Work Text:
"Oh god, what kind of monstrous colour is this?!"
I whip my head to the side. Amongst the built bookshelves and the lamps with slightly chipped paint of the as-is section, Danny points at an orange two-place sofa. The cover colours seem to have faded from the original burnt orange to a carrot shade, but everything else is the same as I remember it.
"That's probably an old model," I reply, my eyes never leaving it.
Voices from earlier years, of a trip to IKEA in another country, ring in my head as clear and loud as if it happened yesterday.
Jinho, this one is perfect!
I slowly make my way towards it, as if in a trance. My hand brushes the fabric, in perfect condition, and comes across the price tag taped at the back of the seat.
Elizabeth, it's too expensive. Maybe we can get it after my interview with the school board.
I still remember my reaction when I first saw the 600€ price tag, back then. Now, in black marker, the original 800 000KRW has been crossed out and replaced by a hastily-written 550 000KRW.
It's too pretty, it'll be sold by then. I can pay it with my credit card, it'll be fine!
"I'm taking it," I decide out loud before taking out my measuring tape and my phone to type in the measurements.
Danny raises his eyebrows in my direction. Which, okay, fair, because had I had a normal three years in Germany, never in my life would I have made a decision like buying an orange couch on a whim.
"I thought you were here for a desk though?"
"I'll look somewhere else. Can you help me haul it?"
And so out we go, Danny in his car and I in a small loaned truck with the couch at the back.
God, I hope it fits at my apartment. Maybe it'll make it feel a little more like a home, and less some place where I just go in-between events and rehearsals.
⚡️
"Have a seat, Jinho-ssi."
"Thank you, doctor."
The therapist adjusts his spectacles on his nose and glances at his notes sitting in his lap, then back at me. "Is there something you want to talk about today?", he asks with his raspy voice.
My eyes fall on a white book spine on his bookshelf. His eyes, although dark, still pierce intensely through his glasses. It's like he's opening every door in my head, and this image only serves to send shivers down my spine.
Oh for the love of God, just get out of your head for a second!
I nod to myself. I need to get out of my own head, and do what I come here to do every week. "I bought a couch yesterday."
Although he doesn't show any sign of it, I briefly wonder if he's happy about me opening the conversation, for once.
"Fantastic."
I nod, my eyes still turned away. Silence hovers around us for a moment, until Elizabeth's voice comes back, softer than the first time. Get out of your head, honey.
When I lift my eyes up to face him, I notice his eyes are directed on something on my lap. I look back down, and become aware of the repeated circles I'm tracing over my right ring finger.
I put my hands away, embarrassed. You'd think that, after six years since her death and two months of weekly therapy, that would have gone away.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Jinho-ssi," my therapist calmly says. "Therapy is an accompaniment to your healing journey, not a magical fix to your problems. Have some patience with yourself."
"Well, if I could at least let go of that, it would be one thing I would have let go of her."
"Is that what you came here to do? You came here to let go of your fiancée?"
"Yes!" Unable to stay seated anymore, I get up and pace around. "I came here to, to move on, to get over her! And instead, I think about her more than ever before, she's on my mind day and night, and—" my voice chokes through, and instead of regaining it back only a whispered I miss her tumbles out on my last breath. "I don't know what to do anymore."
"Why don't you start by telling me what happened when she died, and we'll move from there?"
I snap my head up, my vision blurred and the customary I don't want to talk about it on the tip of my tongue.
"Jinho-ssi," the therapist starts. He puts his notepad down and holds my stare, serene. "Be honest with me. Have you ever told anyone what happened, that day?"
"No," I whisper, shame automatically creeping up my entire being. My shoulders hunch up after I sit back down. "If I had told anyone, they'd think it was my fault. Which, it was, but nobody wants to hear the story of a man killing his future wife."
"Did you kill her?"
"I just said I did."
"Did you kill her with your own hands? Because, forgive me if I'm wrong, I don't think we would be here right now if you really had killed her."
"It was still my fault! It was all my fault from the beginning. I acted like an awful person, and I've regretted it all since."
He leans his elbows on his knees and purses his lips for a moment before pursuing.
"Then tell me what was it that you did. It seems to me your guilt lies somewhere else than in her actual death. Am I wrong?"
"I...no, you're not wrong, but it's so much more than that. I was still involved in her death. Can't we talk about something else?"
"You blame yourself, and that and deniability will not get you anywhere. Many years may have passed, and you might have changed countries, but I believe that your heart is still stuck in Germany, Jinho-ssi."
I look away again.
"You've been coming here for two months to tell me what a great life you had in Germany." He stands up and, after a moment of stillness, he turns to face his bookshelf. "But if you don't want to talk about what has you stuck in place every time you think about your fiancée, I cannot help you more than a friend can. Except, I am an expensive friend, instead of a normal one."
I know this. I know all of this.
"Fine. Maybe...maybe you're right."
"Good. I want you to tell me everything, Jinho-ssi. Everything that led to this event, and what you saw. It's about time you talk about it with someone."
One deep breath.
Get out of your head, honey.
Two deep breaths.
