Tuesday | February 23rd, 2016 | 6:23PM
My fingernail lightly scratched at the worksheet in front of me, tracing the outline of a diagram I wasn't looking at. The yelling outside my door had been going on all afternoon. Well, ever since Mom came home from work. I tried to focus. I really did, but their voices were insistent, it was like nails on a chalkboard.
I just wanted to work on my homework but I couldn't seem to focus completely as I kept picking up on little bits of the fight.
"You think it's okay for you to just talk to me like I'm some sort of dog," my mom screamed, her voice high in anger.
"Oh, give me a fucking break, you're always starting shit for no goddamn reason," my dad's voice came back, comparable to a low rumble of thunder. He tried not to curse often, but lately he seemed to be just spitting it out.
I wished they'd just stop already. It's been a whole month now since the whole thing. Maybe they'll calm down and I'll finally get to work on my homework. I looked down and frowned, realizing I wrote the same sentence twice in a row. I used the eraser to undo it.
"This marriage has been over for a while now if you really think that," My mom shouted back. "I can't fucking stand it here anymore."
No, don't say that. My eyes were glued onto the wall across the room, my entire being focused on their voices. Every word they said felt like a punch to my stomach. Just please, stop yelling.
"What does that even mean?" my dad shot back. The grip on my pencil tightened. Maybe I should go out there? Maybe I should tell them to stop? No, Mom will just yell at me. I hate it when she yells at me.
I sat frozen, a prisoner in my own room. I couldn't think.
"Don't act like this is news to you. We've been miserable for years." Dad continued.
"Who are we? I was still doing everything I can for this family while you were out bringing your colleagues home for after-work 'activities'?"
"Fine, then I was miserable for years!"
"You've always been miserable," Mom spat. "God, what a sorry fucking excuse for a husband."
"Sorry excuse for a wife. I've had more intimacy from the intern than you. You have a black hole for a soul."
I couldn't help but imagine their faces right now, contorted in anger. I didn't want them to be angry at me, it would just add on top of my homework and I'd have to fix all that, too. Last time I got in the way, I remember the two of them fighting over me, about who I liked more, who didn't like who. The thought just made me sad.
Then I remembered how they changed when they were alone. I thought Dad was cool, he was funny and he brought me stuff from his work sometimes. Now, he just looks ahead and never looks down at me.
I love Mom, I know I do, but I don't know if she loves me anymore. She would always whisper under her breath, and she thinks I can't hear but I do. Things like, 'what went wrong' or 'wasn't raised right'. I never told her I heard everything she said. I just let it happen. Just let her say those things and then she'd give me that forced, plastic smile that never reaches her eyes whenever she turns to look at me, to say that she was busy doing other things.
The slam. So hard I swear the windows in my room rattled on their hinges. My head shot up, my heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I strained my ears, listening for the next volley, but all I heard was the heavy sound of footsteps stomping down the hallway. Dad's footsteps.
I scooted my chair back and quickly moved to my door, my hand hovering over the handle. The yelling had stopped. It was so quiet. I was so confused, should I do my homework now? Should I just go out and ask for help? I pressed my ear against the cool wood of the door. I couldn't hear anything at all.
I slowly turned the knob and pulled my door inwards, the tiniest of cracks to peer through. There, I spotted Dad. His head was low, his back was to me and he was standing in front of his bedroom door. His hands were bracing against the door frame, his head hanging low between his shoulders, like a marionette with cut strings.
"Dad?" I asked through the crack in the door.
He jumped slightly, as if I'd shocked him. He didn't turn around right away, and for a terrifying second, I thought I'd done something terribly wrong.
When he finally turned, the hallway dim light caught on the sharp contours of his face. He stared at me, and it was the strangest look. He wasn't mad. He didn't seem sad. He just looked empty. He let out a sigh and shook his head, his eyes fixed on me until they weren't. Dad opened the door to his bedroom, the darkness beyond swallowing his silhouette without another word.
I frowned, a confusing feeling of pity and sadness hitting me as he disappeared behind the door. He didn't even slam it this time. The faint click of the latch was sadder. I was left alone in the silent hallway. I looked down at my hands, and that was it. It just kind of sunk in then.
I decided to go out to the kitchen, see how Mom was doing. The fridge hummed a lonely tune as I passed it. Then I saw her. She was sitting at the small dining table by herself, staring straight at the blank wall.
