The darkened skies above were a thick cap of discontentment that followed me wherever I went. The rain it withheld reflected my own doubts that I was just barely able to keep beneath the surface. On top of everything else, I was a chronic over-thinker— that much I could admit. I tended to read too deeply into every interaction I had with someone. A slight falter in someone's look, and I was already panicking and bracing for impact, fearing that I was in fact deeply despised. That was how quick I was to jump the gun in any given situation. And that incident with Dohwa last week? I may as well have gone into hiding in my secret bunker, cowering in fear.
That afternoon, during which all of hell seemingly released itself in the form of a particularly vicious summer storm, I was making my way to the convenience store to pick up some things for my mother. I'd snorted in her face when she had handed me a recipe for a fancy, foreign meal that she was planning to prepare for my father. Just leave the cooking to Dad, I'd laughed. My mother turned klutziness into a fine art. She'd burn the apartment down to a crisp before she even got started on the salad. But she was determined to work a miracle, and who was I but a foolish, yet loyal daughter?
I very soon regretted my spirit of generosity as the clouds above gave in at last. I wrestled with the umbrella that appeared to have a mind of its own. I couldn't tame it in the least, and the wind and wild rain thrashed it to and fro. My clothes were already becoming a sopping mess, and my mood had soured even more. I decided then that if someone at this very second approached me, I wouldn't be willing to spare them much friendliness.
'Su-ae?'
I went very, very still. One foot rested on the road, and both arms remained tugging on the wayward umbrella that was close to slapping itself onto the windshield of an incoming car. Taking care not to strain my neck, I turned my head very slowly towards the opposing bus stop, where a guy about my age sat with pricy-looking clothes dry enough to use for kindling. On his face was an expression that was two-parts amused and two-parts concerned. It was an expression that I was all too familiar with, and it was one that I met with a delighted (albeit slightly embarrassed) smile.
'Eunhyeok!'
It was only when heads turned that I realised my idiocy. What sort of maniac yelled for someone from the other side of the road? Already my ears could pick up on some disapproving tutting, and my face was indistinguishable from the nearby traffic light. Once it flashed green I made a start to cross, before pausing. No, no, what was I doing? Had I honestly forgotten our arrangement? Technically, it was still on— even now I feared a bloody accident if I dared approach Eunhyeok. Because, as things were, I remained a danger to him. I couldn't possibly go anywhere near him, and I must be satisfied with a simple wave before going about my own business. That was sensible. And Eunhyeok would understand.
So I did just that; I waved at him and obtained victory over the umbrella as I yanked it closed (after all, now that I was carrying about two litres of water about my person there was little need for the stupid thing anymore). I darted into the Seven-Eleven that glowed with its comforting warmth and delicious aroma of corn-dogs, not daring to look back. I wondered; even if Eunhyeok understood, what I had just done was still pretty rude, wasn't it? I had quickly turned my back on him as though I wanted to forget that he was there. And that wasn't the case at all.
I reached for my phone and texted him quickly:
see u @ skool
I waited for a response, panting slightly from my mini-dash. But my phone did not alight with a notification, and my doubt descended into a full-on worry. Surely he'd seen my text, right? It hadn't yet been read, I could see, but surely he'd spotted it popping up on his screen? Granted, he had a Jelly Pop, not a smart phone. It probably worked a little differently. Still— the silence filled me with anxiety.
Then—
Ping!See you.
I slumped in relief against the ice-cream cabinet. Again, did I mention that I was an over-thinker? I had probably just burned about two thousand calories from stressing over a whole load of nothing.
Time to gain it back, I thought with a grin, sliding open the cabinet and rifling through the popsicles and mini-tubs.
'I prefer cherry,' Eunhyeok said.
For the second time in about five minutes I collapsed, sliding onto the filthy tiles and clutching at my chest. If that didn't count as a murder attempt, I honestly didn't know what did.
'I-I told you I'd see you at school!' I gasped.
