12. Hi（STORY）
VERENA
12
The familiar hum of the city buzzed beneath me as I approached Jae’s luxury penthouse atop one of New York’s skyscrapers. I’d been here countless times, but today felt different—a blend of dread and determination stirred in me as the doorman greeted me with his usual warmth.
“Hey, Eddie.” I smiled, stepping into the shade of the grand lobby.
“Miss Williams!” Eddie’s face brightened as he held the door open for me. “How you been? Also, the grandkids loved that cake you got them. They’re growing too fast!”
“That’s what they do best,” I laughed, the familiarity of our exchange providing a brief comfort. “Keep an eye on them; they’ll be graduating college before you know it.”
“Tell me about it!” he chuckled, shaking his head.
I waved goodbye and made my way to the private elevator, punching in the code to Jae’s apartment without a second thought—my own birthday, a number I’d never forget, especially not when it’d been repurposed as a security code for something as impersonal as an apartment entry.
The elevator dinged softly, announcing my arrival at the top floor. As the doors slid open, the expansive living area of Jae’s penthouse came into view, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through large windows that offered a panoramic view of the bustling city below.
Auntie was on the couch, a bottle of wine by her side, looking as regal and composed as ever despite the circumstances. She glanced up, her eyes softening when she saw me.
Without a word, I walked over, took the bottle from the table, and took a long drink directly from it, not bothering with a glass. She watched me, her expression unreadable.
“You know?” She finally broke the silence.
“I know,” I replied softly.
Setting the bottle down, I joined her on the couch and lay my head in her lap, the floodgates opening as tears began to stream down my face. She stroked my hair gently, a comforting presence as always.
“I know,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “The last time I was sick, you cried like this too…I remember.”
Lying there, in the quiet comfort of her lap, surrounded by the luxury that felt both familiar and foreign, I let the tears flow.
Auntie gazed at me with a mixture of strength and sorrow that seemed to deepen the lines around her eyes. “When did you find out?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Three weeks ago. I booked my flight immediately. I wanted to spend time with Jae.” Her voice softened as she continued, her eyes distant. “You really start to care about time when you realize how little of it you have left. I should have visited more.”
I shook my head. “He should have visited you more.”
She sighed, a long, weary breath. “Jae doesn’t like coming to Korea. Not after his parents died. Too many memories in those walls from summer vacations and holidays. Some people like to settle in their memories; some run from them. My nephew is a runner.”
“So, how bad is it?” I dared to ask, though part of me feared her answer.
Her gaze met mine, unflinching. “I’m dying, dear.”
The starkness of her words hung in the air, burdensome and undeniable. I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling. “I don’t know what to do, what to say…”
“You know, grief and death, they don’t wait for us to be ready. They come suddenly, and they don’t pause—not even while we’re healing, not even while we’re just sitting here, trying to make sense of it all.”
Auntie’s expression held a resolute calm as I asked the next inevitable question. “Are you getting any treatment?”
She shook her head. “And be sick with the little time I have left? I’ve done the chemo thing before, and I don’t want to be miserable.” Her eyes met mine, filled with a serene acceptance that I found both heartbreaking and courageous.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked, my voice soft, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace she seemed to have found.
Her response was immediate, her focus sharp. “Make sure Jae is okay.” She glanced around the expansive room, her gaze lingering on the cold, modern decor. “This house has no warmth, you know? He’s working himself to death in this glass tower. I need to know that he’ll be okay.”
Her words stirred something within me. I thought about his desperate request for a fake marriage, how outlandish it seemed but how it now made a sad kind of sense.
Auntie continued, her voice lowering, “I was always comforted by the fact that I knew he had you. But I think he ruined that.” There was a note of regret in her voice, a mournful acknowledgment of the strained threads between Jae and me.
I remained silent, letting her words sink in. The truth in them was filled with years of unspoken fears and quiet hopes. I didn’t respond, but her insight echoed loudly in the space between us, filling the room with more than just the chill of its decor.
I felt my heart break a little more. It wasn’t just about the cancer or the absurd marriage proposal. It was about everything—every moment of joy and frustration that had led us here, to this place of raw, unfiltered truth.
Auntie shifted slightly, a glimmer of mischief lighting up her eyes. “Remember the last time I visited?” she asked, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
“Yes,” I nodded, recalling the memory fondly.
She leaned back, a smile spreading across her face as she reminisced about the day Jae had taken us to a vineyard. “He was so bogged down with conference calls on my birthday that you and I ended up getting drunk together.”
Her laugh was light, but her eyes held a warmth that filled the room.
“Jae has a collection of very expensive wine, you know,” I said.
Then, almost conspiratorially, she spoke. “I want to get very drunk with you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Despite the circumstances, Auntie had always maintained her sass and dignity, becoming a figure in my life that somehow kept me connected to Jae, even when he drove me mad. “Well, I know where he keeps the most pricey bottles,” I confessed, standing up from the couch.
I moved towards Jae’s well-stocked wine cellar, and once I selected a particularly expensive-looking bottle, I returned to the living room, popping the cork with a sense of ceremony.
“I’m not going back to the office today,” I declared, pouring us each a generous glass. “I’m getting drunk with you.”
Auntie raised her glass, her smile wide and genuinely happy. “To making memories,” she toasted, her voice strong despite everything.
“To making memories,” I echoed, clinking my glass against hers, settling in for an afternoon of shared stories, laughter, and a bit of rebellious indulgence, all while the world outside continued unaware of the little oasis of joy we’d created in a corner of Jae’s penthouse.