I’ve always felt this guilt building up inside of me for as long as I could remember. My awareness of the guilt intensified after Mari was gone. My parents adopted me—chose me to become their daughter but to this day—I feel like I have failed them. Completely ruined their hopes of having an ideal daughter. When I look at them, all I see is sadness at the fact that they never got a normal child and that very guilt has been eating me up from the inside out. 

They never blame me. They never scream at me. They support me through everything but I don’t even know how to become that perfect daughter for them. I don’t know how to say thank you for sticking by me. I feel like I should apologize for being so irreparable and damaged. If I were them, I would’ve done everything to try to return me back to the orphanage. I was and still am a defective product.

I look down at my phone and see, 'Mom'. 

'You really should answer. She's your mother for goodness sake.' Mari tells me in her nagging voice.

"I’ll call her back later," I reply and go back to pulling the video of Taejoon hitting the girl onto my computer.

'You say that every time but you never follow through.'

"What do you suggest I say to her? 'Hi, Mom—sorry we haven't talked much. I'm out trying to catch erts and abusers and get revenge for Mari. Oh, did I forget to mention that I've developed Mari's voice in my head so I don't go any crazier than I already am?' I don’t need her to feel any worse about adopting such an imperfect child.”

'She misses you and you know she does not think you are imperfect. She loves you just as you are. Crazy or not crazy—you are her child and it'd be nice if you updated her so that she knows you're alive.'

I put away my camera into my backpack and bury my face into my hands. 

'You know how much I wish I could talk to my Mom.'

"I hate it when you do that. Ugh. Okay. Fine. I will call her after work today. Happy?"

Mari laughs knowing that I’d do anything for her if it meant her coming back to life. 'Okay, now that we have that taken care of—can we please talk about your personal, personal life?’

I swing my backpack over my shoulder and leave my apartment to go to work. Plugging in my earphones and holding my phone, I reply to Mari, “There’s not much to say—

'My point exactly. You don't have a love life, Yeol!' 

"I don’t quite desire one. You’ve seen my lifestyle. Who would want a mad woman for a girlfriend?"

"I can name a few," a new voice makes me jump, almost putting me into a panic attack. "Jeeze, Sehun," I clutch onto my chest for dear life. "It is much too early to be seeing your fluorescent hair."

He motions toward his ear, wondering if I’m still on a phone call. I pretend to end it, “I’ll talk to you later, Mari.” I look around the neighborhood, “Do you live in this area? I seem to be bumping into you too many times to count by now.”

"Just a few blocks from your building. Hope you don’t mind me walking with you. No bus today?"

I shake my head, “Not on days like this. I like walking to the office when it’s early in the morning. See how the colors from the sun rise over the buildings—actually. Stand right there, Sehun.” I take out my camera. “Move over to the left a bit. Good.” Clicking the images, I laugh at the picture. “Your hair matches the lights in the sky.”

He smiles. When taking pictures of Sehun, I can see what Mari is talking about when she says he is serious. The only time when he appears as a child is when he smiles. It’s young and innocent. He lets people see his smile because he is truly happy whereas I use mine to further my goal. The five year difference between our ages really are apparent when it comes down to a simple expression. Sehun pulls out his phone and clicks an image of me before I notice. “You’ve taken way too many pictures of me. It’s only fair that I have one of you.”

"Delete it, Rainbow boy."

"No, I think I’ll keep it and set it as my background image." He looks at his phone with that same heartwarming expression.

"Miranda Kerr will not be happy that she was replaced by—this." My arm goes from head to toe, showing the lack of beauty in front of him.

As we continue walking, he looks into his backpack. “Here, been meaning to return this to you.” He hands me the healing balm. “Worked like a charm. All better now. My mom’s stuff doesn’t even work that well.”

'Yeol, ask Sehun about your Mom issues.' Mari interrupts quickly.

"Why would I do that?" I ask her mentally.

'He's young and away from home all the time. His mom probably worries. Ask what he would do to ensure his mom that he is fine and okay and alive.’

"I’m not going to ask a 19 year old boy for advice."

'Do it, Yeol.'

At times like this, I wish I couldn’t hear Mari’s voice. When we were together at the orphanage, she would change her tone and become so persuasive that no one could say no. I was a victim of her manipulations to the point where I have lost count. “Sehun—this is going to sound weird and you totally don’t have to answer.”

