ϞϞϞϞϞ

“Come eat.” Aunt Youngja had gone at it for the past fifteen minutes. “Don’t starve yourself. It’s not good for your body.”

Succumbing, Namjoo had climbed into bed. With her back toward the door. Staring at nothing at all. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to listen to the woman who was not her mother.

“Chunhei.” She touched her arm. “Come eat, huh? The food is getting cold.”

Namjoo would not go down. She refused to look Uncle Jaejin in the eyes. She refused to look at any of them.

Aunt Youngja finally left. Closing the door behind her. The lock jiggled.

Namjoo watched the pink sky turn dark. When her stomach started cramping, she got up to pace the room. Struggling to find her resolve. Scared for Sehun. She didn’t want to be the flaw in his life. She didn’t want to be the sentence that would nail him forever.

No longer able to tell the time, Namjoo sat down in the dark. Stressed and frustrated. Folding her knees up to her chest she hugged herself. Tried to resurrect the smell of the field, the wild grass, animal dung, and Sambok to memory. The scent of home. Of coffee. Her father’s homecooked meals.

Her stomach churned. Her insides ached. Her eyes burned with tears.

Kind of sorry she had left home for an adventure like this.

She didn’t know how much time passed when the door caked open and footsteps entered her sullen prison. Namjoo didn’t raise her head. Didn’t want to welcome her visitor.

“Get up.” It was Hyunjae. He had somehow managed to avoid her since their last conversation about Hyejoo. “You have to eat.”

Namjoo stubbornly refused to raise her head. Go away she wanted to tell him but she didn’t speak.

“If you want to hear a story, eat first.” He bargained.

Finally looking up Namjoo stared into his face. He didn’t give her even two seconds before turning to leave. With the door wide open behind him.

Namjoo found him in the kitchen. Bowls of warmed food set out on the table for her. He sat down opposite her. Quietly picking up his spoon and filling up his plate. Namjoo reluctantly pulled out the chair across from him and started eating.

What could have been a cheerful meal between siblings was filled with desolation. The air so thick with broiled emotions. Much on the mind that needed to be collected carefully before being dissected.

Feeling full and happy now that she’d eaten. Feelings against her will. Namjoo refused to express her satisfaction.

On silent cue, she stepped outside with him. Tasting the cool draft. The wind picked up howling past her ears. For some reason Namjoo felt sick to her stomach. Unease churned throughout her chest, like she was tasting the painful aftermath of war. Ache that peeled away the layers of her skin one by one. Stinging awfully.

She struggled not to convert her injured feelings into self-pity. This was not supposed to be the darkest part of her life. Experiencing Uncle Jaejin’s wrath was not supposed to send her spinning into the depths of gloom.

Sitting on the deck she faced the moonlight. For a few silent seconds, as if paying tribute to some sort of entity neither spoke.

“I’m an only child,” Hyunjae confessed.

A fact that shouldn’t be shocking, but Namjoo was still taken aback. Finally hearing him say it.

“I was young when Chunhei arrived, but not young enough not to remember how events unfolded,” Hyunjae continued. “My parents were on a trip, leaving me to take care of the house with a friend. Somewhere to hot summer nights where dragonflies glowed. Faraway from the city. A week’s vacation, but they were gone longer than that. When they returned, they had a girl with them. I was told she would be my sister from now on. They called her Chunhei.”

Hyunjae lowered his eyes, as if out of guilt. Sadness in its own form blanketed his dim eyes. “But she didn’t respond to the name at first. She always looked lost, like she didn’t know where she was, who anybody was. I can still remember that blank gaze in her eyes whenever she looked at me, like she was seeing right through me. Chunhei, pale and small, looked like she was always sick. I didn’t know what to say about her. What kind of things I should have asked about her. I realized a few weeks in that she didn’t remember anything at all. Where she came from, who her family may be, why she was suddenly my sister. She didn’t understand anything.

“Chunhei…as I would later learn, had suffered from a head injury that wasn’t properly diagnosed when she was younger. It led up to a lot of health problems. Sometimes she would seize, have headaches so bad no migraine pill could help. Sometimes, she just lay there looking at nothing. My parents couldn’t help her, but they loved her more than anything.” Hyunjae went quiet momentarily. “Even me.”

All of a sudden, Namjoo remembered. His parents praising him for creating no trouble, for having a clean slate. Hyunjae so independent. Reliable Hyunjae. So capable of handling everything by himself. They were proud of him.

So, that was the dynamic between parents and son.

Maybe why they had gone abroad and left him behind to collect his own life. He had always done everything alone and would continue to do so.

His life was filled with endless loneliness.

“There were a lot of clues about Chunhei I should have realized at first, but when I was old enough to understand her situation, it was a little too late. I’m sorry,” Hyunjae apologized. His brow dipped down his remorseful face. Lowering his head, unable to look at her. “That I had your sister while growing up and you didn’t. And I couldn’t help her.”

