Chapter 8

"Eomma, when is Appa coming home?"

"He can't come home anymore. Remember when we said 'goodbye' to him?"

"But we say 'goodbye' to him every day and he always comes home. Why can't he come home anymore?"

"People can't come home when they die."

"Why can't they?"

"Because they can't, sweetheart. They just can't."

*                                                         *                                                         *

"This is my son. Honey, this is Jo SeongWook."

"Hello. Nice to meet you."

"Say 'hello' Mark."

"Hello."

*                                                         *                                                         *

"He's going to be your new father."

"I don't want a new father."

"Mark, don't be like that. Every boy needs a father. Can't you just try? You see how hard things have been since your father died. He wants to take care of us. Don't you like him?"

No answer.

"Well, he likes you. Promise me you'll try. For me, Mark. For us . . . "

He doesn't like me . . .

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Why do you still have his pictures around? Don't you have any respect for me?"

"Of course I respect you, but those are family pictures. Mark is in them, too."

"I'm going out."

"Where are you going? I just made dinner. It's your favourite. Braised mackerel."

"What's the use of making me braised mackerel? You're driving me out of my own house! I'll be back when you decide to treat me like your husband!"

"But, you are my husband."

"No, he's your husband. That's why his face is still everywhere. No wife has pictures of another man all over her house. If you want me to stay when I get back, you'll get rid of those pictures."

Door slams.

*                                                         *                                                         *

"You look so handsome. Just like your father."

"What a good report card! I wish your father were here to see this. He would be so proud! Did you see this, yeobo? Did you see how well Mark is doing in his classes? If you keep this up you'll be able to pass the exams for university one day."

"University is expensive. We can't afford to send him even if he does pass the exams."

"His father left the money behind for him. So, all you have to do is continue to do well, alright, Mark-ah?"

*                                                         *                                                         *

"You've been hiding money from me?"

"No . . . "

"You know how much I've been wanting to start a business. You know how much my boss has been humiliating me. I've told you that over and over, I've told you how important it is for me to open a business. How much more I could do for the family. I even showed you a plan and got a couple of friends to help back it, but I just couldn't come up with my share because I have to pay for everything around here. And you've been hiding money?"

"It's not our money to spend, yeobo. That's money that my . . . that Mark's father left for him to get an education."

"Money for Mark's education. That's years away. In the meantime, we have to live like this? Don't you believe in me?"

"Of course I believe in you."

"Talk is cheap. If you really did, you would think that I could run a business well. You would know that I would be successful."

"I do believe in you."

"Then why wouldn't you give me the money to start a business? Once the business does well, we'll have more than enough to pay for his education, if he passes the exams. But you don't even know if he'll pass the exams and you're withholding the money from our family in the meantime. I never knew I married such a woman. Why did you marry me if you don't believe in me at all?"

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Did you have any luck today?"

"Luck?"

"Job-hunting."

"You just can't help it, can you? The minute you walk in, you start to nag."

"I'm not nagging, I'm just . . . "

"Don't you think I feel bad enough without you . . . "

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . ."

*                                                         *                                                         *

"I'm so proud of you, Mark! Straight A's! We have to celebrate! You're doing so well! You've worked so hard! You keep this up and you'll be able to go to any university you want in the future! Your father was right to save that money. I just wish he were here to see the fine young man his son's becoming . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"He just got into a fight at school. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Mark, honey, are you okay? . . . but he never gets into fights . . . "

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No . . . no, it's just that . . . "

"All boys start to kick off around that age. It's normal. He just got the worst of it this time. Maybe he should learn how to fight."

"I don't want him fighting."

"Then don't blame me if he keeps on getting beat up."

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Another fight?"

"Yeah. Must be something they don't like about him. They can always tell the weak ones."

"Who did this to you, Mark? Who did this?  . . . This is much worse than last time . . . I'm calling the school."

"I talked to his teacher when I went to pick him up . . . "

"I'll call the principle . . . "

"I talked to him, too. They said the boys will be suspended. They can't do more than that, can they?"

"But look at my son . . . look at what they did to my son . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Eomma?"

"Yes."

"Do you have to stay married?"

