I sat down on the stairs outside my house and rubbed my temples. It had started to rain again, and I was drenched down to my underwear within seconds. All lights were off, and the house was coated in blackness. No car was parked in the front, and no noise could be heard from within. That was strange considering they got home from the school, apparently a little over forty minutes ago and Minho should be hyped up and boisterous…Unless he was severely disappointed in his dad, and Daeun and Bosook had decided to make it up to him by taking him to the nearest McDonald's.
I sighed, then rubbed harder and pulled some strands of hair. I was missing something, I was sure of it.
Just before I left, I tried to have a conversation with one of the janitors, but my Tagalog was just as bad as their Korean, and we didn't get us any further than wishing each other a pleasant day, and commenting on how nice the weather was.
While it wasn't strange to see a large crowd of migrant workers do mundane tasks, something had been off with this particular crew. First, they didn't wear any photo badges, and secondly, their work was too chaotic, too unorganised. Usually, working crews had effective procedures.
Or maybe this was another Covid-related relic. People had to get used again to work routines. Even the school event itself wasn't what it used to be. I remembered plays where parents would linger, and where they would have a cake sale at the end. Instead, this end-of-year celebration had come with the instructions to not remove your mask, not to eat indoors, and to leave the premises as soon as the play was over. People were invited to make use of the outdoor space to eat and chatter… but in the middle of monsoon season, no one had thought it very likely that this was going to happen.
I sighed again…maybe I was simply overreacting and seeing demons where I didn't need to. Minho was probably at a fast food place and shoving greasy burgers into his mouth. The head janitor had been unpleasant and jiffy, because his uncoordinated team wasn't performing to standard and because probably one or two didn't have the right documents to work in this country. I had enough on my plate. I didn't need to add to my list of issues that needed solving.
Under any normal circumstances, I would have called Daeun and asked where they were, but as it was, my phone was currently travelling the currents under Long Bridge, alongside another million secrets the river had buried within.
But I couldn't bring myself to get up and get into the house. I felt as if I simply didn't have the energy to move any more than I absolutely needed to.
And this was how the person I expected the least found me a few moments later.
"Mr Kim, you okay?"
I jerked up, having heard a voice, but unsure if it had come from a dream, or whether someone was actually talking to me. I rubbed my eyes and squinted a few times.
"Mr Kim?" The voice questioned again, and I looked up to stare into the pale face of my intern.
"Nat?" I scratched myself off the floor. "What are you doing here?"
"That's what I was asking myself." She answered hesitantly. "You had emailed me to meet you here?"
I, apparently, had what?
I shook my head. "Sorry, Nat, but I don't even have access to my phone anymore. In fact, I was about to instruct you tomorrow to arrange a new phone plan and a new laptop."
"Okay?" Nat responded, looking more puzzled than before. "But you emailed me. About half an hour ago to meet you here?"
As a matter of proof, she opened said email and shoved it in my face. Indeed, this was an email from my account, with my signature, asking Nat to meet me at my place…and wear something sexy.
I shot up. "Nat, I didn't send this. Why would I… I'm a happily married man?" I took a deep breath, finally taking in her short, black dress, the high-heeled shoes, the hair, twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck… "And you… you have a family on your own…"
If Nat was embarrassed by any of this, she didn't show it. I took a step backwards, trying to put more distance between me and her, but she followed my move. "Jin," she said, her voice taking on a deeper tone.
Since when were we on a first-name basis?
"Nat." I tried to sound firm. "Please. This has been a misunderstanding. Someone must have gained access to my account and played a prank. I will surely have this investigated. For now, I would suggest you go home, and we discuss everything in the morning."
There wouldn't be much need to discuss anything. I just wanted to bleach my eyes and pretend tonight never happened.
Nat started to laugh until tears were rolling down her face. For a moment, I thought they were happy tears, but then I saw her shoulders heaving and realised that the magic laughter had turned into sobs. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed?
"You haven't been flirting with me? This has all been just in my head?" She mumbled but seemingly didn't need an answer as she continued, "of course, everything had only been in my head. What was I thinking? It's always just in my head."
She kept on mumbling some more, but I no longer listened. I felt the urge to comfort her but didn't know how without sending her mixed signals. I wish I was wearing a jacket so I could offer it to my distressed intern, but as it was, all I wore was a t-shirt clinging to my chest.
