hairband, and let the overnight curls frame my face. When I looked closer at my reflection in the mirror, I could see the dark circles under my eyes. Blame JB for suggesting a board game night yesterday!

“Are you going already?”

The sudden sound of her voice made me jump and drop my hairband on the sink. I turned around, glaring at Mijoo who was standing at the door. My heart had accelerated so much, I had to put my hand over my chest and pat it.

“Don’t do that!”

“I totally whispered,” she reasoned, walking in.

“That’s why it was so creepy,” I said. Mijoo just shrugged in response, so I rolled my eyes at her. In some ways, she was very similar to Sunggyu. “Why are you up anyways?”

“To see you off, duh.”

“Have my womanly charms captivated you?” I asked, feigning surprise.

She squinted her eyes at me, shaking her head slowly. “God gave you looks, but forgot about modesty, huh.”

I laughed, and elbowed her. She pushed me back really hard, so we had a little play fight. After a few minutes, I stopped her, and said I had to get ready for my train. Mijoo said she’d make breakfast, so I wouldn’t have to buy food from the convenience store. I thanked her, and went back to my room to pack. I only had to take some clothes and presents for my parents and Mrs. Go’s family. When I finished putting everything in my travel bag, I joined Mijoo in the kitchen. She was making leek pancakes since she didn’t have them after her hangover earlier this week. Daegu was awake, and snuggled up to my legs, so I played with him. His light-brown fur was soft and welcoming, although the spots on his back and limbs reminded of a predator.

When Mijoo was done flipping the pancakes around, she placed them onto a plate and put it on the kitchen counter, where I was sitting. She washed her hands, and joined me. We started eating.

“I talked to Jackson last night,” she said.

“Before you went to bed?”

“I didn’t sleep.”

I looked at her incredulously. “You’re crazy.”

She waved me off dismissively. “Just a bit.” Stuffing a piece of pancake into , she added, “He says he misses us.”

“He better be.”

“I think we should visit him,” suggested Mijoo.

“Sure, pay for the plane tickets to Hong Kong, and I’m in.”

“Better idea, we should ask Jelly Butter to pay for us.”

I held the fork to her approvingly. “You’re a genius.”

We carried on eating in silence. Daegu, however, wouldn’t leave my legs alone, so I carried him onto my lap, and ruffled his fur, realizing with shock that JB had bought an attention-seeking cat. Blame him for wanting a pet!

☆

I left the apartment complex at six, and took the subway line 2 from Gangnam to Sadang, then changed to line 4, and exited at Seoul Station. It was a chilly late summer morning, so I was lucky to have brought my cardigan. Waiting half an hour for the KTX towards Busan, I realized it was a two hour train journey, which, I then decided, would be spent on catching up with the sleep I hadn’t gotten last night (because of JB). Once I got into the vehicle, and made myself comfortable in my seat, I immediately fell asleep. Only the announcement was able to wake me up when it said we were shortly arriving at Dongdaegu Station. I pulled out my phone, and called my father. He had taken a day off so he could pick me up.

“Hey baby,” was the first thing he said. “Are you almost there?”

“Yeah, in ten minutes.”

He said he would start leaving the house, and I thanked him. We hung up. When I looked at the screen, I saw I had gotten a text from Sunggyu:

Let me know when you arrived safely.

I quickly typed in an answer, and stowed my phone away. The KTX slowed down to a halt. I picked up my bag, and stood up, slowly walking towards the doors. A pregnant lady had troubles pulling her luggage along, so I helped her. She smiled heartily, and warmth spread across my chest.

Getting off the train, I walked out, and waited for my father. He arrived five minutes later with a new car. It was an Audi. I gave him a thumbs up, and he smiled. Inside, he asked me about my job, and Mijoo and Sunggyu and JB, and I told him about Daegu (the cat), and when I explained why we had called him Daegu, he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Sunggyu is such a funny guy.”

