I push him one last time and walk towards the wall. My hand approaches the biggest poster of his and I pull it from one of the corners. Without looking back, I pull another poster and it tears apart amidst the pulling, dividing his face into two parts.
I didn't care and kept on doing it. One by one, I pull his posters and pictures from the wall, tearing half of them. He doesn't say a word or even stop me from doing it, but stands silently. When I pulled half of the things and my arms ached, I turned back to him. I can see a tear dropping down from his eyes. I hate it.
"You are not anywhere, now," I say, looking into his eyes. He sobs, but doesn't say anything for long. We stand silent with so much distance between us, not of our bodies, but our minds and thoughts. Finally, he cleans his face from his wrist and walks toward me. I open my mouth to stop him, but surprisingly, he walks past me and then, to the wall. He raises his hand that almost reaches the top-most poster on the wall and pulls it off. He keeps on doing it and takes all the pictures off the wall, even the ones in which we are together. After a minute, the wall stands blank and all of the pictures are on the ground, at our feet. He turns his face towards me.
"I don't deserve to stay here either, in your room." He moves the torn posters with his feet and tosses them around. "I don't complain, because this is what I deserve. I can never pay for your loss..." He rolls his tongue on his lips and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Thank you for bearing me up till now."
I am nibbling on my inner cheek and trying to hold my tears back. He silently walks towards the door and walks past me and his shoulder hits mine, with his fingers lightly brushing mine. His body was solid, the sensations of his skin against mine and his scent were intoxicating. I stand still for a second and turn towards the door, he has gone.
I gulped down and when I was about to break into an ugly cry, he appeared again holding my oxygen cylinder and the cannula in his hands. He stands close and places the cylinder on the ground.
"If you'll go away," he places the cannula in my nose and I hold it, our hands briefly holding each other. "I'll forget to live." He placed the tubes behind my ears and made sure the cannula was perfectly fit. He presses his hands on my shoulders and I sit on the bed beside him. "And if it's because of me," he shifts the cylinder to my side table and lies me down on the bed. "I swear I'll die."
Instead of leaving right away, he stares at me for a moment, standing on my head, and then makes his way towards the door.
He turns for one last time, before closing the door
"Forget about me. Forget I even exist."
And then, he closes the door after him.
***************
"How was your dinner, dad?" I asked him while beating the egg in the bowl. My body feels so much better now, although my mind is storage of rummaging thoughts.
"Hmm, it was good." He says across the lounge while reading the newspaper. "Though, everybody has changed quite a bit now. Distance makes everything awkward."
Yes, it does.
I pour the egg onto the heated pan and it sizzles almost immediately. My appetite has died, but dad won't let me live until I eat. I put the scrambled egg on the plate and picked up the glass of orange juice, sitting on the counter that dad made me. I walk and sit on the couch, right in front of him. His newspaper lies on the table and is replaced by one of his books.
I blindly scroll down my Twitter, not even considering a word, and eating my egg side by side.
"Hana?"
"Hm?" I mumble with the egg in my mouth.
"Dong Woo told me you need a good, fresh supply of oxygen around you." I lock my phone and keep it aside. "Why don't you go somewhere? Like..." He looks at the ceiling.
"Dad, I am fine."
"Hana, my child," he closes the book and places it on his side table. "you need to do that. I bet you have lost quite a lot of pounds in the past few days. Also, look at your face."
I understand his concern, and blindly trace my face with my fingers. "What's wrong?"
"Everything is wrong. You had no dark circles, no wrinkles, and no eye bags and now look."
I realize, but don't believe him. It has been days since I have seen myself in a mirror.
"Does that...make me ugly?" I ask him, knowing the answer.
"No. It doesn't make you ugly." He leans forward. "You look vulnerable. As if your inner self is coming out."
I knew it would happen. There are always two sides; good and bad.
"This is what I know only, Hana. This is what you always showed me." The egg in my mouth is difficult to chew now. "And I don't want the world to see you like this, because I know how strong you are, but people won't understand."
I nod slightly, as I absorb his words. It's true. You would think I am bragging, but I want to say that I am strong. I only knew it now. It's an unconscious thought that is always there deep down in your mind, but you are too shy to accept it until you have to take it out. I did and I am proud of myself.
"Where have you booked for me?" I put the plate on the table and looked up at him. He's smiling wide, of course.
"Jeju Island. Your favorite resort." He opens his book again and takes out a slip of paper, what looks like a ticket.
"Oh my god!" His sudden expressions make me jump. "What?"
He looks at me with his open mouth and looks back at the slip of paper. Is it really a ticket?
"Hana, you...have a...," he is barely speaking.
"What?" I walk to him to snatch the slip from his hand, but he leans against the couch now.
"a flight tomorrow." He offers to hand me the ticket, with a wide smile on his face.
"Thank you, dad." I took the ticket. "But the drama was unnecessary. You get no points."
I hug him and walk back to the kitchen.
"Should we dine out, today?" he asks, skimming through his book again.
"No, dad. We can't."
"Why not?" he turns his face back to see me.
"I have to go somewhere."
He nods, trying to guess.
"Alright, then." He turns his head towards the book.
"Should I help you with your packing?"
"I'll do it, dad."
I dump the plate into the sink and wear my gloves. Let's get this done.
[Next Morning]
I walk by the many dead people lying in the cemetery, thinking about how short life is and how it has to come to an end, inevitably. The yard is emptier than usual when I visit, with only a couple of people standing over the graveyards of their loved ones. My eyes look up at an old man, while I walk past the graves to reach moms. He's sad- strangely standing and staring at the grave.
Maybe a husband? A father? A son? A brother?
I don't know, but I can bet it's his blood. Close.
I ignore the man that is making me even sadder, and finally, take the last step to stand right over mom's grave; silence and peace. I sit down and rub my hand against her engraved name. It feels good, every time. But this time, it's different. It's painful, it's heart-wrenching. From nowhere, tears started falling down my face. My emotions are building up, encapsulating my mind in that bubble. Her face is everywhere.
"I am sorry, mom." My hands are trembling. "I love you, mom."
The urge to hear her reply back was killing me from inside. I know she is watching me, she is looking up to me, but it's not enough. I want her at my side, in my arms, and my life. I hate this mind that is making me forget every little memory I made with her.
"I hope you're at peace, mom. But, I am not. My life is not at peace anymore, and I fear it will never be."
I look up at the sky and take in my tears back. A sarcastic laugh follows.
"Isn't this stupid mom? How did I fall for someone I wasn't supposed to? What thing should I blame as wrong? Time? Person? Feelings? Everything should be better."
I look back down.
"Mom, dad never told me that you were in so much pain, or else my whole life would have been like that. You guys spoiled me so much...it's difficult to come out of that possessive shield."
After staring at it for quite a long, I stand up on my feet and turn back to leave, with a red, sobbing face. The thought made me even hurt that I was always meeting two bodies here, my mom and my sibling. The realization hit me, crushing my whole body under its weight.