"Deoksun~ah," your mom said to you- the last of a thousand times - before you got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to go," you lied. You had always been a bad liar, but you'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"Tell sung-won I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want -I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

"Don't worry about me,” you urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged you tightly for a minute, and then you got on the plane, and she was gone.

When you landed in South Korea, it was raining. You didn't see it as an omen- just unavoidable. You had already said your goodbyes to the sun.

Your dad was waiting for you with the cruiser. He gave you an awkward, one-armed hug.

"It's good to see you, Deoksun," he said, smiling.

"You haven't changed much. How's Miran?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad.

It was from this town, which your mother escaped with you when you were only a few months old. It was in this town that you'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until you were fourteen. That was the year you finally put your foot down; these past three summers, your dad, vacationed with you in Japan for two weeks instead. Your dad had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that you were coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten you registered for high school and was going to help you get a car .But it was sure to be awkward with your dad. You knew he was more than a little confused by your decision - like your mother before.

“I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced

 "How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part you couldn't compromise on.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a home coming gift." Your dad peeked sideways at you  with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free. "You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car.

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. He wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. You inherited that from him. So you looked straight-ahead as you responded.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that you being happy in Korea is impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with you. 

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by your thanks

It took only one trip to get all your stuff upstairs. You got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had been belonged to you since you were born. The wooden floor, the lights blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window -these were all a part of your childhood. The rocking chair from your baby days was still in the corner.

One of the best things about dad is he doesn't hover. He left you alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for your mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. You weren’t in the mood to go on a real crying jag. You would save that for bedtime, when you would have to think about the coming morning.

When you finished putting your clothes in the pine dresser, you took your bag of bathroom necessities and went to the bathroom to clean yourself up after the day of travel. you looked at your face in the mirror as you brushed through your y tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already you looked sallower, unhealthy. Your skin could be pretty - it was very clear, almost translucent-looking- but it all depended on color. You had no color here.

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Twilight *-*