[M] Fade into the cold night (1/1)

« Chapter Two » My eyelids were heavy, the brightness of the rising sun was almost blinding in my blurry visions. I slept around four in the morning and looking at my clock, it was only quarter to six. I had a cancer attack. I had this crazy headache, like something was eating my brain, chewing it leisurely. And I know who’s that ‘something’ that was eating my brain. It was the cancer of course. It was weakening, the pain was excruciating and all at once you wanted to just die and stop the pain. I pushed myself up and looked all over my almost empty condominium. My space was huge, huge with not much of things. I am not really fond of clogging my place with furniture. It was huge with bathroom that has a tub, then my kitchen, my bed, and my closet. My living room was inside that one huge place. Its interior was mostly wooden inspired, from the wooden plank floor to the wooden accessories and designs. My bed was huge and soft covered with the softest white sheets. I only had my bed, plasma television, small table for two, refrigerator and a white grand piano for furniture. My supposedly eating table contained piles of paper, two laptops and other gadgets. Things I needed for my job, my job that I have quit last week. Last week, time has passed so much. Imagine, I have suffered from this cancer for almost a week now. I closed my eyes tightly feeling another headache. I crawled back to my bed and coiled into a tight ball wishing for the drilling on my head to take a break for awhile. Amazing, how once we knew something it has this almost infinite power to hurt us. Like how I knew that I have cancer, brain cancer for that matter, in almost instantly I could feel it. My body recognized it every damn day. I remembered when I was just a child; I was running with my friends in a green field one summer night. The stars were twinkling in the darkness of the night. We were running scaring each other with the nonexistent ghost that every child bought and believed like how bible made everyone believe and have faith on it even though they don’t really know who the hell wrote it. We were running, then I tripped on these lines of thin shred strips of bamboos, it looked harmless but it wasn’t. I didn’t fall of have my knee on the rocky ground or my face on it. I continued running, like nothing happened but once I got home and saw my flesh almost detached from my toes and I was bleeding so much, that’s the only time I cried and felt the pain. I wished I hadn’t seen it because of it I wasn’t able to go get clams with my cousins and grandma. I was left at home for almost three day for I can’t walk. Then back in high school when I was like any teenager who was excited to step in a relationship despite being immature, emotionally and mentally, despite not knowing how to give importance to the people who actually have worth. I remembered that I was fooled by my boyfriend, when I didn’t have any clue of what he was doing I felt like I was the luckiest girl alive for having him as my guy, but when I finally found out that he was fooling me together with my so called best friend, that’s when I felt the pain. A pain that caused me buckets and buckets of tears from that first and last taste of love. Maybe, I was holding grudge or something but after that I didn’t fall in love ever again. It was stupid. It has always been like that. Once the truth came out from the polluted water of lies, you would always have this sense that even if you pretended that you don’t know anything about it, you could see it like it was glowing and begging, and calling out your name. You could see it clear even if you dump more lies, the truth would still surface. I pushed myself off the bed, almost dragging myself. I walked to my bathroom and to my shower room and opened the shower not bothering for the heater. I needed to fight the stupid headache. I couldn’t let it rule my life. I know that it wanted to live but as long as I am breathing I still own this body. After the cold shower I proceeded in doing my morning routine and dressing up, layering clothes for pinch of warm. I think I was about to get sick. I know, I was already sick with cancer and everything, but what I meant was fever, all thanks to the cold shower early winter. I shook my head, I still got work to do. I have quit my job which was being a general manager of some huge company. It was a headache and cancer was doing great thing in giving me headache already so I quit it. And just stick to my other job— the lamer job than my high salary too many benefits job — which was ghost writing. I am ghost writing for Korea’s top rating drama which goes by the title Missing You. It was a product of insanity and from the news that I have seen the morning before I wrote it— Body of a 16 year old girl found in Han River. A news that proved how the world became highly dangerous each passing time, how lot of people became more desperate and losing their humanity. Some would say it was drugs and it was all this and all that, but still if they didn’t decide to take drugs or anything, if they didn’t give up on their life then it would not happen. We might have reasons for everything but it will come down that it was still us who brought the kind of fate we had for ourselves. I heaved a sigh looking at my reflection. I decided to stick with this bright red baby doll winter coat and leather gloves and