“I was always alone at home
My dad was a taxi driver
Whenever I asked him where he was
He’d answer,

     Yanghwa Bridge”

Zion.T lulled my thoughts to nothingness. I missed the days when I could just go day by day without thinking, without the anxiety of what lay around the next corner. My blue-green eyes fell upon my feet, sauntering along the wet sidewalk of the bridge. Salty wetness streamed down my puffy cheeks, mixing with the warm summer rain. Nighttime falling upon the city brought peace to everything, the warm yellow light of the bridge calmed me and allowed me to grieve. Upon reaching the middle of the bridge, I stopped, pulling one of my buds out of my ear to hear the surroundings a bit better.

No one walked on the bridge this time of night, only a crazy person would do such a thing.

No umbrella, no rain jacket, just a drenched cotton sweatshirt and the beanie under my hood. Unlike many people, I never got sick from the rain. Sure, I would feel really ty right after, but a cup of soup and hot tea and I would be right as… well, rain.

With another paranoid glance to the sides, I closed my eyes, confronting the waterway. Singing with as much feeling as I could pour into my shaking voice, I serenade my father in heaven - if even such a place existed.

I am not a religious person, but being raised a Christian, I liked to imagine my parents being in heaven. It calmed me, helped me sleep at night. He used to sing with me when I was younger, she would teach me jazz and blues on the piano and they helped me become the artist I am today. I wished nothing but the best for them, whether or not I believed in the place.

"Let's be happy

Let's be happy

Don't be sick, don't be sick

Let's be happy, let's be happy

Don't be sick"

The last phrase causes my voice to crack and my tears begin streaming heavily down my face as heavy, relieving sobs rake through my whole being. I grab the railing for support as I drop to a crouch and cry.

Images of the three of us, Mom, Dad, and I, flashed through my head. We used to be the Three Musketeers, defeating all evils that would befall our tight-knit bond. Even on sad days, my dad would find a way to bring the sun out from the dark thunder clouds.

"Da gwaenchanheul geoya, Nae sarang."

A weight on my back startles me and I nearly choke on my tears. I fall to the left and look up to find no one there. Though I do see someone approaching from the other side of the bridge, about 30 meters away. He wears nice clothes and his face is shaded in sunglasses. A large black umbrella keeps him dry in the downpour and I notice it becoming harder to hear the song in my ear. I look warily in his direction and fix myself so my back is resting on the railing, wiping my hands over my soaked face, taking several deep breaths.

The breaths help my sobbing from being so extreme, but tears still refuse to stop and my chest shakes uneasily. I hope he just walks by, silently cursing him for using the public bridge.

I curl my body in tighter and tighter the closer the man gets, trying to become invisible, but to no avail.

He quickens his pace in seeing me and approaches with brows nearly connecting. Crouching beside me, he asks, "Are you okay?" Looking up as he removes his sunglasses, I see the man behind the voice in my ears. Confusion chokes my voice in my throat as I touch his arm, testing if this is real or not. He raises his wrist to my forehead and I feel his cold skin touch mine. "You feel clammy. Are you sick?"

I feel sick, but not in the I'm-about-to-throw-up-my-guts kind of way. My head is spinning and tears pour in waves over my face rubbing my cheeks raw and I'm sure my eyes are a vibrant shade of red. Still I say nothing, feeling so alien, so distant from the situation. I really didn't care who he was, only thoughts of my father cloud my mind and that soft voice speaking to me now was serenading softly in my ear like a dream.

My swollen eyes slowly begin to close and I hear his voice again, more frantic this time. A hand cradles my jaw and I tilt my hand into the warmth, imagining my father and his warm face smiling down at me like a ray of sunlight through a break in the storm clouds. My chapped lips curl into a smile in the memory and the outside world disappears as I stare up at my father.

-

"Minseul-ah, you are my sunshine!" He says, grinning down brightly at me, his hands cupping my face. I have to return the gesture; it was rather hard not to smile back at him, his smile was so entrancing and addictive.

"My only sunshine, Appa!" I did cute things just to see him smile and sang him songs so I could grab his undivided attention. He always was willing to give in to my charms, teaching me to never give up on what makes me happy.

To which I would always reply, "Appa, you make me happy! I'll never give up on you!"

"That's why you keep singing, nae sarang, sing for me always, okay?" He would say, twirling me around and dancing with me as I stood on his toes and we pretended to waltz around the room, my mother watching from the doorway, admiring her family.

-

"Yanghwa-daegyo, Yanghwa-daegyo"

I'm scared awake by my lack of oxygen. I jolt upright in a hospital bed, tubes stuck to my arms. My heart races and I start breathing heavily. A nurse enters and calms me down, explaining to me that a man brought me in last night and that I had passed out for almost twelve hours. She checks my vitals and another nurse quietly wheels in a tray of food. My stomach growls audibly and my eyes glue to the plate.

I remember my phone, and my heart rate spikes again as I search frantically for it. "My phone? Where's my phone? I had it in my pocket last night, where did it go?" I ask the first nurse, who glances at the other, then me.

"I'm sorry, but you didn't have a phone on you when you were brought in." I rub my sore and dizzy head, running long fingers through the short blue grease trap on my head. I needed a shower, the rain only having made my greasy hair worse. Grabbing my beanie from the bedside table, I hide my hair under it.

