September 26, 2018
 

Jisoo’s POV
 

                A woman’s agonizing scream rang out from a distance away, echoing towards the gloomy sky and somehow even managed to pierce through the thick fog before me. Was this a dream? I didn’t know. I could only feel the overwhelming fear that nearly brought me to my knees. Something was desperately urging me to go and find her. Furrowing my brows in confusion, I reached towards the ambiguous gray mass–maybe if I just waved it away, I’d be able to see better. But as my hands dipped in, the mist wickedly crept up onto my arms and chest, then to my neck. Within seconds, the rest of my body was engulfed by it and my lungs were beginning to fail. Before my vision faded to an abyss of darkness, the woman cried out once more–this time, her voice even fainter. As much as I wanted to help, I could only be sorry I couldn’t save her–or myself.

                “Ahh!” I screamed myself awake, body soaked in cold sweat. Reminding myself it was just a nightmare, I blinked and swallowed a few times to rejuvenate my desert of a throat. When my pulse finally evened, a hundred questions ambushed my mind all at once–Where am I? How long have I been here for? Why can’t I remember anything? It was then that I realized how weak my body was; I could barely keep my eyes open let alone get up. After an eternity, I was able to seat myself against a fortress of pillows although it was a struggle to keep my head erect nonetheless. Glancing down at what seemed to be a bed, I recognized the black and white grid duvet that I slept under every night. I was in my own room–but since when?

                My head began to spin as I struggled to recollect my memories without a solid sense of time. The last thing I remember was getting an urgent call from my mom, rushing home to find out that nothing serious happened, getting into a small argument with her, and then having a small bowl of porridge before bed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so why did it feel like I was recovering from a car accident? Before I could further my thoughts, the door opened and in came Helen with a food tray, “Ah Jisoo, you’re awake?”

                “Huh?” I croaked, confused. “Yeah, uh, I just woke up. I don’t feel so good. What day is it?”

                “You’re weak Jisoo. You’re sick,” she stammered dubiously . “Here, I brought you some porridge. It’ll help with your flu.” She placed the tray down on my nightstand and quietly seated herself beside me as if waiting for me to eat. “Today’s the 26th of September.”

                Sick with the flu? Even when I was sick with the flu I never felt this terrible. Also, Helen would never wait for me to finish my food; she had better things to do than to watch paint dry. Things weren’t adding up.

                “Helen, can you please tell me what’s going on?” I pleaded as I topped her hand with mine, hoping that my sincerity would reach her. She peered up at me, tight-lipped. “This doesn’t feel right. I know my body and I’m definitely not sick with the flu. There’s something you’re not telling me. Is there… Is there something in that porridge?”

                That question seemed to have struck a chord in her, as she ripped her hand from underneath mine and turned the other way. In her silence, I found my answer. Helen may have been just a housekeeper but she definitely had a mind and heart of her own. More often than not, my mother’s values did not align with hers but she would bite her lip and follow orders out of obligation; during these times, the discomfort on her face became that much more easy to read. She was a terrible liar and she knew that better than anyone else.

                “Go,” she murmured with a trembling voice. “Your mother is in the kitchen.” Although I wished I could have gotten more preliminary information, I knew it would only hurt her more to ask. Helen was only doing her job by following my mother’s command; it must have been a huge burden for her all to serve as the bottomless well of everyone’s secrets and grudging past. This moment of honesty was all I needed and I appreciated her for giving it to me when every turn led me to a dead end.

                Pressing on my heels, I distributed all my weight to my legs and pushed upwards to stand. The first few steps taken were wobbly but I eventually got the hang of it. Whatever was in the porridge had worn off a bit and it definitely helped that I didn’t end up ingesting it again. As I made my way down the hallway towards the kitchen, a flood of light struck me right in the eyes, causing me to flinch in discomfort. A few seconds later my vision adjusted to the brightness and the kitchen came into clear view–and there my mother was, crumpled in her wheelchair at the dining table.

