Chapter 4 #2
Schrodinger’s breast cancer. Because until I saw her with my own eyes, touched her with my own hands, it was just a story. Hearsay. Absurd as that was, the idea of seeing her now made me anxious. I made myself sit down to try and calm down.
Without even meaning to, I pulled out my phone, scrolled down to the familiar face and hit video call.
“Hey babes.”
Her voice filled me with the kind of relief that cut my anxiety off short.
“Hey, you,” I grinned.
“How’s tricks?”
“Oh, you know,” I said wryly, “same old, same old.”
Becka snorted
“How’s things with you?” I asked, watching as she got up from her bed and moved over to the dressing table where she propped her phone up. She was still in her dressing gown. I tried to peer into the background.
“Is he there with you?” I stage-whispered.
Becka rolled her eyes. “Why are you whispering? And no, Ben–” she stressed, “is not here.”
“Mmm hmm. I thought you two were, y’know, going to give it a go?”
I tried not to sound desperate for anything to talk about that wasn’t either Joon, or my mum.
“Sure,” Becka dragged out the word, “but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump back into bed with him.”
“Babes, you already jumped onto the sofa with him.” I waggled my eyebrows, reminding us both of the time I’d walked in on them going at it on our sofa last year. God, had it already been that long ago?
Becka groaned. “Why did you choose violence today?”
I laughed, allowing my body to slump into the thickly padded sofa cushions as I felt my shoulders easing back down, muscles unclenching.
“Sorry,” I said after a moment, “I’m in a weird mood.”
I pulled a hand down my face, trying to hold onto the fizzy feeling of laughter, but it dissolved on my tongue like candyfloss.
Becka’s face coalesced into a more sedate expression, and she said, “Is Valerie home yet?”
“Not yet. Dad went to collect her, a little while ago.”
Becka nodded. “Is it weird? Being home?”
“I haven’t been home in…” I stopped to think. More than a year.
“Last February,” Becka supplied, obviously seeing my struggle.
“Fuck,” I said, dully. Because yeah, it had been that long.
When Becka had gotten me the job at Pisces, I’d still been living in London, working in a shitty part-time job after graduating from University.
I’d had no idea what to do next. But then, I suddenly had a job offer in LA.
I had packed up my crappy flat-share and come back to Cumbria on the next train, dumped my few possessions and flown out a few days later.
“Wow,” I said quietly. “A whole different life.”
“A different world,” Becka agreed.
“It’s not weird,” I said to answer Becka’s question, “this is still my home, but it feels ike I’ve gone back in time.
I feel like I could wake up any minute, and find out that the past year was a dream.
” What I didn’t say was that in a way, everything having been a dream would make more sense than this being real.
We were silent for a few moments, each in our own reveries. It felt longer. But it also felt like no time at all.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Becka’s sudden excitement was like a record scratch on the movie playing in my mind, and I had to force myself to look back at the phone, where she had a strange expression on her face.
“I have a theory,” she went on, “about the video from the conference room. I don’t think it was TK.”
I had to forcibly reel myself back in, to go back to a place where I knew what she was talking about. A place where mentally I wasn’t sitting in my parent’s living room. I was on another sofa, five thousand miles away.
“Come again?” I said eventually .
“The footage of you and Jihoon,” she clarified, as if I could have forgotten. “I don’t think it was TK that leaked it outside of Pisces.” She seemed excited by the prospect.
I gave my head a shake. Why was everything this week feeling like stepping back in time? “Why are you bringing this up, all of a sudden?”
Becka tapped a finger against her chin. “There’s been a development. This didn’t come from me – we’re not supposed to talk about it,” she said quickly, eyes wide. “He’s officially been removed from the Pisces roster.”
“Removed?” I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘removed’?”
The last I’d heard, Trevor Kyle had gone AWOL from Pisces just before Christmas. At the time, I’d assumed it had something to do with his involvement in filming Jihoon and I, seeing as how Jihoon’s company were suing Pisces.
“Literally just that. Removed. Gone. He officially does not work for Pisces anymore.” Becka said the words with conviction, but her tone implied she was just as baffled as I was.
