Fragmented Us

송 재인: Her (2)

“I’ve gained freedom… and yet, it’s so lonesome.”

-Natsuki Tayaka, Fruits Basket

열다섯 (Fifteen)

Song Jaein [송 재인]

February 24

For some reason unknown to anyone, winter began ending much earlier than expected. Song Jaein noticed this as she walked down to the train station where she needed to get a ride on to get to her school campus. The skies above her were grey, the snow on the ground was nothing but half-melted puddles of muddy snow, and the snow that fell didn’t even reach the ground before it melted. Although the wind was still bitter and cold as it was before, it didn’t feel as winter-y as it was when it whooshed past her face.

Jaein’s boots were starting to get soaked from the puddles the melting snow was leaving behind. The pavement was wet too, and if it ever got any colder, Jaein was sure it would only be a matter of time before the puddles froze over and everyone slipped on ice. It wouldn’t even be a surprise if it started raining. That was the kind of day it is. Grey, kind of gloomy and quiet, but at the same time peaceful instead of dreary.

She ducked into a shed just as the once slowly falling snow came down in a quick and heavy manner, almost like rain. Her boots were soaked—she could feel her socks squishing out water from the inside, a sensation not too nice to feel, and she was pretty sure her toes were frozen from the cold. Taking a mental note to dry her boots as soon as she got home from school, Jaein foraged her knapsack for the collapsible umbrella she always brought with her.

Scrunches of snow on the pavement told Jaein that someone had ducked underneath the shed beside her. She peeked at their shoes: black leather school shoes. It was shiny and expensive-looking, and Jaein was reminded of her own school shoes, a pair bought by her friend, Chae Min, because, apparently, her old shoes were ‘a crime to fashion’, or so she said. Jaein backed away to the other side of the shed, away from whoever it was, pretending she needed light to find her umbrella from inside her bag. Her breath misted against the cold air, labored from trying to balance herself while using her raised leg as a base for her bag. She finally found the umbrella, which she immediately shook open beside her, looking up to the skies.

The snow had completely morphed into freezing rain.

For no reason, Jaein reached out her gloved hand out to catch the dripping raindrops that fell from the shed roof. It was cold as ice, as expected, and it soaked her gloves fast; it was all but dripping down her elbows before Jaein had a chance to even move her hand back. Then, without hesitation, Jaein plunged into the downpour, her umbrella heavy from the ever-increasing rain.

With the clouds turning greyer in a steady pace above her, Jaein wondered why the days seemed shorter than they were before.

_ _ _

(0.8)

Miraculously, as Jaein opened her eyes, they weren’t hit by the usual blinding lights that gorge one’s eyesight. The room she was in, as unfamiliar as it was, was shrouded in darkness, lit only by a dimly glowing night lamp in the far corner of the room. She felt thankful for the absence of the lights; it was common for her to get blinded first thing when she woke up from surgeries, and those moments were one of those annoying things she had to deal with growing up in a hospital.

There was a foreign and uncomfortable feeling occurring down at the back of her throat, and Jaein assumed this as a feeding tube. It wasn’t the most pleasing sensation in the world, but she had learnt to cope with circumstances as this. Her head and body were throbbing as heck,and she only succeeded in moving an arm. Drip covered both her arms too. They moved around like snakes that twisted around her as she raised her hand to block the light from the innocent lamp that stood in the corner with her palm.

As she observed the streaks that slid through the gaps of her fingers, Jaein wondered for how long she had been asleep.

Mommy would know, she thought, then suddenly, as if it was a force kept inside for too long, a heavy feeling swirled inside her chest. It was not those medical pains she had had before—no. It was the kind where the burden-like sensation made it hard to breathe properly, and yet no matter how many times you thump your chest, it wouldn't wear off. Jaein didn't know why she felt like this, but the unsaid emotion was enough to make her tear up a tiny bit.

She looked around slowly, attempting to seek for her mother. The darkness made it hard to spot things around, much less people, but Jaein managed to make out the sleeping figure wrapped in bundles of blankets curled up just right beside her bed. They were nestled in such a way Jaein almost missed them.

"Mom." Her voice was all croaky and dry. It hurt to talk, even if it was just a word. Her lips were dry too.

The person did not move.

Jaein slowly reached out to them, even though she knew her arms were not long enough. Her fingers caught the slightest bit of fabric, sufficient enough to pinch it between her index and middle finger—pulled. The cloth escaped her fingers the moment she attempted to tug it, but the slight motion was enough to attract the attention of the wrapped-up individual. They raised their head; a tangle of light brown hair appeared, followed by the half-awake face of Chae Min’s mother, Mrs. Kim. Even in an obviously exhausted figure, she had managed to leap up from the blankets with much agility to see what the disturbance was. Mrs. Kim blinked several times—probably to adjust her eyes to the dark—before inhaling a gust of wind the moment when she realized that it was Jaein who had wrenched her awake from her sleep.

