16. 열여섯 ‘yeolyeoseot’
‘When was the last time you two spoke?’ my flatmate asks, holding her water bottle under the faucet as water pours into it.
‘Sunday…I know, it’s been almost a week, but I haven’t been in the mood,’ I say, closing my gym bag.
My only conversations this week have been with customers, Elisa, and through letters. Daldust and I have been getting to know each other a little better, where I also vented a bit to them about my situation with Elijah and he’s been helping.
‘Are you coming or not?’ Elisa opens the front door.
‘Yes, yes.’ I rush. Maybe this spin class she’s taking me to will help clear my head.
My pen pal’s words are a comforting embrace, easing the burden on my heart when I receive them, but my dark thoughts linger in the background even when I’m not consciously aware of them.
I sigh, reminiscing about my days with Elijah. I’m surprised to admit that I’ve felt the void his hands left. There’s nothing like the dopamine I get with him. Up until Sunday, my thoughts had subsided until they got louder.
I don’t want them to get loud; I don’t want to have them.
I promised Elisa that I would go with her, and that’s the only reason I’m enduring the sweat dripping on my back.
‘My legs are about to give up,’ I whisper to her, receiving a pat on the back for a response.
I need my session with Ms Julie afterward. I’m hoping she’ll have more answers than I have questions. The heaviness in my eyes is begging for help, begging to shut my mind, begging for one restful night .
Turning the corner of our building’s stairs—yes, she made me take the stairs after a spinning class; this woman will be the death of me—almost out of breath, I spot someone leaning against our flat’s door.
‘Moon Hee?’ Elisa asks, approaching him.
His head turns to the hallway and his back straightens, taking a step away from our door.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘Is everything okay?’ She reaches with the key to the door’s lock.
He stays silent, but our eyes lock. Elisa turns back to me and then to him again.
‘Okay, I’m going in first,’ she says, leaving the door open.
‘Hi,’ I say in a low tone, getting closer to him.
‘Can we talk?’ he asks, and I nod, leading him to my room.
I sit on my bed’s edge, waiting for him to speak.
‘Did you receive my text yesterday?’ he starts.
My eyes meet the ground, and as it begins blurring, my mind travels to yesterday.
The room was dark until a bright white light illuminated the left side of my bed. I turned around, confused by why I was receiving a notification when I noticed the time. It had been four hours since I’d laid down, four hours and my head hadn’t rested.
‘Who’s texting me at three in the morning?’ I thought. Moonie appeared in bold, black letters.
It was a song, nothing else displayed on the screen except Miley Cyrus’s face and the words ‘The Climb’ under it. I exhaled, and a strange contortion happened in my face—one I hadn’t felt all week—my mouth’s corners lifted.
I hadn’t listened to that song in so many years, so I reached for the headphones on top of my desk and clicked play.
I sat down on the floor, my back feeling the comfort of the mattress behind me.
As I listened to the lyrics, my eyes began watering. I remembered listening to that song so much when it came out, but it felt like I was listening to the lyrics for the first time.
The only sound in the room was coming from me when the song ended. My face was covered with tears as I held my knees against my chest, my eyes closed for a moment .
It was the first time all week the aching in my head had stopped, but the heaviness became more prominent. The moment I laid my head on the pillow, an imaginary five-pound weight was placed on my forehead. Nevertheless, my eyes caught the morning light shining through the window.
The arms gripping around me take me back to the present. I lift my head from the hands that were holding it from hitting my knees and try to look at my back, where he’s kneeled on my mattress, his chest sending warmth through my body.
‘I’m sorry,’ I mumble.
‘There’s nothing you have to be sorry about.’ His words are a fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night.
‘You keep seeing me cry.’
‘Crying is the way our body cleanses the soul. So, that means I keep standing next to you as you clean your soul. To me, that’s beautiful,’ he says.
A strange sound leaves my mouth, making my eyes widen, and I smile.
This time it’s not my soul that was cleansed, but rather my heart was embraced, so I continue the sound.
I make it more until I forget why I was crying in the first place. I laugh to my heart’s content; I laugh until all the reasons why I haven’t been sleeping all week vanish and the man next to me joins me.
We look like two lunatics, laughing just because.
He’s the first one to stop, saying, ‘It’s so good to hear you laugh. I don’t remember the last time I heard that sound and it feels so refreshing.’
My eyes water once more, but this time my mouth keeps curved up.
‘Don’t worry, these are tears of joy. It’s been ages since the last time I laughed like this. Thank you.’ I reach for his hands as he sits next to me. ‘Somehow you keep comforting me, and I thank you for that. You have no idea how much I appreciate you, Moon Hee.’
‘The pleasure is all mine.’ He smiles.
I let go of his hands and stand up, walking towards the door, stopping before reaching the door knob to turn around. ‘I made banana bread, want some?’
His eyes blink slower as his head nods, before walking behind me to the next room.
** *
The long beige carpet in the corridor that leads to Ms Julie’s office reminds me of the ones I had at home. I remember feeling so sorry for our house cleaner to need to vacuum it daily, that I learned to take off my shoes before stepping on it. Nobody else cared, and it’s something that has always made me sad.