He shrugged. As he bowed down to a passing employee who gave us a curious glance he muttered, 'I haven't seen you in a week. I don't think I could have managed another couple of days.'
I blushed. He sure knew how to sweeten his words. Better than I ever could, anyway. I wondered how Eunhyeok would have handled a girl he couldn't quite see as anything but a friend confessing out of the blue— like Ra-im, such a thing was probably just another Tuesday for him. He would have handled it gracefully, I believed, all the while maintaining a good relationship without having to utter a single lie. Some people had all the luck, it seemed.
'Go on,' Eunhyeok said, nudging me. 'Get me a cherry.'
I obeyed, huffing out a laugh. For myself I picked out a strawberry milk-pop. He gave me a knowing smile. He'd picked up on the fact that strawberry was my favourite faster than Minu had. Not that I was setting the bar very high, exactly. Even a notorious deadbeat would have been a more ardent lover.
.... Maybe I was being way too harsh. Once, hadn't Minu and I got along like a house on fire? We had once joked around and bought ice-cream together too. In fact, I could remember a time when it had rained just like it was raining now, and Minu had bought me one of the cheap umbrellas that was sold by the front entrance.... Come to think of it, we'd come to this very Seven-Eleven, hadn't we...?
I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. There was no use in mulling over the past, because the past was Minu, and so I had no interest in returning to it. Today I was with Eunhyeok, and I already knew that he'd pay for both our ice-creams for all his pretend haughty attitude. Good guys weren't as hard to come by as I'd thought, and so I could have faith in a better future.
Although.... The entirety of my relationship with Eunhyeok had been seeped in deception, hadn't it? We had forcibly grown a romance from lies. Though now that our intentions were honest (well, more than they used to be), and that I knew he cared for me as much as I cared for him, I couldn't help but recollect the consequences of dishonesty surrounding feelings.
Dohwa, you were a little upset, weren't you? I hope you hurry up and meet someone better.
By the time we resurfaced, the rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared to reveal an orange, fiery sunset. I breathed in the fresh air. The beauty of a sunset after a storm touched me to the very core. I slipped out my phone and began taking pictures.
'Look at how gorgeous the sky is!' I exclaimed, snapping away.
'Is it so fascinating?' Eunhyeok said, sounding almost grumpy.
'What, would you rather I take pictures of you?' I teased him. 'But too bad...my storage's full.'
'Oh, really?' Eunhyeok narrowed his eyes. Before I could step out of his reach, he snatched my phone. 'Let's see about that....'
'Wha— hey!' I spluttered.
With one arm he held me back with ease as I my arms flailed wildly, fruitless in my attempts to rescue my photo album from his view. With the other he held my phone and swiped through just that, pausing to smirk at a hideous selfie or a snapshot of meals from my blog— I seriously wanted to die. Then he paused. I too paused my struggle, terrified to see what had caught his attention.
Eunhyeok tapped on my screen. 'You two have gotten quite close, haven't you?' he remarked, rather casually.
I looked at Dohwa's beaming face and my own fierce scowl, him posing like the little spotlight-stealer he was and myself slumped over the study booth with an eye on the clock. I laughed, thinking of how sneaky Dohwa must have been to take a picture of me without my realising.
Then I glanced back at Eunhyeok, and he was watching me carefully. He was peering into my eyes, as though he was searching for something, and I found myself standing still. Then, he relaxed.
'You don't mind if I get rid of this, then?' he said, finger hovering over the Delete button.
'Ah, no!' I blurted. Then I added, hurriedly, 'I'll take a picture of us if you like. Right now.'
He still wouldn't hand me back my phone! Instead, he adjusted the camera and leaned back, smile innocent, to the extent that his back was resting on my shoulder. I hissed like a startled cat, unsure of how to respond to the heat that was suddenly seeping into my still-damp shirt, and the overall proximity of a boy I hadn't dared to step in front of a brief while ago. And as I managed a grin as Eunhyeok said Cheese, I willed my nervousness to become obsolete.
