Five
Searching for RealityThe ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
Home. I no longer had a real idea of what that word even meant. When I was a child it meant the house that I shared with my parents and my older sister. The place where I grew up and learned the life lessons I needed to hold my own in the world. A place that was ripped from me when I was 16.
After my parents died, and Haru had left me with our Aunt and Uncle, I was sure that I did not have a home. Of course when I would go out on my various late night adventures they would tell me, “Make sure you’re home by midnight.” I never was. Often I didn’t come home at all. Although they were kind to me, gave me food, clothes, shelter, love.. they were not my parents. Their house was not my home. I was in too dark of a place to find happiness with them, so the day I turned 18, I hugged them goodbye, collected my few belongings and promptly left.
After I moved out of their house I bounced around for awhile, never staying in one place too long, never staying anywhere to be proud of. I often stayed with sketchy people I had met at the clubs and bars that I had lied my way into. I was lost, a drifter. I had lost any concept of what a home was. I wandered the streets for almost a year, my meager possessions, minus a a few sentimental objects, I had all sold just to keep myself alive. I once saw Haru while I was walking through the streets, dirty and looking for a place to stay for the night. Our eyes locked and we stared each other down. She the picture of perfection, dressed professionally with a nice looking man at her arm. Me, just a dirty tramp who hadn’t eaten in a day or two. I debated whether to go up to her and just ask her, even beg her for help. But just as I was about to bend my pride and approach her she her heel and walked away. I lingered on the same street for a few days, but that was the last time I ever saw my sister.
I continued to walk the streets and the nights became especially hard. After a particularly bad night I had ended up curled on the front steps of a café where the owner had found me cold, wet, and nearly starved to death. “What a shame.” He clicked his tongue as he looked down on my pitiful form. “I’ve seen you walking back and forth along this street for the past few days. Don’t you have somewhere to go? Someone to stay with?” I was only able to weakly shake my head. He sighed as he unlocked the door to the café. “Well I guess you had better come in.”
After helping me into the café he fed me and for some reason gave me a job and a place to stay. “Everyone gets down on their luck every once in a while, and most people can work it out for themselves. But you look like you could use a little help Girlie.” He said to me. He introduced himself as Mr. Hong and in the weeks that followed I worked and lived at the cafe. I worked for free in exchange for food and a place to sleep.
A few days after I began staying at the café, a man that I had been staying with caught up with me. I had stayed with him for a few days after I met him at a club. But he was too into drugs and drinking so I had run away from him and that's when I ended up on the steps of the small café. He began yelling that he had loved me and I had just used him and left, stealing his money for good measure. Of course I had never stole anything from this man, or even gave him the slightest hint that I had loved him, in fact I didn't even know what his name was. I had stayed with him because I was simply desperate for a place off the streets. He shouted some more and raised his hand to slap me. I closed my eyes and braced myself, yet instead of feeling the sting of his hand striking me I heard an unfamiliar click. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Hong aiming a shotgun at the man's chest. "You get out of here and never come back. If I ever see you around here raising a hand to this girl ever again, I'll blow your head off." He growled. The man slowly backed up and swearing profusely under his breath walked off down the street. I slowly turned to Mr. Hong but he had already stowed the gun back under the counter and resumed wiping it down. I tried to thank him but he only waved me off saying, "Take inventory would you Girlie?" I opened my mouth to protest, tears rising in my eyes but I quickly closed it and went to go do as he asked.
I was ashamed that this man had picked me up off the streets and had helped me so much, yet I knew next to nothing about him, and he knew nothing about me. So, from that day on I began to start conversations between us, about simple things like what his favorite color was, or what was his favorite type of coffee. He was never really all that open and often answered in grunts, but I found that asking questions about the café got me the most responses. I eventually learned that he had started this café after his first love dumped him. The name of the café, Natalia’s, was the name that he would have given his daughter if he had one.
