about that.”
“I guess I worried how you’d react if you knew I wanted to leave. You need me here.”
Her mother let out a heavy sigh. “Somin-ah, I think I’ve been a bad mother.”
“What?” Somin had never heard anything more ridiculous in her life. After seeing how her friends had suffered, Somin knew now more than ever how lucky she was to have a mother like hers. Not everyone grew up knowing they were loved like she did. She’d never had to doubt it.
“I should have had this talk with you a long time ago,” her mother said, folding Somin’s hand into hers. “You are the child in this relationship. Not the mother. And you need to stop trying to take care of me all the time.”
“What?” Somin frowned. Where was this coming from?
“It’s your senior year. I want you to start to think about what you want out of life.”
“I want to be able to take care of you. We’re a team, you and me.”
Her mother nodded. “Yes, we’re a team. But I think you need to realize that people on a team have different roles. My role is to be the mother. Your role is to be the child.”
Somin smiled, but she was confused. “We’re not a normal mother and daughter. We’re different. We’re special.”
Her mother winced. “That’s what I always told you when you were younger because I was so scared you’d see I had no idea what I was doing. And I’m sorry I leaned on you too much when you were younger. I didn’t have the ability to be a strong mother for you before. But I know how to be one now.”
“Don’t say that,” Somin said, tears filling her eyes. “You’re the perfect mother. You always have been.”
Her mother pushed Somin’s hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “I’m not perfect. But I am your mother. And you need to listen to me. You need to do what’s best for you. And I will be fine. A mother sacrifices for her child, not the other way around. Do you understand?”
Somin nodded, kissing her mother’s palm. “I love you, Eomma.”
“I love you, too, Daughter. That’s why I want you to think about what you want from now on. Okay?”
Somin nodded.
“Will you look at the pamphlets again? Think about if you want to apply to any of these places?”
Somin smiled. She’d been right about one thing: She did have the perfect mother. “Sure, Eomma. Why don’t we look at them together later?”
69
THE FOREST WAS quiet as they stood beside the maehwa tree.
Miyoung held a handful of lilies. She was unwilling, or maybe unable, to let go of them just yet.
“She saved my soul,” Junu said.
“She saved mine, too,” Miyoung whispered, tears thickening her voice.
“She was a good person.”
Miyoung swiped away her tears. “You don’t need to lie to me. I knew what my mother was. I don’t need you to pretend that she lived a virtuous life.”
She finally placed the lilies underneath the plaque that just had Yena’s name carved in hanja.
It had been the right thing, letting go of Yena. Not only for the world but for her heart. Still, it hurt. Like a dull knife being driven further and further into her chest. And the pain had existed for long enough that it was just a constant dull throb now.
“Listen,” Junu said quietly. “I’d known Yena a long time. Long enough to know dozens of names she had before she was called Yena. She was different before you were around.” That got Miyoung’s attention, and she finally looked up at him. His lips were pursed, his brow lowered in thought. “She was colder. There was something about her that was more frightening.”
“What?” Miyoung asked.
“She didn’t care. About anything,” Junu explained. “But then one day, she shows up at my door and she’s different. She says that she’s back in town and she needs a place that’s safe. Safer than anything I’d ever provided her with before.”
“Are you telling me you were my mother’s Realtor?” Miyoung asked.
“I find anything my clients require as long as I don’t need to maim or kill to get it.” Junu shrugged. “I was used to finding homes for your mother whenever she rolled back through Seoul. But this time was different. I’m really good at my job, but this time, nothing was good enough for her. And finally, I asked her why she was being so picky. I asked her if she didn’t trust me. And she looked at