"Mark, I'm tired from working all day and I still have to fix dinner . . . "

"Eomma, we were happy before. Do you really have to stay married?"

"Of course I have to stay married. Why . . . ?"

"Eomma . . . "

"What is it, Mark . . . ?"

"He hates me, Eomma . . . "

"No . . . no, he doesn't . . . he doesn't. He's just having a hard time because he can't find a job. But as soon as he gets one, things will be better. I promise things will be better . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"What kind of animals would do this to my son?"

"Calm down, calm down . . . we're in a hospital . . . "

"Who . . . who did this? I want to talk to somebody from the school right now! They said they would take care of this! . . . I want somebody here right now . . . I want them to tell me why they let this happen . . . "

"It didn't happen at school. They think he was attacked on his way home . . . "

"Who . . . who would . . . god . . . help me . . . I'm going mad . . . I'm going mad! . . . who would do this to my son! . . . my son! . . .  I can't . . . I can't breathe . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"So, this is why? This explains all the trouble. I told you they could spot one! Disgusting..."

"Mark, is this true?"

"No wonder . . . and you making all this fuss . . . 'my son, my son' . . . disgusting little pansy . . . that's why . . . did you read what he wrote? Little f***** right under our own roof . . . "

"Mark . . . tell me this isn't true . . . tell me this isn't true . . . how can you write this . . . how? . . . in your journal . . . about a boy?"

"He's a . . . how can you stand the sight of him?"

"For the first time since . . . I'm just glad your father isn't here to see . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Now he's even hurting himself. Did you see the cuts and wounds? Self-inflicted . . . we have to get him help, don't you see that?"

*                                                         *                                                         *

"They'll help you here, Mark. And then you can come home to us. You'll get better and then we can be a family, okay?"

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Your mother and stepfather told us everything. A lot of teenagers like you have problems and hurt themselves, but we'll help you. We've seen a lot of cases like yours and there's no reason to lose hope . . . "

"He hurt me . . . it was him . . . he did it all . . . "

"Mark. The only way you'll get better is if you start telling the truth. There's no reason to be ashamed. I already told you, we've seen lots of young men with your problem. But the first step in getting better means that you have to admit the truth. You can't blame other people . . . just admit the truth and we can help you."

"But . . . I'm telling you the truth . . ."

*                                                         *                                                         *

"He's hopeless. No matter what I try, he won't stop lying."

"Change his meds. Maybe if we lower his anxiety levels he can calm down enough to start working with us. Tch, such a sad case. It's a shame. I feel sorry for his mother . . . he's her only son . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Aren't you glad to be going home today?"

"Yes."

"Things are going to be much better now, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Your parents will be here to pick you up at four, so you'll get to have dinner together. Better than the food around here, I bet . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"And this is the kitchen. I know it's a little small, but we're already doing a good business out of it. I still have to pay all the start-up and operating costs, so it'll be a while, but like I told your mother, as soon as I can, I'll put the money back."

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Eomma . . . can't we just . . . "

"What, Mark?"

"Never mind . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"But you haven't put back a cent!"

"I'm still growing the business! I have to reinvest . . . but you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"You could put some back instead of buying expensive clothes and shoes and . . . "

"I have to look successful if I'm going to be successful. Haven't you ever heard that? You want me to go around dressed as a pauper when I'm looking for investors?"

"And all the money you're spending on them; on food and drink . . . "

"Entertaining potential investors. I've explained it all."

"But no one's invested . . ."

"That takes time . . . it takes time for people to part with their money . . . you of all people should understand that . . . "

"You promised you'd put back the money little by little. It's not mine. It's Mark's."

"You want me to take money out of my business to put in the hands of that disgusting little f**?"

"He's not like that anymore. They cured him."

"The hell they did! He's the same disgusting little homo he was before. He just told them a pack of lies so they'd let him out. If you put him in a room with that kid he wrote about and a mattress, you'd see how much he'd changed . . . "

"Stop it . . . please, just stop it . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Who is this woman?"

"She's just a customer . . . she's thinking about investing . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Okay, that's it! Get out!"

"What?"

