Senior Year, Five Years Ago

"—and they say want twelve lily tower!" Ma practically shouts at me over the phone.

"Wow, that's amazing, Ma," I say, lowering the volume on my phone to the minimum. I can't see her face. As usual, she's got the camera pointing too high, so it's only showing her forehead and her permed bangs.

"Yes, it all go so well, Tilly sayang. When you finish school and come home, it will go even better, especially then we have photos of everything we done."

I don't even have to force my smile.

Without me, the family business has been unexpectedly prosperous. I have to confess that my mother and uncles have exceeded my expectations, despite the fact that I was at first sceptical of the idea. When I'm at home, I've been pitching in here and there, snapping as many photographs as I can of Ma's floral arrangements and Big Uncle's cakes.

For them, I even set up a website. It doesn't seem half bad, but I'm looking forward to having more time to streamline things and make it appear all gleaming and amazing.

Surprisingly, I'm looking forward to graduation and diving deeply into the business.

Who woulda thunk it?

There's a knock at my door. A second later, Yoongi pops his head in. I quickly tell Ma I have to go and cut the call short.

Still haven't told her about Yoongi.

I decided that because we're so close to graduation, I'd tell them about Yoongi because he'll be coming over to our house all the time. I'd lose him to them constantly fawning over him. So, for the time being, I'll choose to be selfish once more.

I'm going to keep him to myself. For the time being, that is.

There's still time to throw him to the sharks. Yoongi has stopped asking when I'll introduce him to my family now that graduation is approaching. He can afford to be patient because he knows it won't be long.

"I've got news," Yoongi says, gummy in full assault as he walks in.

"Oh?" Four years together and the sight of him still makes my breath catch. Maybe I have asthma. I shouldn't still be so breathless around such a long-term boyfriend. But seriously, those stupid gummy smiles. 

They should be outlawed.

He scolds, smirking, "No horny face. At least not yet," he grabs both of my hands in his and squeezes them together. "All right, then. Do you recall how I interned at BigHype last summer?"

BigHype Property Group is the leading name in retail properties and property management, with assets in 37 states across the United States, Asia, and Europe. BigHype generated $12 billion in worldwide revenue in 2014, with interests in investing, leasing, property management, and development. It is a go-to consultant for energy and sustainability services, such as smart building solutions, alternative energy designs, and energy-efficient retrofits for existing buildings, thanks to their extensive understanding of LEED compliance.

I let out a sigh. "Did they make you an offer? That's fantastic! I had a feeling they would!"

"Yes, they did."

I squeal and leap into his arms, and he laughs as he lifts me off the floor. "Wait, I'm not done telling you the offer yet."

I'm peppering his entire face with kisses, so I miss the next thing he says. Or rather, I hear it, but my brain says, Does not compute.

I pause mid kiss. "Come again?"

"It's in New York. That's where their headquarters are."

"I—oh. Can you put me down?"

He does so gently, and I begin pacing around the small room the moment my toes hit the floor. Yoongi's announcement has triggered a flurry of thoughts in my mind.

What does this imply? 

It means, dumbass, he'll be moving to New York. Is that what it means? He hasn't stated whether or not he accepted. 

But how could he refuse? 

It is the world's largest business consulting firm. It's also New York! 

But what about his dream to stay in California and open a hotel? What about it?

Obviously, it was only a dream.

"You okay?" Yoongi says, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. "I wasn't actually done telling you stuff."

"Oh?" My head pops up like a meerkat. Perhaps he'll tell me he received a better offer from a larger consulting business that I've never heard of. That would be very reasonable.

Yoongi's eyes soften, and he grabs my hands in his once again. "It would be wonderful if you could join me, Lily."

My mouth is hanging open. There is no sound coming from it. My mind, or what's left of it, has shut down.

"Baby? Hmm. Did I break you?" He waves a hand right in front of my face. "Hey."

"Sorry. What? Come with you? To New York?"

He chuckles and says, "Yeah. Come with me. We'll explore the Big Apple together. We can share an apartment and wake up next to each other every day. Every day, I'll make you a latte and buy you fresh bagels. It's a fantastic place for photographers. I know you'd have your work in galleries, baby. You're a genius."

