Feeling Sunshine

Taeyeon always swallowed her sadness, suppressing it deep in the pit of her stomach, where it stayed until she picked up her violin. The violin seemed to draw straight from this source and extract the sadness, sending it coursing through her veins to the tips of her fingers, where it was released in sound. As she placed her chin on the cold rest and balanced the violin on her shoulder, she could feel a surge of anticipation. The violin was light and hollow, but soon it would be heavy, filled with all the sadness she would give it.

She let that first long bowstroke take away the whispers she heard around her last week, when she had to go downstairs to the lobby to retrieve her mail. She often let the mail sit there for weeks so that she didn’t have to face her neighbors. Their whispers revealed how much they wondered about her – about the strange blind girl who never left her apartment.

The successive notes took away the loneliness – all the days that she sat by the window in her living room with her cheek pressed up against the cold glass as she listened to the sounds of Seoul, and all the nights that she slept alone with her arms wrapped around the pillow as she pretended to hug someone, anyone. 

As the notes soared, she emptied out the pain of her younger years, filling the body of the violin with the humiliation she faced in those school hallways, where the taunts and the assaults were endless. Each day was a battle from which she never escaped unscathed, with the wounds she received continually scabbed and then reopened and then scabbed over again. Her mother would always tell her not to let their words and actions upset her, to be thick-skinned.

Taeyeon played the last few quivering notes now as she thought about her mother’s words and how she had indeed become thick-skinned, calloused to the point where nothing, not even the good things, could pierce her armor. With that lingering thought, she scraped the bow hard against the E string, hearing it snap just as her blind eyes, which had been filling with tears, let those salty droplets loose.

The snap stunned her for a moment. She sat still with that now heavy violin weighing on her shoulder until she realized what she had done. Feeling her way down the instrument’s neck, she found the broken string and rolled the end of it between her fingertips as she thought about the fragility of everything, even steel.

Everything in Taeyeon’s apartment had its place. She didn’t need sight to find what she was looking for if she could remember where things were. It was this rigid organization system that allowed her to live independently.

She always stored the string sets in the violin case, but when she searched there, she found only some rosin for the bow. Even though she knew that she must have used the last set of strings, she wasted hours afterward in a futile search. It was a denial tactic. She didn’t want to leave. It was humiliating enough to have to go down to the lobby once a month for her mail. To go beyond that and actually leave the building was something she almost never did. She had no reason to. The corner mart delivered her groceries. The church sent over donated clothes.

But she needed these strings as much as she needed food and clothing. She couldn’t live without her music. She wished now that she had taken the time to learn how to use screen reading software so that she could go online to buy them. She had gotten too frustrated and impatient with it the first time she tried it, having to wait through a robotic read of each line and each section of each webpage. It was tedious.

The music shop was only two blocks away. She hadn’t been there in years, not since her mother brought her there to buy her the violin as her high school graduation present. It was the last great memory she had of her mother.

Taeyeon stood up now, wiped the tears from her face, and walked over to the door. She placed her hand on the wall just to the right of the door in search of the hook from which her keys hung, hearing them jingle as they fell into her hands. Her cane was propped up against the wall just underneath the hook. She slipped her hand through the strap and took hold of the handle. Most blind people talked of their cane as natural extensions of themselves, but because Taeyeon only used hers on the rare occasions when she left her apartment, she didn’t think of her cane the same way. It didn’t feel natural at all and only called attention to herself and her condition.

She listened to the tap and sweep of her cane as she left her apartment and made her way down the empty hall to the elevator, resuming that tap and sweep when the elevator dropped her off at the lobby. She didn’t sense anyone around her as she walked past the mailbox slots to the front door. But on the other side of the door, a bustling city awaited. She breathed deeply in and then pushed the door open, feeling herself instantly swept away by a strong gust of wind. It must have rained that morning. She could feel the moisture in the cool air as she walked outside and could hear the light splash of shallow puddles as she tapped her way down the sidewalk in her darkness. The wind carried all the scents and sounds of that around her. The spices of a nearby restaurant were mixed with the exhaust fumes of passing cars. And the noise of those cars – the loud mufflers, the occasional blasts from horns – were mixed with the one-sided conversations she heard from those talking on their cellphones as they walked by her.

