Chapter 7

“She gave up.” Slamming the shot glass onto the table, Jiyong feels the amber liquid burning his throat inside. “She gave up just like that.”

Sandara puts a medical record file she has been reading into the yellow folder on the table, eyes clouding. “I'm sorry, Ji. I'm so sorry for you, for Taeyeon and for Jinwoo.”

“So, what do you say now you've read the medical records? There's hope, right? We should continue fighting.”

“I'm sorry, Ji. It's probably best to-”

“No! Not you too, Dara!” Jiyong pours another shot of whiskey for himself, drinking it in one go. “You're a better doctor than that.”

“Ji, I might be a doctor but all I do since I graduated is stitching you guys up.” She leans in, pouring her share of the alcoholic beverage too. “I'm really really sorry, but these files, even with my untrained eyes and minimum experience I can see that they tell the truth. Jinwoo's cancer has spread.”

“Jinwoo is ten! Damn it.” Kicking the foot of the table, Jiyong let his head fall on the headrest of the couch. Closing his eyes, all he can see is the smile of his son. All he can think of is the disease eating his boy up from the inside. “He is ten. How could you and those damned doctors told us to just go home and let him die?”

“Buddy...”

“No. Don't you buddy me, Tabi! I know you'll just take Taeyeon's side.” He's frustrated. No. He is way beyond frustrated. He's going crazy trapped between anger and denial. “You guys know my boy. You love him as I do. You guys should know better than telling me to give up.”

“Nobody's telling you to give up.” Tabi takes the whiskey bottle and sets it aside. “I'm telling you to fight. Fight for your boy. Fight for his happiness. Don't you want him to be the happy boy he is for a very long time? I'm being blunt here but you need to open your mind and see from his point of view. Would Jinwoo like to be in pain for the rest of his short life?”

“No!” Jiyong stands up now, grabbing his head. “You don't get to say that, Tabi! You don't. My boy will live longer than me.”

His feet bring him to the glass shelves that hold the team's trophies. Shiny tokens of every race, every championship they have won as a solid team. His eyes dart on the ones with his name engraved on them. Looking at them, he suddenly feels like a total loser.

He won race after race. He got back up after every fall. He never gives up.

“We'll get him every treatment exists. Right, Dara? Chemo, radiation, surgery, everything! He'll be cured. He'll be fine. Right?” With trembling hand, Jiyong takes one trophy. His first national trophy.

“Ji, I know your pain. I'm so sorry.” Sandara comes to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “The doctors are right, we're talking stage IV osteosarcoma here. The-”

“Shut up!” He covers his ears. “Don't repeat all that bulls the doctors have said.”

“No. Listen to me.” She forces him to look at her. “The cancer has metastasized to his chest cavity, reaching his organs. Chemo will have to be so aggressive it will torture him and it's not even going to heal him.”

“But it will buy him time right?”

“Is that what you want? Two or three months extra time with your boy but have him confined to the bed 24/7, gradually losing himself?”

Jiyong is about to open his mouth to say something but Sandara doesn't give him a chance.

“There will be tubes, machines, and wires hooked to him all the time, Ji. He will have to endure endless diarrhea, insomnia, and pain. Pain that sometimes can't even be managed with painkillers. And those are only a few effects of chemo I've had a chance to witness on my own, Ji. The list is actually far longer than that.”

“I want those two or three months longer.” Jiyong fingers clench around the neck of the trophy. “You don't have a kid, you won't understand.”

“You're right. I won't.” Sandara sighs, still having his gaze locked. “But I love Jinwoo enough to see what's best for him and I beg you to try and see the same.”

For a few seconds, there's no other word spoken between them. Uncomfortable silent that forces Jiyong to swallow Sandara's words and digest them slowly. Rage and regret suddenly bubble up inside of him, tricking his hand to throw the once-prized belonging across the room.

It clangs loudly when the trophy hit the wall and break into two sad pieces. But the sound is no competition for the helplessness roaring in Jiyong's heart.

“I need more drink.” He comes to the table only to have Tabi moved the bottle away once more.

“No. You don't.”

“Tabi, this is hardly the time to fool around.”

“Agreed.” His best friend stands up and gives Jiyong a hearty hug. “This is the time for you to go back to Taeyeon and Jinwoo. Decide as a family and face that decision together. We'll be around, supporting you guys.”

Jiyong looks down at the few inches liquid left in the bottle, still find it hard to accept everything. Tears prick the back of his eyes but he can not cry, can he?

He has to man up.

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.” Taeyeon glances at him, folding Jinwoo's striped PJs and put them into the grey suitcase. “I know it's hard on you.”

“I don't.” Jiyong watches Jinwoo's sleeping form, aching all over. “I still want him to get that chemo.”

“Three hospitals, Ji. More than half a dozen doctors. All agreed that this...” She stops folding, casting sad look at their son too. “That this is incurable. That our time is limited. I want to use that tiny window to see him happy, not miserable.”

The truth in Taeyeon's words, he hates it. “I don't want to argue. Let's just take him home for now.”

Taeyeon nods, bending down to pick a box of lego from the floor and put it inside of suitcase too. “Mark is picking us up with his car. Are you coming with us?”

That name. He hates it too. And the fact that Taeyeon asked if he's coming? It hurts him. He's Jinwoo's father. Of course, he's coming.

As if pouring salt into Jiyong's wound, Mark appears on the door. “You guys ready?”

“Jinwoo just fell asleep half an hour ago. Can we at least wait for another half?” Taeyeon asks.

