Irene runned out of  bed, threw on a tracksuit and drove to her nearest newsagent. She reached the newspaper stand and began to leaf through the pages in search of what Joy had been raving about. The man behind the counter coughed loudly and Irene looked up at him. “This is not a library, young lady, you'll have to buy that,” he said, nodding at the newspaper in her hand.

“I know that,” she said, irritated by his rudeness. Honestly, how on earth was anyone supposed to know which paper they wanted to buy if they didn't even know which paper had what they were looking for? She ended up picking up every single newspaper from the stand and slammed them down on the counter, smiling sweetly at him.

The man looked startled and started to scan them into the register one by one. A queue began to form behind her.

She stared longingly at the selection of chocolate bars displayed in front of her and looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. Everyone was staring. She quickly turned back to face the counter. Finally her arm jumped up and grabbed the two king-size chocolate bars nearest to her on the shelf from the bottom of the pile. One by one the rest of the chocolate began to slide onto the floor. The teenager behind her snorted and looked away laughing as Irene bent down with a red face and began to pick them up. So many had fallen she had to make several trips up and down. The shop was silent, apart from a few coughs from the impatient queue behind her. She sneakily added another few packets of sweets to her pile. “For the kids,” she said loudly to the newsagent, hoping everyone behind her would also hear.

He just grunted at her and continued scanning the items. Then she remembered she needed to get milk, so she rushed from the queue to the end of the shop to retrieve a pint of milk from the fridge. A few women tutted loudly as she made her way back to the top of the queue, where she added the milk to her pile. The newsagent stopped scanning to stare at her; she stared back blankly at him.

“Mark,” he yelled.

A spotty young teenager appeared from one of the shopping aisles with a pricing gun in his hand. “Yeah?” he said grumpily.

“Open the other till, will ya, son, we might be here for a while.” He glared at her. Irene made a face at him.

Mark dragged his body over to the second till, all the time staring at Irene. What? she thought defensively; don't blame me for having to do your job. He took over the till and the entire queue behind her rushed over to the other side. Satisfied that no one was staring at her anymore, she grabbed a few packets of crisps from below the counter and added them to her purchases. “Birthday party,” she mumbled.

In the queue beside her, the teenager asked for a packet of cigarettes quietly.

“Got any ID?” Mark asked loudly.

The teenager looked around in embarrassment with a red face. Irene snorted at him and looked away.

“Anything else?” the newsagent asked sarcastically.

“No thank you, that will be all,” she said through gritted teeth. She paid her money and fumbled with her purse, trying to put all the change back in.

“Next,” the newsagent nodded to the customer behind her.

“Hi, can I have twenty Benson and–”

“Excuse me,” Irene interrupted the woman. “Could I have a bag, please,” she said politely, staring at the huge pile of groceries in front of her.

“Just a moment,” he said rudely, “I'll deal with this lady first. Yes, cigarettes is it?” “Please,” the customer said, looking at Irene apologetically.

“Now,” he said, returning to her, “what can I get you?” “A bag.” She clenched her jaw.

“That'll be twenty cents please.”

Irene sighed loudly and reached into her bag, searching through the mess to find her money again. Another queue formed behind her.

“Mark, take over the till again, will you?” he said snidely.

Irene took the coin out of her purse and slammed it down on the counter and began to fill the bag with her items.

“Next,” he said again, looking over her shoulder. Irene felt under pressure to get out of the way and began stuffing the bag full in panic.

“I'll wait till the lady here is ready,” the customer said politely.

Irene smiled at her appreciatively and turned to leave the shop. She walked away grumbling to herself till Mark, the boy behind the counter, startled her by yelling, “Hey, I know you! You're the girl from the tv!”

Irene swirled around in surprise and the plastic handle broke from the weight of all the newspapers. Everything fell onto the floor and her chocolate, sweets and crisps went rolling in all directions.

The friendly customer got down on her knees to help her gather her belongings while the rest of the shop watched in amusement and wondered who the girl from the tv was.

“It is you, isn't it?” the boy laughed.