That hurt more than he intended it to.

Namjoo crept back upstairs. Into her room. Lay down in the bed. In total darkness. Staring at nothing.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

When morning flashed across her window, Namjoo packed up. Hyunjae hadn’t bothered to lock the door last night, so she stepped out into freedom. With her backpack on her back and a shopping bag of the rest of her clothes.

Taking one step at a time. Down the stairs. Hearing noise in the kitchen. Dishes clattering. The coffee machine running. All motion ceased when Namjoo stepped off the last step of the staircase. As if she were an intruder in their home. All eyes on her accusingly. How blasphemous of her!

“Chunhei,” Aunt Youngja happily called out.

Namjoo stared at the front door so far away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Uncle Jaejin interrogated.

“I’ve gotten what I came for, so I’m leaving,” Namjoo answered without looking at them.

Hyunjae who was sitting at the table looked at her without remark.

“What are you saying? This is your home,” Aunt Youngja staggered forward.

“If you take one step outside that door…” Uncle Jaejin starting lacing his threat together.

“Do it,” Namjoo provoked. “I am my father’s daughter. What can you do when I’m not yours?” She turned to flash him a hard stare.

“You…” he stammered appalled.

His wife flew past him. Skidding onto her knees as she grasped her hands. “No! No! Don’t go! Don’t go!” Crying, “Chunhei! Please!”

Namjoo struggled to pull her hands free.

“What are you doing?!” she screamed wildly at her husband. “This is your fault! You locked our daughter up! She’s leaving because of you!”

Uncle Jaejin frowned, hurt. Glaring at her next, “Do you want to send your mother back to the hospital?”

Everything on the table rattled when Hyunjae slammed his palms against it. Pushing himself up to his feet, “Mom, stop it! Dad, that’s enough.” He in a deep breath, “She knows. Please, stop with your ridiculous charade already.”

Hyunjae’s father whirled on him. Snubbed by his son’s betrayal all whilst his wife sobbed agony at Namjoo’s feet.

“What are you saying?” his father asked. Expression so twisted it was impossible to decipher anger from shock.

Bravely looking him straight on, Hyunjae confessed, “I told her about Chunhei.”

Uncle Jaejin glanced at her, as if she had brought the fall on his family. Also, she thought he looked afraid.

“That’s right,” Namjoo spoke up. “I have a sister. Hyejoo, who you took from my family.” Anger soaked up her entire body. She almost trembled, “You took her from us.”

Aunt Youngja burst out with an unexpected soulful cry. “I’m sorry.”

“Honey…” Uncle Jaejin breathed.

Squeaking, “I’m sorry.” Hiccupping with her entire body, the woman sobbed harder. “We didn’t know. I didn’t see her.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she buried her head into Namjoo’s knee. “It was my fault. It was my fault…”

Namjoo stared down at the woman. Eyes widening. The abrupt confession was thunderous. Rattling everything she lived for. The liquid dangled from her eyes without dropping.

Hearing the final story…was horrifying.

Clutching onto her jeans, she released a deafening wail. Her voice box broke, “It was an accident. I’m so sorry…”

“Why?” Namjoo’s voice shook. Yelling angrily, “You should have brought her home! My sister…” her chest erupted with sudden hiccups as the tears fell, “you brought her so far away from home…my poor sister who couldn’t find her way home…”

The grief finally came through full force. Her legs became weak and, in the end, finally buckled. Too overwhelmed. Thinking about the agony her family had endured when her twin disappeared.  

“What do I tell my dad? How do I tell him what you did to us?” Namjoo cried.

Poor Hyejoo who hadn’t been given the chance to recall her family. Whose chances to grow up with her younger twin ripped from her. Forced to live with a strange family.

Poor Hyejoo who lost it all.

What chances had she ever been given?

Depleted, Hyunjae carried her to her room. Raw emptiness chewed at her insides. Tormented more by the truth about her sister than the fact that Aunt Youngja had played her like a fiddle all along.

There was no energy to carry even her anger. Namjoo wanted to sleep for a long, long time.

Namjoo cried into her pillow until she fell asleep. When she awoke Aunt Youngja was lying beside her, like her heart had been burnt the longest.

“When your sister used to be in pain, I would lay down with her,” she quietly told. “She would tell me that was all she needed.”

Her eyes burned, so Namjoo closed them and turned her head away from the woman. Detesting the sight of her. “Go away.”

“Please,” the woman croaked sorrowfully, “can’t you be my daughter?”

Squeezing her eyes close, Namjoo didn’t respond.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

Namjoo wasn’t answering her phone. He was worried. Drawling over each minute that he didn’t hear from her. Finally picking up his courage, Sehun drove right over to his uncle’s house. They could turn him away, kick him out, but he wouldn’t leave their property until he saw Namjoo. He would even sit in front of their door all night if he had to.