My knees grow weak.

All of those things are very appealing to me. I want to live in a modest New York City apartment with exposed brick walls, wood flooring, and those old school radiators with Yoongi.

But.

New York. That's so far away, it might as well be another country. What would Ma do without me?

I'd be no better than my cousins, who left home as soon as they could. No, I'd be worse because I gave Ma and my uncles false hope by convincing them that I'd stay before ripping their hearts out.

Ma would be heartbroken.

Big Uncle would shake his head with disappointment and say, "Wah, turn out this one not blessing. Same as others, leave us behind." As they console Ma, Second Uncle and Third Uncle would throw me disapproving looks.

No, I'm better than my cousins. Better than my aunties—and I sure as hell am better than my father. I won't abandon my family. Not for love, not for anything.

"I—" I pause. I can't just tell Yoongi that I won't go with him to New York.

What if he decides to stay in California because of me? 

That's something I can't do to him. I can't do that to him. I won't. I'm not going to make him give up his dreams for me, not when I'm not willing to give up mine for him.

Let's not forget about the curse, though.

I've always known our relationship was doomed, that Yoongi would leave me at some point. I think I should take matters into my own hands and make sure this will work out okay for Yoongi.

As it should.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him. Although the thought makes me want to puke, it is apparent what must be done.

This, then, will be my gift to Yoongi.

I turn away from him. I can't do this while looking at his beautiful, beloved face. I make myself laugh a little, "Well, that's good. I, uh, I wasn't sure how to tell you this before, but um. I think it's best if we, um, if we break up. Yeah."

"What?"

My gaze darts toward him, just long enough to register the plain shock on his face. "Yeah, we've been together like basically all of our adult lives. I kind of want to see what else is out there. Don't you?"

Yoongi looks like he could put his fist through the wall. "No, I don't. What the hell, Lily?"

My chest tightens into a fist, trying to suffocate my heart and lungs. I'm having trouble breathing. "I'm sorry, I was planning to tell you after graduation, but this feels like a good time. Now that you're going to New York, and I'll be staying in L.A… it's all for the best, you know?"

His face is a picture of pain and betrayal. "No, I don't know. What the—how long have you been feeling this way?"

It's a struggle to keep from falling apart. I swallow the lump in my throat. 

Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. 

"Um, a while."

"A while?" He gapes at me for a bit, then barks a mirthless laugh. "The fuck." He shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. Takes a long, shuddering breath. "I was going to..." He shakes his head again. "Never mind. I—I'm going to go. I'll, uh, come by for my stuff later. Or something."

As he walks out of my room, I manage a tiny "Okay" and remain still.

Oh, my God, what have I done? Everything inside of me seems like it's been scraped out, leaving me a shell of a human. I'm unable to watch. I can't sit here and watch as the man I love walks out of my life.

Nevertheless, I do.

I force myself to look as the tears finally flow, because I know it'll be the last time I see him, and I don't want to miss a single second of him, even though he's leaving me.

Present day

Third Uncle perks up a little as we walk out of the kitchen. "I've never seen a dead guy before," he says.

"You are too young, Taehyungie." Big Uncle says. "Wait until you are fifty, then all your friend parents here die there die, then you see dead people all the time."

"Well, obviously I've been to funerals before. I've seen bodies in coffins. This is different. I mean I've never seen a dead guy who isn't, you know, at a funeral."

A couple of steps away from the garage, Second Uncle suddenly gasps and says, "Wait! Cannot go out there!"

We all jump, and in the quiet that follows, I think I can hear all of our hearts pounding in unison.

"What is it?" Ma says.

Second Uncle's face is stricken. "We cannot see the body! Cannot go near it!"

"Why not?" Third Uncle demands, obviously irritated. He glances with anticipation at the garage.

"Tomorrow is big wedding weekend. So unlucky if we are near dead body now, and then we bring the bad luck to the wedding, how can? We will curse bride and groom and their whole family!"

Third Uncle groans. "Not this superstitious BS again."

I don't normally agree with Third Uncle, but I almost sigh out loud with him because as soon as Second Uncle says it, both Ma and Big Uncle take a moment to ponder about it. My pulse is racing so rapidly that I'm afraid I'm going to pass out. I can't believe I may wind up in prison due to a superstition.