I found it curious, but also comforting that he would never ask questions about my life in turn. Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe he understood, that there were some things that I no longer wanted to recall. These small conversations were a small light in my life, often times he would be the only one I would speak to in an entire day. I began to look forward to these short glimpses into the life and mind of the curious Mr. Hong. Although I never had the courage to tell him, that small café where we worked together was the closest that I had ever come to having a home since my parents died.
One day out of the blue he handed me a paper. When I looked it over I saw that it was a college application. “It’s such a shame to see you wasting your talents in a dump like this. Go off and go to college.” I tried to explain that I had no talents to speak of but he promptly cut me off. “I’ve seen you draw those little doodles on the napkins when the café has been slow. I know that those drawings on the windows that attract customers weren’t drawn by leprechauns in the middle of the night. You have a talent there Girlie, don’t waste it. You owe it to me to go off to college and do something with your life.” He said. Although I did really like art I wasn’t ready to head off to college and that’s exactly what I told him. He just grunted and continued working.
Although we were both rather stubborn, Mr. Hong turned out to be more stubborn and the next day there was the college application, all filled out except for my signature placed neatly on top of my small stack of belongings in my room. Eventually I did sign that application and by some miracle I was accepted, on scholarship no less. The day that we had sat at one of the café's tables and waited with bated breath was one of the happiest days of my life thus far. Ripping open that letter and seeing those words,
We would like to thank you for your recent application to our University and are very pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Fall Semester here at our campus…"
He pulled out an envelope from his back pocket and put it in my hand. I slowly opened up the envelope and saw that it was full of money. I looked up at him speechless. "It's your pay. I know I haven't been paying you this entire time but I'm not gonna keep jipping you. I kept track and this is everything. I know it's not much but-" His words were cut off as I leapt into his arms and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. I felt him sigh and felt his arms rise to my hair. "That's a good girl. You take care of yourself now, you hear? And know that you are always welcome back at Natalia's." He said, his voice thick with emotion. Although I never thanked him out loud I hoped that he could hear it in the way that I hugged him and kept waving to him even long after he had driven out of sight. While I was too busy to go and visit him, I would often write to him telling him how great school was and sent him all my report cards. He would often write back congratulating me on my good grades and giving me updates about the café. He put money in every single letter he sent me, saying that business was booming and he could afford to send me some spending money every now and then. When I graduated college 4 years later I was finally able to visit Mr. Hong in the small café that had been my home for 6 months.
I knew that I had changed, meeting Jong Suk had made me a brighter and happier person. Yet I did not expect Mr. Hong or the café to have changed so much over 4 years. Natalia's was dusty and empty and when I entered the bell at the door echoed throughout the café, further emphasizing its vacancy. Despite Mr. Hong's many letters about how business was booming, it was obvious no one had come here in awhile. I walked quietly around the café taking in the familiar sights of the place that I had called home. I smiled as I noticed that nothing about the decor had changed, typical Mr. Hong. But as I approached the counter I noticed a few framed pieces of paper on the walls that were not there before and moved in for a closer look. Tears rose instantly in my eyes as I saw that they were all about me. Eveything from the report cards that I had sent him, to the article in the newspaper that had reported on the opening of my art gallery. I felt a wave of affection for the man that had saved me from the streets and tearing my eyes away from the articles I called out his name. "What? Who's there?" A tired voice croaked out. Out from behind the counter hobbled Mr. Hong, but unlike everything else in the café he was not the same. His face was lined, he had a sort of tiredness in his limbs and he limped painfully on one leg.
"Mr. Hong? It's me, Miso." I said, warily approaching him. He squinted in my direction and gasped when he saw my face. "Miso? Is that really you Girlie?" He limped to me and pulled me close, examining my face. 4 years had changed me and I didn't really expect him to be able to recognize me, honestly I wouldn't have. But he pulled me into a hug all the same. "It really is you. You've finally come back to visit this old man." He had told me how business had gone down recently, so I offered to stay for a few weeks to help Mr. Hong hire some employees and get the place back up and running again. After we hired a few people to take care of everything in the café I gave him a copy of my college diploma which proudly hung up next to my other report cards. While the café was starting to turn around, Mr. Hong's health wasn’t, and as the days went by he got sicker and sicker. Although I wanted to ask what was wrong, I knew Mr. Hong would not tell me how he had gotten so sick during the 4 years I was gone until he was ready.