Irene smiled up weakly at him from the floor.

“I knew it!” He clapped his hands together with excitement. “You're cool!” Yeah, she really felt cool, on her knees on the floor of a shop searching for bars of chocolate. Irene's face went red and she nervously cleared . “Em . . . excuse me, could I have another bag, please?” “Yeah, that'll be–”

“There you go,” the friendly customer interrupted her, placing a twenty-cent coin down on the counter. The newsagent looked perplexed and continued serving the customers.

“I'm Taeyeon,” the woman said, helping her put all her chocolate back into the bag, and held her hand out.

“I'm Irene,” she said, a little embarrassed by her overfriendliness as she took Taeyeon’s hand. “And I'm a chocoholic.”

She laughed.

“Thanks for the help,” she said gratefully, getting to her feet.

“No problem.” She held the door open for her. She was good-looking, she thought, a few years older than her, and had the oddest light brown eyes.

Taeyeon cleared .

She blushed, suddenly realizing she had been staring at Taeyeon like a fool. She walked out to her car and placed the bulging bag in the backseat. Taeyeon followed her over. Her heart did a little flip.

“Hi again,” she said. “Em . . . I was wondering if you would like to go for a drink?” Then she laughed, glancing at her watch. “Actually, it's a bit too early for that, how about a coffee?”

Taeyeon was a very confident woman and she rested herself coolly against the car opposite Irene, her hands sat in the pockets of her jeans with her thumbs resting outside, and those weird eyes just stared back at her. However, she didn't make her feel uncomfortable; in fact, she was acting very relaxed, as though asking a stranger out for coffee was the most natural thing in the world. Was this what people did these days?

“Em . . .” Irene thought about it. What harm could it do to go for a coffee with a woman who had been so polite to her? The fact that she was absolutely gorgeous also helped. But regardless of her beauty, Irene really craved company and she seemed like a nice, decent woman to talk to. Joy and Yeri were at work and Irene couldn't keep calling over to her mother's house, Elizabeth had work to do too. Irene really needed to start meeting new people. Many of Seulgi and Irene's other friends had been Seulgi's friends from work and from various other walks of life, but once she had died all those “friends” of theirs hadn't been much of a familiar feature around her house. At least she knew who her true friends were.

She was just about to say yes to Taeyeon when she glanced down at her hand and her smile faded. “Oh sorry, I didn't realize . . .” Taeyeon backed away from her awkwardly, as if she had some kind of disease. “I have to rush off anyway.” She smiled quickly at her and took off down the road.

Irene stared after her, confused. Had she said something wrong? Had she taken too long to decide? Had she broken one of the silent rules of this new meeting-people game? She looked down at the hand that had caused Taeyeon to run away from her and saw her wedding ring sparkle back at her. She sighed loudly and rubbed her face tiredly.

Just then the teenager from the shop walked by with a gang of friends and a cigarette in his mouth and snorted at her.

She just couldn't win.

Irene slammed the door of her car and looked around. She wasn't in the mood to go home, she was sick of staring at the walls all day every day and talking to herself. It was still only ten o'clock in the morning and it was beautifully sunny and warm outside. Across the road her local café, the Greasy Spoon, was setting up tables and chairs outside. Her stomach grumbled. A nice breakfast was exactly what she needed. She took her sunglasses from the glove compartment of her car, carried her newspapers with both hands and wandered across the road. A plump lady was cleaning the tables. Her hair was tied back tightly in a large bun and a bright red-and-white checked apron covered her flowery dress. Irene felt like she had walked straight into a country kitchen.

“Been a while since these tables have seen sunlight,” she said happily to Irene as she approached the café.

“Yeah, it's a beautiful day, isn't it?” Irene said, and the two of them stared up at the clear blue sky. It was funny how good weather in Ireland always seemed to be the conversation of the day with everyone. It was such a rare sight that everyone felt blessed when it finally arrived.

“You want to sit out here, love?”

“Yes I do, might as well make the most out of it, it'll probably be gone in an hour,” Irene laughed, taking a seat.