"But isn't the belief that you shouldn't go to a wedding after you've been to a funeral?" I point out.

My uncles' eyebrows rise.

"I mean, this isn't a funeral, technically. We're not doing any burial rites or anything."

Eyes shining, Ma snaps her fingers and points at me. "Tily is correct. We just don't bury body now. We—maybe we put him in freezer? Then on Monday, after wedding, we can bury body."

Third Uncle blanches. "Uh, hang on, I didn't mean—"

Big Uncle nods. "Okay, it sound good."

Second Uncle chews his lip, hesitating, and Big Uncle glares at him. "And anyway," Big Uncle says, "since hotel owner die, wedding probably cancel tomorrow, when he not show up. So we be back early, then we bury body."

They resume walking toward the garage, with Third Uncle leading the way, Second Uncle being dragged along by Ma, and me trailing after.

"Ah, you left the light on," Big Uncle says as he enters the garage through the back door.

"Yes, dead body cannot be in the dark," Ma says.

Big Uncle nods. "Yes, good thinking."

"More superstitious BS," Third Uncle mutters.

"Just wait until you see what Tily do to the body. She was very respectful," Ma says.

I can't believe she's bragging about how respectful I am right now.

This is peak Asian parenting.

We've all gathered around the car's trunk. My chest is painfully constricted, and my breath hitches because there isn't enough capacity for my lungs to expand and take in air. I'm afraid I'm going to pass out. Ma pats my arm before unlocking the trunk, as if knowing my near-panic.

And there he is, laying in there with his long legs bent, knees at his waist, and a jacket covering his face, exactly how I left him.

My uncles are making a variety of noises—Big Uncle is tch-tching and shaking his head, mumbling, "This what happen when parents don't raise the son well." 

Third Uncle is staring openmouthed with what I can only describe as horrified glee, and Second Uncle is...

"What are you doing, Second Uncle?"

He hardly glances at me as he goes into a deep lunge. "Snake Creeps Through the Grass," he mutters.

"What?"

"He doing Tai Chi," Ma says. "Doctor tell him do it for high blood pressure."

"Uh. Okay." I suppose we all have our ways of dealing with stress. Third Uncle reaches toward the jacket, and Ma smacks his hand.

"Ow! What?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Ma demands.

"Isn't it obvious? I want to see his face!"

"Alamak! You so disrespectful. People already dead, you want to see his face for what?"

"She's right, Taehyungie," Big Uncle says, gently. "We try not to disturb him too much."

I have to turn away from the body. I can't stop seeing flashes of Jackson, and the sight of it brings back the horror of the tragedy. His hand on my knee, his smile. His hands are now strewn haphazardly across his hips.

"Now what?" Second Uncle says, going through his Tai Chi moves a lot faster than they call for. "This boy so tall. How we get rid of him?" He shudders before going into a different pose with arms outstretched. "Maybe we can chop him up, cook some curry, then throw away bit by bit?"

"That's a lot of curry," Third Uncle says.

My stomach lurches. Calm. Down. They're not being serious. They're not. They're just being their usual selves. Their usual murdery selves.

What is going on right now?! Maybe one of the Korean dramas they're always watching is a crime show. Or maybe this is a parent thing: once you have a kid, you lose the ability to be truly shocked by anything. I mean, this is not normal, right? 

Right?

"No curry," Big Uncle scolds.

Second Uncle glares at him. "You got better idea is it?"

Big Uncle sighs. "I think first."

"Um," I squeak, and they all look at me. I charge ahead before I lose whatever tiny bit of courage I have. "Maybe we should take him to the desert and bury him there?"

They ponder this for a while. We've had family trips to Vegas a few times, and we're all familiar with the road, the barren wasteland between California and Nevada that most people drive through but never stop at.

"Wonderful idea," Ma exclaims, her face beaming with pride as she looks at me.

Second Uncle nods. "Yes, very good."

"Better than your curry idea," Big Uncle chides. "Okay, we do that when we come back from wedding island. Definitely got no time to do tonight, we need to be at pier tomorrow by eight-thirty."