After 3 weeks of staying at the café with Mr. Hong I knew that it was time for me to go back to the home I now shared with Jong Suk. But I was reluctant to leave. For some reason, I had the horrible feeling that this would be the last time that I would see Mr. Hong. As I bid him goodbye on the steps of Natalia's, he handed me another envelope stuffed with money. I shook my head and tried to give it back to him but he refused. "Mr. Hong I can't accept this. It's too much." I pleaded. But he simply waved me off. "Nothing is too much for my best employee. Please take it and use it on your honeymoon when you marry that man of yours. Plus I’m not gonna be around to use it much longer anyway." "But Mr. Hong, why? Why have you been so kind to me all these years? " I asked, truly confused as to why he cared for me so much.
He sighed. "Well Girlie, I know I should've told you this a long time ago but I had just come from the hospital the day I found you on the steps. Well, I didn't really get good news so I was pretty down. That was when I found you, and a small voice in the back of my head told me that my last job on this Earth was to nurse you back to health and help you find happiness. But what I didn't realize is that you have helped me obtain my own little slice of happiness and make my peace with the world." Tears were now flowing steadily down both of our faces. "The past 4 years I have seen you transform from that small sad girl into the beautiful a confidant woman that you are today. With this visit, I am certain that you are fine to live on your own. You have a new home with people who love you. My work here is done." He sighed, smiling.
"Please don't say that Mr. Hong." I sobbed. "You can come to the city and live with us. We'll get you a new doctor and get you some treatment. So please, don't leave me. Everyone always leaves me." I gripped onto his shirt tightly, tears streaming down my face. He laughed lightly and shook his head. "I have lived a long enough life, and it's had its share of good things. I'm ready to go. You were like the child I always wanted but never had. You have brought some light into this bitter old man's life and for that I thank you Miso. Really, thank you for everything." He pulled me gently into a hug and rubbed my back comfortingly while I cried into his neck. “Besides no one has ever really left you, and neither will I. If you ever need me just holler and I’ll rush right on over.” I pulled back and looked into his heavily lined face and tried to say the words that I had held in for so long, but for some reason I couldn't manage to choke them out. Mr. Hong simple smiled and said, "I know Miso. You're welcome. Now go, your fiancé is expecting you." I hesitantly let go of his shirt and walked down the steps, looking back all the time. He laughed as he waved me off, "Go on, get out of here Girlie. I ain't gonna drop dead here on the porch just yet." He joked. Smiling a watery smile at him I blew him a kiss and walked off down the alley.
A week later, I got a phone call from one of the café's new employees that Mr. Hong had passed away peacefully in his sleep. The one man who had taken me in when no one would, was gone. But like he said, I held onto the notion that he was not truly gone and often thought of him, wondering if he was really watching me from up in Heaven. He alone had shown me kindness and had managed to turn me from a wayward stray into the person I was today.
"Or at least the person I was in my other life." I thought as I walked through the door of my own childhood home, my mother and Haru leading the way, my father bringing my bags in after us. I walked through the living room and the kitchen, everything just how I remembered it. My mother turned to me and asked cautiously, "Welcome home. Does it feel good to be back home?" Was this really home? I was told that a home was the place where you were surrounded by those you loved and were familiar with. The house I shared with Jong Suk and Hwa Young was a home. Even at Natalia’s where I lived with Mr. Hong was a home. Of course I loved my parents and my sister, but I was not sure I even knew them anymore. So was this really my home?