We arrived at the house, and a pang of nostalgia hit me. It But it was the kind of pain that felt familiar and good. And I was saying that in the most non-masochistic way possible. As clearly as my memories could recall, it had been a year since I had come back. My parents usually came and visited me. Though, this time there was something I had to do here.

“Your mom made her infamous Kimchee for you,” said Dad, getting off the car and taking my bag.

I followed him to the house, and indeed there was the smell of garlic and chili. My mother came out of the kitchen, wearing her apron. She teared up a little as she hugged me. Our relationship had gotten so much better since I had moved out.

“I cleaned your room, and changed the sheets,” she explained. “Did you already eat?”

“Thanks. And no, I didn’t.”

“Go rest in your room. I’ll call you when the food is done.”

My father brought my bag to my room, then pressed his lips to my forehead, leaving me to myself. I walked over to my bed, and sat down. The fresh detergent scent filled my nose with so much pleasure and that feeling of home. Slowly, memories started pouring in, one after another, like the first snow in winter. Or the beginning of a rainy summer. My thoughts led me from Myungsoo to Bomi and Eunji and Chorong. I also remembered Sungyeol and Sungjong. Or my favorite teacher Mr Jang. And Woohyun Woohyun Woohyun

Here we lay together.

Here he promised.

Here I broke.

Here we were once real.

My eyes started to sting a little, but that was natural, and I forgave myself for it. During the time I was at my lowest, Sunggyu had said to me that it was okay to allow yourself to feel emotions, that you shouldn’t get angry at things that are out of your control. He had told me that you could only heal when there was pain, and if I didn’t allow the emotions to take over, I would never be mended.

There was a knock on my door. I turned around, and saw my mom standing outside my room. “Come in,” I said, flashing her a smile. She did, and sat down next to me. With her slender fingers, she tucked a few curls behind my ear.

“When are you going to Mrs Go’s house?”

“I told her daughter I’ll be there at 12.”

“Did you bring presents?” My mom had placed her hand on top of mine, and the warmth of her palm spread over to my body. “I left some money in an envelope. Remember to take it.”

“Okay.”

She looked me in the eyes, and I didn’t feel intimidated or anything. I used to feel uncomfortable with my mother alone in a room, but this time it seemed like we were on the same level of understanding, and had started regarding each other as equals.

“I remember when you would always cling onto me. Or follow me around,” she began, wrinkles appearing at the corner of her eyes. “And now, look at you. All grown-up.”

“I’m still kind of a kid,” I said, chuckling.

“You are still young, so you should enjoy everything to its fullest. In the past, I might have stopped you from doing that.”

I shook my head. “But I rebelled, and did them anyways.”

My response made her laugh, and this was good enough for me. Even if I wasn’t unshakeable, and a lot of things that had the power to hurt me still existed, believing in my parents’ undying love and trust held me up. And nothing could change that.

☆

Mrs Go used to tell Woohyun and me a lot about her daughter. Stories like how Kei had won a piano competition when she was eight, or how everyone thought she was a miracle to the Go spouses. Mrs and Mr Go weren’t her real parents. She was adopted. But anyone who had seen the two talk about Kei would understand that nothing of that mattered. They were family. The rest was just paperwork. 

Kei was now a woman in her late forties, married, and a mother of three. I had never seen her before, but when she opened the door, and welcomed me to the house, it almost felt like Mrs Go was there, letting me in. The way Kei smiled and spoke — they resembled so much Mrs Go.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, leading the way through the corridor. I looked around, but nothing had changed. The framed clover was still hanging on the wall.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral.”

We entered the altar room, and Kei turned around. She smiled genuinely, and said, “Not at all. Your mother explained the situation to me. She didn’t realize the letter was from me, or that it was about my deceased mother.” Stepping back, she gestured towards the memorial site. “Take your time. I’ll be in the living room.”