“You need to think positively, love.” She busied herself around Irene. “Right, I'll get you the menu,” she said, turning to leave.

“No, it's OK,” Irene called after her, “I know what I want. I'll have the Irish breakfast.”

“No problem, love.” She smiled, and her eyes widened when she saw the pile of newspapers on the table. “You thinking of starting your own newsagents?” she chuckled.

Irene looked down at the pile and laughed at the sight of the Arab Leader lying on the top. She had grabbed every single paper and hadn't even thought to check what they were. She doubted very much the Arab Leader contained any articles about the documentary.

“Well, to tell you the truth, love,” the woman said, cleaning the table beside her, “you'd be doing us all a favor if you put that miserable ol' bastard out of business.” She glared across the road to the newsagent. Irene laughed as the woman waddled back into the café.

Irene flicked through the pages of the tabloids and came to a small article in the review section that caught her eye.

“GIRLS AND THE CITY” A HIT IN THE RATINGS

by Lee Sunmi 

For any of you unfortunate people who missed out on the outrageously funny TV documentary “Girls and the City” last Wednesday, do not despair, because it will be back on our screens soon.

The hilarious fly-on-the-wall documentary, directed by Baekhyun Bae, follows five girls out for a night on the town. They lift the lid on the mysterious world of celebrity life in trendy club Boudoir and provide us with thirty minutes of stomach-aching laughter.

The show proved to be a success when first aired on Channel 4 last Wednesday, the latest TAM ratings revealing 4 million people tuned in in the UK. The show is to be repeated again Sunday night at 11 P.M. on Channel 4. This is must-see TV, so don't miss it!

Irene tried to keep her cool as she read through the article. It was obviously great news for Baekhyun but disastrous for her. Having that documentary aired once was bad enough, never mind a second time. She really needed to have a serious talk with Baekhyun about this. She had let him off lightly the other night because he had been so excited and she didn't want to make a scene, but at this stage she had enough problems on her plate without having to worry about this too. She flicked through the rest of the papers and saw what it was Joy was ranting about.

Every single tabloid had an article about the documentary and one had even printed a photograph of Yeri, Joy and Irene from a few years ago. How they got their hands on it she did not know. Thank God the broadsheets contained some real news, or Irene would have really worried about the world. However, she wasn't too happy with the use of the words “mad girls,” “drunken girls,” and the explanation from one of the papers of how they were “well up for it.” What did that even mean?

Irene's food finally arrived and she stared at it in shock, wondering how on earth she was going to get through it all. “That'll fatten you up, love,” the plump lady said, placing it on the table. “You need a bit of meat on your bones, you're far too skinny,” she warned her, waddling off again. Irene felt pleased at the compliment.

The plate was piled high with sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, black and white pudding, baked beans, fried potatoes, mushrooms, tomatoes and five slices of toast. Irene looked around her with embarrassment, hoping no one would think she was a complete pig. She saw that annoying teenager heading toward her with his gang of friends again and she picked up her plate and ran inside. She hadn't had much of an appetite lately, but she finally felt ready to eat, and she wasn't going to let some stupid spotty teenager ruin it for her.

Irene must have stayed in the Greasy Spoon much longer than she thought, because by the time she reached her parents' house in Portmarnock it was almost two o'clock. Against Irene's prediction the weather hadn't gotten worse, and the sun was still sitting high in the cloudless blue sky. Irene looked across at the crowded beach in front of the house, and it was difficult to tell where the sky ended and the sea began. Busloads of people were continuously being dropped off across the road, and there was a lovely smell of suntan lotion in the air. There were gangs of teenagers hanging around the grassy area with CD players blaring out the latest tunes. The sound and the smell brought back every happy memory from when Irene was a child.

Irene rang the doorbell for the fourth time and still no one answered. She knew somebody had to be home because the bedroom windows were wide open upstairs. Her mum and dad would never leave them wide open if they weren't home, especially with throngs of strangers wandering around the area. She walked across the grass and pressed her face against the living room window to see if there was any sign of life. She was just about to give up and wander over to the beach when she heard the screaming match between Baekhyun and Seohyun.

