the skies are overcast with clouds welled up with tears. hyeryun arrives at half past twelve in sunglasses and a two-dollar convenience store poncho when the first raindrops trickle down.
without taking poncho or sunglasses off she slides into a corner booth meant for four. she sits there unbothered but the rain falls harder and claps against the window with a vengeance. too fucking noisy. she gets up with and slides into a counter stool with a plasticky squeak.
the hello she gives seunghee is the weakest this month. she barely spares the specials of the day a glance. “hot soup. i want it scalding hot. i want it to burn everything in its path.”
tonight, the restaurant is the emptiest it's ever been, but seunghee works away like there's company. braised mackerel with radish for an absent table of two. lemongrass soup boils in the pot for an imaginary patron down with a cold.
it's just her, her thoughts, and her inability to sit still with their weight until the door swings open. she looks up, expecting the impossible—and it's hyeryun. it's hard to tell if what she feels is relief or something worse.
setting the broth to a low simmer, she pulls out a bowl from one of the cabinets. muted clinks of porcelain and silverware fill the silence as she wonders what to begin with: the uncharacteristic thinness of hyeryun's voice, the distant boom of thunder, or the inexplicable heaviness of it all. "should i dim the lights down?"
Daeyeon’s email inbox was full again. Follow up after follow up, all of them dated less than 24 hours apart. The most recent one came adorned with a cherry on top. The subject title now read “**URGENT** Case 4983-B”. He clicked on it, sighs lining his lips and eyes rolling back. It was the same request for an updated report on the corpse that they received at the beginning of the week. His supervisor’s name showed up in the CC field. Shit.
He locked his computer and grabbed his empty mug. If he had to leave the lab to go upstairs, he might as well refill his mug in the break room. Talking to any of the investigators and officers always required an extra caffeine boost.
Upstairs was always a strange part of the department for him. It wasn’t tranquil like the autopsy room or sterile like the labs. Everything bustled and chattered. Every mind and mouth ran miles and miles, waiting for nobody to catch up. He took a turn from the break room towards the K9 enforcers’ desks. At her desk was Hyeryun (no doubt working on more emails to bug forensics).
“Hey,” he started off. “I got your request to look at case 4983-B. Again.” The word dropped off at the end of this breath and became smothered by the air. It was barely audible but it was there. “I already updated the file with photos. The evidence techs are still working on finishing up the last request for this case. I can’t rush this any further. I know you need a lead for this victim or whatever but my hands are tied.”
hyeryun is conceived the same night dad is told he’ll be taking over grandpa lee’s fishing enterprise. needless to say it’s the latter that actually occurs first in this turn of events.
the lee family continues to live humbly and frugally despite the turnover. dad reworks the business from the ground up.
eventually the family relocates to seoul when the goings are really, really good. dad is ready to launch a new line of instant ramen products and mom is keeling over at the prospect of finally spending some money and picking out a designer handbag or twelve.
hyeryun takes to change with chameleon-like ease: dons her new wardrobe without complaint, abandons her country twang within a month, tests into foreign language school on her first try.
her peers’ attempts to intimidate her into submission fall short: they fling fishmonger insults—predictable. next morning, each perpetrator finds an oily sardine staring back at them from the inside of their desk.
stirring trouble like this becomes her trademark, but it is always infrequent and hyeryun is careful to never cross the line.
spontaneous repute aside no one ever sees her decision to attend the knpu coming. when a close friend probes for a reason, she quips: “always did like being a bully.”
though she’d tormented her classmates in high school, she straightens her act out in university. where she’d once conserved energy in the classroom, she exerts herself in the field tenfold.
hyeryun graduates with her cap, frills, and a special gig waiting for her at the smpa.
following a short but intense training period, she secures her place as the youngest enforcer of unit k9.
she treats me to dinner. we’d gotten along pretty well the night before. i find out over a glass of rosé that she’s a consultant, studied abroad somewhere and got her masters degree two years ago, and earns triple my yearly takeaway. and even though the wine’s too sweet for my liking, her boobs are charming tear-droppingly lopsided and her voice is raspy and low just the way i like so i happily oblige when she asks if i have time tomorrow to grab dinner.
which brings us to dinner at a restaurant whose name i wouldn’t bother saying out loud were it not for the hangeul conveniently printed beneath the french, so i murmur it without realizing and get a snort out of her. and while i may not taste love in the langoustine tartare or the quickly melting cranberry-clementine sorbet i get a hint of something from the pulsating warm hand on top of my significantly clammier one.
unexplainably, my urge to pull away is strong. it’s got nothing to do with her, i think, because i find her very sexy. but the feeling still twists ugly enough in my chest that the light starts painting her face a sickly blue even though i know full well the restaurant’s painted in nothing but deep oranges and maple stains so what could possibly be the issue here. i look to her chest, then to her manicured hand. i wanna hold both.
usually i go for a kiss at the curbside. but for whatever reason i stop halfway and settle for a peck on the corner of her mouth before she steps into the cab. she looks a little crestfallen but i promise we’ll be in touch.
the jeebies and my hesitation weigh heavily on my mind until the next morning when true to my word i send her a text saying that it was a good meal. and it was, but that’s still not gonna stop me from fasting today.
a few hours later and my stomach is rumbling and i’m still annoyed at myself. so i facetime my brother. he’s a good kid. future doctor. we start with the usual: death and dying. what it’s like living the urban early-to-mid-twenties yuppy dream (at which point he bark-laughs because my living situation is far from the dream but i remind him i like the setup, thanks). how to stave off loneliness in a number of ways, all equally unfulfilling: online dating, blind dating, dating-dating, and sleeping. zooming through your own highly individualized orbits breaking course and coming into someone else’s periphery. wondering if it’s ever worth the trouble. then settling back into your secret lane. you know, pithy observations.
bro bark-laughs again (and i tell him to quit it yuck you indecent pig) and says everything will be okay when we’re married but i remind him that’s not a thing for me yet. he gives me the most insincere apology while shrugging his backpack on. then he finally asks me if something is up and why i brought this all up in the first place. took him long enough. but i don’t want to keep him from missing class and having to wait on his older sister who is ostensibly invincible but actually can’t ever seem to get her shit straight.