He laughs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s the question?”

I stop walking and try to formulate my thoughts. “I have this friend—” I can’t believe I’m— one, asking Sehun for guidance and two, using the 'I have this friend that needs help' line when it is really me that needs the help. “And she doesn’t really talk to her Mom or Dad all that much. She ignores their phone calls and messages. Doesn’t go see her parents for the holidays because she feels guilty that she didn’t turn out to be the daughter that she thinks they wanted. Her parents, especially her mom, are the absolute best and she feels terrible treating them the way that she does but she just doesn’t know how to make it better because of the—”

"Guilt?" he asks.

I nod my head and feel a rush of embarrassment about discussing my issues with a teenager.

He thinks for a moment and scratches his colorful hair with his right hand. “Mom’s are a bit more difficult to deal with than Dad’s so for now, let’s start with the Mom. Definitely don’t just call her. Mom’s want to see that their children are healthy and eating well. As much as the mom would love for your friend to come home and talk—I think your friend would be more comfortable in a public setting—like a bakery or coffee shop so the meeting won’t feel so confrontational. It’s a bit of a compromise on both ends—the mom having a face to face meeting and the daughter doesn’t feel too claustrophobic. They should really talk about their issues—especially the daughter. No mother feels like their child has failed. If anything—I bet the mother thinks that she failed her child.”

My mouth hangs slightly ajar as I listen to Sehun. I have never once thought that my mom has failed me and it pains me to think that I may have put her through so much anguish by just not talking to her. 

"There’s this bakery right around the corner where you live called 'Breeze Bakery Cafe'. They have awesome cakes, cookies, and coffee. Could be a nice meeting place for your friend.”

I bite the bottom of my lip, “Thanks, Sehun. I’ll let my friend know. For a moment there, you didn’t seem quite so—

"Young?" his eyebrows are raised, teasingly.

I nod and laugh, “Exactly.”

"Yeol, just because I’m 19—doesn’t mean I think like I’m 19. If anything—I probably act like a 24, 25 year old?"

"Ha! Is that why you call me by my first name and not nuna—because somewhere in your naive head you think you are my age?"

"Age is only but a number. Just a number, Yeol. Doesn’t mean anything to me. It shouldn’t mean anything to you either."

"If you say so." We reach the front of the building and I tell Sehun to go on up first. I had to make a call before I go inside for work. Once he entered the elevators, I dial my mom’s phone number and anxiously wait for an answer.

'Hello? Yeol? Are you okay?' Her voice is strained and tired—almost like she hasn’t had one good night’s rest since the day she adopted me. The guilty feeling resurfaces like a tidal wave.

"Hi, Mom. I’m okay."

'Good, good. It’s really nice to hear your voice. Are you sure—everything is okay?'

"Yeah, I’m fine. I’m doing well. I’m working."

'That’s wonderful. Where are you working? Are they treating you well there?' she gasps and it sounds like she’s trying to hold back tears. 'I’m sorry, Yeol. I don’t mean to pry. You must think I’m being so nosy.

"No, Mom. It’s fine. You’re my mom. Of course you can ask. I was calling to see if you want to—meet," I have trouble saying the words. I haven’t seen my Mom since I left for school at Seoul Institute for the Arts five years ago. I breathe in and out quickly before I lose the courage to say anything more. "I was wondering if you want to meet for coffee at Breeze Bakery Cafe after I get off of work?"

I can hear her laugh through her sniffles, 'I’d love that.'

"Great, um, I get off of work around 7 tonight. Does that work for you?"

'Yes, yes. Definitely works. It’s so nice to hear your voice. I’ll see you at 7.'

"Okay—bye—Mom."

——————————

"What if she doesn’t show up?" I say and take a sip of my french vanilla latte while I stare at the clock inside the cafe— 6:58 PM.

'She's your mother. She hasn't seen you in years. Of course she will come to see you.' Mari says.

"Yeah, but I’m just saying—what if she doesn’t?”

'I'm not even considering that a choice and plus—here she is! Be nice, Yeol.'

I stand up and she comes around the table, enveloping me in one of her motherly hugs. She holds my face within her two hands and looks at me—analyzing every pore, “Have you been eating? You look so much skinnier. Are they not paying you enough for food?” 