ELIZABETH!
Three deep breaths.
"April 25th, 2016, at six o'clock in the evening. It started with a couch."
⚡️⚡️
"I don't understand what you don't like about the orange couch, it'll add some colour to the place. My parents won't mind if I ask them a little bit of money to help pay for it."
We had been—well, not quite fighting, but arguing back and forth for two days over two couches for our apartment. She wanted one that was too expensive, comfortable and admittedly, prettier, and I wanted the one that was comfortable and cheaper, but the cover pattern was ugly, and it was rather small.
"Betty, for the last time, it's too expensive. And I don't want to owe your parents money—they just started tolerating me, I don't want them to think I'll be a burden to you when we're married. Unless you can wait until after my interview and my final pay next week."
I finish tying my tie and grab the wine bottle bag from our narrow hallway, her still adjusting her braid in our bathroom.
We both earned decent money from working at the university by assisting our professors, from bursaries or small gigs we did weekly, but we also had to stay conscious of our spending. The landlord had alerted us of a rent increase if we were to renew our lease in June, and any other place in the area was out of our personal budget.
"Kitty, can you hurry a little bit?"
"We're late already, what's a minute or two gonna do?"
And why did she fight for that couch so badly?
She told me she didn't really feel like the apartment was ours even if we had been living there for almost a year; I understood, because our furniture was all from the previous owners or old things her parents had in their garage. But the couch was too big of a move, and it was too soon to spend that much money.
I glance at my watch, shake my wrist and take one last look at my tie knot to make sure it's secure. I chuckle sadly by myself, wondering if mom would comment on how I look like dad right now.
I miss them.
My dad had just died that day too, and I didn't tell Elizabeth because I didn't want her to worry about me. Our last month of school had strained both of us to exhaustion, and I had an important interview later that week that made both of us nervous. So I planned to tell her and go to South Korea after my interview.
"Coming!" After putting on her heels, she grabs the car keys that I forgot on the low table and grabs her coat. Her loyal white claw clip hangs to her purse's sling, even if her hair is already braided tightly on her head. "I can put my coat on in the car."
"Okay, let's go."
So, overall, many things were looming over your relationship and your emotional stability.
I guess you could put it like that, yes.
"Kitty, keys please?"
"Oh! Yeah, here."
I hand the bottle over in exchange for the keys and start the car.
I had rented a car for the evening. The restaurant was in Uffenheim, which was just too far by public transit, and everything went...mostly fine.
"Turn here, it'll be faster."
"I know where I'm going, thanks." In the corner of my eye, I see her retract in her seat and feel a pang of guilt over my snappy tone. At the red light, I extend my right hand in the center. "I'm sorry."
After a moment of consideration, once the light turns green, she takes it. Her thumb brushes over my ring in silent forgiveness. We both relax in our seats, and I put my eyes back on the road.
I was distracted. There were so many things spinning in my head, and once we got on a boulevard I was barely driving over 40, even if I knew exactly where I had to go. I only got out of my distraction once someone behind me honked and sped past us, maybe halfway to the restaurant.
"Honey, can you turn at the next light please?"
"That's not—"
"I know."
I turn in a narrow one-way residential street, where the single lane is squandered by a row of parked cars on each side, and spot a parking place on my left. I stop the car behind a sleek white motorcycle and turn to Elizabeth, confused about the reason she wanted me to stop. She places her hands on my cheeks, the cold of her ring waking me up a little bit.
"Jinho," she murmurs, her eyebrows tightening in concern, "get out of your head, honey. Why aren't you telling me what's wrong?"
I should've told her then, but all I could think was that I'd ruin the evening if I started crying. Because frankly, that was all I felt like doing that night.
"I'm sorry, Kitty."
And I meant it. But it wasn't enough.
But I can't tell her, or it'll put another worry on her shoulders and ruin the entire evening. "I can't tell you. I promise I'll tell you soon, but...not right now, okay?"
Her soft smile falls in deception. "It's about the couch again, is it?"
"It's about so much more than the couch, Kitty. But I can't tell you, not right now."
"Oh for the love of God, just get out of your head for a second!" She scoffs, hiding her face with her hands. "You're impossible! Jinho, you were barely aware that you were driving, and you don't even want to talk about it?! Are you even hearing yourself?"
"Betty, it's a really serious matter, and I promise I'm fine, but please, let me take my time. I promise I'll tell you another time, but let it go for tonight. We're going to have a nice dinner, and we're going to celebrate finishing our diplomas, and we'll talk another time."
She nods quickly and drops her hands on her lap. "You're right. You're right, we should drop it."
She makes a move to undo her seatbelt, and I stop it before it can zip up, confusion taking over me. I thought our argument stopped there?
"Where are you going?"
"I need some air, and I guess you want to be alone with your thoughts for a while, so I'm going to walk. The restaurant is like, two blocks away. I'll see you there."
"Kitty—"
"No, Jinho." Her eyes settle on me, suddenly cold. It's not as good of a sign as her cold ring before. "You were driving at fucking thirty-five in a fifty zone, and you're the one who complained about being late earlier. So let go of my seatbelt and let me go."
