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In the grey summer garden I shall find you
With daybreak and the morning hills behind you.
There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;
And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.
-Lines of poem from Idyll by Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)-
One summer when he turned 29, Jang Uk finally figures out one of life’s greatest mysteries—that when a heart breaks, it makes no sound.
There is the awkward clutter of clay mugs meeting wooden coasters, the constant clackclackclack of a keyboard in the distance as someone chases after a ghostly deadline, ice cubes hitting a tall glass as iced americano keeps melting like an iceberg in a lava ocean, the soft whirr of the coffee maker as it releases hot steam, the gentle hum of a frothing machine as fresh milk whirs around and around, like cotton candy gaining substance at a long-forgotten funfair of his childhood dream. A microwave oven dings, room temperature pastries reheated within seconds, fork and spoon clash in metal language, scraping against the bottom of a plate. Scrape scrape scrape; like skeleton fingers raking against a glass window, begging for entry, begging for air, begging for life. Begging for mercy. For time to unwind and rewind itself. Begging for a love letter to be unwritten, for a broken heart to become whole again.
He could hear all those sounds and more. He could feel every movement, no matter how miniscule, no matter how faint. But his heart, well, it seems to die slowly without a sound.
“Yul did what?” He asks Cho Yeong, eyes never leaving her face. Maybe if he doesn’t blink, all this will turn out to be nothing but a nightmare. A long nightmare he wishes to wake up from. Now.
“Yul proposed! I didn’t think he was ever going to, but he did!” She repeats, delight flooding her face. A half-moon smile quickly forms, her cheekbones rising along with it.
She looks beautiful. But then again, she is always beautiful to him. Doesn’t matter if some days her lips grow pale, her vigour kissed away by Yul’s lack of patience and fake apologies. Doesn’t matter if her face is flushed pink, traces of mascara running down her cheeks like squid ink slowly spreading on a kitchen towel. Doesn’t matter if the shoulder of his jacket grows damp from the perpetual raindrops falling from the corner of her eyes. Doesn’t matter that it pains him greatly as his heart keeps expanding against his ribcage, trying to offer her all the comfort he could find, his lips mumbling and searching for gentle words to chase her sadness away.
So he schools his expression, tries his best to lift the corners of his lips, for her sake. For his sake.
“I see..” He mutters, eyes downcast. The surface of the table has scrapes; deep lines embedded in the wood, disagreement recorded in time.
He was going to confess today. When she called him and asked to meet, he convinced himself that she and Yul are over. He figured he wouldn’t have to play the bad guy after all—the one who ends up stealing his best friend’s girl.
She raises a hand to call for the bill and that is when he figures he could play the role of the villain after all. She is slipping away into a dark sea full of Yul’s tricks and rancor; a dark sea which he has come to realise has no space for her light to slip through the long existing cracks.
“Cho Yeong-ah..” Her name dances on his lips, as he quickly covers her hand with his.
“Uk, what are you—” She stares at their interlaced fingers, his knuckles turning bone white, like fine china about to break.
“Look at me.” He whispers, a plea too much for her to refuse.
“Are you okay?” She asks, her brows knitting together in confusion.
“Look at me.” He repeats, his hazel eyes staring deep into hers.
“Uk, I have to go and meet Yul at the—”
“Look. At me.” Please.
She complies, meeting his hungry gaze with her own. And she finds herself stopping mid-sentence, the words she wanted to say disappearing like a shadow eaten up by the night.
“He will never change, I know him. I knew him since we were kids. Guys like him don’t change overnight, Yeong-ah.”
But he said..
“He will say whatever he thinks is right for you to hear.”
He said he will never cheat on me again.
“He said that too the last time you found out.”
He swore it will never happen again.
“He swore the same every time it happened, didn’t he?”
But I love him, Uk.
“And I love you,Yeong-ah.”
I’ve loved him for a long, long time.
“I’ve loved you longer than that. You just never knew.”
I don’t know if I can stop loving him.
“And I don’t know if I can ever stop caring for you. Worrying about you.”
He said he needs me. He promised to be there for me.
“I am here. I have always been here for you.”
This should not be happening. This—this is wrong.
“Is it so wrong for me to like you?”
You’re his best friend.
“Am I not your best friend too?”
Are you…Uk, are you reading my mind right now?
“I’m not going to hide it any longer, Yeong-ah. Neither my ability nor my feelings for you.”
Uk—what…what do you mean?
Time freezes and winter arrives, frigid air spinning around and snow sweeps into the café, landing at her feet. She shivers as the temperature continues to fall and fall and fall. He reaches over, fingers clasping her nape, tugging her face upwards, his forehead meeting hers. Their jaws graze against each other, his mouth seeking hers. Cold winter wind stings her cheeks but inside her, summer blossoms rapidly, like a sunflower seeking the warmth of the sun. He kisses her in desperate measures and gingerly, she kisses him back.
One summer when he turned 29, Jang Uk learns that like the silent snowdrops falling on the roof throughout a long winter night, sometimes love requires no sound at all.