Sung-Woo Ham
What to do with the kids: It's the endless, sometimes unanswerable question I face on weekends, and as usual, I have absolutely no idea.
It's mid-December, and with the storm in full fury and showing no signs of letting up, doing anything outside is out of the question. I can take them to a movie, but there's nothing playing that they would be interested in.
Jae has made it clear--The Do Not Disturb sign tacked dutifully on his door--that he'll be sleeping away most of his Saturday, married to his bed, intent to only get up for food and relief. My lovely wife, Ah-Young, is still at her sister's house, probably sipping tea and watching soap operas.
As for Gem, Cody, and Bianca, I suppose I can let them entertain themselves for a while; Reading a book, watching cat or dog videos, debating what they want for lunch even though we just ate breakfast five minutes ago.
In the middle of answering a crossword puzzle in the living room, I find my thoughts drifting to my nocturnal grandson. Three years ago, when Kai died, he was a complete wreck.
Unlike most people suffering over the loss of a loved one, he didn't drink, he didn't smoke, he didn't pick fights in random bars.
No, he slowly killed himself in silence, losing sleep, losing weight, losing a will to live. If it wasn't for his siblings--not even his parents could convince him to get a grip--he would have joined Kai. For a long time, all Jae could think about was the crime. Every single night, he did nothing but dwell on what happened, most likely replaying every second of the incident in his scarred mind, blaming himself for his twin's tragic death, the emotional trauma too severe to heal from.
His parents working in Europe worried about him. We all did, and still do. But in the past few months, he seems to recover gradually, not entirely, but enough for his once-solemn face to break into a faint smile, followed by the occasional chuckles, and before we know it, he's more like himself again.
And though nobody ever mentions it, I've surmised the main reason for my grandson's resurrected happiness.
Sage Heart.
While she's obviously doing her best to maintain a low, self-effacing profile, she knows it's almost impossible, even in an expansive town like this one.
She's too noticeable to blend in; try as she might to stay in the background, she's one of those natural beauties--sans makeup-- a face that just stands out, with her brown eyes, full lips on her heart-shaped face, teamed with her Asian-American features and vibrant aura, I have no doubt people will have difficulty ignoring someone like her.
And my grandson is certainly not immune to the charms of the elusive Sage Heart.
She's entitled to the kind of life she'd come here to find. A normal life. A life of simple pleasures, the kind that most people take for granted; the ability to go where she wants when she wants and live in a home where she feels safe and secure.
I had seen the way she reacted when I first told her I used to be a police officer. She had shown me a bland smile, as if she was unfazed by my admission, but in her brown eyes, I saw the same dimness that filled the eyes of my previous arrests when they know jail is the only option for them: I saw fear.
Jae Ham
Christmas break. It lasts from mid-December to early January. One whole month of freedom. There are so many things I can be doing right now, on this chilly Tuesday morning.
I can be in my bed, sleeping.
I can be in the living room, napping on the sofa.
I can be under a tree at the park, getting some shuteye.