“Jaein, dear,” Chae Min’s mother stumbled out of her coven of blankets, reaching over to stand on her bedside. The blankets behind her rolled out of the seat she was just on, falling over to the floor as the remaining fabrics that clung to her leg dragged behind her. Mrs. Kim kicked them back without much care. “You’re awake, thank god. How do you feel? Does anything hurt? Do you want something?”

Her mouth seemed heavy inside her mouth. Jaein couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth and say another word, after all, her throat ached like it hated her with passion. She weakly raised her hands to her head, bringing her index finger together twice in a jabbing movement, a sign indicating her head hurt.

She received a head pat. “Your head hurts? I’ll call a nurse to have them check you, alright? Hold on.” Mrs. Kim moved to leave, but Jaein’s grip on her hand stopped her from going. Jaein made a gesture: mom. She wanted her mother. The emotions surging in her chest had been bothering her non-stop. Something felt off; it felt wrong, like something important—crucial, even—happened, and it run through her gut like a warning. She knew those emotions were nothing but stupid intuitions, so all she needed was her mother to keep her calm. Jaein wanted reassurance; only her mother knew how to soothe those feelings away. Her mother would tell her it would be alright, and then, like magic, it would be.

But still. The gut feeling grew deeper, feeding heavily on the anxiety and longing Jaein was sensing. The look on Chae Min’s mom was indescribable; it came off all wrong and gave off an impression that she was mourning. It was as if she wanted to tell Jaein something, but at the same time, she wanted to stay silent.

The pause Mrs. Kim did deemed without end.

Jaein gripped Mrs. Kim’s arm tighter, holding on with all her strength. Something wrong, something wrong, something’s happened, her head kept shouting, but she ignored this once again. She touched her chin with her thumb twice again, staring into Mrs. Kim’s eyes with clear desperation. Mom. I want mom.

Mrs. Kim touched Jaein’s check, smiling ever so slightly. The smile felt fake; it looked forced. Jaein hated that smile. Chae Min’s mother pried the fingers that desperately held on tight to her hand open, gently yet firmly forcing her to let go. Jaein could see the genuine look of apology in her face, even in the dark.

“I’ll call a nurse,” Mrs. Kim said as she backed out the door. “It’ll only take a while.”

_ _ _

열여섯 (Sixteen)

Song Jaein [송 재인]

February 25

The moment Song Jaein heard the last clink of her fork against the now empty plate hotteok, Kim Chae Min limped into sight, holding a clutch with an appalling frown on her face. She hobbled past strangers, glaring at them in such a manner that they eventually gave way without say. Considering her aura constantly screamed “If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll beat you with my crutch,” it wasn’t that surprising.

Jaein sighed. She wondered what stupidity Chae Min had gotten herself into once again.

The moody little fashionista sat heavily on the seat her best friend had reserved just for her, dropping the clutch on the ground the moment her buttocks had touched the wooden chair. The aggravated action on the object made it hit Jaein on the shin, but she decided against complaining; instead, she pursed her lips and stayed quiet. It wasn’t like nagging Chae Min would make anything better anyway. Plus, she knew that whatever it was that was bothering the younger one would come rolling down the other’s tongue the moment she’d taken a bite of something. It was all just a sequence-flow sort of thing—Jaein had learned how things come and go without even having to poke around.

And so, she waited. Jaein watched Chae Min grumble about finding a good spot for her bag, and she watched her scooch her chair to the left, the right, closer, and farther the table still. She followed the flow of the dyed-blond strands of hair be tucked behind ears, scrutinized the rings on Chae Min’s fingers as she rubbed her hands together to spread the sanitizer.

And of course, Jaein’s intuition didn’t fail. The moment the cake melted on Chae Min’s tongue, the grumpy spoiled brat decided to complain about everything that deemed inconvenient within her sight.

“This cake sucks,” is what she first said. This was followed by stringy lines of whatever it was that annoyed her. “This place is crowded and noisy, my lipstick is the wrong shade, my foot’s itchy, and everybody’s just damn irritable.”

Right. Jaein thought that it could have been worse. Or maybe it will get worse. There was no guarantee Chae Min was bound to stop anytime soon. “You’re being a little mean.”

The cake, which was seemingly disgusting according to a previous review, was poked by a silver fork, then torn to be again devoured by the humble, humble Chae Min. “To be honest, I don’t really care. Other people can f**k off, and I won’t give a single damn.” She flipped her hair, fingers fidgeting with the gold gangling earring swinging playfully around her ear. “My day sucks, and I’ve decided to share my unfortunes with the world. Can you believe he had the audacity to boast about his riches just like that? Such an arrogant motherfucker!”

Chae Min swung her fork around, and Jaein watched her play with the poor shredded cake, trying to understand what it was that the younger was even talking about. But her friend continued on without a breath, and it was impossible to slip in a word, much less a question.

“I mean, I would have done that too if I had the money to waste, you know—and you know I do, of course, but that’s not what I’m going for. I just meant that I’m not that f****d up in the head to do stupid s**t like he did; I do still have a little bit of common sense and humbleness I picked up from you, which I’m very thankful for, by the way—anyway, the point is, the audacity! The asshole-ness! f*****g hell!”