"Would you like me to call a taxi for you?" I asked before I noticed the Honda in my driveway. Of course, she had driven here.
"I've never intentionally flirted at work, Nat. But if something I ever said has come across that way, then I sincerely apologise," I stammered, trying to phrase myself very carefully. Things like this could turn very sour very quickly.
Nat bit her lip, and I thought I saw a faint blush in the moonlight. "You were always professional at work, Mr Kim," she finally croaked out. "But the texts and emails you sent me after work…they suggested…" she gulped and her blush intensified. "I've been played for a fool, haven't I?"
There was sincere anguish in her eyes, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her in a way. "If those mails got sent from my account, that means we both were."
"But… who would do such a thing? And why?"
I shook my head, and then my stomach jolted. "Nat," I said, a sudden note of urgency in my voice. "Just how much private and personal information have 'we' divulged in those conversations?"
Poor Nat made a face as if she was praying for the ground to open and swallow her whole. And while, on a human side, I felt utterly sorry for her, I could not help but the spike of anger rising within me. "How could you have been so stupid? Do you have any idea what you have done? You singlehandedly didn't put one, but three highly sensitive cases as utter risk, not to mention any of my personal matters."
My heart was pounding, my fists were balled and I fought the urge to smack something, however, the only available thing near me was a decorative, concrete-made flower vase, that I kicked so hard I could hear the individual bones in my foot crack despite the whopping rain. I couldn't bring myself to look at Nat. I would feel too guilty staring at her probably mortified expression. Never before had I shouted at her, or any intern for that matter.
"That's what you get for employing women," I huffed, not caring how sexist this made me sound. I didn't want to be reasonable right now, I wanted to be angry. I turned my back to my intern, trying to hide the burning pain I felt in my foot. "Go home." I barked. "And there is no need to come in tomorrow. In fact, there is no other need than to come in and collect your items, although I rather you send someone to do this on your behalf."
Shit, when had I turned into such a caveman arsehole?
There was more swallowed crying behind me, but Nat didn't protest. I heard uncertain footsteps slurring to a car, that was opened and closed, and then an engine howled.
I didn't turn around as the small vehicle sped from my driveway.
Just what in the world had just happened?
I sighed, and sank back to the ground, my foot too painful to carry me. Yet, I was angry enough to want to kick the vase again. I clenched my teeth and balled my fists. My foot was ruined anyway, I may as well do it properly. With all my might, I kicked the concrete vase again and again, until I finally managed to smash it into pieces.
Falling to the ground, I could no longer feel my leg, which was probably a good, thing because it was properly smashed into pieces too.
"I'm losing my mind," I mumbled to myself. "I'm completely and utterly losing my mind and I should put myself into a loony bin before somebody else does that for me."
When Daeun, Minho and Bosook arrived home about an hour later with a Burger King bag in hand, I was on the couch nursing an ice pack on my foot, which didn't seem to help one bit with my condition. I knew I would need to go to hospital and get an x-ray, but moving to the freezer and back had been all the energy I had left. Daeun's expression morphed from angry to worried upon the sight of me which was telling me just how bad I looked, whereas something unreadable flickered across Bosook's face. "Get Minho ready for bed, dear," she told my wife, "Meanwhile, I will have a little word with that husband of yours."
"Bosookssi, don't you see—he's injured," my wife protested, pointing at the icepack as if I was in no position to speak for myself.
"Your husband has by far other issues," Bosook huffed, "now, do as I say, or the little one hears some things that kids his age shouldn't know about yet."
Daeun opened and closed her mouth as if she wanted to protest but then nodded, and took the half-asleep Minho by the hand, who didn't even protest at being led towards the dreaded bathroom.
"Now, I may not be your mother, but I guess I'm the closest thing you got to one," Bosook started and raised her hands. "And don't even start on that 'you're not that much older than me'-bullshit, because I still am older and I have more life experience than you do, particularly what we are going to talk about."
"I wasn't going to protest," I weakly mumbled. Not because I necessarily agreed, but because I simply didn't have the energy to use unnecessary words.
