April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions (50 page)

Misun reached out to cup my chin in her hand. Studying my face, Misun said softly, “We look so much alike. With this face, we’re always going to be reminded of each other.”

“Let me go.” I pushed Misun’s hand away roughly.

Misun stumbled. “May, you are–”

“Get out! Get out!” I screamed.

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Get out!”

“Fine! Don’t ever expect me to come back here to visit you! I’ll make sure you stay in here, you little brat!”

“I just hope you die! Get the hell out of my life! Go!”

After she left the room, I could hear Misun telling daddy that she tried to patch things up but I refused. I fell back into bed, crying all over again, falling apart.

Little did I know that the cosmic universe listened to my words, even though I didn’t mean it in the literal sense.

Misun did die.

For the next three months, no one came to visit me. It was like I didn’t have any family at all. Misun was a monster and I was glad my parents spared me the agony. But when the days went by without a word, I started to worry.

“I am so sorry for your lost.”

“We know . . . Thank you. It’s why we haven’t been able to visit May sooner. Is she sleeping?”

“Yes. May I ask, when is Misun’s funeral?”

“T-tomorrow. The end of this month. “

“How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking. “

“A drunk driver hit the car she was in. Apparently she snuck out of the house while we were sleeping to go see her boyfriend.” Eunhye’s voice was tense. “She was running away with him.”

I gripped the bed sheets as I listened to my father, Eunhye, and the nurse outside of my room talking. The impact of the news hit my chest like a ton of bricks. I only started breathing normally when it hurt.

Misun died at eighteen-years-old, just a couple months after her birthday.

For the longest time, I refused to believe it. She was still alive. Misun would be waiting for me to get out of the hospital so she could plan to ruin my life. But
Misun died. I confirmed it myself. My father took me out of the center to attend Misun’s funeral at the end of the month. Only when I saw her lying in the casket did I really believe it. But I never learned to accept it. I refused to believe that Misun was gone. Just like that, she was gone. After all the pain and misery Misun brought me, she left without warning. Everything felt like it was all in vain. Even though her death came abruptly and in such a disturbing way, I never cried once.

_________________________

“S
O YOU COULD SAY I
blamed myself for her death. I stayed in the institution for six months. That’s why I’ve never known much of anything. The psychologist on my case labeled me as socially inept and emotionally deficient. My obscure and traumatic childhood became repressed memories.”

Choi Sangwoo’s head remains lowered, listening to the sound of my voice. The gang leader seems drained after hearing my confession. His silence parades the steps of the musical theatre
that we are standing on.

I look at Sangwoo with an internal battle brewing inside of me. With great deliberation, I wipe away the last traces of my tears. “I guess you could say I knew you before I even met you. I forgot that her first boyfriend, the only boy she’s ever loved, goes by the name Choi Sangwoo.”

Again, Sangwoo keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.

“That’s why we can only be friends. That’s why I’m freaking out because the end of the month is coming. The anniversary of Misun’s death. Every year, my parents and I visit her grave. In the past few weeks that I’ve known you, I was always careful about never letting myself like you because I know you see her in me. No matter how nice you are, I didn’t let it go any further,” I continue with the full-blown confession. “I realized something. You two are the same type of people. Misun was a violent, vicious, and scheming person who was out for herself. She liked to play with people, pushing them to their limits without a care for the consequences. Misun loved to twist things. She was a bully. And you’re just the same . . . . When you told me your brother was shot to death, I kissed you out of pity and sympathy. But I knew all along you’re a liar. It was the other way around, wasn’t it? You shot Yoon Jaewon’s brother didn’t?”

Sangwoo finally looks at me. The color is gone from his face. The brown eyes that once mesmerized me is now dark and pained. When he doesn’t answer me, I go on.

“Why did you lie to me?” I press on; completely shaken from my confession, I tell myself to hold on a little longer. “What else are you lying about?”

He doesn’t answer for the longest time. When Choi Sangwoo finally does, chills come over me. “When I saw you for the first time at The Trax, I couldn’t believe it. I almost grabbed you. I stared at you for the longest time, wondering how you could look so much like her. You are more like her than you can ever imagine May. I see a piece of her in you.”

