ϞϞϞϞϞ

It must have been hard, Namjoo wanted to say. I’m sorry I found you too late. I hope you had a good life and you were happy.

When they arrived at the graveyard that morning, Namjoo thought it was unfair her sister’s resting place was so far away. But when she remembered her mother lived nearby, it must be a comfort for her sister.

Uncle Jaejin and Aunt Youngja had paid a good price for a decent plot at a private church cemetery. Reserved for faithful believers and relatives. Burying Hyejoo instead of cremating her. So that they had a resting place to come back to. So that Hyejoo could rest in peace without regrets. So that one day when her family came to find her, they could come see her.

That day was today.

At the head was a gray tomb with an angel figurine on top. Park Chunhei instead of Kim Hyejoo. It didn’t feel right looking at her sister’s grave with another’s name. It felt unjustified. What would her parents think?

Placing the bouquet of roses on the bed of grass Namjoo silently paid her respects to the sister she had lost touch with. What kind of woman had she become in her short-filled life? Had she laughed a lot? Did she have boyfriends? Had she wanted to get married to a particular someone?

Things Namjoo would never know, and would always ache to know.

“Will you be returning home after this?” Hyunjae wondered on the drive to the store. Her items were packed in his car. Before leaving for the station, she had wanted to pick something up for her father. A nice gift to make up for her long absence.

The daunting fact that he was her only family made her cherish him more. How much had he worried about her without sharing it with her? How many times had he chosen not to give up on her when she was just a child? Never complaining when she didn’t do something he asked. Always rising before the sun to cook breakfast for her. Set the table so she could eat comfortably. Give her allowance so she would never be short on money. Provide her with what a girl wanted so she would never feel like the odd one out.

Her father who looked after her always. Her father who would cry tears of blood for her.

She should have realized earlier that no one could replace who her father was to her. He would never leave her behind.

Father who had raised her alone. How hard it must have been for him.

She should have left for home sooner. Just thinking about him welcoming her home with his big smile that spoke a million words made her want to cry.

Her father should have always come first.

“Yea,” Namjoo replied staring out the window.

“That’s good,” Hyunjae commented. “You should go home. Your father probably misses you more than he will say.”

The high-rise buildings clustered together like a distorted puzzle drifted by in gray blurs. A color so sad and dull. Every bright color fading into the distance when her eyes met with the ordinarily blue sky.

She was sorry to Sehun that she wouldn’t give her father up for him. She hoped he would understand if she left without seeing him.

That she needed some time to cope, too. Deal with her own sense of loss and think of what to tell her father when she saw him. How they would forge through the onslaught of sadness together. Namjoo wanted the time to think.

About the mess. What they would do with Aunt Youngja and her family for taking Hyejoo without formally reporting her.

A headache throbbed against her skull. The mere thought of Hyejoo brought with it too much pain. Closing her eyes, she waited for them to reach their destination.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

Namjoo walked into the shopping mall with Hyunjae. Joining the cluster of morning shoppers. Riding the escalator up to the third floor for the accessory department. Conversations ping ponged around them like voiceless ghosts.

In a hypnotic gaze, Namjoo followed him without gazing around. Partly there consciously, partly elsewhere in her own head. Though the bulbs were sunlight bright Namjoo’s eyes were too clouded. Her brain receptors refusing to function even when she’d eaten out with Hyunjae for breakfast. She was unable to feel the eyes curiously watching her walk further away.

Halfway down the hall someone called out her name.

Once.

Twice.

Finally registering her name, Namjoo’s footsteps ceased to move. The heel of her foot slowly met with the floor. Hearing her name again. Turning to feel her eyes widen.

“You…what are you doing here?” the woman stared stunned.

Hyunjae glanced at her.

Namjoo blinked, weirdly trapped. Explaining to him, “It’s my mother.”

ϞϞϞϞϞ

Overridden with panic, Sehun barged in through the automatic doors. Flinging himself through the throng of travelers. Deliriously searching for anyone resembling Namjoo. Passing the schedule board, he raced down the staircase. Flying through the platform. Listening to an announcement. The train would depart in 10 minutes.

He didn’t have much time.

He raced around. Fearing she’d already boarded the train he ran up to the menacing machine. Tiptoeing to peek through the windows. Wondering if she may be sitting on the other side, staring out the window away from him.

Heads turn. Eyes followed him curious. None of the passengers were who he most wanted.

Swiveling around his eyes danced over the thinning crowd. Desperate.