But that was a pointless effort, of course. I kissed my teeth in annoyance as I observed my red face and Eunhyeok's own visage, which was as cool as a cucumber. Maybe a bit of editing would fix things. Or maybe not.
'I'll delete this!' I barked at him, but only jokingly. I knew I wasn't exactly photogenic, after all.
'Just you try,' he replied simply. 'I'll take another hundred and really do a number on your storage space.'
'OK, well, fine,' I muttered, half-believing his threat. He was the type of guy to see such a thing through, I'd come to understand. I decided not to push him.
He regarded the bulging plastic bag I was holding. 'Heading home, then?'
'Yeah,' I said. 'It's my dad's birthday tomorrow. My mother wants to make him a pasta dish. But....' I leaned over to him, pretending I was parting with a top secret. 'She isn't exactly the best cook.'
Eunhyeok snickered. 'Let's hope you haven't inherited that specific set of genes,' he said.
'I haven't!' I shot back. 'I do instant ramen very well.'
We laughed all the way back to the bus stop.
I was only on my seventh balloon and was already quite out of breath. I began to despair— there was no way I was going to be able to blow enough for each of my father's forty-six years, at least certainly not in time for the party. I'd pass out long before that.
Beside me on the kitchen table, Ra-im was calmly cutting up scarlet ribbons and fashioning them into pretty bows. She already had quite the pile that was steadily growing as her nimble fingers made short work of the material. Once, I would have cooed over her skill and begged her to teach me her wonderful technique. Now, I could only stare on at her coldly, wondering if her appreciation for my father had been a facade, too. I had no idea where I stood with her, myself. I knew I hated her, no matter how often childhood memories of us together sprang up against my will. In those days I had wiped her tears and stuck my Hello Kitty bandages on her scrapes and cuts, telling her that her Big Sister would protect her. But that promise was null now. I had no idea, though, if she felt any anger towards me. How could she, though? Iwas the one that had been wronged, anyway. These days she only gave me smiles that I deliberately ignored, occasionally asking how her Little Sister was doing. Whatever was going on inside Ra-im's pretty little head was a guessing game to me, now. And I wasn't sure if I even wanted to know.
Ra-im suddenly said, 'Want me to help you with that?'
'Oh no, I'm perfectly fine,' I said, instant. 'No need to trouble yourself on my account.'
'Trouble myself? Can't I help out with celebrations for my adoptive father?' Ra-im raised an elegant eyebrow.
I stared at her. Adoptive father— she'd never addressed my father that way ever, nor did she address my mother as her adoptive mother. For years my parents had worked hard to get Ra-im to drop the polite Mr and Mrs Shim— then their campaign had extended towards the still rather distant Aunt and Uncle. Now— well, now Ra-im didn't speak much to my parents at all. I'd spy her ducking under my mother's hugs, hear her forced laughter whenever my father cracked yet another cheesy joke. That was the most interaction she'd spare for them, and it had become normal for her to hole up in her bedroom after school, claiming that she had already eaten with some friends and that my father no longer needed to save a plate for her.
My parents likely knew that something was off, and perhaps they'd feared that the two of us would never again get along like we'd used to. But today Ra-im had emerged as though all was right in the world, and a cake that she herself had made from scratch was currently baking away in the oven— of course, it smelled wonderful. All of a sudden, she was now Ra-im Yu, the Thoughtful Daughter. Wouldn't someone give her her flowers?
'.... Well,' I said finally, 'You can do whatever you want.'
'I will,' she said, face giving absolutely nothing away.
It was then that my mother entered the kitchen, looking frazzled.
'What time is it?' she asked me urgently.
I glanced at the clock and opened my mouth to report my mother's tardiness. But Ra-im beat me to the punch.
'It's half-past eleven,' she said, smiling genially at my mother.
I gave her a sharp look.
My mother let out a little wail. 'I don't suppose you girls could help me?' she pleaded.
