Not So Far

Wishes in Your Eyes

※※※※※

“Have a good day, Mr. Go.” Namjoo climbed off the bus untying the knot of the apron. Heading inside the building she removed the cartoon apron, replaced it on the hook on the wall, grabbed her purse, and shuffled out of there.

Huffing a breath when she slid into her car and punched the accelerator. Zipping out of the school parking lot, veering into the opposite direction of her apartment. Since she said she would, she’d go meet her father at the garage, and receive the estimate of his car damage. Better educated she would understand the procedure than he.

“That’s what we raised you for,” she could hear him telling her.

Headache.

Namjoo rubbed her temple. She made a mental note to take some aspirin as soon as she got home and away from people. Turning into the lot of the familiar run-down garage, Namjoo parked her car and stepped out.

The building smelled of grease and oil. The building sign was dilapidated. Repairing it would cost an arm and a leg and she was certain the burly man who owned the business could care less about it. Business marketing he’d harrumphed, been here too long to give a damn. The county’s going to vote to tear it down to the ground when I’m dead, so what?

If not for the stone pillars making up half of the foundation, Namjoo was confident the county would have already destroyed and rebuilt a new building. Some coffeeshop or something that would bring in more revenue for the city.

The orange painting that made up the top border had faded, was peeling, and looked uglier by day. Oil stained the concrete flooring. The tools were rusty and it was amazing the docks could still hold up cars ceiling high. The place was worse for wear. A pale sickly light glowed in the service room through a side window. Namjoo didn’t want to step in there.

Luckily for her, her father was outside speaking to one of the service people. A thin man in coveralls with one strap undone. A fashion statement?

This guy, too, was streaked with oil as Namjoo approached. “Dad.”

“Namjoo!” her father beamed. “He says I have to pay three hundred seventy to fix the dent! Tell him I can’t afford it!”

Shaking her father off, Namjoo tried not to come off annoyed. Facing the car mechanic, she asked, “Is the dent big?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man replied. His suntanned skin spoke of too many hours baking outside and too few breaks. “But the other party called this morning. He said he’ll help pay the repair.”

Namjoo spun around to her dad sternly rounding her eyes. “He told you that? Then why did you waste my time calling me here?!”

“Can’t you talk with him to lower the price?” her father lowered his voice. “I can’t pay that much.”

“Why not?” Namjoo questioned. Stepping back, she groaned a guttural sound, appalled. She was going to throw hands. “Dad! How could you?!”

Namjoo paced a circle, heated. About to go off on her old man. The mechanic stepped away from them. Harboring no desire to intervene in their father-daughter dispute.

“Please, Namjoo.” Her father begged. A too thin man now. Pale white teeth feverishly yellow from too much tobacco. Skin drawn tight with deep aged lines. The handsome man he was was no longer.

He was just old and frail.

Lack of nutrients had made him shrink down to her size and she wasn’t that tall or big to start with. His flannel shirt hung limply around him. Something he’d pulled out of the laundry basket designated for a wash. The scent of heavy sweat and musk made her nostrils twitch fearfully.

“You gambled it away,” Namjoo said never mind withholding the disgust in her voice. “You see, this is what made mom leave you. You’re uncontrollable.”

“Your mom always wanted to leave.” Her father’s eyes fired up.

“No! You let her do everything! She footed the bills, she raised me, she put food on the table while you were out drinking, smoking, and playing your games of luck. But dad, you’re not lucky. You don’t have luck! That’s why we’re still stuck here! She left me to raise you. I’m sick and tired of it! So for god’s sake, just stop it! Being with you just drives everyone who cares about me away!”

The sound of a car door slamming veered her attention left. To an ugly silver Ford Taurus parked at the curb of the garage shop. Turning away Namjoo made a face of vexation.

“Oh! Hello!” The mechanic hurried away from her and her father to greet Sehun.

She heard the sound of another door opening followed by the unbuckling of a seatbelt. Light footsteps touched ground and an innocent voice asked, “Daddy? What we do?”

“I have to take care of something then I’ll buy you ice cream, ok?” Sehun promised his daughter.

Please, she mentally begged, let an alien teleport her away. Resigning to her bad luck, Namjoo turned around. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Sehun she first looked at. Her gaze landed flat on Seulbi gaping up at her, as if she didn’t know teachers existed outside of the school.