"Mom?" I whispered, my small voice barely filling the space. She turned to look at me. Unlike Dad, who didn't show a bit of emotion, Mom's face was easily read. Her eyebrows curled down and her mouth closed tightly. She was angry.
I slowly took a step forward, "Mom, I-"
"You, of course, are always here." The accusation dripped from her tongue.
I froze again on my spot. I looked back at her and didn't move a muscle. What did I do? I asked myself that but I already knew the answer. Mom will remind me of it, it's what she's been doing since then.
"Everyone in this house hates me, don't they?" she asked, not really wanting an answer.
"No, I don't, I don't hate you," I quickly responded, taking a nervous step forward.
"Don't give me that bullcrap, Hwang Minjae. You hate your mother, after everything I've done for you, for your father. This is your fault as much as it is for the rest of them." The 'them', meaning father and his female colleagues, was said with such hatred. As if I wasn't their son, but a co-conspirator in a war against her.
"What?" I squeaked. Her words landed like little stones. She then stood up, her chair screeching against the floor.
"You're always in your room, hiding. You never say anything. You see everything that happens, and you just let it happen!" She was advancing on me, her finger pointing at my chest. My mouth turned into a deep frown. It seems like I'll never live this down. The last time she yelled at me for this was just two days ago, and then the day before that, and then the day before that.
"I was scared," my voice came out meek. That was the wrong answer. It always is.
"Scared!" She yelled with a small laugh, that seemed a little unhinged. "Scared of what? The truth?" Her eyes locked onto mine. They looked a bit wild.
"What?" I asked again.
She was face to face with me now. I couldn't do anything but just stare into her hateful eyes. "What? What? What? That's all you ever say! Just a few words, that's all I can get from you. That's all he can get from you. You can't even stand up for me, not once." I think my brain stopped after a few seconds from what I was seeing.
"You were a mistake." She said plainly. The sigh that followed was tired, and weary and she looked at me as if I was a stranger she just met on the street. "You were. I'm trying, god, I'm trying so hard not to hate you. But you make it so hard. You and he, you're just one and the same. You don't talk. You hide. You're empty, and I hate that I can't stand being around my own son."
I could feel a hot pressure behind my eyes. The words hung in the air. I just felt it then. Like a wave that crashed onto me all at once, it was my fault. It was never really about them fighting with each other. It was about me. My throat felt dry and sore. The gates burst open and I could feel the tears start rolling down my face. The hot water of my own embarrassment stung my cheeks.
I cried like a baby in front of Mom. The tears were pouring down my face, and I couldn't stop them. I hiccuped, my body shaking with sobs.
Mom watched, her face a mess of complicated feelings. For a split second there, I saw a flicker of something that almost looked like regret. But it was gone as soon as it came, replaced with that stony coldness again. She didn't hug me. She didn't tell me it was okay.
She just turned away and went back to her chair at the dining table, sinking into it with a weary sigh. "See," she murmured, more to the wall than to me. "Now I'm the bad guy."
I stood there, hiccuping, tears and snot running down my face. The silence in the kitchen was suffocating. My own crying sounded incredibly loud, pathetic. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear. But my feet were rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the weight of her words.
She didn't look at me again. Not once. I was invisible again, but not a peaceful invisible. The kind of invisible you feel when everyone is deliberately looking past you.
Saturday | April 13th, 2024 | 6:46 PM
I felt the world spin back into place as my head sunk into the pillow, the phantom feel of my mother's words echoing in my head. My eyes fluttered open, staring at the plain white ceiling above the bed. The memory ended, leaving behind that familiar, hollow ache that had lived in my chest since childhood.
"Jesus Christ," I groaned, the words floating out of my mouth mindlessly.
"What was that?" Chaewon's soft, melodic voice came from beside me.
I tilted my head, looking over. Chaewon was on the floor as she packed her go-bag for two nights at my place. I had spaced out right in the middle of a conversation with her, transported back to that suffocating kitchen. What was she talking about?
"I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" I asked, my mind slowly pulling itself back into the present. The memory had been so vivid, the feeling so raw, that the present felt like a thin, flimsy curtain.
Chaewon paused her folding, a sweet but confused smile crossed her face, "Um, nothing. You were just laying there, I thought you were sleeping."
"Oh," I responded, trying for a chuckle but it came out strangled. "My bad."