Oh, my goodness.

I haven't forgotten that we still have a wedding to work tomorrow, but I have forgotten the details, such as the fact that it's in Santa Lucia and that we have to meet at the dock early tomorrow morning to board one of the private ships that will transport us to the island.

It exhausts me just thinking about it.

For tonight, going to the desert, digging a hole, filling it, and then driving back is not an option. As it is, I can barely stay on my feet.

"We cannot leave him in trunk for whole weekend," Ma says. "Later he will stink up my house, then will be very hard to get rid of smell."

Big Uncle nods again. "We need to put him in fridge."

Lord help me, we are literally talking about fridging the dude.

"My refrigerator not big enough," Ma says.

"Only you got fridge big enough," Second Uncle says to Big Uncle.

Big Uncle's only sign of unhappiness at the realisation that it would have to be his fridge is a flash of disapproval, but he nods and says, "Okay. Anyway, having the body in my fridge would make me feel better than having the body in someone else's fridge; who knows, maybe that person isn't as responsible." He gives Second Uncle the side-eye. Second Uncle's nostrils flare, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Big Uncle says, "We depart now."

"Could we, uh, put him in your trunk?" I say, "It's obvious my car has been in an accident, and I don't want us to get pulled over."

"Okay. My car already in your driveway. Come, we move him."

We all crowd around Jackson's body.

"We can't carry him out like this," I say. "What if someone sees?"

"Yes, cover him with something," Second Uncle says. "Jiejie, you got big bag or not? You know, when Jimin go ski, he take his ski in this very big bag. I always think, wah, can fit me inside that bag."

"Why you think that? Such unlucky way of thinking," Big Uncle scolds.

Before Second Uncle can snark back at Big Uncle, Ma quickly cuts in. "No, my daughter don't ski. Maybe garbage bag? Can it fit or not?"

We regard the body. "I think he's a bit tall to fit in a trash bag, Ma," I say.

"We'd have to cut him up first," Third Uncle says, his eyes shining with what I can only describe as horrified glee.

Has he always been this murderous? 

Have they always been this blasé about chopping bodies up?

"Such silly idea," Ma scoffs. "So messy, and the garbage bags always leak. You will make big mess in my garage."

"That's because you always buy the cheap ones," Third Uncle shoots back. "I told you to buy Glade brand. Haven't you seen their ads? Glad bags will hold his cut-up body just fine, no leaks!"

I cast my eyes to the ceiling. Glad probably didn't imagine their target market would be a group of middle-aged Koreans debating the best way to dispose of a body when they were preparing their marketing campaign.

"What about a blanket?" I say. "We just need something to cover him while we move him to Big Uncle's car. All it has to do is make him look less . . . like a dead body."

"Good idea," Big Uncle says.

Ma's face is flushed with pride. The woman has to re-evaluate her priorities.

I go back inside, grab a couple of old blankets from our storage room, and dash back into the garage, where they've moved on from the trash bag issue to another one.

"Here it is!" I say loudly.

I give Big Uncle one blanket and shake out the other. We halt as we approach the body, blankets lifted.

Third Uncle growls, "Come on, do it!"

Teeth gritted, I put my blanket over the top half of his body.

"Tuck the sides under him," Third Uncle says. "Wrap him up like a burrito."

"Oh god," I whimper, but I do as he says, tucking the blanket beneath Jackson's dead body, wincing at how warm it feels. I hiss, my face twisted in disgust, "He's still warm." I pause for a moment. "Should we—uh, should we—I think we should check his pulse."

"No, no, touching a body is extremely bad luck," Ma replies, shaking her head forcefully.

I lock my gaze on her. "What are you talking about? I literally just touched it. Can I also point out you guys were talking about cutting him up moments ago? Would that not involve touching him?"

"Is different," Ma says.

Everyone else saves for Third Uncle nods.

"How is it different?" I cry.

"Touching dead body to cut it up, get rid of it, is okay. But touching dead body to try and find life inside, ohhh, very bad luck."

"WHAT?" I swear my head has exploded. "How is cutting up a dead body better than just a small touch to make sure it's actually dead?"