"You heard me! Take your f****** son and get out of here!"

"This is our house . . . "

"Not anymore. Having a memory lapse? Need to take another look at the papers? Now pack your stuff and get out. Don't make me have to call the police . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . . "

"It's okay, Eomma . . . "

"You tried to tell me, didn't you? . . . Why didn't I . . .? Those things . . . those things you told the doctors . . . were they true? . . . they were, weren't they . . . ?"

"Yes, Eomma."

" . . . oh . . . god . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"Eomma! . . . Eomma! . . . "

"I'm sorry. She's gone, son . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"We didn't have any other place to take him, we couldn't locate any other family . . . as his stepfather, legally, you're his next of kin, though if you can't take him in . . . "

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of him here, won't we . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

"No . . . please . . . don't . . . "

*                                                         *                                                         *

A fire burned a house to the ground this evening in —— killing two. The houses on either side of the building suffered significant damage, though no one was hurt. There are suspicions of arson, but they are yet unconfirmed. Fire and police departments are continuing to gather evidence for their investigation.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

"I was there. I was standing right there in the doorway. I saw her strike the match."

JinYoung just kept holding Mark's hand.

"She looked right at me when she did it. He was in bed, passed out. The house stank of gasoline. I could hardly breathe. That's what woke me up. But just when I got to their bedroom, she set it alight."

"Who was she?"

"Some woman. Some woman he threw my mother out in the street for . . . "

Mark moved from his cross-legged position to lie down with his head on JinYoung's thigh.

"Why did she do that? Why did she leave me? She knew I had no one. Why would she leave me alone? Was I that bad?"

"You weren't bad, Mark," JinYoung said, his hair to console him. "She just . . . maybe she just . . .  I don't know," he admitted.

"If I wasn't . . . the way I am . . . she wouldn't have done it."

"That's not true."

"When she thought I was . . . 'sick' . . . the way she . . . the way she looked at me. It was everything bad pressed into one. It was like she didn't know me, like she hated me, like I disgusted her. It was like she was in pain. It was all those things. . . .  And then, when she thought that I was 'cured', it was like she'd woken up from a bad dream where her son was a . . . was . . . "

"Shhhhhh . . . " JinYoung soothed.

" . . . it was like she was really awake now and her son wasn't disgusting. I was her son again. And then, when he told her that it wasn't true, that I hadn't changed . . . I could see it in her eyes: I'd turned back into that hateful stranger . . . She . . . she did it to get away from me . . . "

"No . . ."

"Yes, she did."

"Look at me, Mark."

He sat up and looked into JinYoung's eyes.

"I can't pretend to know everything she was thinking or feeling, but your mother didn't die because of you."

"How do you know?"

"Because, when you were together before she . . . and you told her what her husband had done, how he'd beaten you, hurt you, she believed you, didn't she?"

". . . yes . . . "

"Then . . . I think . . . maybe she felt guilty. Maybe that's why. She loved you more than anything and maybe the thought that she didn't protect you . . . maybe that drove her to do what she did."

"But then it's still . . . "

JinYoung his face.

"It's not your fault, Mark. It just isn't. None of this is."

JinYoung took his hand and led him to their makeshift bed. They were both exhausted and they could see the sky just beginning to lighten through the window. They lay heavily in each other's arms, tired, one tired from the telling and the other from listening to all of the horrors. Now they both just wanted the cleansing effects of sleep to renew them.

"You know that I love you, don't you, Mark?" JinYoung asked as he looked at Mark's face.

He opened his eyes to look at JinYoung. He had never said the words to Mark before this moment, but that somehow had made no difference. Mark had felt them before he'd heard them.

"Yes. I know," he responded groggily.

"And you love me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then that's the only thing that matters now," JinYoung said and kissed Mark tenderly on the lips. "Sleep well."

The sun rose on their bodies wrapped in each others arms in worn-out slumber. JinYoung was the first to awaken. He watched Mark as he slept. He looked so exhausted.

The stress of telling me . . . all those horrible memories . . . I hope it wasn't too much for him . . .

But, even after the entire ordeal of dredging up the dreadful past, Mark hadn't had a nightmare. That was a good sign.