She felt someone brush her shoulder while rushing by her on the left, and then felt the breeze and smelled the strong cologne of someone else rushing by her on the right. She moved slowly, letting them all pass around her as she focused on the sidewalk and tried to remember how many steps there were until the street corner. Fifteen? Eighteen? Her mother had chosen this neighborhood for her because the sidewalks were wide and were lined with bricks that were of a different texture than the main walkway. She found those bricks now, feeling the difference in texture beneath the soles of her shoes and welcoming the sense of ease that brought her. When the ridges stopped, suggesting the end of the sidewalk, she reached out and searched for the button on the pole, which promptly signaled for her and the other pedestrians she could hear around her to cross the street.

Slowly, and without incident, she continued walking. The last time she was at the music shop – that day with her mother – she had heard the pop music piping out of the shop’s speakers from at least a block away. It was the music that had prompted her to ask her mother about stopping there. But she was less than a block away now and couldn’t hear anything. She hadn’t bothered to count her steps, as she couldn’t remember exactly how far the shop was. She had thought that she could rely on the music to guide her. After walking some more, still without hearing the music, she began feeling nervous that she might not be on the right street and abruptly stopped. Someone walking behind her bumped into her and then muttered something in his annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyeon quietly said.

Someone else now bumped into her, and then another, all seemingly annoyed by this girl who just stopped in the center of this crowded sidewalk, blocking their way.

And then someone even more clueless than Taeyeon collided with her, causing Taeyeon to lose her balance and fall into the street, landing with a splash in a cold puddle.

A young girl’s delicate voice called out in her direction. “Aigooooo!”

Taeyeon sat in that puddle and looked in the direction of the voice, seeing nothing but darkness but imagining the owner of the voice as someone quite beautiful.

“Aigoo,” the girl cried again. She then whimpered like a puppy, releasing this long aegyo-filled moan.

Taeyeon was too stunned to move. She smelled a waft of perfume – somewhat sweet like that of orange blossoms – and then felt a hand on hers. She quickly recoiled from the touch, not used to people touching her.

“Take my hand,” the girl said. “I’m so sorry to knock into you like that. Please, let me help you up.”

It had been so long since someone held Taeyeon’s hand that she almost forgot how to hold it back. She let the girl take her hand and help her to her feet, being sure to keep her head down so that the girl didn’t see her eyes as she stood up.

“Oh! You’re short, too!” the girl exclaimed. “Sometimes I feel like such a midget. We short girls need to stick together.”

Taeyeon was still too stunned to speak. She just continued to keep her head down, pretending to be preoccupied with brushing off and shaking out the loose rainwater from her pants.

“Is this yours?” the girl asked.

Taeyeon didn’t know what the girl was referring to, not until she felt the girl’s hand touch hers again, this time in an effort to pass Taeyeon her cane.

Taeyeon nodded and slipped her hand through the strap at the top of the cane, still keeping her head down.

“I’m Sunny.”

Taeyeon didn’t reply. The girl spoke so informally, using only her first name. And that name, how strange. Sunny, as in happy, radiant, cheerful… all the things Taeyeon was not.

“What’s your name?” Sunny asked.

She wondered why this girl wanted to know her name. Who would care about some strange blind girl? Sunny must pity her, she thought. There was no other reason for her to be so nice.

“Can you… talk?”

Taeyeon sighed, realizing that if she didn’t talk, this girl would think that not only was she blind, but that she was deaf, too. “Kim Taeyeon,” she finally said.

“Taeyeon,” Sunny repeated. “Great beauty.”

“What?”

“Your name. That’s what it means.”

Taeyeon never gave much thought to what her name meant.

“Sunny’s not my real name. My real name is Sunkyu. But I always hated that name. Sunny fits my personality more.”

Taeyeon didn’t know her long, but from what she sensed already, she agreed that the name Sunny was more fitting. She didn’t tell Sunny this, though. She just wanted to run away and go back home, closing her door forever. But she couldn’t run, not when she needed a cane to guide her every step.

“I’m so sorry about before, Taeyeon-ssi! Sometimes I can be so clumsy.”

Taeyeon shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said. She held out her cane and tapped it against the street, trying to find the sidewalk again so that she could return home.

“You need help?” Sunny asked.

“No,” Taeyeon quickly said, as she brushed past Sunny and returned to the crowded sidewalk.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Oh, well where were you coming from just now?”