She couldn’t go.

He didn’t want her to go.

Sehun didn’t know where to look.

“Namjoo!” he screamed.

He received glances. Stares. Gazes that called him crazy.

Sehun screamed for her again.

There was no response.

He cried out frustrated.

This couldn’t be happening. They were supposed to see each other again.

Leaning over with his hands on his knees, he struggled to collect himself. Think, think, think!

Gathering his wits, he rushed back up the stairs. Standing impatiently in the line to the ticket booth. Jumping back and forth on uneasy legs because the people in front of him were inquiring for information too long.

“Can you hurry up?!” Sehun scolded receiving nasty glares in return.

Breathing harder, he spun around. Peering around him in case Namjoo passed by and he missed her.

Finally running up to the counter, he asked, “When is the last train for Gimje?”

“Gimje?” the elder man slowly asked then typed into the computer with two fingers Sehun nearly pulled out his hair. Looking at him, “The train already departed.”

“The next one,” he hissed. “When is the next one?!”

“That’s the only train for today. If you’re looking for another…”

Sehun already turned around. Clamping his eyes shut. If it already left…Namjoo would already be gone.

In a fit of rage, he drove back to Aunt Youngja’s home. Waiting out front for Hyunjae who would provide him with an explanation. He would wait no matter how long it took for him to return. Sehun would be a about it.

They did this to his Namjoo.

They made her leave.

They hurt her.

It must have been so hard for her.

He gripped the steering wheel. Imagining how hard he should punch Hyunjae. Then when he got what he came for, he would go to Gimje.

Sehun watched with narrowed eyes when a black Camry drove up to the house. Waiting for Hyunjae to appear. When he did Sehun stepped out of his car. Walking up to him menacingly. Fists gripped at his sides.

“Where is she?” Sehun demanded.

Keys dangled from Hyunjae’s hands clicking against each other noisily. Disturbing the heated silence.

“I said, where is she?” he repeatedly curtly.

Hyunjae’s eyes were cool and calm. A hint of penitence shone in them. “She’s still in the city.”

At first, his fists trembled. Unfolding his grip, he flexed out his fingers. Asking with disbelief, “What?”

Afraid he had heard wrong. Afraid if he was too relieved, it might not be true. That he may just be hallucinating.

“She’s with her mom.”

ϞϞϞϞϞ

Namjoo sat dry eyed in her mother’s modest apartment. Pictures of her and some man plastered to the wall. It had been a confusing mess when Hyunjae explained he wasn’t her boyfriend but like her brother and also not really her brother.

Her mother huffed and puffed. Pacing back and forth beside the kitchen table with a little vase of flowers. Mortified. Pissed. Massaging her forehead. Mumbling underneath her breath. Spreading curses. Words her father would find unsuitable for any given situation.

Maybe Namjoo was supposed to feel comforted with her mother, but she wasn’t. Her mother was a person she had also lost contact with long ago. They had stopped talking once and for all when Hyejoo went missing. Her mother angry with her father. Cutting ties then and there.

Maybe this was supposed to be like her second home, but she felt as much a stranger as she had been to Aunt Youngja’s family.

Her mother, a stranger to her in a way.

Her mother lived ordinarily. Two sets of everything, because guessing from the photos, she had remarried if she wasn’t cohabiting with her boyfriend. An expensive flat screen TV in front of a three seated couch. A very modern center table filled with fishing and fashion magazines. A subject of interest for him. Another for her.

A sliding door beyond the yellowed curtains led to the veranda. Used for storage like empty boxes and miscellaneous items. The laundry had been done recently. His XL shirt was hanging on a clip. Dried by now. Her mother’s lingerie was hanging beside his. Also, dry.

Namjoo felt like she had intruded, but also, her mother wouldn’t let her go with Hyunjae or home. Demanding to know why she was here. What she had been doing and why.

When Namjoo gave her a short summary, her mother became frantic. Screaming obscenity in the car.

Are you ing crazy?! And you stayed with them?! I need to talk to your father. You insane thing! And so on…

“We’ll sue them.” His voice was thick. Ahn Jinhae, her mother’s new husband and also a law practitioner. “Let me gather evidence, and we can put together a formal report.”

He had returned in time for dinner. Having heard a bit about her through a phone call her mother had made in front of her. For a few days she would stay with them then head home where she should be.