The cake, now a mound of shredded crumbs, was stabbed with malice for emphasis. Now protruding from the mound of crumbs, like the sword of Excalibur rooted on the stone, is the fork, wobbling dangerously from the motion.

“Chae Min, I don’t understand.” Jaein swept the plate of cake away from the younger, just in case she suddenly had the urge to throw it at a random passerby. “You’re gonna have to tell me what happened if you want me to understand, love.”

And Chae Min did. Chae Min rambled on for half an hour about a spilt cup noodle that was seemingly her life and hope, and a guy who had the guts to trip her and slap her with 200,000 won (“Like that’s enough,” complained the fashionista, rolling her eyes so hard it reached the heavens). The other thirty minutes were spent on going into detail of how bothersome her crutches were.

“—like it just looks so freaking pathetic, you know? Wobbling in the hallways, having to crouch down like a grandma… I can’t even wear my sandals properly! Which is pure torture by the way, since I got that really amazing sandal I saw from this designer my mom was wearing when they attended that auction party thing in Vietnam? The goldish sparkly one, except mine is leather, of course—”

“Yes, Chae Min, I do, but we were talking about this guy you hate, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” There was a pause, like the boy she had been whining about for almost an hour was a topic she had never peeped a word about. It took a moment for Chae Min to recover her anger. “Oh yeah! That jerk! I’m so glad I took his phone. Serves him right.”

Jaein blinked at her. “What phone? You never mentioned a phone.”

“I didn’t? Well, that dumb f**k forgot his phone at the ward.”

“Language,” reminded Jaein. “What? And you took it? Why would you do that?”

“Because he was annoying.”

“Chae Min.”

“What?” Chae Min had the most innocent look on her face. “He was.”

Jaein wanted to take the fork out of the knife and poke the other back to sense. “You realize how stupid that was, right? Have you even returned it yet?”

“Well, no, but—”

Her stress levels were dangerously increasing. “Huh? Then why’d you take it?”

“Because it would have been stolen if I had left it there! I’m not much of a b***h, you know.”

Leaning back as the conversation continued to relentlessly drain her energy, Jaein watched the younger scout her bag and produce a lip balm. Layers of balm were applied on already shining lips. “But you didn’t return it.”

“As I've said,” Chae Min clicked the top back on the balm, “he was annoying. Let him suffer, I say. Let the wrath and hate spread and villainize him as every vibration of Spiderman’s ringtone gets ignored.”

“He’s been calling it?” Jaein had given up. It was just getting worse. “I don’t even know anymore. It’s so… that’s so—”

“Evil, I know. I know.”

“Freaking stupid, and you know it! Well, now you’ve stolen it.”

The fashionista paused from rummaging her bag; it seemed she had only realized this now. There was uncertainty in her motion when she did continue surfing through her inventory. Chae Min bit her lip.

“You have the phone with you now, don’t you,” accused Jaein. “Go on, take it out.”

A phone was presented, black and slim, sliding across the table towards Jaein. Jaein urged it back to the now squirming Chae Min.

“There was no passcode,” the younger offered. “His gallery sucks. It’s all food.”

“You snooped on it already, huh?”

“There was no passcode.”

“Chae Min,” Jaein pointed at the phone sitting right in the middle of the table, “You’re giving this back at first chance.”

“Oh, alright. Fine.”

The plate of half-eaten cake was dragged back to Chae Min’s front, fork wobbling from the sudden motion. “Finish your cake while you’re still here. I’ll get going.”

Chae Min gave a sigh but did as told reluctantly. She poked the dessert, distaste clear in her eyes. “Where you going?”

“You know.”

“I don’t?” The fashionista gave her a naïve look as she forked bits of crumbs into her mouth. Her hands were already bus scrolling through her newly bought phone.

Jaein stood up gently. “It’s February 24. Time for a visit.”

The younger stopped. Jaein felt her aura drop, plummeting to something close to guilt. “Oh, right.” She cleared her throat, bringing her hands down to her lap. “Right. Mr. and Mrs. Song must be waiting for you to drop by, no?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers pinched Chae Min’s cheek as a move to lighten up the mood. “You stay her and finish your cake. And don’t forget the phone. I’ll need reports by the time I check up on you tonight.”

A groan of frustration escaped Chae Min. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jaein pecked Chae Min’s cheek with a kiss, following it with a ruffle on the head as she wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Good girl. I’ll call you.”

“Bye! Stay safe!” called out Chae Min as Jaein stepped out the shop and into the numbing sidewalk. The store door swung shut behind her, and when she tried checking out what Chae Min was doing through the glass windows, the swarm of customers had already blocked her from the view. The sun was barely visible amongst the gloomy grey clouds, a reminder that Jaein had to leave before the rain caught up with her.

Blowing a gust of air out, Jaein clutched her scarf tighter around her before disappearing into the throng of strangers in the streets.

_ _ _