"Are you tired?" she asked, her genuine concern like a warm blanket. She packed a pair of jeans and got up off the ground. Chaewon took the three short steps toward her bed where I was.
I just laid there looking at her approach. She had her hair messily thrown up in a bun, a few stray strands falling around her face. She wore a simple black oversized tee shirt and shorts that revealed her toned legs. She looked at ease, a feeling I couldn't find no matter how hard I looked.
I felt safe with her. I know for a fact that Chaewon wouldn't hurt me in any capacity, at least, not on purpose. But, I just couldn't bring myself to say anything that could spoil that. The call from my mom about my dad was still an open wound, an infection brewing inside of me that I hadn't let her see yet. Just like back then. I was still hiding in my room while bombs went off outside.
Yes, I could really use the comfort right now. But a part of me wanted to leave her out of it. I've wanted nothing more than to separate from my family problems my whole life. I can't just bring it back and then pin it onto my girlfriend, too. I didn't want to drag Chaewon into the dark, tangled roots of my family tree. I had escaped, built a life away from them. Bringing her into this felt like a regression.
"Super tired," I sighed, pulling a half-hearted smile to match the lie. Chaewon pouted and brushed my face with her hand, her touch gentle.
"Are you good to drive? Would you let me drive your car?" she offered with her cute pout. I chuckled with the light feel of her touch and it was genuine. This was what I needed right now. Nothing but love.
"I'm driving my own car, thank you very much," I replied, leaning into her palm. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to absorb her warmth, to make it mine.
Chaewon leaned down and gave me a soft peck, her lips tasting like strawberry lip balm and everything that was simple and good in the world. "Let me just finish packing real quick," she said, pulling away a little too soon for my liking. She then turned away to get back to her bag on the floor.
My mind started to drift again, the peaceful warmth of her kiss momentarily fending off the chill of my memories. The image of my dad, empty, silhouetted in a doorway. The outline of him still existed even now. A void in the shape of a person.
Every time I tried to imagine my father's face, it always appeared differently than what I would try to remember. His nose would be a bit bigger or smaller, and I couldn't be sure if I even had the color of his eyes right anymore. It was like looking at a photograph that had faded in the sun.
The amount of times he brushed past me without looking at me seemed infinite, and that was mostly what I thought of whenever I thought about him. The ghost of his presence, always next to me. And now, that ghost was dying of liver cancer in a hospital somewhere a few provinces away.
It's a sad thing to think, that maybe my own dad might be gone for good and my only consistent, prevailing thought is that I have a very loose connection of who he even was at all.
What was I supposed to do? Was I even supposed to go see him? Would he even want me there? My mom had called me out of obligation, a duty performed with the minimum possible effort. An update on a liability. What if I went and he just looked at me with that same emptiness? What if I went and he just died right in front of me?
God, don't say that. I closed my eyes tightly, chasing the morbid thought away. I didn't want Dad to die. I didn't love him. Hell, I wasn't even sure if I liked him, but I didn't want him to die. Is this that blood connection speaking? Do I have to go? Do I have to be there because he was the person who brought me into this world?
What if I have to take care of Mom? I wouldn't. Absolutely not. She's made it clearer more often than not that she could've been on her own without a problem. She's independent.
But it bothered me. The way she sounded on the phone, talking about Dad's condition like it was hard for her too. I know he hurt her in a way I'll probably never understand. I've been there for it, yes, I've been a witness to it but I didn't experience it the way she did. The way she reacted, endless yelling and arguments arising out of thin air, I'd imagine she too could've been indifferent. Yet, she sounded...
Sad.
I always wondered growing up, why Mom didn't walk out on us. Or vice versa. I couldn't imagine someone, or two people, living in a life of misery every single day and not trying to break out of it to find some sort of peace somewhere else. But they didn't. They stayed.
They were two stars locked into each other's gravitational pull, destined to orbit each other in a bitter, endless dance that consumed anyone who got too close. Like me.
I opened my eyes, blissfully aware of the growing tears stinging my vision, and watched Chaewon, oblivious, folding a t-shirt with simple, practiced motions. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, a melody I didn't recognize but felt comforted by. Here was peace. A simple, uncomplicated peace I had clawed my way toward for years.
Should I tell her? Could I just say, 'Chaewon, my dad has cancer and I think my world is ending'?