"Good," Bosook nodded. "Then listen to me very carefully. You think you have everything under control because you're functioning in your job and in your day-to-day life, but you're cracking and your facade is slipping, and you're milliseconds away from taking the same path as your brother did." She gulped at the second part of the sentence. These were one of the very few-in-between moments I noticed her truly caring about Tae. Why was she trying to suppress those so hard?
"I'm not…" I was suddenly alert. What was Bosook insisting? That I was an addict?
Bosook merely folded her hands and raised her eyebrows. "And you think being an addict is limited to drinking and drug-taking? I'm sorry to break it to you, but anything can turn into an addiction if done excessively. Just look at your brother and your dad, it's in your genes."
"I'm not… where did you even get that idea from?"
"Have you really looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"
My finger shot to my eyebrow, where the traitorous grey hair was still growing. Although I decided to leave it there, I still needed to trim it as it was currently growing to an unbearable length.
"Let me rephrase this," Bosook remarked. "When have you looked into a mirror and focused on someone else but your silly mug?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Just answer my question." Bosook got up, then gestured to the hallway, where a floor-to-ceiling mirror was fixed to the wall next to the wardrobe with our coats. "Why don't we have a look now?"
"I'm not in the best position to move around right now," I protested while pointing at my injured foot.
"Good thing is you have two of those then. You can hobble. Now, come on." She held out her hand. "You either do as I say, or I'm calling—what was her name?—The American Therapist you're seeing. And yes, of course, I know about her. I've been following you a few times. Don't blame me. I thought you were going to see Tae, and you had refused to give me his address."
I sighed and rubbed my temples. "You know it was him asking me not to pass it on. I couldn't break his trust."
"I know, which is why instead of pestering you, I decided to simply follow you. Unfortunately, this wasn't where you were heading."
This was too much to take in, too much for me to even get angry about. "I need to go for a run," I mumbled.
"What about that foot of yours? Let's get you to the mirror first."
When I didn't move, Bosook reached for her phone. "My English isn't good, but I'm sure I can convey a message." She said, then proceeded to retrieve Dr Hara's business card.
"Where did you get that from?" I jumped up.
"I told you, I followed you, thinking you were going to see Tae. But once I was in the reception area, and they asked me how they could help, I asked for a business card. What else would I have done? Naturally, I looked the doctor up on the internet a little later."
"You're a bitch," I told her.
"I know, but this is beside the point. Now, do you want me to call, or will you oblige?"
I threw my hands in the air, "Fine. Let's get this done with. I'm not sure what you think you're proving here."
Holding onto Bosook's shoulder, I hobbled into the hallway, to the mirror, and looked inside. The grey hair was a little longer than I thought. It really needed a little trim. But once done, it would look really sophisticated. Perhaps I should get a matching, grey streak in my hair? I would be absolutely dashing. World, prepare for an Asian James Bond with the licence to swag.
"Are you happy now?" I asked Bosook, who stood cross-armed beside me.
"Look at your trousers." She instructed.
"I…what?"
"You heard me. Look at your trousers."
I did at asked but had no idea what Bosook wanted to prove. The jeans were dark blue and neat, other than the artful rip over the knee, but that was fashion. But perhaps Bosook had no clue of those things. She never wore anything but business suites despite not being in any sort of business, other than to shop there.
"How about you direct that attention to your hemline."
My gaze shifted to my waist. Granted, the trousers sat a little loose on my hips, but not in any ridiculous sort of way.
"I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"No? When was the last time you bought a pair of jeans for yourself, Mr Armani suit?"
I shrugged. I had found the jeans in the laundry basket. Who cared how old they were. They looked good.
"These are Daeun's jeans. We bought them together when we were at Lotte Outlet. You are wearing your wife's clothes."
I took another glance in the mirror, trying to decipher what made those jeans so particularly feminine that Bosook threw a fit over it, and in what way this was supposed to be related to addictive behaviour.
Bosook sighed, and for a second looked as if all Botox had left her face."Jin, dear. Daeun is about half a head shorter than you and skinny as a feather. When have you ever been able to fit in her clothes? Don't you realise that every single one of your bones is poking out? All this crazy running and little eating you've been doing as of late had you lose at least six to seven kilos. And you didn't have much to spare, to begin with. You're positively malnourished, my friend."