“This is him,” her father latched onto her arm. “He hit me yesterday.”

A mix of embarrassment and shame wallowed through her. Namjoo hated this. Why did it have to be like this?

“Hello, uncle,” Sehun nodded. Touching Seulbi’s head he prompted her to copy him. “Say hello to grandpa.”

Seulbi peered up at him, lost.

“You call him grandpa here.” Sehun explained.

“Hullo.” Seulbi greeted.

Her father narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I wasn’t careful yesterday. I didn’t mean to crash into you. I’m sorry.” Sehun apologized.

Namjoo suppressed an oncoming sigh.

“Yes, you should be!” her father shook a finger at him. “How dare you run away, too! Why, your parents should have taught you better.”

“Stop it, dad.” Namjoo muttered. “It’s just Sehun.”

“Sehun?” her father repeated frowning. Jaw nearly dropping, his eyes widened. Bewildered, he nearly shouted, “Oh Sehun?!”

Letting out an abrupt whoop, her father slapped Sehun on the arm. Laughing suddenly.

“Look who’s back?” her father heehawed glancing at her. Namjoo tried not to look at any of them. She should have never come. Back to Sehun. “I thought you left town.” Bending down he observed Seulbi more closely. “And who’s this? You’re a cute one, aren’t ya?”

Seulbi stepped closer into Sehun for protection. Uncertain about this old man whose teeth was scarily yellow, his face dark and weary. Sehun clung onto Seulbi’s hand in reply.

“It’s ok.” He assured patting her head.

“Should we talk inside?” They had forgotten about the mechanic who was sweating buckets underneath the sun. Namjoo was the first to step away.

“Come on.” She heard Sehun behind her.

Seulbi whined. “Dun want go.”

“Daddy’s going with you.”

Pressing her eyes shut Namjoo inhaled a final breath as she stepped inside the garage, toward a side door, and into the service room she hadn’t wanted to enter earlier. The mechanic served them water from a waist high cooler. The seats felt sticky and unclean. Too smooth from so many years of too many heavy butts flattening the rough surface. Disturbed from the thought Namjoo fidgeted in her seat.

Across from her Sehun tucked a strand of sweat soaked hair behind his daughter’s ear. She shifted her gaze when he looked up.

“Here are the forms,” the mechanic returned with some slips. “Do you have insurance?”

“No.” her father replied.

“Forget it.” Namjoo shoved her chair back from the grimy table. “Just call me. I’ll pay for my father’s repair.”

And there goes her next paycheck. Stomping out of the building, Namjoo dug into her purse for her car keys. She wanted that aspirin desperately now. The rest of her evening depended on it.

“Namjoo, wait!” Hearing his voice made her slow then pick up pace. What was she thinking? Not now. Just not now. Let a day or two pass. Maybe a month.

Or never.

Sehun’s footsteps thumped harder. Coming around her. Breathing hard. Namjoo looked at the daughter he was holding tightly. She knew how hard it was to run carrying extra weight. She had tried it with the little kids in the classroom. The next day her back felt broken, her arms stringy like gelatin.

“Do you want to get ice cream with us?” he asked.

Again, Namjoo stared more at Seulbi than Sehun. The daughter’s almond shaped eyes bore into hers curiously. Never saying a word.

They trekked down the street to an upscale dessert parlor in a white brick building. Inside was air conditioned, even cooler because of the ice-cold freezers required for the ice cream. Seulbi shivered and hugged Sehun tighter as they walked up to the counter to order.

“Butter pecan?” he asked her.

Ignoring his sentimentality, Namjoo went with, “Just a vanilla frozen yogurt.”

“A small bowl of bunny tracks.” Sehun made his order.

Seulbi’s face bloated with exhilaration when Sehun received his order. She immediately tried to escape from his hold. “Want! Want! Want!” she impatiently bounced.

“Ok, wait.” Staying calm, he set her down into one of the plastic chairs. Seulbi quieted when she settled and he handed her a pink spoon. “Slowly, ok?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Seulbi anxiously dug into the ice cream. Scooping the delicacy greedily into . She grinned at her dad joyfully, smacking her lips, and allowing the sweetness to drool from her lips down her chin where it would soon drip into her dress.