The thought felt like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. It didn't belong here. In this room, with her hummed tune and the scent of her laundry detergent. It belonged back in the past, in that silent hallway, in that kitchen with its accusing stillness. To tell her felt like I was inviting the ghosts in.
I fought so long and so hard to be where I am. I studied my ass off in high school to even get a chance at coming here. I mourned and grieved over the loss of Chaewon only for my old prayers to be answered when we ran into each other at the club. I found a best friend in someone as equally messed up as me out of the billions of people that can possibly exist in the world.
I fought for this peace. If I bring all of this baggage to Chaewon, I might as well have just stayed at home.
And Chaewon didn't deserve my ghosts. She had been through her own shit, we both had. I saw her at her worst, we held each other's hand through thick walls of our own trauma. I couldn't do that to her. I'll apologize for the harsh things I said to her in our first real argument last week.
My promise to do right by her, to be the good boyfriend she deserved, felt like a sacred vow now. That included protecting her from the radioactive waste that was my family history. That was a burden only I was meant to carry.
"Alright, I'm finished," Chaewon announced, zipping up her bag with a satisfying zip. She hoisted it and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Ready, Romeo?" she asked, that beautiful smile returning to her face.
I stared as she stood there. The way her hair framed her face so perfectly, even in a messy bun. Her cute nose, her kind eyes. She's beautiful in ways that can't be explained.
She came closer and placed her bag on the edge of her bed, "C'mon, get up, I have to do my makeup at your place before we go to Joy's house." Her words were playful, but her eyes, soft as they looked down at me, held a serious kind of love.
"Get up, c'mon," Chaewon chuckled, my silence making her curious. She placed her hands on my shoulders and lightly shook me. There was no sign of that irritation in her I had seen on our date last week.
I let out a long sigh, this one not at all faked, as the weight of the day finally came crashing down. I gave in.
I reached out and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her stomach. The fabric of her shirt was soft. I just needed this. My phone buzzed beside me, but I ignored it. Let the world wait.
I felt Chaewon stiffen for a second at my sudden intensity, then relax completely. Her hands moved from my shoulders to my hair, her fingers combing through the strands gently. "Hey," she murmured, her voice full of concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just love you," I mumbled into her shirt. My voice was thick with an emotion I was trying hard to suppress. Chaewon didn't answer for a long moment, her hand sifting through my hair, a silent, steady comfort. I looked up at her and saw her eyes were glassy as she looked down on me.
"I know that Minjae," she said, her lips curling into a weak but loving smile. "And I love you so, so much."
"I'm so glad I found you again," I said, meaning it. With every cell in my body.
Her composure cracked, and a cough followed by an embarrassed little laugh escaped her lips. Her eyes looked everywhere else except on me before looking back down again. I watched as she was doing her hardest to hold it in. She was cute. She was so, so cute to me.
I couldn't take my eyes off her.
"C'mon, something's wrong," she said, now moving her other hand to gently cup my face, her thumb stroking my cheek. "Don't shut me out. You're scaring me."
It took everything in me not to break. I grinned and shook my head. "Never."
She frowned, unconvinced but not wanting to push. "Alright, then."
Chaewon leaned her face down and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. It was warm and it lasted a little bit longer than I'd expected it to be but it still ended all too soon. Her wispy, uncaptured brown hair draping over me cast both of us into our own little shadowed world.
"One more," I asked quietly, my hands still holding her waist.
"Of course, you sap," she chuckled through a little bit of leftover emotion, leaning down again to give me another. Her lips met mine this time. It was slow, sweet. A gentle affirmation.
"I'll see you in the car," she smiled as she pulled away.
"Okay," I nodded as she stepped away from me, moving to put her go-bag on. I pushed myself up and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, not wanting to be useless and have her do all the loading. She looked back at me for a second before opening her dorm door. The way her left eye twitched when she looked at me and looked away.
She's the best, I thought.
Listened to the critique! I made a shorter filler chapter, exploring a bit more into Minjae's past and present. Great news: I passed my finals! Bad news: I'm about to go on my family vacation for the next month. That means, little to no time to work on upcoming chapters :(. I feel sorry because we're actually so close to the end! And I've imprinted the idea of a Danielle and Hanni threesome in the future! UGH! It's alright, as long as I have a rough idea of it, it means it'll be made! Just hold out on me, I promise I'll deliver! Thanks for the overall support, and I'll see you guys when I release again! -PI