“We all thought he was on a hiatus, or something,” she went on. “Maybe laying low. But now the King has officially left the building, and we’re not allowed to talk about it.”
Holy hell.
“When you say ‘not allowed’,” I said slowly, rolling this information around in my head.
“I literally mean, ‘not allowed’.” Becka nodded emphatically. “We got an email telling us to remove all references to him from public-facing media, but that was it. I had to corner Celine to get anything else.”
“And?” I prompted.
“That’s just it!” Becka threw up her hands. “There’s nothing. Celine just said, ‘we’re not allowed to talk about it, get back to work.’” Becka’s nose wrinkled. “But what’s even weirder is that she looked… hmm, scared might be too strong, but definitely spooked.”
“Scared?” I repeated, incredulity making my voice pitch up an octave.
“Or spooked,” Becka repeated, shrugging.
Hearing that Trevor Kyle had officially been removed as a Pisces producer was shocking.
He was a headliner, one of the main reasons people booked in with the studio.
There weren’t many big artists he hadn’t worked with.
That was the reason why Jihoon had first come to Pisces.
It wasn’t because of the studio – it had been because ENT wanted Trevor Kyle, specifically.
Jihoon had been furious that he’d seemingly escaped being fired after knowingly filming us, but I hadn’t been surprised, having seen the way the studio accommodated him. He spun hay into gold, and they knew it.
But, perhaps he hadn’t escaped unscathed the way we’d assumed.
I blew out a breath. “Bloody hell. I’m gone a handful of months, and all hell breaks loose.”
Becka nodded sagely. “You made things more interesting. But that brings me back to my theory.” She pointed at the screen. “I don’t think he leaked the footage.”
I frowned.
“It had to have been him, it all started with him.” I ticked his offences off on my fingers. “He set us up by ensuring I’d go in there in the first place. He knowingly kept the cameras on. He leaked the video inside of Pisces just for kicks. If anything, surely this backs that theory up.”
“No,” Becka insisted. “It doesn’t make any sense.
I’ve been thinking about this for ages. It never sat right with me.
We just assumed it had to have been him because he turned the cameras back on, and uploaded the video to the shared servers for us all to see.
But other than being a malicious asshole, he’s just not that deep.
What does he get out of leaking the video publicly?
Sued? Fired? I can see him thinking it was funny to put the video on the main server, but there’s a big leap between that and what actually happened. ”
I jumped in. “He’s gone. Maybe he was fired. Maybe the studio found out it was him, and they’re just trying to hush it up.”
“Maybe,” she said, frowning. “I just… it doesn’t make sense.
I know he’s a grade-A asshole, but much as it pains me to say this, he isn’t a complete idiot.
Leaking confidential footage of a client he knowingly filmed without consent is career-ending if it got out.
Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t here when the leak happened in January. ”
“That doesn’t prove it wasn’t him.”
“Maybe not,” she said, fairly, “but someone in this building did.”
I opened my mouth, but just then the gravel outside crunched with the passage of tyres.
My head snapped around.
“Becka, I’ll speak to you later.”
“Tell Valerie I lo-”
I ended the call and tossed my phone on the table as I shot to my feet, double-timing it to the front door. I pulled it open just in time to see my dad hurrying around from the driver’s side of the car to where my mum sat in the passenger seat.
He opened the door and held out his hand. Gingerly, Mum accepted the aid, and allowed him to help her out. It was clear from the way she moved that she was in pain, though she smiled up at my dad as though he was being a gentleman, helping her out of the car as if they were on a date.
She got to her feet, and even from here, I could see the weird shape of her torso. Padded and boxlike. She moved stiffly, taking one step, an then another with a dragging gait. A marionette with tangled strings.
That’s when she saw me. Her eyes flicked up to where I stood, outlined in the front door.
Her eyes went wide, and then softened as she smiled at me.
I knew Dad would have told her I was home, but she looked at me as if she hadn’t been sure she’d ever see me again.
She pushed my Dad aside and reached for me, as though she could close the distance between us with the length of her arms, while I felt rooted to the spot.
Despite the obvious pain she was in, she moved towards me and I met her halfway until I was cradled within the familiar feel of her arms. Almost familiar, anyway.