I nodded, and she left. Carefully, I knelt down in front of the pictures of Mrs and Mr Go. Bringing my hands to my forehead, I bowed down, and paid my respect to the deceased. For a few minutes more, I stayed in the room, looking at Mrs Go’s smile. It’s a strange feeling when you think about how the world has lost another soul. Mrs Go was someone that gave more than she had ever received, and I would like to believe she received plenty.

After I was done, I joined Kei in the living room. She had placed the pillows on the floor around the coffee table, and prepared tea. I sat down next to her. She offered me a cup, and I thanked her.

“My Mom always talked about you and Woohyun,” she mused, nodding to herself. “Almost like you were her own grandchildren.”

“She was a great person. I’m so very grateful to have met her.”

“She was thankful, too. You both brought so much light to her life.”

I grabbed the bag with the presents and politely gave it to her. “I’m sorry it’s not much.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing.”

Later that day, we looked at old pictures that Kei had found in her mother’s drawer. There was one of Woohyun and me with Mrs and Mr Go in front of the cheese shop. Looking at our uniform, I assumed we were in middle school. But I had no recollection of ever taking that photo.

“You should have it,” suggested Kei.

My eyes widened, and I shook my head frantically. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“You should definitely take it,” she insisted. “I offered it to Woohyun, but he said it would mean a lot more if the picture stayed with you.”

“Woohyun was here?” I asked, my heart in my throat.

“Yeah, a few days ago. And he came to the funeral.”

Blotches started blurring my view of the photo. It was suddenly hard to breathe. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed away at my insides. My whole body was shaking, but when I looked down at my hands, they weren’t moving. I was okay; I was fine. It was just my imagination. I was holding up. Even after everything, Woohyun was still a version of himself, and if I looked hard enough, I would still find fragments of his being that hadn’t changed.

☆

When I left Mrs Go’s house, it was already two in the afternoon, and the summer breeze had gotten stronger. Walking home from here would take at least half an hour, meaning half an hour out in the cold in shorts and a T-shirt (I left my cardigan at home), but I really needed the fresh air. I needed time to process Woohyun’s return. After three years, he finally allowed people to find him. I could probably go to his grandparents’ house, and I would see him there. He was back in Daegu. We were breathing the same air, but I was too confused to figure out what that meant for me, for him, for us.

I called Sunggyu because he knew best.

“Are you busy right now?” I asked him when he picked up.

There were sounds from the TV at his end of the line. “Not really. Just watching some shows,” he said. “How is Daegu?”

“It’s not too bad. A bit chilly. But I guess Seoul is chilly, too,” I replied, rubbing my arm to keep myself warm. “My father has a new car. An Audi. And my mom made Kimchee. I think I might bring some of it back. Oh, and Woohyun is back.”

Silence. “Can you repeat that?”

“He’s back in Daegu.”

“Who is?”

“Woohyun.”

“Did you see him?”

“No, but Mrs Go’s daughter said he went to the funeral,” I said. I pulled out the picture from my back pocket, and looked at it. Woohyun had spiky and unruly hair that hardly covered his chubby cheeks, and was wearing a long necklace. We were the same height back then. I remembered how he used to hate being called short, but if someone asked when he started growing and surpassing me, I wouldn’t be able to answer. We had known each other for seven years, and during six of them we were in the same class. We had spent so much time together, it was hard to pinpoint exactly when what happened.

“Do you where he is right now?” asked Sunggyu. It had gotten quiet suddenly, so I assumed he had turned off the TV. “She must have told you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Are you not planning to see him?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you.”

He sighed. “To be honest, it all depends on you. It’s true that it has been years, and really, things have changed. You both are not the same people anymore, and it’s not like you would see him with the intention of getting back together or anything.” 

I hummed in response, because Woohyun and I really weren’t in such place anymore. We might have been when only a few months had passed. But three years was too long for memories and feelings to remain unchanged. 

Sunggyu went on, “It’s really up to you whether you want to talk it out, and come to a closure. You wouldn’t agree with me here, but in a way, I think, for the past three years, you’ve never seriously dated anyone because, well, Woohyun. Because you guys never really broke up.”