skin tight jeans with brown boots. I was 30 years old yet I dressed like I was a blooming teenager. I sometimes cringed at my preference but then that’s how I was. I liked cutesy clothes and I loved living alone. I liked having my own space and living with no one. I liked having no attachments and how I don’t have anyone to think about. My mom died when I was seven. She has this cancer too. I remember covering my ears every time I hear her scream out of great pain. I remember almost going crazy when I couldn't do a single thing to make the pain go away, to see her alive and happy once more. Thinking of her, I was happy that I don’t have anyone to see me lose myself to the cancer that would soon eat me. I fetched my trusty bag pack and grabbed my new slim laptop with me. One thing that I needed when writing was a good environment, a place that could give me enough inspiration to write. I fumbled with my keys before walking to the door. I opened it, pushing my keys inside my pocket. I was about to take a step forward yet upon looking up I saw him standing in front of my door. He was the last person I expected to see standing in front of my door. He looked like an indie rock star rather than a doctor, which he really was. He has his hands inside both pockets of his jeans, and his posture was so poor, he was slouching like he was some douchebag you’ll see standing there downtown. I looked at him, not bothering to voice out my question. “Well, I’m here to check if cancer is living.” He said in a flat tone, fixing his beanie. “It’s pretty much determined.” I nodded. Silence consumed us. It was not awkward or anything nor was it special. It was just silence, like we had ran out of words to say and we just wanted to exist in that same place, standing in front of each other. “Crap,” I heard him let go, almost hissing, he then scratched the back of his head and bit his lips as he looked down on the floor. He looked like a teenager asking someone out. Shit, don’t tell me that’s what he was trying to do? Is it? He took a deep breath and I unknowingly imitated him. “Okay, I have to be honest.” He inhaled once more. “I can’t stop thinking of you, you’re always in my head. I am about to go insane so before that happens I need to cure myself, meaning I need to see you Just Dara.” My lips pursed and it twitched. “Dara, call me Dara for Pete’s sake.” I walked pass him to the stairs since I was never fond of elevators, they made me dizzy to the point that I felt like vomiting. He followed me, I could hear his footsteps behind me. I looked back to him. “What are you doing?” I stopped. “Curing myself?” he answered stupidly. “So, where are you going?” he asked in return. Equivalent exchange. “Writing,” I continued walking. My unit was on the 23rd floor of our building. It was a long walk which at the point I could not afford but riding the elevator would cause me more. “You should have taken the elevator.” His tone was suggesting but never ordering. He sounded like: I don’t care but I’ll say what’s on my mind because I can. I stopped on the 18th floor. I was so tired and my head was pounding like crazy and I don’t know what to do. I leaned on the wall, standing facing the stairs. He looked at me, he was looking like he was computing all diameter and all the things he could measure in me. “What are you feeling?” I smirked at him before I continued walking. “Equivalent exchange, Dr. Kwon.” I reminded him. “Jiyong.” I stopped and looked at him. “You can call me Jiyong, I want you to call me Jiyong.” His tone, it was something I have never heard before. His voice was like emotionless and void, like you could never find out whatever lingering feeling his words has. It was soft yet manly, it sounded like a tone that would never lie. But then, I don’t really know him but I did believe that he would never lie. “Jiyong,” I tested his name against my tongue, it felt strange and I don't like it. It tasted like the fears I had and it made my muscle tense. “Again.” I blinked at him and felt confused. “Please say my name again.” He was just staring straight to my eyes and I could not bear to look at him, I feel my cheeks heating. “Jiyong,” this time I pronounced it soft and slow. He smiled and I don’t know if it was the tone or the mention of his name. “I have never heard my name said by foreign tongue for a long period of time, I am honored to hear it from you after all the forgotten years Just Dara.” I looked at him. I really liked him when he started speaking that way, like he was a member of a theater club or something. I didn’t say anything, I have nothing to say, I don’t know what to say. I just continued walking ignoring the pain in my head, whispering over and over again that I am okay, that it was nothing. But the more I force it, the more I felt it. It took me almost an hour and almost seven stops before I was in the lobby of the condominium with Jiyong still following me. I leaned against the wall and tilted my head and stared at the high ceiling of the building. I could feel the changes, physically and emotionally. “Sandara.” The moment I heard the mention of my full name and the voice who said it I snapped my eyes open and turned my head only to see my ever popular dad, striding its way to me. “I want to talk to you.” Every time I hear those six words together, all I could think about was business matters. He must have heard my resignation. It was surprising that it took him a week before he knew about it. “Sure, but…” I turned to Jiyong who just stood there, looking like he doesn’t care but still he was waiting. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy?” I asked him. “Even paid Life Savers have their day off.” He said matter-of-factly. I nodded. “He’s with me.” I turned to my dad and he immediately looked at Kwon Jiyong, from head to toe, like he was from HR department checking if he got the qualification. “I expected better from you,” he turned around and walked with his army of bodyguards following him, some stayed waiting for me and Jiyong. He had never change, him and his expectations, him and his control freakiness. The same old man that my mom so blindedly fell in love with. And if he was not the one to paid all those damn medications that my mother had, all those experiment that did nothing but to lengthen her suffering instead of her life, I would never ever talk to him. I would think that I have been born in the world that a sperm cell just miraculously sawm inside my mom and tadah I was born. I have grown to like Dr. Kwon Jiyong more. I liked how he didn’t ask anything and just sat beside me in front of my dad who was giving us the looks. “Are you two together?” he took a sip from his hot coffee. “By together, do you mean like how we are sitting together or in a relationship?” I took a bite from the kiwi in my fruit platter. He rolled his eyes. It was cringing to watch an old ass rolls his eyes. “We are in a special relationship of non of your concern.” I added in a flat tone. Jiyong remained silent and was focused on his sandwich. I wanted to tell that he was just trying but then he wasn’t. He was really by no means interested in my paternity issues. My old man took a deep breath and I have predicted every word that he would say before he was able to say anything. “Reasons for your resignation?” he placed the cup down on its saucer. “Rhetorical or honest?” I took a sip on my iced tea. “Honest,” he sounded tired when we were precisely only five minutes and thirty-two second inside the café, sitting facing each other. “I don’t want to see you anymore and I want to write.” I said non-commitical. It was harsh, I know. He was my dad and no one deserved the words I have said to him, no matter how little meaning they hold. It was just I don’t want him to meddle with me, not that I am in this kind of situation. Cliché but I don’t want him to undergo the same thing he had with my mom. Where he had hoped and held to the promise of this new medical way of extending the life of someone who was dying. Silence followed. I felt the heavy burden of the words I had let go. I could feel the lump stuck in my throat and my tears almost brimming in the corner of my eyes. My fists leaned against my thighs both on tight clenched. “You hate me that much?” he asked and I felt like I was stabbed with knife. I could feel it plunging slowly and deep to my skin then I could feel it slowly being pulled out. What kind of question was that? Hate him? He was my father, whether I liked it or not, he was the one whoever’s up in that damn sky gave to me. Even if I have said so many things, I have pushed him away, he would still be my father and I would still love him.    “Yes.” I am gritting, I felt like my body was malfunctioning. “I hate you so much. Don’t you know how to get a clue!? I have resigned. I have avoided you for almost twenty years wasn’t that enough? You’re smart! You should know that I loathe you.” It was awful to say and my tears brimmed and fell and as it slid down my cheeks I feel it burns. Another silence consumed us and it was sickening. I quickly grabbed the fork and started stuffing my mouth with fruits just to fill the silence. It was awful, the words were like hideous waves that ate not only him but me as well. It’s true that I have this tiny anger on him but it was still not enough reason for the words I had just let go but my brain cancer and the pounding in my head were enough reasons. I wanted to save him from the impending suffering he had faced when my mom went through the same thing I was and would go through. I wanted to save him from my impending deterioration, from my upcoming death. I loved my dad but that love was clouded by hate for almost how many? Twenty years? I don’t have any idea. I stopped eating, feeling my throat pushing out the foods I forced myself to take in. this has been going on since the last time I stepped in that weird out clinic. I will get hungry and then eat, then puke and do the same thing over and over again, until I totally lost my appetite and eat only when I am terribly hungry close to the point of collapsing. I gently placed down the work and reached for a glass of water to push everything down to my throat. My hand laid on the wooden table, clenching and unclenching, in the silence built by my stupid words that cut my father deep. I looked up on him feeling his hand holding mine. He was trembling and for the first time his façade of merciless businessman and a once famous piano prodigy fell into this father like face— a father face that showed pain at the words of his own daughter, telling him that she doesn’t want him in her life anymore. “Sandara,” his voice was faltering making my tears streamed down anew. I hated doing this to him. “I’m so sorry… I’m really sorry,” a lump was raising up and down my throat, my skin tightened and my scalp prickled. “I’m really sorry for your mother’s death, I am sorry that you have to see her suffer, I am sorry that I have fallen in love to Eunjo and I am sorry that I have to move on.” Move on. My dad, he moved on two years after my mother died he moved on. He fell in love and didn’t live to his promise of forever. He fell in love to his secretary and married her. On how he was able to do that to mom, I don’t have any idea. I couldn’t understand it before and up until now I still couldn't. He promised mom forever.Did that forever die together with my mom?   