“Home.”

“Oh.”

Taeyeon continued walking, still sensing Sunny at her side.

“So, you just went for a walk or something?” Sunny asked.

Taeyeon stopped again. She looked in what she perceived to be Sunny’s direction as based on the sound of her voice and stared straight ahead, knowing that if Sunny was as short as she was, that she would be at eye-level. “Why do you care?” Taeyeon bluntly asked.

“What?”

“Why do you care about what I’m doing? You don’t even know me.” Taeyeon waited for Sunny to respond, but all she could hear was the fleeting chatter of passing pedestrians and that ever present sound of cars revving by. “Are you still there?” Taeyeon asked.

“Why do you care?” Sunny asked.

Taeyeon’s mouth fell open. “I… I don’t,” she said.

“Yes you do,” Sunny said. “You wouldn’t still be standing here if you didn’t care.”

At that moment, a clerk from the café they were standing in front of opened the door to sweep the entryway. The smell of baked goods came drifting out, filling Taeyeon’s nose with the enticing aroma.

“Ooh, that smells good,” Sunny said. “Are you hungry?”

Taeyeon shrugged.

“Do you like red bean paste?”

Taeyeon nodded.

“Good. Let’s split a bungeoppang. I hate the red bean paste so I’ll just eat the head and the tail. You can eat the middle.”

The café was a quiet retreat from the city. Taeyeon heard only a low murmur of conversation from the nearby tables, the clacking of keys as people worked on their laptops, and the occasional whirring noise of the espresso machine.

Cutting through that calm quiet was Sunny, who released another long aegyo-filled moan as she bit into the head of that fish-shaped pastry.

Taeyeon had never met someone like Sunny, someone so bubbly with so much aegyo. She wondered if anyone could possibly be as happy as Sunny seemed to be. 

“Ai, sooooo good!” Sunny said, as she pushed the bungeoppang plate across the small table to Taeyeon.

Taeyeon placed her hands on the table, feeling her way to the plate. The aroma of the pastry reminded her of her mother’s cooking. It had been so long since she ate something freshly baked. At home, she mostly ate ramen and premade kimchi from the corner mart.

“Can I ask you something?” Sunny quietly asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

Taeyeon swallowed her bite of the pastry and waited, knowing what question Sunny was about to ask.

“How did you, um…”

“I had an eye disease,” Taeyeon said. She wanted to leave it at that and continue eating the pastry, but she knew that Sunny would only ask more questions. “My retinas were damaged somehow. The doctors said it was called retinopathy.”

“How old were you when that happened?”

“Almost thirteen. It was the summer before high school.” She could hear Sunny breathe in deeply and assumed that she was pitying her again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Sunny said.

“Are you just being nice to me because you think I’m some sad and lonely blind girl?” Taeyeon couldn’t fathom any other reason why Sunny was so interested in her. The only person who had treated Taeyeon like a normal person was her mother. Everyone else either like the kids in school or pitied her like the people who delivered her food and clothing.

“What makes you think I’m not the one who’s sad and lonely?” Sunny quietly asked.

“You?” Taeyeon laughed. She hadn’t heard herself laugh in so long and was so surprised by how it came out – loud and open-mouthed, like an ahjumma laugh.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Sunny asked.

“You… you just sound happy. Happy people aren’t lonely.”

“Sometimes, happiest people are the loneliest people,” Sunny said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Taeyeon mumbled.

“Maybe I force myself to be happy to forget how sad and lonely I really am.”

Taeyeon didn’t understand. Maybe Sunny wasn’t as beautiful as Taeyeon had imagined her to be. Maybe she was as much a social outcast as Taeyeon was. “Can I… do you mind if I touch your face?” Taeyeon asked. She waited for a moment for Sunny to reply.

“Okay,” Sunny quietly said. She moved her chair so that instead of sitting across from Taeyeon, she was now sitting beside her, and then guided Taeyeon’s hands to her face.

Taeyeon placed her palm against Sunny cheek, feeling how soft and seemingly flawless Sunny’s skin was. She let her fingers drift over Sunny’s wide nose and then down to her lips, gliding her fingertips across Sunny’s mouth. It was such a beautiful mouth. Taeyeon had never known anyone with such curvaceous lips. “You’re so beautiful,” Taeyeon said. She continued to brush her fingertips gently across Sunny’s mouth. “You probably have a ton of boyfriends.”

