where the water meets the mountain ( a solo )
she waits for midnight to strike the way she always does, sitting on the sand and watching the w a v e s .
it had become tradition, really, ever since jihyo learnt how to drive. back in san jose the beaches had been a few minutes away, and if ( and when ) she drove quick enough jihyo could get there with enough time to spare a dance or two on her own. in korea it took a little more effort, a little bit longer a drive — but for the water, she maintained, it would always be worth it.
it’s a little past 11 when she gets to the beach, and by then most of the light has gone home, and the city lights in the other direction — only her, and the sound of waves along the shore, and the stars twinkling, bright and right above her. to people who might’ve seen her, they might’ve wondered if she were lost: in the attire she’s in, a black dress and heels, jihyo doesn’t look dressed for the water at all. but the girl isn’t lost, or intoxicated — she’s far, in fact, from being either of those things. no, jihyo thinks: in this moment, here is exactly where she belongs. having parked a walking distance away, she’s along the sand barefoot, heels now a safe distance away from her.
she stares at waters before doing a few dances, spinning around effortlessly and twirling like the ballerina she is, alone on the coastline. there is no music, no beat, but jihyo sways with the wind anyway, black dress flowing along with her as she jumps and pirouettes with no effort. she runs, graceful in her every step, arching her back and putting her arms up before she lifts one leg up straight, every move articulated and poised the only way she knows how to do.
really, she could stay like this forever.
she finishes her routine with her arms up, breathing heavily; and with pants punctuating her breathing jihyo picks up her heels again — now is the time to find the perfect spot.
when she finds it, jihyo wastes no time taking a seat, propping her shoes right up beside her and stretching her legs out; from where she is, the waves reach her feet when they crash against the shore, and she waits with anticipation each time they recede. jihyo takes a deep breath, taking in the silence; she’s never been one to prefer it ( and on more than one occasion she’s run away from it, too ). but this specific night, for the past five years, has been the exception. as if on cue, the blue beats back against the golden sands and her golden skin, and jihyo looks up at the plethora of stars that stretch across the universe. and she speaks.
“hi, mom.”
she hears nothing in response, of course; only the sound of silence and water coming together. jihyo is used to being greeted by this — almost as if she’s come to know, now, that her mother can only be found here, by the sea and under these stars. almost as if she knows: this is sacred ground.
her fingers fiddle with the sand now, grabbing them by the handful and letting sift through their fingers; another reminder of how fleeting the world is, of how fleeting they all are in the grand scheme of things. “things are good, you know.” she continues, words carried about by the wind to the waves. “i’ve got a job at the milk tea store, still, and my follower count on the dance instagram thing’s been real good ... been mixing a lot of ballet and contemp, too, i— i think you’d like it.”
“friends are good, too; a lot of them are in the mgas, now; sana and doyeonnie and yongsun unnie, the rest ...” she smiles, reminiscing about all her talented friends, all the beautiful people she’s found herself surrounded by. “channie and i actually visited the beach a few days ago, too ! it was nice ... being surrounded by all this love and light is nice, you know ?”
jihyo pauses for a moment, breaking her gaze with the ocean and bringing it down to her lap. “i’m dating someone now.” she says aloud, not knowing where to go next with this, considering her last date night with the other didn’t go all that great. “her name’s yuqi ... she’s a dancer, too. friends with sana. we do collabs, sometimes, too .. it’s nice. we’ve been together— dating— it’s been a thing three months.” despite herself, there’s a sheepish, genuine smile that forms, and jihyo has the courage to look up once more. “she’s got the world in her smile; you know how dad used to say that about you ? she’s got it. it. i don’t know what it is but ... she is what she is.” teeth pull on her bottom lip, and silence ensues; jihyo had never been able to come out to her mother as she had with the rest of her family. “we’re ... not good, right now. but we will be. i guess. i don’t know.” a sigh, sad in nature, leaves her parted lips. “don’t really want to go to dad for advice when it comes to this, though. feel like you’d be better to talk to, but ...”
the sentence is punctuated there, and jihyo says nothing else on the topic; her mind, for a moment, is preoccupied by the thought of the younger girl, whom she’s sure her mother would have liked, too ( at least, she likes to think ). “dad’s good, too.” she says finally, “yoona and iseul as well; yoona’s mostly cooped up in her room these days, bored by the world — i guess it’s a teenager thing ? and iseul’s a big nerd, as always.” there’s an eyeroll in nothing but fondness, warmness occupying her mind at the thought of her family. “they think about you a lot, dad especially; i know he doesn’t say it often, but you can tell — he misses you, really does.”
“i miss you, too.” the sentence is added, a little quieter, a little more melancholic than the rest of her life update. for a moment, jihyo breathes in the ocean air and the sand between her toes once again before speaking. “there’s a lot going on in my life right now; then again, there always is, isn’t there ?” she chuckles wryly, looking up at the beaming sky. “i just hope you’re liking everything from that view up there; after all, you can see everything, so those sure as hell aren’t the cheap seats.” her fingers thrum against her lap now, and involuntarily she shivers at how surprisingly cold the water is, this turn around.
“i just wanted to let you know ... same way i always do — i’m okay.” jihyo nods, vigorous; the smile on her face grows a bit brighter. “i always know you’re looking out for me, anyway; i miss you, a lot, but ...” jihyo says everything meaningfully, saluting the stars with two fingers.
“i’m okay, mom. and i love you. always.”
the alarm on her watch beeps 00:00 in large numbers, and jihyo smiles to herself, bright and ready to face the new day, the new year.
twenty one. she’s hoping it’s as lucky as everyone claims it to be.