“SEOHYUN, GET THE DAMN DOOR!”

“NO, I SAID! I . . . AM . . . BUSY!” she yelled back. “WELL, SO AM I!”

Irene rang the doorbell again just to add fuel to the fire. “BAEKHYUN!” Ouch, that was a bloodcurdling scream. “GET IT YOURSELF, YOU LAZY COW!”

“HA! I'M LAZY?!”

Irene took out her mobile phone and rang the house. “SEOHYUN, ANSWER THE PHONE!”

“NO!”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Irene snapped loudly and hung up the phone. She dialed Baekhyun's mobile number.

“Yeah?”

“Baekhyun, open the goddamn ing door now or I'll kick it in,” Irene growled. “Oh, sorry Irene, I thought Seohyun had answered it,” he lied.

He opened the door in his boxer shorts and Irene stormed in. “Jesus! I hope you two don't carry on like that every time the doorbell rings.”

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “Mum and Dad are out,” he said lazily and headed up the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Back to bed.”

“No you are not,” Irene said calmly. “You are going to sit down here with me,” she said, patting the couch, “and we're gonna have a nice long chat about 'Girls and the City.' ”

“No,” Baekhyun moaned. “Do we have to do this now? I'm really, really tired.” He rubbed his eyes with his fists.

Irene had no sympathy for him. “Baekhyun, it's two o'clock in the afternoon, how can you still be tired?”

“Because I only got home a few hours ago,” he said cheekily, winking at her. Now she definitely had no sympathy for him, she was just plain jealous.

“Sit!” she said, ordering him onto the couch.

He moaned again and dragged his weary body over to the couch, where he collapsed and stretched out along the entire thing, leaving no room for Irene. She rolled her eyes and dragged her dad's armchair closer to Baekhyun.

“I feel like I'm with a shrink,” he laughed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at her from the couch.

“Good, because I'm really going to pick your brains.”

Baekhyun whinged again, “Oh Irene, do we have to? We just talked about this the other night.”

“Did you honestly think that was all I was going to say? 'Oh, I'm sorry, Baekhyun, but I didn't like the way you publicly humiliated me and my friends, see you next week'?”

“Obviously not.”

“Come on, Baekhyun,” she said, softening her tone, “I just want to understand why you thought it would be such a great idea not to tell me you were filming me and my friends.”

“You knew I was filming,” he said defensively.

“For a documentary about club life!” Irene raised her voice with frustration at her younger brother.

“And it was about club life,” Baekhyun laughed.

“Oh, you think you're so bloody clever,” she snapped at him, and he stopped laughing. She counted to ten and breathed slowly to prevent herself from attacking him.

“Come on, Baekhyun,” she said quietly. “Do you not think that I am going through enough right now without having to worry about this as well? And without even asking me? I cannot for the life of me understand why you would do it!”

Baekhyun sat up on the couch and became serious for a change. “I know, Irene, I know you've been through hell, but I thought this would cheer you up. I wasn't lying when I said I was going to film the club because that's what I had planned on doing. But when I brought it back to college to begin the edit, everyone thought that it was just so funny that I couldn't not show it to people.”

“Yeah, but you put it on TV, Baekhyun.”

“I didn't know that was the prize, honestly,” he said, wide-eyed. “Nobody knew, not even my lecturers! How could I say no to it when I won?” Irene gave up and ran her fingers through her hair.

“I honestly thought you would like it,” he smiled. “I even checked with Seohyun and even she said you'd like it. I'm sorry if I upset you,” he eventually mumbled.

Irene continued nodding her head through his explanation, realizing he genuinely had had good intentions, however misguided. Suddenly she stopped. What had he just said? She sat up alert in her seat. “Baekhyun, did you just say that Seohyun knew about the tape?”

Baekhyun froze in his seat and tried to think of a way to back himself out of it. Coming up with nothing, he threw himself back onto the couch and covered his head with a cushion, knowing he had just started World War III.