I chuckled and nodded, knowing that this outcome was certainly for the best. I didn't want my father being carried away by an ambulance after a terrible bout of food poisoning, after all. Ra-im nodded also, a smile still on her lips that probably came from confidence— she was fully aware that she was a better cook than the two of us combined. When and where she had learnt to perfect Korean cuisine, I had no idea.
The three of us settled on making a chicken alfredo— relatively simple, yet still special enough to make my father's day. And it did turn out delicious, though I hated to admit that Ra-im had a part to play in that. Then we decorated the evenly golden cake, pink marzipan and frosting to suit an aging man's sweet tooth. All in all, we had made a pretty nice spread for him, and I couldn't wait to see his reaction.
At around five o'clock, we lingered about the doorway, waiting for my father to get home from work. When at last we heard footsteps along the landing and a key turning the lock, we blew our colourful whistle blowers at him and threw confetti into air.
'Happy Birthday!'
'Woah, for me?' came an airy voice. 'My birthday's a long way away, though....'
My heart stopped beating in that second, I swear.
My father's cheery face appeared behind Dohwa's back. His glasses had gone misty.
'My lovely girls. Thank you....'
'What's he doing here?' I couldn't help but demand, pointing at Dohwa rudely. Not that I was hugely against seeing Dohwa at any other moment in time, but my home was supposed to be my safe zone. He had defied the treaty!
'We met each other on the train and got talking,' my father explained happily. 'I told him I had two daughters and he said he knew you, Su-ae! So I just had to bring him over.'
'I hope I'm not intruding,' Dohwa said, smiling sweetly at me.
'Of course not! The more the merrier, as they say!'
I cringed.
We ate the birthday meal with a considerable amount of chat, due to Dohwa having completely entranced my parents. It was like they couldn't get enough of him. They pressed him with question after question, and he was talking about everything and yet nothing at all, nothing really worthy of note— he'd left out his holding my textbooks hostage when we first got to know each other, our impromptu trip to the Marang headquarters, and, well.... the recent developments. And yet he'd managed to endear himself to my parents with ease, and already they were asking him to pay them another visit soon.
'I'll see what I can do,' he grinned.
I sneered at him. Ooh, what a comedian.
'This tastes amazing,' Dohwa announced as he twirled another forkful of pasta. 'Who made it? Was it you, Su-ae?'
'Pfft, no,' I said.
'That's not true, Su-ae,' Ra-im spoke up for the first time, her tone pleasant. 'She did the noodles. I made the sauce.'
'Oh, I see,' said Dohwa, looking weirdly disappointed. 'Just the noodles?'
'Just the noodles,' I confirmed crossly. 'Your taste buds will be thankful.'
'Oh, I doubt that,' Dohwa replied casually. 'I bet you're great in the kitchen. Like a little wife.'
Why, oh why couldn't he have said that after I swallowed what was in my mouth? I began choking and it was by no means subtle. Ra-im stood up to pat me soundly on the back, whilst she and my stunned parents stared at Dohwa, wide-eyed.
'What?' said Dohwa, unbothered. 'Don't you think your daughter will make a good wife someday, Mr and Mrs Shim?'
'Well, I mean, yes,' my mother managed. 'Goodness. Are you two dating, then?'
'N-No!' I gasped, before relapsing into yet another coughing fit.
'Are you sure?' My father nudged me. 'Really sure?'
'They're not,' Ra-im said. I could feel her eyes burning into my back.
'Oh. That's a shame.' My father slumped into his chair. 'I get the feeling that the two of them would get on great. What do you think, Su-ae? Do you think you could fall for Dohwa here, even a little bit?'
'Hmm. Funny thing about that,' said Dohwa, his smirk wide and secretive. Oh God.
I jumped out of my seat. 'Should I bring out the cake? I'll go bring out the cake.'
Having successfully escaped into the kitchen, I was now free to let out a little scream— just a little one, so that I would not be overhead. Oh God. Oh God.
Was he going to hold that over my head forever?