"I’m doing fine. You don’t have to worry," I grab the waiter’s attention and ask for a black coffee with two sugar cubes.

"You still remember how I like my coffee," Mom sits down at the other end of the coffee table and places her purse on top of her lap.

"Yeah and Dad likes black coffee, three pumps of hazelnut creamer, and five sugar cubes. Sweet tooth."

The edges of her eyes wrinkle as she laughs, “He wishes he could be here. He’s on a work trip in Australia or else he wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It’s so nice to see you.”

Already, I’m feeling an intense flood of remorse. “I know. I’m sorry I don’t call or text that often, it’s just—

"We know. We understand. Mari was very important to you. You’re still adjusting and we want you to know that we are here—whenever you are ready. 5 months from now, 10 years from now—we will be here, Yeol."

She says my name with such ease. It’s so effortless and it makes me think that her caring for me as a mother is as effortless as it should be. My jaw clenches and I’m trying to hold back everything to keep myself from making my parents feel any more terrible. “You and Dad are so nice to me. Way too nice to me and I’ve treated you both horribly. I just don’t know—what or how to express how grateful I am but most of all how sorry I am for being like—like—this.” 

She gently grabs my chin and says sternly, “You have nothing to apologize for. You never have to apologize to anyone for the kind of person you’ve turned into. You are a beautiful young woman—inside and out. You’re trying to move on and every person deals with their grief in different ways. I can not judge you on your chosen way of dealing with what happened to Mari. She was your best friend.” Her coffee arrives and she thanks the waiter. “Now,” she smiles and fans her face, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “Update me on your life. What have you been up to since Rhode Island? How is work? Is there anyone special in your life?” 

We both laugh as we are equally teary eyed. 

"We’ve got the tough part out and now I’m choosing to mosey my way into your life," she takes a sip of her coffee. 

I nod my head and slowly the guilt begins to dissipate. “I’m working as a photographer in SM Entertainment. Hours are good and the building is close to my apartment.”

"That’s absolutely wonderful. And?” she grins with her award winning smile.

"There’s no one special."

"No boyfriend?"

"No time for that. More important matters are at stake—

"Love is always an important matter, don’t you think, Mrs. Geum?" 

My mom is startled when she sees Sehun waltz in with his surplus of rainbow hair. He sits down next to me and shakes my mother’s hand. “Oh well, yes of course it is. I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend, Yeol.” My mom is still taken aback by the multitude of colors on Sehun’s head.

"Oh my—no. No. No. Never. Not in this lifetime or the next” I reply in fright.  The last thing that I need is my mother thinking I can’t find a suitable significant other around my age. “He’s like—19.”

"I’m Sehun. I see Yeol has failed to introduce us."

She nods her head, a bit confused but nevertheless seems to enjoy the fact that I am interacting with the opposite . “I’m Yeol’s mother. How do you know each other?”

"I have the unfortunate luck of being his photographer—he’s in an idol group. Could you excuse us?" I pull Sehun up by the arm and drag him towards the corner of the restaurant. "What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to see if your 'friend' made that dinner date with her mom. Glad to see that it is working out perfectly. Can I stay?” he asks, pleading with his hands.

"No, you can not stay."

He looks around and sees my Mom motioning both of us back to the table. “I beg to differ. I believe your Mom is thinking otherwise.” He takes me by the arm and I unwillingly walk back to the table with him. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Geum. Yeol wanted to know what coffee I wanted.”

I bury my face into my hands and wonder why I asked Sehun for help in the first place. This is going to be the very last time I listen Mari tell me to do something. “Are you even old enough to drink coffee?”

My mom instantly chimes in, “I was 15 when I had my first sip and have been addicted ever since. Yeol and Mari began drinking coffee at 16. Mari insisted it helped her lose weight—something about making her bowels move.”

“Mom, we’re not really, actually talking about bowel movements right now are we?” Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to explain my frustration. “And Mari didn’t need to lose weight. She was tiny as it was.”

"Yeol loves talking about Mari. She was her best friend." 

Sehun looks a bit confused and I remember how I ended my pretend call earlier in the morning. "Was?" he asks.

I want to stop my mom from saying what she is about to tell Sehun but it was too late. “Yes, Mari died 8 years ago.”