“You shouldn’t be in the city,” her mother told her during lunch. “Have you thought about your father? I left you with him too long that you’ve become just like him. Senseless.” Putting down another side dish she scolded, “Look at you. You’re thin and bones. The food here probably doesn’t suit your palette. Don’t starve and eat what you can. How does your father look after you?”

“Namjoo, is it?” Mr. Ahn asked. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Her mother eyed her condescendingly. On instinct Namjoo already knew she wouldn’t approve her dating. You’re too young she would say. What do you know about boys?

Her mother wasn’t a bad person. She could be fun and caring, but unlike her dad she was critical about every one person. She would always have something to say about someone. A lady she wouldn’t know might pass and she’d comment on her choice of clothes. A rumor might have spread about a man in the market and her mother would make remarks. She was coy and she didn’t hold back.

Her mother was a crude person. Very different from her father. Why they had divorced for the better of the family.

“You’re much better suited for someone like you at home,” her mother commented before she could open . “A man and a woman need similar backgrounds in order to understand each other. It provides a stable foundation for a happy life.” Touching her husband’s hairline affectionately, she grinned, “Isn’t that right?”

Namjoo’s eyes lowered to her spoon.

He laughed happily in a low tone. Namjoo feared they might start making out in front of her.

“Men here are nasty, stay away from them,” Mr. Ahn lectured. “You should get married someday, but you need to find a decent man. You need to make sure he is successful and has money in order to live an easy life. You don’t always want to be struggling on that farm, do you? Now, that’s where you’ll go wrong. In life, you need to look past the flock in front of you in order to find who will love you most. And that will only be a man whose already out in the world doing something for himself. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Namjoo,” her mother called when she didn’t reply.

Her mind had dozed off. Too much in her head. Too many emotions clogging her chest. Namjoo barely had the strength to blink.

“I’m tired,” Namjoo quietly told. “I want to rest.”

Getting up she found her way to the guest room. Closing the door and climbing into bed where she had thrown her backpack earlier. Burying her face into the pillow. Feeling like she might weep, but she really didn’t have the energy. She lay there blankly dozing off momentarily and awaking with a small jolt.

Suddenly remembering where she was, she moaned tiredly. Blinking against the pillow. Staring out the window at the moonlight. Trying to find solace through the impending night. Except the gaping hole in her chest only seemed to grow wider. The raw emptiness was too painful.

Pulling out her phone she powered it on. Messages popped up one by one fast then faster. Then her phone buzzed and City Boy flashed across the screen.

Namjoo immediately answered, holding the phone to her ear. Become weak when she heard his voice for the first time in days.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

The relief springing through him increased his breathing. His wheels screamed for mercy as he skidded up to the high-rise apartment complex. Shoving the door open he flew out of his car toward the lone figure standing under shadows.

Namjoo staggered back when he flung his arms around her. Bringing her close. In order to validate that the moment was real.

Sehun had waited all day.

He had worried endlessly.

If she was suffering alone and how she was managing.

“I was scared,” he breathed. “I was so scared you left.”

Cupping her face, he glanced at her. Namjoo gave him a broken smile even when her eyes said a lot more.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He brushed his hands through her hair. Wishing he could do more to comfort her injured soul.

“It’s ok.” Her eyes twinkled with tears. Touching his hand, she buried her face into his shoulder. “I missed you.”

Hugging her tighter he closed his eyes to soak up the moment. Realizing now that in any moment Namjoo could go and he wouldn’t know. The city that was proving to become bad memories for her, he hoped to make up the better part of it.

The front doors automatically whished open and someone stepped out. “Namjoo?”

They broke away from each other to find a woman staring at them.

A minute later he sat stiffly in the kitchen like he had been caught sneaking into Namjoo’s bedroom. A glass of water settled in front of him. Namjoo’s mother sat down in front of him beside Namjoo, who she had shaken her head at disapprovingly when she earlier pulled out the chair beside him.

“Thank you,” he politely said taking a small sip.

The woman’s eyes were cool. Staring through him. Observing him warily. Taking into detail his clothes, his hair, the slit of his eyes.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“I’m Oh Sehun.” He answered.

Unimpressed, she crossed her arms. “What do you do?”

“I…” his eyes dropped toward the table. “I don’t work, ma’am.”

“So, what do you think you were doing with my daughter?”

“Mom,” Namjoo begged, “please…”

Ignoring her, she studied him, “I think we’re done here. Don’t come near my daughter again. I can’t accept an undutiful man who has done nothing for himself. You should go.”