I pulled my hand harshly from his hold and pushed myself to stand up. I grabbed my bag pack and my laptop. “Forgiveness is something I couldn’t just give you, old man,” I walked away from him, hating how every word that came out of my mouth was lie. Hating how it tasted bitter in my tongue, how I killed him million times. I heard him broke down behind me, he was crying and his head was buried on the wooden desk. He doesn’t deserve what I said, he had been a good father. He did everything he could. He loved me. But then it took him so long to show me that I did matter to him, it took him so long to admit his faults and to say his sorrys. And he took the wrong time to tell me all of it. Up until now, even before, he still sucked at timing. XXX I was walking down the road with Jiyong still falling behind me, walking silently. I liked how he didn’t say any words, on how he remained silent and perhaps try to understand me. It was great that I don’t feel awkward or anything when he was standing behind me, walking on the same road I did. There was this confusing feeling that I was aware of his presence and yet it was like I couldn’t feel him, like he was my shadow and it was his obligation to stand either behind or in front of me. There was this feeling of security that if I fall, he would be there to hold me.  I was taking huge steps, lifting my feet high, like a kid, and walking only to the lines created by the brinks, tracing them like how I have always been when I was with my mom, walking down this same street. I stopped the moment the snow fell. The place was so dark, the gray clouds hovered above. I tilted my head looking at the sky. I don’t really care about the weather but for the first time, I asked for the sunlight to shine, or a strong wind that could take away the pain I felt inside or the memory of my father’s broken face when I told him all those crazy stuff. I held my laptop in front of my thighs with both hands and looked down on the road. I started crying once more. This time I was sobbing audibly and looked like a silly teenager who had a break up with her boyfriend for three months. I lifted my head and looked at Jiyong as he was staring down on me. He was looking at me blankly, mentally telling me that: I don’t give a shit to your personal problem but I am here, if you want to cry, then cry, bitch. He, without as much as a sigh, grabbed my laptop from my hands and moved closer to me and slid it neatly inside my bag pack, I could see his arms on my either side. I could feel his warm breath and even hear his heart’s faint beatings. I crouched down and started crying louder. He crouched down in front of me and we looked like bunch of idiots with me crying and all in the middle of a busy road filled with crowd. Some were pissed, others were looking. People couldn't simply just mind their own business. “I hate myself,” I sobbed and he was still, just looking at me through his glasses. “I hate myself so much. I am stupid. I hurt him. Heaven will not accept me for being a bad daughter,” I don’t know the next words the flew out of my mouth together with my whimpering. All I know was I was ranting to him and he was there just staring at me, letting me be. Another thing I liked about this con-looking doctor. Silence swallowed us once more, when I have decided to stop talking and just focus on lowering my sobs. “What are you thinking?” his first words after we went to the café and left it. I looked at him, wiping my tears. “Crap my mascara,” I complained and he chuckled. “Is that what you are thinking?”“Equivalent exchange, Jiyong.”“Fire away,”“What were you thinking?”“About what? About what happened? Or about what I am doing right now?”“All.”“Well, you are harsh. I understand your sentiment as someone who felt like wearing a time bomb, desperately saving people around you. You weren’t that original, you know? To be frank, you are cruel and you don’t have the right to say those things to your own dad. But I forgive you on the account that you are currently in the midst of battling some powerful illness. And about what I am and you are doing now, sitting in the midst of busy road surrounded by complaining individuals, I feel genius and idiot all at the same time.” I liked it when he was not withholding his judgments and said it without caring if he sounded like a ranting bastard.“So what are you thinking?” I wiped my face with my handkerchief and all those hideous lines created by my supposedly water proof mascara. I will note down that I needed to file a complain to the fucking cosmetic company. I inhaled deeply and looked at him as he was patiently waiting for my answer. “I wanted the Busan’s special seafood potluck.” I smiled at him which he mirrored. “Well then,” he pushed himself up and proffered his hand for me. “Let’s eat that Busan’s special seafood potluck.”