8. Monroe
The sky is a perfect, watercolor blue.
Not a single cloud in sight, just a clear sky that seems to stretch for forever. The sun glints off the gentle waves at Haeundae Beach, the air warm and salty.
Mom wanted to come to the beach for her last full day in South Korea. She hardly gets to see the beach in Philly. The closest one is several hours away in New Jersey, so seeing the waves lapping at the shore puts an immediate smile on her face.
We’re surrounded by women in floppy hats and kids shrieking as they chase each other in and out of the surf. Vendors advertise street food and trinkets from their booths, and I spot large beach umbrellas and blankets in every direction I look.
It’s truly a beautiful, picturesque day.
Yet I’m a nauseous mess on the inside.
My smile feels fake. I don’t feel present no matter how hard I try to engage with Mom. Stepping foot on Haeundae Beach conjures immediate memories of that dark night in the alley.
It was only two weeks ago, yet it seems like I’ve been plagued by dread for an eternity.
Just a few streets over, I stumbled into the alleyway and came across Jin and his crew of gangsters.
My stomach twists thinking about how they’d thrown me to the ground at his feet. I can still feel the terrifying bite of his blade as he pressed it against my throat and see how cold and chilling his gaze was as he peered down at me.
This man hated me. He truly wanted to kill me.
He probably still will…
The inside of my wrist itches as if in reminder. I readjust the bracelet I’m wearing and make a humming noise to whatever Mom’s saying.
She’s radiant beside me, strutting down the boardwalk in a sundress we bought at the underground mall the other day. She insists we get a mani-pedi for old time’s sake, one of our traditions just like shopping is.
We duck into a nail salon a street away from the beach. Mom lights up immediately, pointing at the vibrant nail polish colors and designs on display.
“Moni, what about this coral? You don’t think it’s too juvenile, do you?”
“No, Mom,” I say, forcing a small laugh. “That color would look so cute on you.”
We select our colors and are ushered into one of the comfy massage chairs for our pedicure. Our nail tech is a polite Korean woman eager to practice her English with us.
“You’re very good,” Mom says. “I tried learning German when my husband was stationed there in the early 2000s. Never learned more than guten morgen and danke.”
The nail tech laughs. “I get a lot of practice with travelers that come by.”
“My baby lives here,” Mom brags. “She teaches English at Suyeong Academy. She speaks five languages herself, including Korean.”
“Mom,” I groan at her endless praise.
The nail tech casts a knowing smile at me. “Your daughter is very beautiful. You can tell you are mother and daughter. I have a daughter too. She’s studying medicine in Seoul, but she is so busy, she never calls!”
“That’s this one right here,” Mom laughs. “I had to come see her to get some attention.”
“That’s what happens when they grow,” the nail tech says sagely. She’s started lathering one of Mom’s feet in oil while mine are still steeping in the small tub of frothy bubbles. “They get their own lives and don’t need you anymore. It is bittersweet.”
I can only smile as the two women bond over the next hour of our mani-pedi. But it’s less of a happy smile, more of what the nail tech has described as bittersweet.
Having Mom around this past week has been such a balm for my aching heart. It’s been a nice escape spending time with her and, at least sometimes , forgetting my troubles.
But the closer we get to Sunday, the more I’m reminded how everything changes the moment she’s gone.
I fiddle with the bracelet I’m wearing, Mom’s bright voice drifts in and out as she chats and laughs with the nail tech. It feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to break back onto the surface…
When we leave the salon, our nails gleam with summery gel polish. She loops her arm through mine as we wander the boardwalk some more and even grab the mango ice cream she’s come to love.
“This day is just perfect,” she says. “This whole visit has been. Thank you for making it that way, Moni.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Mom.”
“I’m going to come back again. Maybe in the winter next time. I missed you this last Christmas.”
I nod but don’t answer. The ice cream is melting too fast in this heat, and I can’t keep up with it. I can’t even keep up with pretending I’m as content as she is right now. I’ve been doing it for a week, and I’m exhausted.
Mom steers us toward a bench to sit down and rest our feet for a few minutes.
“Now,” she says gently as we’ve taken our seats. “I think it’s time you tell me what’s really troubling you, baby.”
My heart skips a beat. I blink at her, thrown off. “Uh… what?”
“I’ve been watching you, Moni,” she says, taking off her sunglasses and tucking them into her purse.
“You haven’t been yourself all week. You’ve been trying to be for me, but a mother knows, baby.
That sweet little smile you put on at the nail salon?
It didn’t even touch your eyes. And yesterday, when we were at the market, I saw how lost in your head you were.
Something is wrong. You’re not the same. ”
I swallow, looking down at my sandals. “I’m just… I’m going to miss you.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not it. I know you better than anybody. I carried you inside me for nine whole months. Something’s heavy on your heart.”
I can’t bring myself to think up another excuse.
The sun is lower now, casting the water in gold, though the beach still bustles with life. I feel so disconnected from everything and everyone, it’s like I’m adrift in the water while others are firm on dry land.
Mom takes my hand in her lap, stroking the back of it.
“When your father died, I thought the world had ended. We were high school sweethearts. But you already know that. I never looked at another man once I met him. Never even wanted to. That man was the only one I ever loved. Nobody ever even came close.”
I shift uncomfortably. “Mom…”
“When we lost him, I used to lie awake at night and ask God how I was supposed to go on. How could I, when my other half was gone?” she muses, squeezing my hand.
“It was like missing a whole chunk of myself. But then he answered me… he helped me realize something, baby girl. Your father never really left. He’s lived on in me.
He’s lived on in you. I carry him with me every day, wherever I go.