                Coming forth in baby steps, I was careful to keep a good distance between us she wouldn’t notice me there. From my angle, I could see my mother staring at her phone screen in a hypnotic state, playing then replaying the same newscast of some large dome building–oddly similar to the one my father worked at. The anchor reported that it had been shut down due to some mishaps that occurred during scientific research. On the third time around, she hit pause and began to sob.

                “Mom…?” I dared to blurt out.

                My sudden initiation of conversation surprised her into a gasp as she wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her sweater, “How are you here? I mean, w-weren’t you sleeping?”

                I pulled an empty chair over beside her and sat down. Although full of resentment, it would be useless for me to approach this with aggression; that was the last thing anyone needed right now. Gently grazing her hand into a hold, my mother pulled back with immense resistance until I finally reassured, “Look, it’s going to be alright. I know what happened.”

                “You have no idea Jisoo,” she whispered under her breath, stared outside the window as desperate sadness passed over her face.

                “I probably don’t, but we can start by talking about how you drugged me. I know about that,” I bitterly chuckled in attempt to lighten the mood when all I could concentrate on was holding back tears.

                My mother widened her eyes at me, shocked that I found out about her immoral doings, “H-How did you–”

                “It doesn’t matter mom. You did it for a reason, right? That’s what you always tell me. This time, it has gotten so bad that you had to drug me so I wouldn’t find out about it and cause even more riot. Okay, that’s understandable. I’m stubborn for all the wrong reasons, I know,” I admitted all in one go then took a few seconds to catch my breath. “But let me be stubborn for the right reasons this time. There is something terribly wrong going on and we both know you’re not going to be able to handle it on your own–mentally or physically. So please, tell me.”

                Surfacing from the shadows of the hallway, Helen peeked out with a worried look on her face, “Yes Mrs. Yang, she’s right. You need to let her know what’s going on. She’s old enough now.”

                Eyes widening from betrayal, my mother recoiled her hand and pursed her lips in deep thought. With a sharp inhale followed by a sigh of defeat, she spoke, “Fair.” Nearly gasping in surprise at her long awaited surrender, I held in my excitement and waited for her to resume, “It’s your father.” A sense of relief seemed to wash over her after letting go of the secret she desperately clung to for so many years.

                A tightness clamped down on my chest, “W-what do you mean?”

                This time, my mother reached for my hand and held it tightly like she wanted me to brace myself for the truth that was coming, “Before me, he was married to someone else.”

                She couldn’t possibly be talking about…

                Detecting the blatant horror and confusion on my face, she admittedly nodded in response to the question in my head, “Yes. You’re right Jisoo. Her name was Kang Jihyo. The one he wrote about in his journal. She was his late wife who died of cancer.”

                “Okay…” I let out a shaky breath, my mind working hard to tie everything together although I wasn’t sure how any of this information could help.

                “Hold on,” my mother chuckled dryly, sensing the youthful impatience in me. “After she passed, he was devastated. All he could was work. He spent all of his days and nights at the lab, rarely ever going home to bathe or take care of himself. Colleagues grew worried and so did I. While we did work in different departments, I was empathetic of his situation–I hadn’t seen a man that devoted to his wife in a long while. Every day, before I left for home, I would prepare him dinner so he wouldn’t starve,” she retold with a faint smile on her face, reminiscing the blissful moments that were so short-lived. “Eventually… A bit of his sanity returned. Sometimes I would stay late just to talk to him, get to know him more–and he opened up to me. He was a gentle, kind man with nothing but love in his heart. And before we knew it, we were married.”

                The thought of my parents being together–and happy–was strange. Things were always tumultuous from what I could remember. I listened on.

                “Your father treated me so well, but things were always just a little off,” she continued, the smile on her face now a stern gaze. “It was almost like he refused to recognize me for who I was. Never called me by my name–not once–but I didn’t think much of it because everything else was going well otherwise. After we had you, he slipped one day and called me by her name–Jihyo. Of course, I was angry–and the arguments were endless. At some point, I realized he was still madly in love with her and couldn’t detach himself from the past. I was only a vessel to help mask reality. He would beat me, call me names and tell me to go die because I wasn’t who he wanted me to be. The abuse was so severe I lost the ability to walk…” her sentenced trailed off into painful silence. She downcasted her eyes to her now immobile legs then shifted her gaze elsewhere when tears began to brim. “But… Because I loved our family, I took everything quietly. I still made him dinner. I watched from afar and gave him his space. Eventually, he stopped coming home.”

