reminisce | e'dawn. [🗸]

[chapter two]

Wooseok;

When I woke up the following morning, my head was spinning. I dreamed something, but I couldn't remember what it was. There was a cramp in my right hand. My skin was damp from sweat, but it was very cold in my room.

I hauled myself out of bed, shuddering at the dimness of the room despite the sun blinding me. My teeth felt dirty, and I wanted to shower. So I walked back into the main room, the one with comfortably white walls and the dining table and living room. There was a man there, making coffee. His back was facing me.

"Excuse me," I said. It definitely wasn't Mr. Jung, for this man was shorter and fitter. He whirled around with a start, mug in hand, and then exhaled with relief at the sight of me.

"Good morning, Hyojong," he said.

"Are you Mr. Kim?" I asked, narrowly recalling yesterday's events. Where was the cat?

The man nodded with a smile, then gestured to the table. I didn't move, but instead I asked him, "Can you show me how to use the shower?"

"Oh, of course. Come this way."

Ninety minutes later, I was sopping and clean, but I couldn't figure out how much shampoo and conditioner to use, so I didn't use any--my hair was smooth enough without it. I left the bathroom a steamy environment, and the crisp air in the hallway made my forehead perspire immediately. That wasn't what I wanted.

Mom was sitting with Mr. Kim when I returned to the large room. They were both sitting at the table, sipping coffee, and chatting happily. Mom hadn't been that happy when she was with Dr. Kim, Mr. Jung, or me. Maybe Mr. Kim was really cool.

"Dawn, come sit," Mom called, and Mr. Kim made a face at the nickname. I did, too, but probably not for the same reason. I sat beside her, my back straight and my legs forward lest she reprimand me again. "How did you sleep?"

"It wasn't good," I summed, though I couldn't state why if she were to ask. Mom and Mr. Kim frowned. "But my bed is nice. Thank you for it."

"Of course," Mom sighed. "Did you get along with Jinho yesterday?"

"Yes," I nodded. "He's really happy."

"Happy?" Mr. Kim asked, surprised. "That's so good to hear. How are his parents?"

"Very kind," I informed them. "I drank Mrs. Jo's tea."

"You like tea?" Mom asked. I just nodded, remembering it had tasted and smelled really nice.

Mom and Mr. Kim exchanged some blank looks, or at least ones I couldn't interpret, so I tapped my fingers out of boredom. "What are you guys up to?"

"We don't have work, so we'll be home today," Mr. Kim explained. "Maybe we can show you around the neighborhood. There are some things we'd like to do."

"That'd be nice," I nodded. It occurred to me that I was only wearing a towel, so I stood up quickly. "May I get dressed?"

"Please."

Rummaging through my drawers, I found a lot of very similar clothes. I didn't have many options, so I put on a white T-shirt, grey sweatpants that were cuffed at my ankles, and the dark blue hoodie with my pills in the pocket. Altogether, it was very comfortable.

Over the next few minutes, I found myself sinking into the couch, staring at the TV. The channel was number six, and a show from the 1990s was on. Mr. Kim came to stand in the living room and observed, a dumb smile on his face. He seemed more personable than Mom, at least when she was with me.

"This is the pilot," Mr. Kim told me, chuckling as a woman in a flowing white gown came onto the screen. Her hair was wet.

"What's a pilot?"

"The first episode."

I turned the volume up and folded my legs beneath me, struggling to find a comfortable position. The six characters on the screen carried out their conversation. They were also on a couch, sipping from enormous mugs, and making sympathetic comments about the tall man's failed marriage. That was what I extracted from it, anyway.

"What is this?" I asked Mr. Kim, sitting forward with interest. My pointy elbows burrowed into my knees. I turned the volume up more so I could catch more dialogue, and Mr. Kim grinned.

"Friends. You're going to love this show if you keep watching."

I decided then that I would keep watching.

- 천천히 -

At noon, there was a pounding on the door. I jumped off the couch as I heard it and paused the TV; I was halfway through another episode of Friends. Mom scurried out of her room, where she had been folding laundry, and held her hand up at me to calm me. I let my tense shoulders droop, and she opened the door to a huge man with youth in his smile.

"Wooseok," she softened, craning her neck to see him. Her grin was so bright, brighter than it had been with Mr. Kim this morning. That was pretty. "Please, come in! Dawn, it's your--" She paused.

"Hmm?"

"Neighbor," Wooseok finished for her, walking inside. He must have been seven feet tall. "I'm Jung Wooseok. Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you," I reciprocated. We did a handshake, and in the middle, he pulled me up to his chest and patted me on the back. It seemed normal to both him and Mom, but I didn't know how to react. Whatever. "I'm Hyojong."

"I know," Wooseok told me. "I'm a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Kim. My dad is, too."

"Your dad?" I asked. "Is your dad Mr. Jung?"

I realized it was an awkward question, and Wooseok laughed at me. "Yes, he's a specialized nurse at the City Hospital. So you might see a lot of us."

I just nodded my head, patted my thighs anxiously. There's nothing to do.

"Wanna watch Friends?" I asked him, not knowing what else to say. Yesterday, Jinho initiated all the talking. Wooseok beamed at me and nodded eagerly, so we bent onto the couch and I clicked some buttons on the remote until the show started playing again. Mom disappeared.

"I love this episode!" Wooseok exclaimed within the minute. I looked at him with wide eyes. "I used to watch this show every night after school with my friends. Still do from time to time, with most of them."

"Who are your friends?" I wondered.

"They're from school. In fact, if you go to school, you can meet them! We're about the same age, I bet," Wooseok estimated, eyeing me up and down. "They all live really close by. I can show you to their houses someday."

I scratched my chin. "Is one of them Jo Jinho?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Mom sent me to his house yesterday when I got home," I explained. "She said I'd get along with him, and he knew I'd be there. It all just worked out, I guess."

"I guess it did," Wooseok said softly. His eyes were back on the TV now, but I couldn't focus. For one thing, I was amazed at how small the world was, seeing as Mom knew Mr. and Mrs. Jo, Jinho, and Mr. Jung, and Wooseok was Mr. Jung's son, and Mr. Jung probably also knew the Jos because Wooseok and Jinho watched Friends after school together most evenings.

What a funny picture, I thought; Wooseok and Jinho standing next to each other would be quite a sight.