JinYoung his hair gently, using his fingers to comb through Mark's thick, silky strands.

Why did these things have to happen to you? So many bad things . . . I don't want anything bad to happen to you ever again.

JinYoung kissed Mark's forehead tenderly. Once . . . twice . . .

"I love you," he breathed in between kisses. "I love you . . ."

He kissed him again. That was when Mark began slowly to stir. JinYoung lay suddenly still. He was sorry that he had disturbed Mark's sleep. He'd wanted him to get as much rest as he needed and now, due to his actions, he was waking up before he'd slept his fill.

Mark's eyelids fluttered open as his hand JinYoung's shoulder and arm, travelling downward to rest on his waist. His eyes looked tired and swollen, but to JinYoung, he just looked beautiful.

"I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep," he said quietly.

"I'm glad you woke me. I don't like sleeping when you're awake," Mark replied.

"Why?"

"Because I feel like I'm wasting time I could be spending with you."

JinYoung kissed Mark's forehead again, lovingly and then pulled him close.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm okay."

"We don't have to study today. We can have a day off," JinYoung offered kindly as he Mark's hair.

"No, we can study. I don't want us to fall behind," Mark said sincerely. Then looking into JinYoung's eyes he said, "I want to be able to go to university with you."

"Mark . . ."

JinYoung leaned down at the same time Mark inclined his head upward and their lips met in a chaste, loving kiss. Then they opened their eyes and looked at each other, feeling the intensity within them build through the strength of their gaze.

"I love you, very much," JinYoung said.

Mark the side of his face with great tenderness before replying.

"I love you . . . more than anything," he said.

Then he moved forward, meeting JinYoung's lips with his own. Mark moved his lips passionately against his lover's as JinYoung returned his kisses with equal passion. Their lips parted and as they kissed,  and their tongues, first exploring, danced, each caressing the other. Their embrace grew tighter as they rolled in waves over one another with first JinYoung laying beneath Mark and then Mark laying beneath JinYoung.

"I love you . . . I love you . . . " JinYoung breathed against Mark's neck as he placed searing kisses there.

Mark began to feel lightheaded as JinYoung continued to press kisses against his skin, descending lower only to slide back up and fuse their lips in molten desire. They held each other tightly, each moving his hands across the other's skin, and kneading, as they kissed and breathed each other in, deeply.

*                     *                     *                     *                     *                     *                     

Once they'd exhausted themselves once more: this time, not due to sadness and grief, but because of the joy and ecstasy they'd shared, Mark was first to slip off to sleep. JinYoung lay there watching him as he felt sleep begin to tug at him as well, his final conscious thoughts now only of Mark.

Now that he knew the worst of everything, there were three things of which he was certain.

He was certain that he would do everything in his power to protect and comfort Mark, so that he would be completely well again.

He would do all he could to help Mark live the life he wanted to live.

And he would not allow anyone to separate them.

Ever.

*                               *                               *                               *                               *

"But I know how many I had. I counted them last night. And here, I even wrote the number on the form," the dinnerlady complained.

"Maybe you just made a mistake," her companion replied as they shared out and handed out lunch to students in the lunch line. "I've done that before when I'm in a rush to go home. It's alright."

"It's not alright. I know how many I counted and when I came in this morning, there were four missing. They couldn't have got up and walked off by themselves," she insisted.

"Rats."

"What did you say?" she asked the student standing before her.

"I said 'rats'. You have to watch out for them," he smirked.

"We don't have rats," she said defiantly. "And it's wrong for children to eavesdrop on adult conversations. You're holding up the line, young man. Move along."

"Sorry, just trying to help. You ladies have a nice day."

When he joined his friends, he was grinning gleefully.

"What'd they put in your soup?"

"Just a little something that is going to make this the most delicious lunch I've ever tasted."

"What are you talking about."

"I know where they are."

"Who?"

"The missing fugitives."

"JinYoung and Mark? Where are they then?"

"Here.

"Here?"

"Clever, JinYoung, clever. They've been under our noses the whole time. They're hiding here, somewhere at school."

I will update again soon. Thanks for reading.

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