                The haunting memory of watching my father beat my mother through the peek of a door assaulted my mind, but I forcefully repressed it out of the fear that I would begin to cry. Regret consumed me for not being more understanding of the pain my mother went through so my brother and I could lead normal lives.

                “There were nights where I missed him,” her voice fell by an octave and I could read the pain all over her face. “So I went into his study and looked through things, hoping to find clues to understand him better. And like you, I found his journal…”

                For a split second, our eyes met, confirming that we both felt the lance through our chests, “Your father… He’s trying to fight the laws of science.”

                “What… What does that even mean…?” frustration overcame me as I failed to understand my mother’s implications. Couldn’t she be more direct?

                “Jisoo, your father is mentally ill. He was always writing about how he would reunite with his late wife–talking in circles that would make no sense to someone who has only read through the first few entries. But after going through them all, they certainly connect into a bigger picture and you have a story,” she wisely informed, calmer than the average person would probably be after receiving such bizarre news. Presumably, she rehearsed this reality to herself over and over again for the the past years–not daring to share this burden with anyone else out of the fear that it would hurt them just as it did her. “Jisoo… He’s trying to bring her back to life and may have already succeeded. I doubted it just as much as you do now but after seeing the news report, I can’t be in denial for any longer. This can’t be just a coincidence.”

                A snort nearly escaped from the back of my throat. In absolute disbelief, I countered, “Mom, that’s impossible. I know dad’s not in his right mind but he can’t possibly be–”

                “Jisoo, even if this is a false alarm it doesn’t hurt for us to be extra careful,” Helen interrupted, her forwardness caught me off guard.

                Detecting the shock and lingering skepticism on my face, my mother grabbed her phone and replayed the news broadcast she was watching earlier. The hollowness in my stomach became more apparent as I listened into the anchor– every word spoken was only more corroboration of my mother’s claims. Before the report could end, fear urged me to speak on behalf of everyone’s safety, “Well, what are we waiting for? We need to go now before–”

                “Calm down honey,” my mother reassured like we had all the time in the world to ponder our options. “I spoke to some cousins from Jeju a few days ago. They will prepare a plane for us to get there. Someone will pick us up and take us to the meeting place tomorrow morning.”

                “No,” I argued, alarmed at her ignorance and lack of judgment. “We only have until tonight before Seoul goes into quarantine–did you not hear the news?”

                “This is the safest route. We should leave the peninsula if we can. Everything will be fine,” she promised with confidence although her shaky voice proved otherwise. “This is why I wanted you to sleep through it all–so you wouldn’t worry. We have everything under control Jisoo.”

                Without a plan in mind, I impulsively grabbed my keys and ran for the door. I couldn’t sit around and bear the risk of being trapped in Seoul. What would happen if our only escape route doesn’t work? There had to be another way for us to get to the subway station–maybe I would find a taxicab or ask a neighbor or–

                “Jisoo! Stop! Where are you going?” my mother desperately screamed after me, the worry in her voice bringing my hot-temper to a halt. “You can’t leave now, it’s not safe.”

                “I need to find us a way to get to the subway station. We can’t wait until tomorrow. I promise I’ll be back,” I insisted, asserting leadership with my mother in a way I have never before. Locking eyes with Helen, who was looking back at me with raised eyebrows, I delegated, “Please take care of her.”

                My mother continued to cry out my name, the sound of her wheelchair squeaking loudly against the floor as she swiveled around in attempts to follow after me, but I beat her to the front door and shut it behind me before fear could pressure me into turning back.

                Swallowing hard, I forced myself to start running without a destination. I would figure that out later, I promised. But for now, distance was the only thing that could drown out my mother’s helpless voice, calling for me to come back home.