One of her arms was clamped close to her side, like a bird with a broken wing.
I didn’t miss the way she sharply inhaled as she pressed her fingers into me, pulling me as close as she could bear.
I held her gently, burying my face into her neck.
She smelt like disinfectant, but underneath was the smell of the baby lotion she’d used on her skin for as long as I could remember.
I took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Mama,” I sighed.
“My baby.” Her voice hitched. She clutched at me, fingers digging into me as she clung to me tighter. It couldn’t have been comfortable for her.
I could feel the thick bandaging on her torso, and I tried not to press against her, until eventually she pulled back to look me over, her eyes roaming over me as though checking for injuries.
“You came home.”
I just nodded, because what was there to say? I looked over at Dad, who was pretending to inspect the guttering as he swiped a finger beneath his eye.
Mum refused to be babied.
She shook off Dad’s attempt to help her into the house.
“My legs work just fine, Ernie,” she grumbled, shaking off his hand, “but you can get the bag.”
Dad smiled as though he was delighted to be given a task he could adequately complete. I followed Mum into the kitchen, where she proceeded to start to make herself a cup of tea, despite my protest that she sit down.
“Kaiya Thompson, the day I can no longer make myself a brew, you call the doctor. Until then, sit your butt down and tell me everything.” She pointed to one of the stools, and I dutifully sat my butt down.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, watching anxiously as she moved around the kitchen. My gaze snagged on the bandage on her hand, the only outwardly visible sign of the trauma she was trying to hide.
It was as she was reaching for the kettle that Dad strode into the kitchen.
“Abso-bloody-lutely not!” he cried, striding across the kitchen, and snatching the appliance out of her hand before she’d lifted it an inch.
“Sit down, woman, and stop making yourself a nuisance!”
“I can make myself a cup, Ernest!” She protested.
“No you can’t,” he said, pointing at the stool next to me. “Your surgeon was very clear. No, bloody lifting! Not even a kettle!”
She waved him off, but to my surprise, sat down, not quite able to hide the wince.
“How are you, mum?” I asked, not really expecting her to answer honestly.
She sighed, a small exhalation as we watched my dad fill the kettle.
“I’m a bit sore, love,” she admitted, taking me by surprise. “But at this stage, everyone is pretty confident. We’ll know more in the coming months.”
I opened my mouth to ask more, but she held up a hand, wincing at the movement.
“Ky, I know you want to know things, and I am glad to see you, love, but I don’t want to go into it. Not just yet.”
I nodded. Of course she didn’t. She’d just gotten home from hospital.
“This bloody thing is all I’ve been talking about for so long, and now…
” she gestured vaguely at the padded, uneven shape under her blouse.
“I just want to get on with it, because going into any detail makes it sound like I’m about to pop my clogs.
” She attempted a smile, but it looked brittle.
“I want to hear about you.” Mum reached across the counter to grasp my hand, her cool fingers wrapping around mine.
“Your dad told me some of it, but I want to hear it from you. So please, can we just pretend that you didn’t leave your entire life behind to race to my deathbed?
Can we just pretend you’ve popped home for a visit to see your old mum and dad? Please?”
She grinned as she said it, but there was a slight edge to her voice that belied the joviality of her tone. But, for her sake – and perhaps mine – I played along.
“Well, it all started in April when I decked it in front of a pop star…”
Later
I was lying in bed just going over the events of the day in my mind when my phone pinged with a message.
Seeing the name on the screen, my eyebrows rose in surprise.
Seokmin
Why did you leave? Joonhyung won’t tell us
[Sent 23:24]
Me
What did he tell you?
Seokmin
He does not want to say anything.
[Sent 23:28]
Me
I had to leave, Ace. My mum is really sick. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.
Seokmin
I am sorry Kaiya. I hope your eomma gets better and you come back to Korea.
[Sent 23:44]
Me
Me too
I felt the familiar burn in my eyes as I put my phone down. It hadn’t occurred to me what Jihoon might tell the others, and once again I felt awful for not thinking about how this affected him, because it did. Just in a different way.
I was here, dealing with the situation, and he was there, dealing with the fallout. Two sides of the same coin, but flipped in different worlds.