“Oppa! Come dance with me!” she twirled in the rain, laughing as the water drenched her. Her long hair clung to her cheeks and her gossamer dress no longer swished. The fabric was stuck to her legs and yet she was still out there.

            There was only one lamppost, casting its hazy glow over her and she turned round and round, like an angel. She tossed her head back and her beautiful three octave laugh tinkled in his ear.

            She opened her eyes and the smile faded and for a second, the water on her face could be mistaken for tears. He startled, ready to ask her what’s wrong. But the moment was gone and like the ballerina she used to be, she stepped to him and pulled his hands.

            “Oppa!” she tried again, tugging him forward. Her hands were slick with water. He resisted and she pouted, letting go of him. “Ya, Kim Himchan, you’re no fun.”

            She stuck out her tongue and went back to dancing in the rain. Her arms were spread out wide and she was invigorating, filled with energy. He wanted to just watch her and feel the magic. She caught his stare and winked at him.

            Days later, they were outside, shopping for groceries. For days he had begged her to make her kimchi wrap and she finally relented. They were joking around, being extra picky about the ingredients. She was examining the cabbage when she fell over.

            He caught her before she could crumble to the floor and patted her cheek. A sheen of cold sweat shone on her face and he shook her, trying to get a response. When she remained unmoving, he yelled for help.

            It had scared the store clerk to see a grown man on the floor, holding a woman, screaming. He called for an ambulance. When it came, the paramedics had to lock Himchan’s arms to carry her away.

            “You can follow in your own car.”

            He drove behind them and honked if they ever slowed down. If there were a light, he would press the accelerator to force them to go faster. At the hospital, he made sure that she had the best.

            He was the worst visitor the nurses on duty have ever seen. He went to the desk every few minutes and demanded to know any updates. If there were none, he would growl and punch his fists. He paced up and down, causing more anxiety for the other waiting patients.

            “Mr. Kim? You can see her now.”

            They led him to the recovery unit and told him that she had a minor growth in her brain. There was minimal cognitive damage but the tumor may still grow. He ran to her side and held her hand.

            For thirteen hours he sat, unwavering, unwilling to move. The nurses had to work around him. His eyes were only focused on her. If her head even shifted a centimeter, he would be alert, ready to assist her.

            He was awake when she opened her eyes. His vision had gone slightly blurry but he looked at her anxiously. “Are you alright?”

            Her lips cracked into a smile and tears leaked from the corners of her shiny eyes. “Oppa, the nurses told me you had fallen asleep with your eyes open. Were you really here all night?”

            His tears caused his deep voice to thicken. “Babe, don’t worry about me.”

            She shook her head. “I need to. Who’s going to worry about you if I’m not here?” He choked. She placed three fingers against his lips. “I know the truth.”

            It turns out that she’s always had tiny heart murmurs and fainting spells. When the doctor examined her, they had warned her that these supposed benign tumors may spread. She used to have pounding headaches, she told him. That’s why she quit dancing. But she took medication for a few years.      

            The medicine worked and that’s why she was able to work and eventually meet him. Her fingers threaded themselves through his. He was the ultimate blessing, she told him. If her headaches had not convinced her to work as a therapist, she may never have met Himchan.

            “But they’re back. They’re malignant tumors now. Channie.” She gripped his hands tighter. “If anything happens to me, promise me you’ll stay strong, please.”

            His shoulders shook and her face shattered into tiny blurry fragments. “Stop saying that.” And she only smiled the sad smile one gave pityingly to those who were in denial.

            She was released from the hospital but the doctors warned her against strenuous activity. Himchan watched over her and treated her like fine china glass. When she needed something, he was always there.

            Once, she felt particularly healthy. Himchan had an all-day meeting so she woke up and went for a jog. She did the housework and her head never pounded once. She became ambitious and decided to make finner.

            The doors opened and she sang out, “Oppa!” She tried to carry the pasta dish out but her arms suddenly gave way. Her limbs turned into a mush of jelly. He walked in to see the food flying and her crashing. He stepped on the broken glass and held her to him.

            “What were you thinking?” In his anxiety, he shouted it in her face.

            Tears fell down her cheeks. “I’m sorry baby. I wanted to surprise you. I was feeling fantastic. I cleaned the house and everything. I thought- I’m sorry.”

            He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and his heart broke. Her arms were much thinner and he could feel the bones on her back poking through. “Love me, Channie,” she whispered and he did, slowly, gently.

            She went back to the hospital and this time the doctors told him this was the end. The tumor was back and had spread to her nervous system. Her heart was too weak to sustain the treatments. He stayed by her side and they talked. They spoke of dreams that will never be, of the future she will never have.

            One night, she stirred from sleep and spoke randomly. “Hey, Himchan?”

            “Hm?”

            “Promise me we’ll go dancing in the rain at least once?”

            “Of course.” He meant it.

            That was the last night. The next crack of dawn was a flurry of beeping machines and doctors rushing in and out.  After three hours, as the sun was coming up, the head doctor came out with his head bowed. Himchan walked out so he didn’t have to hear his consolations.

            She wanted to be cremated. The funeral was simple. He kept her in a jar by his bedside. For weeks, one month, he never cried. He stayed home and ignored everyone and everything. He was an empty shell, as empty as the now forever pristine side of the bed she used to occupy.

It is raining tonight. He traced the rain on his window, falling and slipping like teardrops. In his mind’s eye, he remembered the night where everything was normal. He closed his eyes, hearing her laughter. If only he had taken her hand and followed her lead. If only.

            “Hey, Channie. Promise me we’ll go dancing in the rain?” Her voice. He whipped around and saw her. She beckoned to him. She was healthy, glowing and smiling. He grabbed the jar and ran outside.

            He scooped her ashes into his hand. He tossed it in the air and her laugh came to him. He waltzed with her in the pouring storm. He laughed, not caring that the rain was mixing with his tears. They were finally coming. He let the water fall into his mouth and laughed. She was right. It was fun. “See, Channie? I told you.”

            He went inside. The dressing table looked empty without the jar next to it. He looked out the window. That same lamp was shining. He saw her figure on top of it, the same glow falling softly on her as she continued to sway.

            “Promise me you’ll be strong, sweetie?”

            He closed the curtains and climbed into bed. Starting tomorrow, he would go back to work. Outside, the rain continued to be the music to her dance.

Plot by Commander J 

Just a reminder, I will be reminding after every story until Friday:

Requests are closing Friday, 6:00 pm EST.

Everyone has two requests. 

1. different people

2. one rated, one not

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