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[An alley in Gwangju]
Her reflection on the glass didn’t seem right. There was something wrong with it. The girl staring back at her looked so perfectly fine. Too fine. Too normal.
The whole day no one dared to ask how she was. Was something troubling her? No one noticed her wincing whenever she stood up. No one noticed the cracks in her perfectly made-up façade.
The school uniform hid the bruises so well, she thought as she looked away from the glass door of the convenience store.
She stood long enough there that the sun was already done setting and darkness was already enveloping the alley beside it. An alley she hated walking. But she had to. Every single day. She let out a resigned sigh. She’s just delaying the inevitable. And so, she started walking down the alley and let the darkness consume her.
She didn’t mind the bleakness of this alley. She’s used to it anyway. Besides, she had learned already that monsters don't hide in dark places. They live like normal people by day and transform into their true form by night – after they consumed alcohol and they were already in the confines of what they call home. She refused to call it one though. It’s a panopticon. A prison where everyone could see what’s clearly happening inside but still, they looked away. All of them. Even her.
Gyeo-ul clenched her fist as another sudden pang shot throughout her body. Every time she took a step forward the sore muscle on her side would hurt. But she would leave it a day and everything would feel fine again.
That’s why the human body amuses her. No matter how many blows it receives, it would still heal itself. Even if you tell it not to, it would still make the purplish bruise gone after days. Like her body was subconsciously telling her to keep going, they’re just punches and kicks, you could take more than that. And she wished she could. She believed she would. But at the moment, the cycle of getting hurt and letting her body heal itself was exhausting.
The only thing that was keeping her breathing was the hope of an escape given to her today. She passed a university in Seoul. She could finally count down the days she had to walk down this alley. She had to survive until then. Until then.
But tonight, she still had to walk inside the lion’s den.
[A train station in Seoul]
She looked at the large expanse of glass in front of her. She wondered how they could construct such a huge establishment out of a material that can easily be broken. But then again, these glass walls had to go through a lot before they became this strong; strong enough to stand proudly and beautifully in the middle of Seoul.
It was well-lit too. Unlike the alley, her brother had to walk to leave their house. Ga-eul would really be surprised that even the nameless alley in Seoul has more streetlights than their neighborhood in Gwangju.
The thought of her brother finally joining her in this city made her smile. And that was the image she saw once her eyes landed back on the reflection in the glass wall in front of her. She aptly schooled her face back to a neutral expression.
Don’t you dare, Jang Gyeo-ul, she scolded herself.
“Noona!” a familiar voice from the crowd instantaneously broke the restraint she put upon herself.
Gyeo-ul copied the bright smile on the face of her brother. Ga-eul walked towards her and pulled her into an embrace, surprising her in the process. She and Ga-eul go along really well that she sometimes forgets that Ga-eul is different from her. He’s the right-at-this-moment kind of person. He would say what he wants and do things his way. He would bounce back from things easily. But he’s still his dongsaeng – a younger brother that needs her protection.
“I told you not to wait for me. I know my way to my university dorm house. I’m an adult now, you know,” he complained as soon as he let go of Gyeo-ul.
“Do you think I’m here to pick you up?” Gyeo-ul teased, “I’m here to get the side dishes from mom.”
Ga-eul chuckled as he gave a large bag filled with various home-cooked side dishes. “Happy now?”
Gyeo-ul nodded, “I miss our mom’s cooking.”
“Then why didn’t you visit at least once?” Ga-eul asked matter-of-factly. There was not even a tinge of resentment in his voice. He was just clearly asking why. Like how every time Gyeo-ul asked for an explanation on things she couldn’t understand.
“You know how busy it is in med school,” she gave Ga-eul a tight smile as if it was compensation for the lie she just said.
“I know,” Ga-eul nodded in understanding, “And mom too.”
For a while, they stood there looking at each other. Every time they would bring up their mother in their conversation, they would share a knowing look. A look that only them could understand. A look that would always be filled with sadness, regret, and helplessness.
“She always worries about you,” Ga-eul added, “She would always ask me if you’re eating meals on time, if you’re getting enough sleep, or if you even have time to go back to your dorm room. She said you’re always at the library or study hall every time she calls.”