“I don’t like boys,” Sunny said in a soft whisper that tickled Taeyeon’s fingertips.

Taeyeon slowly pulled her hand away. “You like girls?”

After a moment, in a hesitant voice, Sunny said, “That’s why I’m lonely.” She paused again and then added, “I’ve never even been kissed.”

Taeyeon sat back in her chair, uncomfortable with the feelings arising inside her. Some bold part of her, buried for years underneath all the sadness, wanted to reach out and hold Sunny, to pull her soft face close and kiss her. It wasn’t a feeling driven out of pity for Sunny. It was a feeling driven by desire. Taeyeon tried to quickly squash these feelings, to rebury them deep within her and regain her usual, passionless composure. But the feelings continued to surface and make her skin tingle, as if breathing new life in her and warming her cold heart. Not knowing what to say, she resorted to utter honesty. “I’ve never been kissed either.”

Both girls were quiet, thinking their own thoughts. Taeyeon tried to listen for any small movement Sunny might make, but all she could hear was the background noise of the café. She wondered what Sunny was thinking. After enduring more awkward silence, both girls suddenly spoke out at once.

“Maybe we should…”

“I think I…”

They both laughed now – both with loud ahjumma laughs. Hearing each other’s ridiculous laughter made them laugh even more. It was almost uncontrollable, the laughter, so much so that Taeyeon had to grip the table to hold herself steady, lest she fall from her chair. She felt Sunny’s hands suddenly on hers, the two now calming their laughter as their hands clasped each other’s. Taeyeon smiled and held Sunny’s hands below the table, gripping them tightly. Her sudden laughter seemed to wake up all of the cells in her body that had previously lay dormant, as if she had never been truly alive until this moment.

“What were you going to say?” Sunny whispered.

Taeyeon remembered what she was going to say: I think I want to kiss you. But she no longer had the courage to speak so boldly. “What were you going to say?” she asked instead.

“I… I was going to suggest that maybe we should… we should kiss…” Sunny’s voice trailed off and transformed into a cute whine as she rapidly tapped her feet against the floor. “Ai, so embarrassing!”

Taeyeon bit down on her lower lip. This surge of happiness and love was so new and so overwhelming that she almost felt like crying. The intimacy of the moment made her feel bare to the world. “Is anyone looking at us?” Taeyeon shyly asked.

“I don’t think so…” Sunny looked around the small café. “There’s just a few people lost in their little online world. And an ahjumma in the corner with her back to us.”

“Will you kiss me?” Taeyeon asked, her voice low and weak. She trembled as she waited for Sunny to respond. Seconds passed like minutes, and then, through her darkness, she could sense Sunny’s face close to hers. Their breaths collided for a moment before Taeyeon felt Sunny’s curvy lips press against hers, how soft and wet they were, and how gently they closed for the faintest sweetest peck.

When their lips parted, Taeyeon let out a long breath, and with it, her sadness flowed out. She couldn’t stop the tears.

“Oh no, why are you crying?” Sunny asked.

“I just…” Taeyeon didn’t know what to say. “I’m just happy.”

As if bubbling out from inside her, Sunny flooded Taeyeon with questions. “What are you doing the rest of the day? Are you busy? I mean, if you’re not busy, I was wondering… do you like music? It’s okay if you don’t, but…”

“I love music!” Taeyeon blurted out.

“Weeee!” Sunny squealed. “What kind of music do you like? I was just on my way to this music shop nearby to pick up the new Big Bang album.”

“I was going to the music shop, too! I… I play violin. I know it’s cheesy, but…”

“That’s not cheesy! That’s daebak! Do you think you can teach me how to play? I like to sing. Maybe we can collaborate.”

Taeyeon liked to sing, too, but she hadn’t sung in years, not since her mother died. She reached for Sunny’s hand again, knowing that this new friend of hers would help her find her voice again. “Let’s go,” Taeyeon said, smiling as she began to stand.

Sunny passed her the cane and Taeyeon accepted it but knew that she wouldn’t need it, not when she had someone with her to guide her. Still holding Sunny’s hand, she walked confidently and lightheartedly to the front door of the café, which Sunny held open for her.

“Doesn’t look as dismal out here anymore,” Sunny said.

Feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, Taeyeon smiled. “I know.”