“Sure.” Walking pass Jiyong's spot, Mark sits on the couch and gets his phone out. “I say we wait until he wakes up on his own. Give him time to rest, right Jiyong?”

Jiyong nods, painfully holding the hatred in.

“Have you had any lunch at all, Tae?” The man asks as he dials a number on the phone. “Let's order some food.”

“I'm not hungry.”

Mark smiles. Watching him casting a caring smile on Taeyeon nearly drives Jiyong out of the room. The smile lingers as Mark talks to the phone and Jiyong hates the man even more.

“Hi, chef. Yes. I hope you're in good health too. I'm calling to ask if you can whip that special broth for me. Yes. Thank you very much. You know me so well. No, four. One with extra egg and one without the leeks. No. Not for me. Jinwoo. Yep. That boy. I'll send them your regard. Thank you, my driver will pick the order up. Bye.”

Taeyeon groans when Mark ends the phone call, throwing herself on the couch. “No. Not Takeshi ramen.”

Mark laughs as his hand pats her thigh. “See if you're still not hungry the moment you smell the broth.”

“Devil.” Taeyeon rubs her face, then smiles a little at Mark. “Thank you.”

“The least I can do.” The man answers, hand still on Taeyeon's thigh. “I know it's hard, but you have to stay strong for Jinwoo. Eating well will ensure you physical strength at the very least.”

“Thank you.” Taeyeon smiles again. Not knowing that every smile, every gesture she makes toward Mark brings Jiyong so much pain.

Pain and hatred. Pain and hatred and frustration. Jiyong can't take it anymore.

“I'll wait in my car.” He stands up, casting a sad glance toward his son once more before stepping out of the room.

While it only has been about two years since the last time he enters Jinwoo's room, it feels like it has been way longer than that. Taeyeon used to have plushies stashed on every corner of the room and the bed used to be smaller. The wallpaper is now of rockets and planets instead of the old colorful alphabet.

Everything has changed and Jiyong can do anything but clinging to what little memory he has about this room. About his existence as Jinwoo's father.

There are shelves of lego on the wall above the bed, mostly of building and vehicles. Posters lining one side of the walls, figurines on the other, all of the characters he doesn't recognize. A rather long wooden desk with books and computer is across the bed, also a white box that has “My First Chemistry Kid” written on it. On the carpeted floor is half finished tower of lego with the instruction lays open.

He sits down, trying to add one piece to the tower but can't really figure the instruction out.

“Daddy, look!” Jinwoo comes into the room hauling a huge box, eyes glinting. “Uncle Mark bought me Playstation 4!”

“And mommy said I can use it! Right now instead of waiting for my 12th birthday like she always said. Can't you believe it?” The boy puts the box carefully on the desk then throws himself on the bed. “This is easily my best birthday ever!”

“Really?” Jiyong lays himself on the bed too, putting a hand around Jinwoo.

The boy rolls away from him, highlighting the awkwardness between them. Jiyong realizes that it has been years since they are this close together. The realization that weights Jiyong's heart like a lead as he gets up and opts to sit on the red furry chair by the bed.

“Mommy promised me a visit to Universal Studio to see The wizarding world of Harry Potter too. Awesome, right?” The boy hugs his pillow, closing his eyes.

“Right.” Reaching his hand to pat the boy's head, Jiyong stops mid-air. In front of him is proof that 10 years have gone to waste. The years that he can never get back.

When was the last time he put his son to sleep? Did he ever give the precious boy a simple goodnight kiss or a high five of the day in these past few years?

“Which Harry Potter character is your favorite, daddy?”

“Ummm, Harry's best friend?” He makes a wild guess.

“Ron or Hermione?”

“Both.”

“I like Harry.” Jinwoo yawns, eyes still closed. “And Sirius too. You think you can come with us to Universal Studio, daddy?”

He says nothing. He doesn't have the answer. He wants to be with his son so bad but imagining a vacation with Mark dancing around Taeyeon is not exactly easy.

“Mom said we're going on summer next year. You don't have races in summer, do you?”

He still can't answer.

“But you'll have practices, of course.” Jinwoo yawns again. “I'll bring back something for you, daddy. Don't worry.”

“Thank you. Bring me an Anne T-shirt, alright.”

“Anne? You meant Hermione, daddy.” A chuckle mixed with another yawn escapes the little boy.

“Yeah? Hermione.”

“You spell her name wrong, daddy. Her – my – oh – nee.”

“Yep. That girl. Go to sleep, now.” Jiyong lets his hand falls on Jinwoo's head, patting awkwardly.

There were times when Jinwoo was just a little kid, cling to his father like a baby koala, searching and finding comfort in Jiyong's arms. Now it seems like they are two strangers stuck in the same room.

A glance at the rocket-shaped mirror on the wall, Jiyong can't even see a bit of Jinwoo's daddy in him anymore. His appearance. His absences. His minimal knowledge of what the boy like and dislike. He's not even Jinwoo's friend.

He has let him slip away, his precious boy.

“Sleep tight.” He bends to kiss the boy on the forehead, painfully aware of how the little body flinches in surprise.

When he closes the door of Jinwoo's bedroom behind him, Jiyong's pain grows in magnitude at the sight of Taeyeon crying at the kitchen table, her hand in Mark's hand.

He makes no word, grabbing his coat from the back of the coach and slips out of the apartment in minimum noise. Only upon sitting in his red coupe Jiyong let out a muffled scream, banging his head against the steering wheel.

“Why?” Tears are pricking his eyes but nothing come out. His heart never breaks like this before and it hurts so much.

“Why God, why?