She wasn’t usually this scattered. It was more her mother’s forte to be so forgetful. But Somin had a lot on her mind. Not only was she worried about Jihoon—and Junu, to a lesser degree (or so she told herself)—but there was also something that had been eating away at her already raw nerves.
When Junu had accused her of sacrificing her own comfort for Jihoon’s, he hadn’t been completely wrong (which she hated). Somin had spent most of the day trying to convince herself he’d been full of it, but the damned dokkaebi was right.
She hated to think of that time when both she and Jihoon had lost their fathers. One might have thought the shared trauma was what made them so close. But it was actually the only thing they could never connect on. Through an act of fate or perhaps on a tragic whim of the gods, the day of her father’s memorial was the same day Jihoon’s father was arrested. So when she’d needed her best friend most, he wasn’t there for her.
They both no longer had a father, but through such different paths. Even though Somin had been young, she’d known Jihoon’s parents were cruel. And though Jihoon never said it out loud, she knew he’d lived a horrible childhood under his father’s roof. Living with his halmeoni was the first time Jihoon had felt genuine love. Somin had never wondered if she was loved. And because of that, she felt a need to protect Jihoon.
Later, Jihoon always said he barely remembered his father. And Somin said the same thing, but it was a lie. A lie started when she was too young to understand the consequences. She thought that if she talked about how much she missed her father, how much she loved him, then it would make Jihoon sad. It was the first time she’d laid aside her own pain for Jihoon. And she’d never stopped since.
So she mourned her father in private, remembered him in private. Her father had been kind and loving and good. He was taken by cancer. It had been quick, at least according to her mother. Somin wondered if her mother thought that was a comfort. To know he died so fast. For Somin, it felt like an injustice that he was taken from her so quickly.
The last thing he ever said to Somin was a promise. He said he’d take her to Lotte World when he got out of the hospital. Now Somin knew he was far too weak to ever leave the hospital. She wondered if he knew. She wondered whether he was lying to her or to himself. He’d died the next day.
Somin closed the fridge again, not finding anything that caught her attention inside. She turned and almost let out a scream. In the doorway to the kitchen stood a dark figure, tall and thin with gray hair and pale skin.
“Appa?” she whispered before she remembered Junu’s warning. That her father was a ghost and it wouldn’t be smart to interact with him. It was too late now. “Why are you here? Are you trying to warn me about something?”
“Somin?”
She whipped around to see Miyoung standing behind her. “I thought you were going to take a nap.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Miyoung said, rubbing at her eyes like a fussy child. “Who were you talking to?”
Somin looked back toward the hallway. It was empty. “I was just talking to myself.”
“Well, you sounded mad at yourself,” Miyoung said, taking out a cup.
Somin considered telling Miyoung about her father and thought better of it. She had enough to worry about right now. “I guess I’m wondering if you were right. If I could have done more to persuade Jihoon to stay.”
“I’m sorry I said that to you,” Miyoung said. “I was lashing out at you because I felt guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“Yeah, Jihoon was right. Junu shouldn’t have to go alone. But I should have been the one to go with him.”
“You couldn’t have,” Somin said as she busied herself making boricha. A comforting and familiar drink. Turning to the sink, she filled the electric kettle. “You already look exhausted and you’ve barely even done anything today. That’s why they’re going to that mountain. To help you get better.”
“And shouldn’t I be the one searching for an answer?” Miyoung asked, her voice rising in agitation. “The last time I sat on my butt and let someone else try to save me, she died.”