Gyeo-ul could have answered that yes, she’s eating her meals on time. She’s been getting better sleep. She always looked forward to going back to her dorm room because that windowless space in the university campus felt safer than their house in Gwangju. But she couldn’t say that out loud.
“Arasso, I’d call her later after I send you to your dorm. Kaja?” Gyeo-ul didn’t wait for Ga-eul to answer as she started walking towards the nearest subway station.
“Noona, we should just take a cab,” Ga-eul offered as he walked beside her, matching her strides.
“You know I hate car rides,” Gyeo-ul said simply.
“But it’s not dad who’s driving,” Ga-eul mumbled but Gyeo-ul still heard him.
She continued walking away, choosing to ignore her brother’s remark. She didn’t even spare a glance at Ga-eul. Not when her mind pulled out a memory she tried suppressing - car rides filled with shouting; the suffocating feeling of being trapped and having nowhere to go; and visions of car window shattering.
She kept on walking until the train station made of glass was out of their sight. She admired it earlier but now she’s scared of it. Because Gyeo-ul knew from experience that even the toughest of glass could break with just one strong impact.
[A baseball dome in Seoul]
Everyone was putting on make-up, brushing their hair, and trying to make themselves look better than they already are. Everyone seemed to want to stand out in the crowd. Not Gyeo-ul though.
Gyeo-ul watched the line of teenagers in front of her. They were in their best clothes, unlike her who’s wearing a shirt and jeans combo. Most of them were either carrying a lightstick or a banner. Gyeo-ul arrived empty-handed though.
Was she like this too when she’s in her teens? Gyeo-ul couldn’t remember anymore. Or wouldn’t want to.
Unlike this army of fans around her, Gyeo-ul’s youth wasn’t as blissful as theirs. There’s no time to follow celebrities nor watch their concerts. All she did back then was study. It wasn’t even for the prestige of graduating with honors or studying in a good university. Studying was just part of her escape plan; an escape plan she wasn’t consciously aware of carrying out. She only realized it when she arrived in Seoul a few years ago. She never looked back to Gwangju since then.
But this night – a supposed to be freeing evening – was turning on the nostalgic cells in her body and making her remember things she tried her hardest to forget.
Luckily, a bump in her shoulder distracted her from her disastrous thoughts.
“Omona, I’m so sorry,” the woman behind her said, sounding genuinely apologetic.
Gyeo-ul turned around to say it’s okay but the woman wasn’t even looking at her. She was searching the ground for something. At first, Gyeo-ul thought she dropped her lighstick or banner but then she saw a silver compact mirror glinting near her feet.
When Gyeo-ul picked it up, she saw a glimpse of herself. She looked messy and sweaty, which was understandable since they have been waiting outside the concert venue for hours now.
“Komawo,” the woman said as Gyeo-ul gave the mirror back to her.
Gyeo-ul was about to turn her back again when the stranger said, “You’re also watching it alone?”
“Me too,” the woman added even before Gyeo-ul could answer, “I’m glad I found another lone wolf. Everyone here seems to come with their pack. I wonder how these teenagers got the money to buy concert tickets. I have to save from my paycheck so I can get this second-tier ticket. And you know, I asked my friends to join me but they think it’s ridiculous to do this at this age. I have to remind them I’m just nearing 30. I’m not yet an ahjumma!”
Gyeo-ul let the stranger rant, wondering how she could just talk to her without restriction or inhibition. And weirdly enough, Gyeo-ul liked listening to her though. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. It might be her round-shape face that reminds Gyeo-ul of apples. Or it could be her sing-songy tone as if she’s walking in a beautiful path of fallen leaves in autumn.
“Oh,” the woman suddenly stopped mid-rant as if she hit a eureka moment. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Min-ha by the way.”
The stranger named Min-ha stared at her, waiting. “Er, normal people actually say their name back when I introduce myself to them. Unless of course, you find me annoying, which I don’t think you do.”
Gyeo-ul quickly nodded at that. She didn’t hate her. She felt exactly the opposite of that.
“So, you are?” Min-ha patiently asked.
“I, um, my name’s Gyeo-ul,” she stammered.
Her embarrassment was overshadowed by the delight on Min-ha’s face upon learning her name.
“Whoah, you have a beautiful name. I wish my parents could have given me a poetic name like yours.”