“Oh Irene, don't say anything to her, she'll kill me!” came his muffled reply.

Irene bounded out of her seat and stormed upstairs, thumping her feet on every step to show Seohyun she was really mad. She yelled threats at Seohyun all the way up and pounded on her bedroom door.

“Don't come in!” yelled Seohyun from inside.

“You are in so much trouble, Seohyun!” Irene screamed. She opened the door and burst her way in, putting on her most terrifying face.

“I told you not to come in!” wailed Seohyun. Irene was about to start screaming all sorts of insulting things at her sister but stopped herself when she saw Seohyun sitting on the floor with what looked like a photo album on her lap and tears streaming down her face.

“Seohyun what's wrong?" said soothingly to her younger sister. Irene was worried; she couldn't remember the last time she had seen her cry, in fact, she didn't know Seohyun even knew how to cry. Whatever had reduced her strong sister to tears must be something serious.

“Nothing's wrong,” Seohyun said, snapping the photo album shut and sliding it under her bed. She seemed embarrassed to be caught crying, and she wiped her face roughly, trying to look like she didn't care.

Downstairs on the couch, Baekhyun peeped his head out from under the cushion. It was eerily quiet up there; he hoped they hadn't done anything stupid to each other. He tiptoed upstairs and listened outside the door.

“Something is wrong,” Irene said, crossing the room to join her sister on the floor. She wasn't sure how to deal with Seohyun like this. This was a complete role reversal; ever since they'd been kids it was always Irene who had done all the crying. Seohyun was supposed to be the tough one. “I'm fine,” Seohyun snapped.

“OK,” Irene said, looking around, “but if there's something on your mind that's upsetting you, you know you can talk to me about it, don't you?”

Seohyun refused to look at her and just nodded her head. Irene began to stand up to leave her sister in peace when all of a sudden Seohyun burst into tears. Irene quickly sat back down and wrapped her arms protectively around her younger sister. Irene Seohyun's silky pink hair while her sister cried quietly.

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong?” she asked softly.

Seohyun gurgled some sort of reply and sat up to slide the photo album back out from under the bed. She opened it with trembling hands and flicked a few pages.

“Him,” she said sadly, pointing to a photograph of her and some guy Irene didn't recognize. Irene barely recognized her sister. She looked so different and so much younger. The photograph was taken on a beautiful sunny day on a boat overlooking the Sydney Opera House. Seohyun was sitting happily on the man's knee with her arms wrapped around his neck, and he was staring at her with a huge smile on his face. Irene couldn't get over how Seohyun looked. She had blond hair, which Irene had never seen on her sister before, and a great big smile on her face. Her features looked much softer and she didn't look like she was going to bite someone's head off for a change.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Irene asked carefully.

“Was,” Seohyun sniffed, and a tear landed on the page.

“Is that why you came home?” she asked softly, wiping a tear from her sister's face. Seohyun nodded.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Seohyun gasped for breath. “We had a fight.”

“Did he . . .” Irene chose her words carefully. “He didn't hurt you or anything, did he?”

Seohyun shook her head. “No,” she spluttered, “it was just over something really stupid and I said I was leaving and he said he was glad . . .” She trailed off as she started sobbing again.

Irene held her in her arms and waited till Seohyun was ready to talk again.

“He didn't even come to the airport to say good-bye to me.”

Irene rubbed Seohyun's back soothingly as if she were a baby who had just drunk her bottle. She hoped Seohyun wouldn't throw up on her. “Has he called you since?”

“No, and I've been home for two months, Irene,” she wailed. She looked up at her older sister with such sad eyes Irene almost felt like crying. She didn't like the sound of this guy at all for hurting her sister. Irene smiled at her encouragingly. “Then do you think that maybe he's not the right kind of person for you?”

Seohyun started crying again. “But I love Mathew, Irene, and it was only a stupid fight. I only booked the flight because I was angry, I didn't think he would let me go . . .” She stared for a long time at the photograph.