“I beg to differ,” I protested.

“I’m not saying it’s because you still harbor feelings for him. I just think that you didn’t really open up to anyone because Woohyun’s disappearance closed off your heart.”

“So you think I should talk to him?” I asked. “What if we have nothing to say to each other?”

“I think you’ll have so much to say that you don’t even know where to begin.”

“But what if it’s awkward? It’s been so long. What if I—“

Sunggyu interrupted me, “You wouldn’t know unless you tried.”

“I’m scared though,” I admitted. Because I probably wouldn’t like any of his answers.

“You wouldn’t have called me if you hadn’t already set your heart on talking to him. You knew I would tell you to go for it. And if you don’t want to do it alone, I can buy a ticket to Daegu right now.”

A smile crept up on my face. “You’re so sweet.”

“The best thing that happened to you.”

“Thank you, but I think I need to do it alone.”

He laughed, and it warmed my heart. “That’s the Anjell I know.”

☆

In the evening, I had dinner with my parents, something I hadn’t done for ages, and we also drank some Soju. It must have been the first time I consumed alcohol with them because I never realized how red my father’s face could get from drinking. My mom’s tolerance, on the other hand, was quite high. She had the most shots, and still looked sober.

I also noticed how they were holding hands under the table, which I found endearing. Apparently, they sold the TV in the living room because no one had time to sit on the couch and watch shows, and bought a smaller one for the dining room. It was mounted on the wall. We left it on because the occasional laughter from the audience set the mood in our house.

“Anjell, be honest here,” began my father, holding his empty shot glass to me. His hand wobbled a little, swaying from side to side. “When did you start drinking?”

I started laughing, and the heat rushed to my face. “It was during college.”

“Lies!” He slammed his hand on the table, and almost broke the glass. My mother tried to keep a straight face and tell him off. Instead, she was giggling.

“I swear, Dad!”

“Our daughter is a liar,” he said, turning to my mother. What was intended as a whisper came out as a scream. “She was with the premature group of people. Mr Kim’s son. Mrs Lee’s.”

“No, not Myungsoo. He didn’t drink,” corrected Mom.

“Sungyeol, he did. Mr Lee told me plenty of stories.”

I shook my head in amusement. This was such a rare moment. My parents never really showed this side of them. Not to me. Or anyone. To their friends maybe. To Mr Kim (Sunggyu’s father) or Mrs Lee. But not to their daughter.

Merrily, I poured myself another shot when my dad grabbed my arm. His eyes were a little bit red and full of wonder. Almost like a kid on drug. I set the Soju bottle back onto the table, reaching for my shot glass. My father stopped me, and said, “Anjell, did you know Mr and Mrs Nam are divorced?”

My heart dropped.

“Mr Nam had a mistress,” he added. “Or was it Mrs Nam?”

“That was just a rumor,” said my mother.

“Mrs Lee said, that’s why they moved. Didn’t want anyone talking about them.”

I swallowed hard, and asked, “When did this happen?”

“Years ago.” My father sneakily grabbed my shot glass, and gulped the drink in one go. “Heard about it recently. Mrs Nam apparently came back, and told everyone.”

“Did she come back with Woohyun?”

“Yeah, yeah. He is here,” confirmed my mother nonchalantly, and it made me glad that they didn’t tiptoe around the topic. “He came back from the army.”

Thousand thoughts ran through my mind, but the alcohol in my blood didn’t allow my brain to arrange them in a way that my tipsy self would understand. There was the thing about Woohyun’s parents and Woohyun in the army and Woohyun coming back and Woohyun in the photo, and Daegu was suddenly all about Woohyun. For all the times I had assumed my parents would get a divorce, and in the end they chose each other, Woohyun’s family was slowly and unpredictably breaking into pieces. So what if all this time it had been about me and never about him? What if all he needed to stay was for me to read the signs?

☆