Too accustomed to the sight of a messy eater, Namjoo snatched napkins from a dispenser and pushed it forward. She needn’t speak a word as Sehun took one and wiped the ice cream as Seulbi stuck another spoonful into . Exclaiming through gibberish moans how delicious and pleased she was for the sweet.

She shivered upon a brain freeze, scrunching her face up, clenching her eyes through the numbing sensation. Allowing Namjoo to see for the first time quiet Seulbi’s active side.

“She’s four.” Sehun said.

“I know.” Namjoo dipped her attention to her frozen yogurt. She hadn’t touched it. She didn’t really want to have it.

“I met her mother at a rest stop in Jinju. We traveled together for a bit,” Sehun told, “and then we split up in Daegu. I went to Seoul by myself. I went back to find her when she told me there was a baby. That’s why I never called. I was ashamed. I’m sorry.”

He knocked someone up. For some reason that was more overwhelming than Namjoo expected. She couldn’t soak the point through. Not entirely. The fact was just there in front of her plain eyes, but she could not grasp it. She felt kind of stupefied.

“Where’s her mom?” Namjoo questioned. The sight of Seulbi indulging in her ice cream too apparent at the corner of her eyes. That was Sehun’s daughter. That was really his daughter.

“We split up.” Sehun said.

“Well then,” Namjoo breathed. A quarter of her was relieved. The rest she didn’t know. What did he want? To be her friend again? After going missing for four years?

“Namjoo…” he started, but the ringing of her phone cut him short.

Making a show of digging in her purse for the mobile, Namjoo pulled it out. It was an incoming call from her father.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Namjoo excused. Getting up, she hooked the bag over her shoulder and hurried out of the building. Crossing the block, she got into her car and threw phone and purse onto the passenger seat.

She was going to go home and she was going to take that aspirin.

※※※※※

“What’s going on?” Chanyeol raised a brow upon opening the door. “Is it my birthday this week?”

“Shut up.” Namjoo pushed her way in.

Pushing the door close he said, “You don’t just visit three times a week. Though we didn’t do anything yesterday, but at this point you’re going to exhaust me.”

He turned around to a woman pulling off her shirt.

Cocking his head, he mustered, “Ok.” and reached for the hem of his own shirt.

He didn’t know Namjoo well. Just knew her through school though they couldn’t really be considered friends for his circle was never a part of hers. Then came university where everyone splits up. They shared an econ class he recalled, but, again, they never really shared a conversation.

But he heard when her mother split from the town a couple years ago. Gossip was never ending. The women like chickens nonstop clucking. Just had to keep going at it. Wondering what had gone wrong in that household.

Fast forward a bit and he met Namjoo through a local dating app. In other words, what people really used just to have one-night stands. Nothing serious, of course.

Ok, fine, maybe he and Namjoo were just buddies who met up every now and then. But on the streets, they never acknowledged each other. First and foremost, their jobs had nothing in common. And living locally, a romance this close in town was just fodder for the nosey.

Chanyeol preferred his carefree mode of life than the next door grandmother popping in every so often just to fish out information on his privacy. Say, when are you going to put a ring on it? When will you have a kid? Something wrong with you down there? You’re so old now. Back to: when are you getting married?

It was sometime in the a.m. when Chanyeol stirred. Drowsily pulling through, he asked, “You’re going to go already?”

Namjoo mumbled something incoherent.

“What?” he asked closing his eyes. “Something’s going on.”

“No pillow talk.” She grumbled.

“Twice a month.” He mumbled. “We do this twice a month, not a week.”

Reopening his eyes, he peeked at her a width away. All the way on the other side of the bed like she wanted to keep the distance. As if it mattered now.

“What?” he prodded. “You’ll feel better once you let it out.”

Turning her back to him she ignored him.

“Fine,” he hissed.

When he woke up in the morning, Namjoo was gone. Not even a strand of hair left behind. Sighing, he roused from bed and stepped into the shower. Finally picking up after himself. Threw out the plastic bowl of ramen. Tossing old clothes into the laundry basket. Changing the bedsheets.

When he reached the pillow Namjoo always slept on he giggled slyly. Forget washing it. He flipped the pillow over and replaced it on the bed. Lugging the laundry basket with him outside he got into his car and drove to the laundromat. Whistling as he went about his chore and once all his clothes had been dumped into a washer, he went outside.

The communal building was nearby. He’d stop in to check on his workplace. Steal a cup of free coffee and come back for his laundry. Sounded like a decent plan.