“That doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt that we lost him like we did. But we had twenty-three glorious, happy years together. We created you, the greatest gift we could give each other. What else could I ask for?”
I open my mouth to finally say something but find I can’t speak right now. My throat is aching and cool tears slide down my cheeks before I even realize I’ve started crying. The tears quickly blur my vision, the breath stuttering in my lungs.
The floodgates have been opened.
Just like that, I’m weeping . I can’t stop it from pouring out of me. All the emotion I’ve had bottled up breaks free.
Mom’s arms quickly come around me like they used to when I was a little girl and had fallen off my bike and scraped my knee. She holds me in her soothing way, rubbing my back and stroking my hair.
I’m crying for Dad. For the pain I know Mom’s been through, and that same pain I felt when we lost him.
I’m crying for Eli, and how suddenly the car crash had taken him away from me. How we’ll never have the life we had started envisioning together when we got engaged.
But I’m also crying for myself and what lies ahead. The threat that looms in the shadows and will likely emerge as soon as Mom boards her plane out of South Korea. The mark seared onto my wrist won’t ever fade, because it’s a mark signifying the violent death awaiting me.
Mom rocks me in her arms and murmurs, “Shhh… it’s okay, Moni baby. Let it all out, baby girl. You’ll find love again, and wherever Eli is, he’ll be smiling. He’d be so happy that you’re happy. Because that’s all he would ever want for you. Just like your father.”
I sniffle and let the last of these emotions out. I take comfort in the fact that, at least for this moment, I can finally be open and let out everything I’m feeling.
Gimhae International Airport is alive with motion and sound. Rolling suitcases against the tile. Announcements that echo overhead on the intercom system. The blur of so many people coming and going at once.
It’s loud, busy, chaotic. Just like the thoughts inside my head.
Mom’s holding my hand as we linger at the security entrance. She’s reluctant to cross the invisible line that’ll soon separate us. I can tell, even as she softly smiles, she still senses something is troubling me.
Something I’ve kept from her.
She squeezes my hand and tries to lighten the mood like she usually does.
“It’s only been a week, but I’m already missing some of the good food you fed me,” she quips with a light laugh. “I swear you need to find a way to mail that mango ice cream back home.”
I laugh too, mine more bittersweet. “I’m not sure it’ll survive the journey across the world.”
“Can’t blame me for wanting to try. That stuff was too tasty for its own good.”
She’s joking, but I notice how her expression falters just a little. It’s in her dark, round eyes too—the same hesitation I’m feeling.
Neither of us wants to say goodbye, but it’s time.
“Come here, baby. One more hug for the road,” she says, pulling me into her arms.
I wrap my own arms around her tightly and bury my face into her shoulders. She’s shorter than me now, but it still feels like a form of safety. I don’t want to let her go, but I know I have to.
I have to face whatever it is that’s coming on my own.
This dark mark I’ve been cursed with.
“I’ll call as soon as I land,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You promise to text me when you get home?”
“Mom, you’ll be in the air. You won’t even get the text.”
“Still do it, baby. You know I like to know you’ve made it okay.”
I nod, returning her sad smile. “Okay, I promise I will.”
We exchange a few more final words as she waves one last time, then turns toward the security checkpoint. I watch her go until she disappears completely among the sea of travelers.
For the first time in a week, I’m officially alone.
The cab ride back to my apartment in Seomyeon is silent and wistful.
The sky has turned a slate gray, and somewhere in the hills beyond the city, thunder rumbles. Thin droplets of summer rain start to fall, slicking the roads and pattering against the windshield.
I’m lost in thought as I watch the rainy streets and think about what I should do. I feel hollower than ever on the inside, truly going through the motions.
The taxi pulls up outside my apartment building. The driver turns to me and says something that I barely register.
I might as well be in a trance, the way I’m dissociating from the moment. I pay the fare and move on autopilot to the front gate.
It clicks as it swings open and I step through, riding the elevator up to the ninth floor where my apartment is.
The hallway outside is quiet, the fluorescent light buzzing faintly overhead. I’m barely cognizant of the fact that I’m punching in my door code before it dings and the green light on the keypad flashes, telling me it’s unlocked.
Inside, the apartment feels cold and lifeless. It’s no longer lit up with Mom’s warmth. It’s just a reminder how I’m all alone, marked to be killed.
I flick on the lights, slipping off my shoes and heading toward the bedroom. My shoulders sag with exhaustion as I peel off my stack of bracelets and let them roll onto the bed. The room, and the rest of the apartment, are way too quiet.
I pull open the window to invite some of the humming city noise inside. The sound comes immediately, along with a rush of warm summer air. I step back and take a deep breath.
My gaze falls to my wrist as I touch the mark with my fingers and think about how it seems it won’t ever go away.
When Jin marked me, he marked me for the rest of my life.
I’m going to have to deal with the ramifications of that.
But even now, I didn’t expect it to be so damn soon.
It’s as I turn to head into the bathroom for my shower that I hear it—the slow pad of a footstep in the other room.
I freeze at the thought, the next breath I was about to take catching on its way out. I’ve been paranoid since that night in the alley, feeling watched and followed and constantly looking over my shoulder.
But I know what I just heard. I know what I feel as my skin prickles with goosebumps.
Swallowing hard, I turn toward the door that leads to the living room.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” I ask, eyes locked on the open doorway. “You’re here.”
In answer, Jin steps into view, cold and menacing, with his tattoos creeping up his neck and his expression tight and vicious. His glare bores into me as the corner of his lips curl.
“It’s time. I’ve finally come to collect.”