“Well that’s new,” Gyeo-ul uttered, surprised at her reaction. She often wondered why she and her brother were named after the most melancholic of seasons. They could have picked Bom or Yeo-rum – seasons people look forward to the most.
“…but if I actually pick a name after a season. It would be Ga-eul. I love autumn so much, you know,” Min-ha continued with her speech about names, distracting Gyeo-ul from her reverie.
“My brother’s name is actually named Ga-eul,” Gyeo-ul remarked and this time, she was expecting a good reaction from Min-ha.
“Jinja? That’s daebak. You know what my brother’s name is? Min-ho. Like they didn’t think about it. At all!” Min-ha ranted.
Min-ha looked so worked up about their names that Gyeo-ul couldn’t help but laugh. This woman said she’s not a teenager anymore but she talked like she’s one. It made her wonder if this was how it feels to have a sister. Ranting about the pettiest of things. Waiting in line in concerts. She sadly didn’t experience that.
“Heol, you look prettier smiling,” Min-ha commented as Gyeo-ul finally realized her newfound friend was staring at her. And instantly, the smile on her face faded.
“Yah, loosen up. That’s why we’re here right? Two young adult women enjoying good music,” Min-ha said as she put her hands on Gyeo-ul’s shoulder. “I actually have a very stressful job and you actually look like you do too so let’s enjoy the night okay?”
“I don’t know if residency is considered a job though,” Gyeo-ul replied, trying not to flinch with Min-ha’s touch. She wasn’t used to anyone touching her but this person seems to have no qualms about it. So she let her be.
“Really? Where are you working?” she asked, finally letting go of Gyeo-ul’s shoulder.
“At Yulje Med Center,” Gyeo-ul watched as Min-ha’s face lit up.
“OMG! If this isn’t fate then I don’t know what is. I will start my residency there too!” Min-ha informed her like she had discovered the greatest thing in the world. “Then that’s more a reason to enjoy this night. Life at a hospital is hard. We deserve to be happy once in a while.”
Gyeo-ul smiled back at her. She wanted to do that too. She wanted to enjoy the music she loves and free her mind from any thought. She wanted to be truly happy. Even just for a little while. But she wasn’t sure if she actually deserved it.
[A hospital in Seoul]
Gyeo-ul felt like she didn’t deserve this but the way he’s kissing her at the moment was drowning out every single thought in her mind.
It didn’t make sense at all to her. This wasn’t how she imagined it to be. She was sure Jeong-won would reject her the way he did when she asked him out for dinner. So him, walking towards her and pulling her into a kiss was baffling. But he’s turning every single scene of the nightmare she concocted in her mind into a beautiful dream she never dared to imagine.
When he reluctantly pulled away to let them breathe, Gyeo-ul finally saw the way he was looking at her. His eyes were misty with tears; reflecting the apologetic look she had on her face when she stepped inside his office and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror at the other side of the wall.
He was wordlessly saying sorry. But unlike her sorry, it wasn’t because he thought he’s going out of line. He wasn’t apologizing for the kiss. He was apologizing for not kissing her much early on; reciprocate the feelings she had been offering to him for a long time.
Jeong-won leaned in for a second kiss and Gyeo-ul welcomed his trembling lips with a much braver kiss. She placed her hands on his coat, trying to pull him closer. The warmth from his body was sending new sensations she didn’t know existed.
And when he pulled her in an embrace, she could feel her whole being relaxing like never before. It felt like coming home after a long tiring journey. And never did she feel like that on a Christmas night. She never received a present as precious as this. And she didn’t care anymore if she deserved this. She just wanted to live happily even if it’s just for a night, even just for moments that she’s with him. She's acutely aware that the word happy that exists in her life wasn’t made for any ‘ever afters’ – it’s a fleeing feeling that lets her escape her reality.
[A hospital in Gwangju]
Those who said that she should face her reality didn’t have one like hers.
Gyeo-ul wanted to cry and shout and hurl everything that her hand could reach to the man who did this to her mother. But she had to stay strong for the sake of her brother, who’s bawling outside the OR door; for her mother, who’s in surgery and fighting for her life.
The only thing Gyeo-ul could do was clenched her fist in anger; anger for their father, for the cruel fate they have who kept on testing them, and for herself, who chose to ignore all the signs and warnings that led them to this.