It was a warm day as any other. The wind blowing west to east. Carrying a hint of the ocean, a refreshing scent. Chanyeol really did love living by the ocean. Many benefits were the clean air. High clear skies. An open world and a vast sea of endless seafood, his favorite.

The sore sight of a boring gray building appeared down the road. A tasteless design shared by the administrative council. The windows were tinted darkly as was the front door. Heavy as a boulder. Whoever installed it Chanyeol wanted to have a talk with, because no door should require this much effort to open.

The smell of old carpeting hit him smack in the nose when he stepped inside. He abhorred this building. Inside and out. Waving to the receptionist Chanyeol stalked toward the adjoining break room. A miracle that the coffee pot machine was still in the works after all these years. He’d begged for it to be replaced by a high-end Keurig machine, but no luck. He would try again in the upcoming year. Once they got tired of listening to him, they’d do it no doubt.

This morning someone was just making his coffee. A tall man Chanyeol did not recognize. Coming to stand next to him, Chanyeol took a curious peek as he grabbed a paper cup from a stack at the side. The corner of his mouth curved up amused.

“New here?” Chanyeol asked.

As the man turned, Chanyeol thought maybe he did know Namjoo well.

She had grown up here in Goseong. Her father’s gambling habits had caused a divide in her family. Driven to the edge, Namjoo’s mother had packed up and left two years ago. Leaving Namjoo with just a note and once again, her father’s habits became the talk of town.

Kim Namjoo worked at the elementary school she had attended and graduated from. She liked the kids, as if their innocence would renew some life in her. Chanyeol had seen her more than a couple times on the children’s bus. Ecstatically singing and clapping along to their songs; that huge beautiful smile displayed on her face.

Chanyeol knew Namjoo didn’t really have friends. Kwon Chaeri was still too interested in hookups for Namjoo’s quiet degree of life. Chanyeol knew this because he’d met the roommate at a bar dragging Namjoo along for dinner, and she had looked like she was having the worst night of her life. So, when he recognized her name on that dating app, it was jackpot for him.

As a kid, Namjoo had one friend. They lived across the street from each other. Chanyeol knew this, because he’d seen them sitting outside playing jacks one summer. His house was a block away. More than once he’d caught them sitting on Sehun’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Just sitting and who knows what.

Some years ago, Chanyeol had seen them sharing a hushed conversation laughing, shoving and pushing one another. It was like they were inseparable. Always sharing the joy of their lives, feeling it, tasting it in the presence of each other. Happiest when they were together.

Then one day, Namjoo was alone and sad.

And now, Oh Sehun was back.


***it has been quite a while since I've done love triangles heuheuheu

***originally, Chanyeol was supposed to be my lead but after considering not many people are interested in yeoljoo .... I decided not to go that route, but he's here anyway heh

***they say noticing the smallest details about someone means a lot in this case Chanyeol >>>> Namjoo


 

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AiiSoo #1
Chapter 28: They are just so cute..
sp_fangirling
#2
Chapter 21: I kinda hate Sehun here, i mean he pushed Namjoo to like all the plans in his mind. He's not discussing things, he demands them. I know he loves his daughter but i think it's not fair to always push Namjoo to suddenly agree to be the mother of his daughter after they separated for a long time
Mikka_
#3
Chapter 10: Omg Sehun is sooo hypocrite on this one
Mikka_
#4
Chapter 1: Comparing to your other work, I found this chapter hard to understand x) between the thinking/past/present
_apink #5
Chapter 7: I'm already feeling sad for Chanyeol :C
thakurpriya203
#6
Chapter 8: In previous chanyeol is sweet, bt here playful, i like it hahaha
thakurpriya203
#7
Chapter 8: In previous chanyeol is sweet, bt here playful, i like it hahaha
thakurpriya203
#8
Chapter 7: Chanyeol is gentle ❤️
thakurpriya203
#9
Chapter 2: Hye, it's been long since I was not active reader, and today I opened my account nd find out you complete your 2 stories, bt I'm back now, nd about this story you always come with something new and different, nd that is amazing about you ❤️
sookrysjung
#10
Chapter 22: I really liked the whole marriage talk. it tackled the different opinions of people about marriage. I was on Sehun’s argument but upon Namjoo and Chanyeol’s opinion about it, they’re actually right? being together is also a promise. hmm.