June 9, 2024 (Part 2)
Paris
"I hate tunnels."
Ji-pyeong grumbled it under his breath as his chin sank into his hand.
On the other side of the window was unrelenting gray. Mile after mile of cement cloaked in darkness was his sole companion on this final leg of a travel odyssey.
Ji-pyeong had been staring into a void for almost two hours suspended in a state of fevered anticipation. His hands were stiff from clenching and unclenching in his lap. His jaw was sore from grinding his teeth.
I can't fucking believe this.
It was at least the twentieth time he had thought that on this ninth of June.
Ji-pyeong could barely remember what he had said on stage at the Bio-Europe conference earlier today. As the audience's applause reverberated in the cavernous hall, all he could think about was seeing Mi-rae again. After three weeks. The day after sending her his letter. On their one year anniversary. In Paris. He stalked off the stage with his heart in his throat and raced to the airport.
But instead of a long awaited reunion, their anniversary turned into a logistical nightmare. Delays. And cancellations. And then more delays. Ji-pyeong groaned as he passed his hand over his face in frustration. Then he picked up his phone and stared at the screen. It still had not conjured what he wanted to hear from his wife.
Why hasn't she said anything about Birdhouse?
He scrolled anxiously through their flurry of travel updates to the first message that greeted him this morning.
"My love, thank you for your letter. It was so beautiful that it made me cry happy tears. I have a letter for you too just like we promised. We have so much to talk about. I cannot put into words how excited I am to see you."
His eyes focused on those vague seven words that had tortured him all day.
We have so much to talk about.
Ji-pyeong rubbed at his lip anxiously.
What does that mean?
The tone of her message was so heartfelt. Yet it pointedly skirted around what he had finally worked up the nerve to tell her.
Does she think I am crazy?
Ji-pyeong tilted his head as he read it over again.
But she sounds so happy. Is it because I want to leave? But then why won't she just say so?
He fell back against the stiff upholstered chair and sighed loudly.
By the time he woke up today, Mi-rae was in the air on her way to Paris. When she landed, Ji-pyeong was already speaking on stage. And then the cursed travel complications unfolded. They were so excruciatingly close. Yet they seemed doomed by the mercurial travel gods to miss their anniversary entirely.
It's just like the weekend upstate. I keep fucking missing everything.
Ji-pyeong did not like to admit that he believed in signs. His penchant for data and logic eschewed it. But life had a sly way of challenging that philosophy. It was hard not to feel vindicated in wanting to leave Birdhouse by the misery of this day. Ji-pyeong was tired of not having control over his life.
I am so done with this. I have to help her see that it will be okay even if she is scared.
Over the last three weeks, Ji-pyeong had spent every evening planning his exit. He had explored all of his options. He ran the numbers. He had a strategy. His meticulous focus was now trained on ensuring that the next year would be different from this one. And all of their years after.