Pushing his car door shut he walked up to the iron door. Punching the bell and waited to be invited inside. Today it was Aunt Youngja who opened the door for him. Appearing ten times smaller the normal size. So tiny and fragile when she smiled up at him and said, “Come in.”

Sehun was seriously flabbergasted by how easy it was. Uncle Jaejin would normally glower at him outside. Embroil into a stare off until he gave up when there was no other choice, but to let the dirt and filth inside his home.

Contrary to his hopes, the home was empty. Sunshine filtered through the rooms as if they had spring cleaned. Sehun peered around the vessel of rooms discovering all of them abandoned.

“Would you like some tea?” Aunt Youngja asked. Already in the kitchen and placing two fragile China cups on the counter. Pouring him a cup without waiting for him to answer then carrying it over to the table.

“Is,” he started then stopped and went on, “Chunhei home?”

She smiled at him ambiguously. He couldn’t quite read her expression.

“Come sit,” she warmly invited.

Deciding he had no choice he entered the kitchen.

“Green tea has many essential benefits,” she started very calmly like he had come to take a lesson about tea and she was an 80-year-old grandma. “It contains less caffeine than coffee, but it has the amino acid L-theanine, which works to have an effect on brain function. Theanine can also produce a relaxing effect. It’s also an anti-aging beverage. So many things to know about such a simple drink.”

“About Chunhei,” he pressed on hoping they could stay on track.

She offered a tiny smile. Lifting the ceramic cup up to her thin lips she took a sip.

“Have some,” she urged. “It will help you feel better.”

He curiously glanced at her. Inclining, he raised the cup up to his lips. It burned his tongue on the first sip numbing all his taste buds.

Sehun answered just to satisfy her, “It’s delicious.”

That thin smile again. It made him anxious. Sehun couldn’t help gazing around the empty home once more. Trying to find some hint of other life.

Where had everyone gone?

Where was Namjoo? Wasn’t she supposed to be home with his aunt?

“I remember when you were this tiny,” Aunt Youngja reminisced holding her hand above the floor to show him. “You couldn’t yet talk, but I adored your gibberish. I knew you would grow up to become a good boy. Your mother always did have such high aspirations for you. It must be a joy to be so young and have such a long life ahead of you. Some children are really lucky to have such great parents.”

Sehun nodded his head.

“I hear you haven’t found what you want to do yet,” Aunt Youngja said. “Have you considered traveling?”

“No.”

“You know your uncle is a foreign service officer,” she explained. “When your cousin was younger, we temporarily stayed in China. Shanghai to be exact. My, it’s a bustling city with so much life. For an energetic young man like you, I think big places would suit you.”

He tried not to frown, but nod his head again. “Actually…”

She cut him off just perfectly. Slightly turning her head, she glanced out toward the backyard, “The sun is shining so brightly today. They always do say that the world becomes renewed after a storm. Isn’t it so pretty?”

Sehun’s eyes trailed after her. Unable to help himself, because it was the exact view Namjoo looked at every day. Telling him in detail that each new day provided another chance. The world so pretty and grand never failed to give hope.

Strangely, he could feel Namjoo’s words down to his bones.

Sehun’s eyes veered back to the empty home. Aunt Youngja all alone inside. No Namjoo to accompany her. Where had she gone?

Had something happened?

“Where did,” Aunt Youngja’s voice cracked, “you meet her?”

He glanced at her. The cup was raised to but her thin hands trembled.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Pressing the cup against her lips she asked shedding a tear, “Namjoo. Our Namjoo. Where did you meet her?”

Realization washed over him. He experienced a flash of fright. Then panic. Then worry. His eyes shot back and forth, “G…Gimje.”  

His mind raced.

Namjoo was gone.

“I see.” Still clutching onto the cup, she stared down at the table. Her grip so hard her finger turned white. More silent tears flooded her face. “Was she happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do her parents love her?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” she softly said. “She’s a very lucky child.”

His legs tensed. He was ready to spring out of his chair any minute, but it didn’t feel right.

“Our Namjoo,” her voice cracked again, “you will be good to her, won’t you?”

Sehun didn’t like his aunt or her family. How they had treated Namjoo like medicine to put on a wound. Something that lasted as good as it was used for then tossed, but…right now he felt sorry for the woman.

“When you see her again, please tell her I am sorry,” she cried harder. Her entire body shook with every heaving sob. “I just wanted to have her by my side. I wanted to think I still had everything. If you see her again, please tell her she made me very happy. When you see her, please love her in place of me.”

“Where is she?”

“On her way home.”

His heart dropped.

***BOOM! Aunt Youngja knew everything ever since she came back from the hospital