Fix Me (K-drama)

Chapter 7

Now that I've made my plan, I should feel better and able to sleep. Instead I only want to cry some more. My heart constricts and it hurts so much. These last few days I've felt part of a family, part of a life. I've done so many new things and I won't ever be able to use them again, because nothing in my old life is real. Not the food, not the emotions, the sky, the air. Nothing will ever feel real again after this wonderful, little, forbidden adventure.

I break into a million pieces and I'll never be whole again because every moment here I loose another part.

My head turns in the direction of the door. It's closed, but a full moon peeks through the cracks in the wood. I know he's there, asleep in his own little place. After I'm gone, everybody can reclaim their own bedrooms. I can hear him breathing, steady, even. Will he be happy I've gone? Happy I'll no longer complicate his life? A teeny tiny voice inside my head wonders if he'll miss me.

I will miss him, I know that for a fact. His eyes when he looks at me and squints a little; his walk, firm, but stealthy. I will miss his voice, warm, and soothing and most of all I will miss ...

I suck in by breath when the memory hits me of him holding me, carrying me, protecting me. It's hard to breath when I can almost touch the sensation of his arms around me. It chokes me and I ball my fists against my chest. I sit up straight and push the blanket away from me because it's suddenly very hard to breath.

His whisper shocks me. "Ji-Eun-ah, are you alright?"

He still addresses me casually. I wonder is it's because he thinks of me as family. There's a sharp sting in my chest, I don't want to be like a sister to him.

"Y-yes, bad dream. Sorry I woke you."

I force myself to lay down again and shut my eyes. It doesn't help, but I do it for him, so he can fall asleep. Softly, with the blanket pulled over my mouth, I form the words with my lips: Gi-Kyong.

Tomorrow I will say goodbye.

---

He takes me to the field again the next day, which tells me they expect more visitors. I feel guilty for uprooting their lives so much; the lies they have to tell.

I don't say much today, my mind is miles away and sometimes he has to ask his question twice before I hear it. It's obvious he's worried, so I try to smile a little more and work hard.

We harvest a lot of vegetables this day and when we come home, I could seriously use a shower. The bowl of water and fresh towels will have to do. If I had more time, I would have gone swimming.

Because I need my privacy, I ask if I can use the back room. Mrs. Ho doesn't think anything of it and gives permission. When the curtain is closed behind me, I quickly grab my suit from the basket. I hold it in my hands and think, now what should I do with? Tie it around my waste? No, that will get in the way and no matter how wide the large skirt is, someone will notice. I could wear it.

My eyes widen and I breath in. Yes, I should wear it, underneath the chima and jeogori and perhaps also the undergarment. It can still be cold at night, I will need the layer.

The suit isn't as clean as I hoped it would be. When I've washed myself, and put it on, I soon feel sweaty again. I cover every spot of black until I'm looking fully Korean again. Except for the hair of course and the eyes. I check my feet and roll up the pants up to my knees. The socks I borrow from Mrs. Ho are dirty, so I wash them together with the scarf and take them with me outside.

Mrs. Ho is cooking dinner and Mr. Ho is checking inventory, he squints a little when he sees me without my hair covering, but still doesn't talk to me. I smile, I'm used to it, I know now it's simply his way. He probably wouldn't have said much even if my hair was black.

Barefoot I leave the house, where I falter. Gi-Kyong is chopping wood, in nothing more than his pants. I see his his blouse, dripping wet, hanging on the line that's strung between two poles. My socks and scarf should be added, yet I can't move.

His muscles tense as he lifts the ax high above his head and when he swings it down, the log slits in halve as if it was mere butter. He bends down to pick up the two halves and puts them on a neat pile, before he grabs another. Again he lifts the ax, but right before the swing, he sees me. I hold my breath. He is gorgeous.

Slowly the arms that hold the ax lower and I feel my cheeks burn when his eyes travel up and linger on my hair. The curls stick to my forehead, because of the water I used to wash my face. I need to wash my hair as well, but I need clean water for that. Water that comes from the stream behind the house.

Extremely self aware I bend my head and walk over to the washing line. With trembling fingers I attach the socks with the clothes pins and hang the scarf next to it. Even though it's getting dark and colder, I know they will be dry in the morning. There won't be any rain tonight.

After that I grab the bucket that's next to the barrel with water that's used for cooking and walk to the gate. My heart has a steady rhythm of a thunderous train and as soon as I'm through the gate and out of sight, I heave a very deep sigh.

My fingers slide along the stone wall as I walk around it towards the stream. When I've reached it, I kneel down and lower the bucket in the water. I pull it back up and set it down beside me. There's really no need for me to take the water all the way back inside. I can wash my hair right here.

With both hands I scoop some water from the bucket, lean my head to one side and wet my hair. When it's soaking and all the dust is gone, I squeeze the water out and shake my head so droplets fly around. Short hair can be handy.

Behind me, something snaps and in a flash I turn around. It's Gi-Kyong. He's standing a few feet behind me, a sleeveless jeonbok hangs loose over his shoulders. On his cheeks red spots appear and I realize he was watching me. My heart, that had calmed down, starts hammering in my chest again. I can feel it beating in my throat and have difficulty swallowing when he takes a few steps to cross the distance between us.

He kneels down, bows his head and says: "I ask forgiveness for cutting your hair."

With wide eyes I stare at him. He's asking forgiveness? From me? The swallowing becomes even harder and I barely manage to choke: "That's alright."

He lifts his head and the air around us simmers with tension. Why isn't he getting up? Why is he staring at me like this? His hand rises, reaches forward and touches my hair. When he holds his hand in front of me, I see a small leave and my lips part. That must have been in the water.

I look back at him, he's very close and so beautiful it hurts. I don't want to feel this way, I don't want to go back missing him the rest of my life. My heart is tearing apart.

There is sadness in his eyes, as if he feels what I feel. This is it, this is goodbye. He bends over and I close my eyes. The moment his lips touch mine, my heart shatters.