"I wonder if he…" I wonder aloud to myself, looking at my knees. The second nurse pulls the tray in front of me and politely asks me to eat in a mousy voice. Shaking myself from my dreamy state, I realize how rude I'd been. Bowing to them, I smile a little. "Thank you so much."

The two ladies bow in return and exit, one behind the other.

Just finishing my lackluster food, a knock comes to the door. I look over curiously as it slides open a few inches and the man's face appears through the crack.

"May I?" He asks, opening the door a tiny bit more to stick his head through. I nod and gesture for him to enter. He was nicely dressed in sneakers, skinny jeans, and a vest over a purple button-down. I felt a little estranged being only in the pink and red hospital clothes.

Bowing my head, I greet him and he takes a seat in the chair near the bedside. "I'm sorry for last night," I say, feeling the embarrassment rise to my cheeks.

He shakes his head and smiles. "No, no, I'm just glad I found you. I can't imagine how you would've been had you stayed there in the rain like that."

I look down at the messy plate in front of me, my mind on the night before. "I had run away from my manager, so I had someone looking for me, but I'm thankful you found me when you did. I thought I was fine, but then I just… Got so sleepy." I furrow my brows and look into the familiar face I've seen online so many times. "You're Zion.T." I blurt out, more of a statement than a question. This brings a smile to his lips and he shows his braced teeth. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm a big fan of yours and I'm a bit embarrassed meeting you like this." My face burns red and I rub the back of my neck, twirling a chunk of colored hair in my fingers.

"You can call me Hae-sol. But I don't yet know who you are." He says, looking between my eyes and my hair. I fix my beanie and shift slightly in the bed.

"My name's Lee Min-seul, but I'm professionally known as Minnie." A look of realization enters his dark eyes and he nods.

"Yes, I think I've heard something about you. Did you do a song with… Oh, who was it?" He thinks for a moment. I've done several collaborations so I'm not sure which one he's talking about. "Ah, San E, right?"

I remembered now the song I had just done a month ago. Smiling, I nodded, "Oh yeah, yeah, that came out just a couple weeks ago, did you listen?" He nodded.

"I heard it on the radio a few times, very beautiful voice."

I raise my brows at him. "Really? You think so?" He nods again. My heart squeezes in my chest excitedly and I grab my chest as it begins to hurt. I wince and he looks at me with concern.

"Are you okay? What's wrong with your chest?" He reaches up to hold my wrist and calls for a nurse.

The pain begins to get exponentially worse and before I pass out from it all, I mutter, "Mianhae…"

-

I'm in my father's arms this time. Laying in between my parents on a blanket in our backyard. It's a small space, but it was our space, a place where we could hang out and forget there was an outside world. There were no fights, no pain, no bad words passed our lips. Radiation heated my tanned skin, only ten years old and afraid of the dark. My mother ran a hand over my long sandy-blonde hair, wondering in awe of its color. She rarely spoke, having a speech issue ever since she was a little girl, but it was fine with me. I spoke to her in my own language and we understood each other perfectly, like two pieces in a puzzle.

My blue-green eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun as I looked at my father's green eyes. His were on my mother's though, sending invisible waves of adoration and love. Being a foreigner in Korea, he had trouble fitting in at first, but his first and quickly best friend, Sung-Ah helped in every way she could along the way. I guess being a tall German-American didn't help blending.

Mom told me stories of how they met in school and how dad wouldn't take no for an answer and asked her to dance at a party until she finally agreed and she fell in love with his soft voice and sweet moves. I always giggled at the cheesiness of it, but I knew by the way they looked at each other that they were in every way each other's soulmate.

I loved the way mom played with my hair. How no matter how old I got, she still couldn't get over the beauty of the naturally light hair. Being born and raised in Korea, she never saw much of the foreigners in her youth, so she never took it for granted living with my father.

I start to close my eyes and listen to the birds singing in the trees above us when I start to hear a familiar song susurrating from somewhere far off. "Eommaa-aaa-aaa-aa-a, haengbokhaja…"

As it began to trail off, so did I. The warmth around me faded and my eyes were frozen shut. I was lifted into a weightless black abyss, Yanghwa Bridge being sang in a distant background, barely audible and yet so soothing. My nerves were silent and calm hung over my conscience like a blanket.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, I felt the weight of gravity setting me on the bed in the hospital as reality sank in once more. My eyes released from their captivity and I opened them, blinking at the sudden light. A figure was singing animatedly in the corner by the window, sunglasses covering his eyes, dyed red hair tucked under a short-brimmed hat.

"The feeling of walking across that bridge

Whenever I asked him where he was

My dad would always be at

Yanghwa Bridge."

"Yanghwa Bridge."

I sang with him, making him stop, realizing I was awake. I looked at him and weakly finished the verse.

"I'm standing there now."

He takes off his glasses and we stare in silence for a few moments, thoughts running a marathon through my mind. I somehow think he realized why I was on that bridge, although impossible to know my full story.

"Why were you on that bridge, listening to my song?" He asks, his voice quiet and healing as if scared to know the answer. He showed my phone, the song still paused on the screen.

I sat silent for a few moments. "My father died on that bridge." I murmur, so quietly I wonder if he even heard me. But judging by the color dropping from his face, I could tell he got it. "It's been a year, so I went to the bridge."

Silence stole the room, minutes ticking by without anything breaking it.