‘Why does it make you sad?’ my therapist asks after I told her the story as I sat on her cream sofa.
‘At that time, I didn’t know, but looking back…I think it was their lack of compassion towards everyone. I guess on a certain level I related more to the house cleaner than to them, and it made me sad because that was one of the first interactions I had with their sense of superiority.’
‘Have you always felt inferior to them?’ She writes something down on her notepad.
‘Yes, if it wasn’t because I was a child, it was because they were part of the Elite.’ I clench my jaw at the mention of that name. All the Elite did was bring misery to those around, connected or not. ‘I’ve always felt like a victim of the Elite, but I can’t remember why. I just know that the thought of it sends chills down my spine and my brain simply shuts down.’
‘Our minds like to protect us. That’s why, after some traumas, we cannot remember the incident. There are ways to unlock those memories—it’s not my speciality, but I do know someone who works with it if you’d like me to give you their contact,’ Ms Julie says.
I take in the sun shining through her hair, creating gold highlights on her honey-brown hair, and nod. I’m afraid of what I might discover about my past, but I hate it even more than staying in denial. It’s a part of my story that was completely erased from my mind. That’s the biggest betrayal I’ve felt from my mind, even if it thinks it was for my protection.
‘Here,’ she says, handing me a business card. ‘Call for an appointment whenever you are ready. It can even be while we are having a session if it makes you feel safer.’
She smiles and sits back down as I stare at the business card, the piece of paper that holds so much power over my future.
I speak with Ms Julie about how I’m feeling and all my doubts. She says that not knowing my triggers can complicate surpassing the traumas in my head, and that’s why I want to remember what happened five years ago.
Before going home, I stop by the post office to see if I have a new letter—they have been coming almost daily. There’s a grey envelope inside the dark box. I grab it and put it inside my purse so I can read it when I get home.
My mind keeps travelling to Elijah and how I should speak with him, but my courage keeps dissolving into thin air.
Closing the door of my room, I open the envelope and read what’s inside.
“Sweet Delilah,
I see you copied my greeting, so I changed mine to keep it original.
I’m sorry I didn’t answer before. I get so focused on a topic that I noticed I already didn’t have space left to write. But I’ll answer them now.
Yes, I like to read, but at the moment I’m reading more non-fiction books and poetry.
I’ve travelled around many countries, and I’ve been to every continent. Maybe one day I’ll take you to South Korea. I have a house there.
I understand what you said about your parents. I see the same with my family. To me, they say nothing, but to my cousins, they wouldn’t stop until all of them got a boyfriend and now all they’ll ask about is when the first wedding will happen. I know after that, the talk will be about grandkids.
I’m lucky to have been born a man in that aspect (and others). But don’t feel pressured. The moment you start not caring, all the pressure disappears. Their parents probably asked them that as well, so break the cycle and live life at your own pace.
I don’t know much about relationships. I haven’t been in a serious one, but I think no one is ever up to being let down, so don’t let fear impede your happiness.
Yours truly,
Daldust”
That’s right, in my last letter I wrote Dear Daldust. I laugh to myself. At least they’re finally answering the questions I’ve asked so long ago. It must mean Elijah’s topic is over. I hope it didn’t bother him . He’s a man…All this time I was unsure, but didn’t want to ask—I was okay with the mystery—but now I know. Daldust is a man .
I’m preparing to write back when familiar voices sound on the other side of the door, a knock appearing a few seconds later.
I put down my pen and look back to answer. ‘Yes?’
My flatmate’s face shows in the opening. ‘We’re having some drinks. Care to join?’
I have work tomorrow, but between my letters with Daldust, my talk with Moon Hee, and my session with Ms Julie I’m feeling lighter, and a little alcohol in the system might be just what I need to gather the courage to speak to Elijah and finally get a good night’s sleep.
Heck, I might even treat myself and not open the bakery tomorrow. After all, I’m the boss and my body is craving sleeping in.
‘I’ll be right there.’ I nod and put away the letter to leave tomorrow’s Delilah to deal with it.
Tonight’s Delilah is tired of everything and wants to let go. Let go of all that keeps my mind hostage. And as Daldust said, I won’t let fear impede my happiness.
The moment I walk into the living room, all eyes turn to me, something I’m not used to. If it weren’t for whose eyes they are, I’d be a nervous wreck by now. But these people have been warming up my heart, helping me in ways they can’t even fathom. My people.
My body sinks into our navy linen sofa next to Elijah, who, despite glancing at me, keeps quiet. There’s sorrow in his expression—I know he wants to reach out but doesn’t know how. He once told me he didn’t know what to do with a Lilah, so I’ll show him he doesn’t need to overthink too much and tonight I’ll do as I preach.
My throat burns as the liquid slides down, and when I hit the shot glass on the table, my upper body turns to the tall, tattooed, and handsome man next to me. Both my hands grab his face and as his eyes widen, I pull it closer, bringing my lips to his.