"Miso? Are you okay?" My mother asked me softly shaking me from my thoughts. I turned to her and took in her worried face. "Yeah Mom it's great. I missed being home." I said. I saw my Mom's face relax for the first time all day. Ever since I began to talk to them after my visit with Uncle Jo at the hospital yesterday, my mother was much more cautious with me. Now that I was actually responsive, she had talked almost non-stop at the hospital about everything that I had missed, but she always seemed to gauging my reaction to everything. Maybe she was worried she would say something that would make me flip out and have a psychotic episode. Maybe I would, I wasn’t quite sure. My father always stopped her, saying that I didn't need to know every little thing that had happened since my accident. He was his same old jokester self, but I still sensed a bit of hesitance even with my care-free father.
Haru, on the other hand, did not speak to me, let alone even look at me once since I had woken up from my coma. Every time our eyes met, hers would dart away. I once asked my father why she was avoided me so much, and he simply sighed saying, "She was just so worried about you. She honestly thought you weren't going to make it, so seeing you up and about is a bit strange to her. Give her some time and she'll come around.” I had to look at it from her perspective I guess. I had laid in bed for the past 6 years looking like I was pretty much dead. So, I took my fathers advice and waited, after all it had only been 2 weeks since I had been brought out of a coma so it didn't surprise me that she was still working things out. I mean I was still trying to figure a lot of things out myself, so I couldn't really blame her.
"Hey Honey? I'm gonna bring your bags upstairs for you if that's alright?" My father said. "Oh thanks..um.. I can help?" I offered. "Oh no, Honey, you shouldn't." My mother chided. "In fact, it has been kind of a long day, maybe you should take a nap." She suggested gently. A long day? We had left the hospital just an hour ago and had done nothing at the hospital before that. I wanted to point this out but didn't want to upset my Mom so I just agreed and followed my dad upstairs to my room. When I walked into my room it was just as I remembered it being almost 60 years ago. With a simple bed and desk and bare white walls it was a teenagers nightmare. But honestly anywhere was better than the hospital room I had spent the last 6 years and 2 weeks in. My father set my bags down and came over to me standing in the doorway to my room. “Well, welcome back. It was a little dusty but I managed to clean a little when you were still at the hospital. You gonna be okay?" He asked me. I nodded at my Dad smiling softly. "Okay baby girl. Yell if you need anything okay?" He said backing out of the room. I nodded again. "Oh and Miso?" He said sticking his head back in the room. "Yeah Dad?" "It's good to have you back." And with that he was gone.
After my Dad left, the room was almsot deathly quiet. Each of my steps was like an elephants to my ears as I crossed my room to lie down on my bed. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I realized that I must have been more tired than I thought and quickly fell asleep. I was woken up hours later, the room plunged into darkness, by the sound of raised voices from downstairs. The voices belonged to my Mom and Haru but I couldn't make out what they were saying. After a few quiet but stern words from my father and a stony silence, I heard footsteps echo across the house and begin to trudge up the stairs. Eventually they stopped outside my room door and hesitated. After a minute, my room door opened and light from the hallway poured into my room, Haru's outline lingering in the doorway. She stood there in silence, staring at me who had risen up onto my elbows in bed. I opened my mouth to say something but she beat me to it. "Dinner's ready. Come downstairs." She said stonily and then she her heel and began to walk back down the stairs. "Haru, wait!" I called after her quietly. She stopped in her tracks and turned slightly towards me. "Haru.. I-" I started to say. "I'm sorry Miso." She said quickly, cutting me off and storming off down the stairs.
I blinked in confusion and began to pull myself out of bed and into the hallway and downstairs. What could Haru possibly be sorry for? I was dying to ask her, but I couldn't, not in front of our parents. So I resolved to get her alone once again and ask her. We ate dinner in relative silence, Haru not once lifting her eyes from her plate. After dinner she ran away from the table and into her room and locked the door. Getting my sister alone would be hard than expected, but for some reason I needed to know why she had apologized to me.
Don't forget our first meeting tomorrow. I have found someone who understands your situation and can help you.
-Uncle Jo
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