"Aigoo, if you don't understand, no use trying to explain," Second Uncle says.

"When someone doesn't understand something, that's when you should explain it." I sigh and shake my head.

Why am I wasting my time debating with them?

I grasp Jackson's wrist, wincing, and check for a pulse before I have chance to back out.

Oh, my dear, this is horrible.

I fumble around, pressing here and there, but my hand is trembling terribly, and my palm is sweaty, and—

"Sudah!" Ma yanks my hand back with a jerk. While still holding on to me, she reaches over and knocks on the door, saying, "Alahai, knock on wood, why my daughter insist on bringing bad luck on us? Knock on wood betul."

"Aigoo, come here, give that to me. He's clearly dead."

"Ooh, he is still warm. Interesting! Would've thought he'd have gone all stiff. Must be because it's such a warm night. Tily, pull the blanket round from underneath him—yes, okay, good. Top wrapped. Let's do the legs."

Third Uncle shoves me aside and raises Jackson's upper torso, grunting.

We're all looking at him, dumbfounded.

Third Uncle is a D-list singer, a total divo with dark mullet hair and loose, sequined clothes. Being efficient with wrapping up dead bodies is not a quality I would've guessed him to have. But his tone is so authoritative that even Big Uncle obeys without question.

We lift Jackson's legs until Third Uncle completes the second blanket wraparound. We all take a step back with an obvious shiver when we're finished.

"Right, to Jin hyung's car!" Third Uncle says.

I stop Ma in time from opening the garage door, telling her I'm going to turn off all the lights first.

"Oh, yes, good thinking," she expresses her dissatisfaction with the whole situation.

The sight of her wrinkled face makes my stomach churn. This is what I've done to her. I've caused her to be worried. The very least I can do is try to fix the issue and stay on top of things.

We open the garage door once the lights are turned out, cringing at the whirring noise. We should've just carried the body out the front door after moving it through the house. I really hope the garage door's insanely loud whir doesn't wake anyone up.

"Let's go," I say quietly. I brace myself and grip the upper part of Jackson's body before I can back out.

He appears to be considerably heavier than I recall.

How the hell did I even manage to carry him out of the driver's seat and into the trunk in the first place?

Adrenaline. Right.

At the time, my blood might have been Red Bull. If I had to, I could have lifted boulders. But now, hours after the accident, I'm tired, with noodly arms and tight, sluggish legs. My muscles tremble as I hoist Jackson's torso a few inches higher.

"I can't do this on my own," I exclaim, and ready to drop him when Ma grabs his head.

"Joonie Oppa, you take his hips," she orders. "Jinnie Oppa, you take his legs."

Big Uncle hurries to grab Jackson's legs as instructed, but Second Uncle remains still, his eyes wide. "I can't—I—I don't—," Second Uncle glares at Big Uncle, who snorts. "What? I don't want touch dead body, is that wrong?"

"Your family in need and you don't even want to help," Big Uncle says. "You tell me, is wrong or no?"

"It's okay, I'll take the hips," Third Uncle says, running forward. He waves Second Uncle away. "You open Jin hyung's trunk." He lifts, and together we heave Jackson out of the trunk.

It's hard to describe the walk to Big Uncle's car, which, as promised, is waiting for us just a few feet away. Even under the layers of blankets, I'm painfully aware that we're carrying a dead human. Jackson is heavy, warm, and limp. We're moving as fast as we can, but we're having to adjust to each other's paces, which slows us down.

Mr. Lopez next door will wake up at any minute, get a drink of water from his kitchen, look out the window, and see us. Maybe Denise's chihuahua will wake up and beg to go outside from across the street.

We get it to Big Uncle's trunk without any of our neighbours yelling, "Hey, what are you doing?" We lower him gently rather than dropping him abruptly, thanks to an unspoken understanding.

Even though we've just moved a dead body, I suppose we have hearts.

The words in italics are in Korean, while the words in italics and bold are in Malay.

Sudah! = Enough<perfective aspect, indicating that the process has been accomplished, often inappropriately translated by already>
Alahai = <exclamation of surprise: ie. Oh no, damn, etc>
Betul. = true/ right <concurring with a given set of facts>

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