Celestine

prologue

Jungkook

I don't hate this life, but the other one makes me much happier.

I'm twenty eight, and I've never gotten out of habit of living in my head. I don't like leaving the daydream playing out vividly in the safe space of my mind. I've done that since forever, always dreaming something up. But now the dream is vivid, real and better than the life I drop back into when 'adult responsibilities' call for me.

Balancing sixth dirty plate on top of the pile in the sink, I trap my phone between my ear and shoulder, thankful I've mastered the game of stacking rocks when I was seven. Three pumps of dish soap goes on the very top, and I let the warm water from the tap soak the seven-hour plates, bowls and forks of another Wednesday.

"How about you? Are you eating well?" I ask, brushing my hands into my black jeans before holding the phone.

My mom laughs on the other side of the line, and on the other side of the world. "Shouldn't a mother be asking her son this question?"

"You signed up for that bringing up a chef, mother," I say and close the tap. "I could be without a leg and in a collapsing building, and I would be eating well. Are you?"

"I'm trying my best," she says, and I hold back a sigh. I know she is, she promised me, even if her entire focus goes into taking care of Grandma.

"How's dad?" I ask, escaping the kitchen to let the dirty dishes take their time before I shove them into the dishwasher at midnight. "Struggling a lot?"

"He's... learning," she says, her smile growing into the last word.

My mom grew up in Korea. Moving there after three decades in America was less of a challenge than it was for my American dad, who never saw a piece of land outside of the United States. On top of a complete lifestyle and job change, he also has to learn an entire new language. I wished him 'good luck' ten times, and that's only on the day they were leaving.

"How's your new apartment?" Mom asks. "Have you adjusted?"

I turn on the tall lamp beside the TV, turn off the rest of the lights and my legs are jelly when I finally sit on the sofa. Wednesdays, besides being the most prosperous, are also the most draining. "Immediately," I say. "It's really calm here."

Calm and lonely, but I'm not sure how to make space in my life for someone new. Every area of my life nowadays seems to have an empty space I want to fill up, but don't really know how to, because I'm used to how things are.

"I'm happy, then," she says, smiling. "We're going to get some groceries. I'll get going now."

"Take care, mom. Of yourself especially, okay?"

"I will, I promised."

When they were here, it was easy to drop a few meals a week at their apartment. It was easy to make sure my mom wasn't putting everyone else above her needs and my dad wasn't asleep on his desk, imprinting a new building design onto his cheek.

As much as I wanted to keep an eye on them, I couldn't go with them. I couldn't close a restaurant I have spent half my life putting every drop of sweat and every ounce of effort into. My mom encouraged me not to do it when I offered to move with them, and I hoped she would do it. I didn't want to go, I just needed someone to validate it so that I wouldn't feel like a complete jerk for choosing my work over my family.

But my whole life is here, in Los Angeles. The real, touchable one, at least. The one in my head can go with me anywhere, but I'd much rather go to it myself.

I jump through the channels until I find a movie worth watching. As a stay-at-home fatigued single, I've seen most of what every channel is playing, but today I've reached peak exhaustion, every table full every minute of the day, dish after a dish after a dish, and the only way to wind down is TV, so I keep scrolling. Chanel 34 finally grants me a good movie. With Liddy Peters, Tina Cartier and Brody Knight, the cast can't get any better. It's been out for a year, and I seem to be watching it regularly every three months. A winner of the category 'my favorite film ever made'.

Oil Painting Is Fading tells a story of a female painter, Marceline, in love with her art, forced by her family to turn her passion into a career. As her career grows tremendously fast, her love for painting fades away. She loses her passion, her essence, feeling like her life is over. She reclaims her love and passion for painting after standing up against her family and ending her career, finding joy in painting for herself again, even if no one ever sees her work.

Tina Cartier is playing Marceline and she absolutely exceeded all of my expectations. When I was going to the cinema to see it for the first time, I thought I would walk out satisfied. I walked out in tears, rethinking my life and wondering if a fictional character is doing alright now. She's a marvelous and renowned actress, putting everything into her characters, until my empathy is off the charts and I want to flip the world for a fictional character. She turns the spectator into the main character. I've seen every piece she appeared in.

She's one of the names you just know, even if it doesn't sit on top of the Hollywood ladder. She's not a sensation, rather a wonder. Whether you're a movie fan or not, you know Tina Cartier embodies exceptional talent and takes on the roles in the best movies. She's rather an actress, not a star. There's more talk about her movies than about her personal life. Even though a hype around Tina Cartier cooled down around two years ago, I still follow every piece of content about her I can find. I like the way watching her makes me feel – fulfilled, which is what I am becoming starved of.

Last scene took the crown and made this movie my favorite. Gave me a mental breakdown worse than another burned batch of meringue I can't get right. Marceline organizes a painting meeting for her friends. They meet in her lush garden, the Sun dances around them, gentle wind whirls and flutters their long pastel dresses. Each one brings whatever they want – a canvas, a notebook, a piece of paper, paints, brushes, pencils, pens. They create together, they share their art if they want to, they talk, they laugh.

I've lived that scenario a thousand times in my head already, and to experience it in real life is a great part of my dream. Meet with my friends, create together, enjoy our time exactly like this. I ugly sobbed into my sleeve when I first saw this scene in the cinema, longing to be there. Now it brings me peace and I always end up lost in my day dream.

A daydream I've created and replayed in my head so many times I know every detail. Robins singing early morning melodies, daily espresso with pastries, blue flower pots on my kitchen counter, yellow tulips in the garden. My head's full of France. Southern France. Marseille, Nice, or Toulouse. With my lover, we live in a cottage with a huge garden I take care of. Besides meeting with my friends to create, I cook. I cook a lot. I already do but it's so much better up there. I cook for my significant other, for my friends, for my neighbors, for my clients who visit the restaurant. I am happy, the happiest with my cottage core fantasy. Life there is peaceful and dreamy. I smile when I dream, and I smile when I come back to life. Before the reality fully checks in.

If my head is the only place I can experience all of this, I'd rather daydream for the rest of my life.