Seohyun's bedroom windows were wide open and Irene listened to the familiar sound of the waves and the laughter coming from the beach. Irene and Seohyun had shared this room while they grew up, and a weird sense of comfort embraced her as she smelled the same smells and listened to the familiar noises.

Seohyun began to calm down beside her. “Sorry, Rene.”

“Hey, you don't need to be sorry at all,” she said, squeezing her hand. “You should have told me all this when you came home instead of keeping it all inside.”

“But this is only minor compared to what's happened to you. I feel stupid even crying about it.” She wiped her tears, angry with herself.

Irene was shocked. “Seohyun, this is a big deal. Losing someone you love is always hard, no matter if they're alive or . . .” She couldn't finish the sentence. “Of course you can tell me anything.”

“It's just that you've been so brave, Irene, I don't know how you do it. And here I am crying over a stupid boyfriend I only went out with for a few months.”

“Me? Brave?” Irene laughed. “I wish.”

“Yes you are,” Seohyun insisted. “Everyone says so. You've been so strong through everything. If I were you, I'd be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Don't go giving me ideas, Seohyun.” Irene smiled at her, wondering who on earth had called her brave.

“You're OK, though, aren't you?” Seohyun said worriedly, studying her face.

Irene looked down at her hands and slid her wedding ring up and down her finger. She thought about that question for a while and the two girls became lost in their own thoughts. Seohyun, suddenly calmer than Irene had ever seen her, sat by her side patiently awaiting Irene's reply. “Am I OK?” Irene repeated the question to herself. She looked ahead at the collection of teddy bears and dolls that their parents had refused to throw out. “I'm lots of things, Seohyun,” Irene explained, continuing to roll her ring around on her finger. “I'm lonely, I'm tired, I'm sad, I'm happy, I'm lucky, I'm unlucky; I'm a million different things every day of the week. But I suppose OK is one of them.”

She looked to her sister and smiled sadly.

“And you're brave,” Seohyun assured her. “And calm and in control. And organized.”

Irene shook her head slowly. “No Seohyun, I'm not brave. You're the brave one. You were always the brave one. As for being in control, I don't know what I'm doing from one day to the next.” Seohyun's forehead creased and she shook her head wildly. “No, I am far from being brave, Irene.” “Yes you are,” Irene insisted. “All those things that you do, like jumping out of airplanes and snowboarding off cliffs . . .” Irene trailed off as she tried to think of more crazy things her little sister did.

Seohyun shook her head in protest. “Oh no, my dear sister. That's not brave, that's foolish. Anybody can bungee jump off a bridge. You could do it.” Seohyun nudged her.

Irene's eyes widened, terrified at the thought, and she shook her head.

Seohyun's voice softened. “Oh, you would if you had to, Irene. Trust me, there's nothing brave about it.”

Irene looked at her sister and matched her tone. “Yes, and if your wife died you would cope if you had to. There's nothing brave about it. There's no choice involved.” Seohyun and Irene stared at each other, aware of the other's battle.

Seohyun was the first to speak. “Well, I guess you and I are more alike than we thought.” She smiled at her big sister and Irene wrapped her arms around her small frame and hugged her tightly. “Well, who would have thought?”

Irene thought her sister looked like such a child with her big innocent blue eyes. She felt like they were both children again, sitting on the floor where they used to play together during their childhood and where they would gossip when they were teenagers.

They sat in silence listening to the sounds outside.

“Was there something you were going to scream at me about earlier on?” Seohyun asked quietly with an even more childish voice. Irene had to laugh at her sister for trying to take advantage. “No, forget about it, it was nothing,” Irene replied, staring out at the blue sky. From outside the door, Baekhyun wiped his brow and breathed a sigh of relief; he was in the clear. He tiptoed silently back into his bedroom and hopped back into bed. Whoever this Mathew was, he owed him big-time. His phone beeped, signaling a message, and he frowned as he read the message: Who the hell was Sandra? Then a grin crept across his face as he remembered the night before

* * * 

happy 2019! life is sweet :D