I work my jaw, a petty, childish anger like I've never known poisoning my tone and my next words:
"Fine. Fine, leave! You're right, I need to be alone anyway."
It's still the dumbest thing I ever said in my life. And the one time I let someone go so easily—
I let go of her seatbelt, my lips pursed. She takes the bottle bag and opens her door, steps outside—
I can still hear the sound of the other car's tires skidding on the concrete in my worst nightmares.
The door breaks off its hinges with a loud crack after the car rams into it. I run out of the car, panicked, and nearly scream when I find her laying still on the concrete amongst the shards of glass and broken parts of the door. The sound of the car driving away in a hurry becomes background noise until silences takes over the area.
"Elizabeth," I whisper when another second passes by without a sound. "Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth, no, please, no," I repeat as I kneel next to her. I try to move her as gently as possible, desperate to find any sign that she's still alive.
Her head sways on my lap, and her eyes are wide open, her face frozen in terror, and oh God, there's so much blood when I hold her head, please don't let her be dead— "Please, Betty, answer me, WAKE UP!"
A sob rips itself from my throat. "No, no, no," I whisper on repeat, even when I let my knees become drenched in the blood that's oozing from the wound on her head, even when I check for a pulse and lose my slivers of hope that she might be awake, even when her face loses all traces of colour before my eyes.
When I realized she wasn't going to wake up, I called the emergency services. They told me a car was already on the way, perhaps someone on the street who heard noise and called them a few minutes earlier. But it was too late. Elizabeth was already dead, and I had been the cause of it.
"Sir, an ambulance is on the way." I raise my head and nod in thanks to the old man standing on his porch, his phone in hand. "Is your car okay?"
Oh, and there was also the wrecked car and the damaged motorcycle. I had hoped to get my security deposit from the renter back, but both vehicles had to be towed, and in that moment I could see the bills piling up in my head. The towing, the cleaning, the paint job, the insurance, the funeral, and I knew I didn't have enough money for all of it. So I...
"I'll be alright, thank you."
The man nods and goes back in his house.
What did you do?
With trembling hands and a blurred view in the fading sunlight, I slowly take the ring off her finger and tuck it in a small pocket of my vest. "Forgive me for this, Kitty. I promise I'll make it up to you and buy you the nicest flowers."
I took back her engagement ring.
⚡️⚡️
"I managed to scrap a hundred and fifty euros from the ring, so about fifty less than what I had paid. The rest of the week was a mess of calls, visits to the bank and packing. I left the keys of our apartment to her parents, split the rest of my money between the car and a contribution to the funeral, and came back here exactly a week after the accident."
The therapist nods in understanding.
"Let's go back to the first topic, though. Why do you believe her death was your fault?"
I shake my head.
"I should have told her what happened," I murmur. "If only I had told her, she wouldn't have gotten out of the car, she wouldn't have asked me to stop in that street, and—"
"But was she hit with your car?"
"That doesn't matter, because I still killed her."
"Why shouldn't that matter? Her blood is not on your hands, Jinho-ssi. It was the other driver's responsibility to not hit her."
"Well he got lucky," I say with a bitter chuckle. "I never managed to see nor remember his license plate. Therefore, no arrest, no one responsible except for me."
"And what did you do when you came back here?"
I think about the letters to her family and to our friends sitting in my drawer, unsent. I think about all the anger, all the grief that I poured in the words explaining why I left so quickly.
I know my therapist is not judging me. I know his job is to help me face the things I've kept to myself for so long, not to punish me, and I know I can't move on from my past if I keep dwelling over it.
But I've said so many things today, and my shoulders feel so heavy with the weight of the memories resurfaced, that I don't know if I can handle opening another door.
"Can I tell you next time?"
The doctor nods slowly. I'm about to stand up and walk out of the office when he says one last thing: "You believe you haven't made any progress, Jinho-ssi, but this is the most you've talked since the beginning. I'm proud of you."
Tears rapidly rise in my eyes. Unable to say another word, completely choked up, I turn to bow low in his direction. It's only after rearing in tears for the half hour commute and crossing the threshold of my apartment that I finally break down in tears.
⚡️
I sit down and lean against my door, legs spread out and completely empty of energy, and watch the sun start to set behind my windows. If I try hard enough, I can even hear the murmur of an acoustic guitar playing in the neighbouring apartment. I close my eyes for a moment and pretend like I'm coming home from a long day and she's playing that guitar, rehearsing for an upcoming recording, perhaps for her first or second album.
A soft padding of paws distracts me from my contemplation through stinging eyes, and my hand reaches up on automatic when Betty snuggles next to me. I open my eyes slowly and am greeted by white fur already sticking to my black sweater. "Are you hungry, kitty?"
She doesn't answer and simply jumps up on my lap to rub her head under my chin.
"Alright, five minutes. Let me call the pizza place first."
I end up spending half an hour petting Betty in the entrance hall before the delivery man shows up at my door. I eat and drink a tea after the sun has set, and when I fall asleep I only see an empty candlelit garden in my dreams.