He’s in jail now. He wouldn’t be able to hurt your mother anymore. The female police officer told her earlier. As if locking him up had solved everything in their life. No, it didn’t. It wouldn’t even get rid of every scar and bruise her mother got from him.
It’s too late. The damage had been done. And she hated herself for being incompetent and stupid. She could have done this a long time ago but she really waited until everything was dire before she finally took action. Only a foolish person would do that.
She felt her phone vibrate in her coat’s pocket. And she knew who it was even before she checked her phone. And the thing that annoyed her at that moment was the way her heart skipped a beat upon seeing Jeong-won’s name on the screen. How could she let herself feel even the tiniest bit of happiness when she let her mom almost die?
Her trembling hand quickly pressed the side button of her phone and watched its bright screen dimmed. As soon as it was turned off, she felt disgusted seeing the face reflected on the black screen. Who would love someone like her? No one. Not even herself.
[A medical office in Seoul]
Gyeo-ul had been doing a great job keeping her emotions intact. So she wasn’t sure why her body was slowly giving in. Just because of one single smile. One warm inviting smile was all it took for her to realize that she’s foolish to think no one would love her in her current state. Because here he was, patiently waiting for her.
Before the first tear dropped in her eyes, she quickly ran towards him. Her arms embraced him tightly as she leaned her head on his shoulder.
It was as warm as the hug she got on Christmas night. Nothing changed. He loved her still.
For the first time, she let herself cry out loud.
The way she should have cried every time she had to walk that dark alley on her own.
The way she should have cried when she saw her brother in Seoul, escaping as she did.
The way she should have cried when her best friend asked her what's going on.
The way she should have cried the second she saw her mother on the hospital bed.
The way she should have cried when Jeong-won asked him if she’s okay. Because clearly, she was not. She had been denying that truth for a long time. But she’s now stronger than ever; strong enough to feel everything – the chaos as well the calm. She’s strong enough to finally allow herself to be vulnerable. She didn’t need any mirror to see and find her real self. She could already see it in the way he looked at him.
[A garden in Yangpyeong]
The woman smiling in front of the camera looked so radiant and carefree that no one would have believed she lived through hell and survived.
“Take it already, my smile is already fading,” Gyeo-ul whined as Jeong-won struggled to find the right angle for their photo.
She was sitting at the wooden swing in front of his childhood home in Yangpyeong. And she was getting impatient staying in place.
"But even if your smile fades, you would still be beautiful," Jeong-won answered, a playful smile on his face.
“Mwoya?" she chuckled, "Just take it from any angle. The sun is setting and we won’t have a souvenir.” And finally, Jeong-won heeded her suggestion.
She scooted to the left to welcome him by her side. Both of them pose and smile as the shutter of the camera closes and captures their last sunset this weekend.
When Jeong-won stood up to get the camera, Gyeo-ul grabbed him by his sleeves. “Kajima, let’s stay this way for a while.”
He nodded, sitting back beside her. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head.
“You know, we don’t need such kind of souvenirs. We can always come back here.”
“But it took us months to finally fit this break in our schedule.”
“I can make it work. I can adjust my schedule to match yours. But right now, we really should get going, Gyeoul-ah~” Jeong-won stood up and offered his hand to help Gyeo-ul stand up. She reluctantly accepted it. When she did, Jeong-won held it so tightly that it made her breath hitch. And her reaction didn’t go unnoticed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and was about to release her hand but Gyeo-ul pulled it back, placing her fingers on the spaces between his. They fit perfectly there.
“Why would you say sorry? That doesn’t hurt,” Gyeo-ul looked Jeong-won straight in the eye, “I’m not gonna break, you know?”
A proud smile blossomed on his face. “I now know that you won’t.”
If Gyeo-ul knew any prayers that would be able to stop that time at that moment she would have recited it there and then. But she didn't know any. So she just accepted the fact that she couldn’t press a pause button for this moment.
“Let’s go,” Gyeo-ul announced.
Jeong-won nodded and said, “Let’s get you home.”
“But…” Gyeo-ul paused for a beat, waiting for Jeong-won to look back her way.
When he finally did, she stepped forward until there’s no space between them anymore.
“I’m already home,” she breathed.
Because for Gyeo-ul, home wasn’t a place with four walls. It’s this warm feeling every time she’s with him. He’s her home.