“But I’m not her.” I step away from him slowly. It feels liberating to have Sangwoo finally confirm and confess. After all this time, Choi Sangwoo is still stuck on the sister who put a black hole in my childhood. “I’ll never understand
your twisted mind. You had me fooled. I thought you really . . . just liked
me
.”
Don’t make it easier on him. You know your feelings weren’t genuine either,
my intuition rationalizes.

Without another word, I walk away from Sangwoo, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes again. I can feel Sangwoo watching my retreating back. I can almost hear him telling me not to go. Why am I becoming a crybaby all of a sudden? Why did I let the memory of Misun make me cry once again?
No, you’re crying because you reached an epiphany.
It is my conscience’s turn to speak up. She’s been awfully quiet, battling right and wrong.

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. The memories I have tried to lock in the back of my mind have unraveled. I am losing my senses fast. I should go home, sleep through this, and tell Eunhye what has happened to me . . . . I want to clear the air with my stepmother too. If I can be honest with Sangwoo, then I can be honest with Eunhye.

Without warning, Sangwoo grabs me into an embrace. He’s chased after me. “May. Please. I want to talk.” Sangwoo’s grip on my wrist tightens.

“Sangwoo, please.” It is my turn to plead with him. I attempt to pry his hands off me.

“I was wrong. I was wrong to see you as Misun, but I couldn’t help it. You are your own person, I understand. My feelings for you are genuine.” Sangwoo encloses his body around me.

I don’t want to hear it. I refuse to answer him.

“I like you,” Sangwoo repeats.

“Stop.” I plug my ears like a child.

“I like you!” he shouts.

“Stop, please!” I refuse to hear it.

“Maybelline Lee!” Sangwoo forces me to unplug my ears.

“You only like me because I look like her!” I cannot hold it anymore; my heart starts to beat so fast it hurts. I blink uncontrollably to stop myself from crying, although the tears are dying to come out. The sudden emotional impact is too much for me to handle. I am faint and nauseous.

“May, it’s not about Misun. Think about us,” Sangwoo encourages me. His brown eyes jump all over my facial features.

“Why are you doing this to me? Please don’t force it,” I implore him. Any minute now, I am going to double over and throw up.

“Don’t you like me?” Sangwoo’s demeanor and simple question stop me in my tracks. “Don’t you have any feelings for me?”

Before I can make another move, I feel Sangwoo’s strong arms slip around my waist and settle themselves across my stomach. The cartilage of his left ear slightly touches my forehead at an angle. My back nestles inside his warm chest.

I close my eyes and feel the salty tears spurt down my cheeks.

I love the way he holds me May. His hugs are always nice. He said he would never love another girl the way he loves me. No one can ever take my place.

How vividly I remember her exact words . . . .

“Even if you remind me of her, I have fallen for you May,” Sangwoo breathes. 

I don’t have time to let his words absorb before his lips settle on mine. Sangwoo holds me in his embrace for what feels like a lifetime. I feel my grip slipping as I settle on top of a cloud–a cloud of robust and rudimentary emotions. I push him away quickly, creating a stark distance between us.

Then, all the pressure inside my throat erupts.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M
emories of how I get home are scattered fragments. Hot flashes of Choi Sangwoo stumbling with me in his arms, cold chills of sweat, and a spinning sphere of dizziness tamper with my memory. Doors opening and closing, along with spontaneous commotion erupts in a pattern. Eunhye’s concerned facial expression transitions into my blurred vision. I am cold and aching, a melting pot of emotions and dilapidated control.

Eunhye’s voice hushes with traces of fear. She asks Sangwoo a slew of incoherent questions.

“Mrs. Lee, I’m sorry. May’s had a little too much to drink,” Sangwoo responds in his rebuffing style.

The bubbles of colors that are obstructing my vision finally fade to black. I am traveling down a spinning vortex. It is comforting to give in to the exhaustion and darkness.

W
HEN I WAKE UP THE
next morning, I am sick and pale over the toilet. Eunhye stands over me with a hot compress. She is beyond upset. “I don’t understand why you are on such a self-destructive path,” Eunhye rebukes me with motherly care. I don’t have the heart to confess to Eunhye that my self-destructive behavior has to do with Misun. How do I tell my stepmother that Choi Sangwoo, the man she met a couple of months earlier, is actually her dead daughter’s boyfriend? How do I explain Sangwoo was the one Misun was running away with the night that she died? Even more so, how do I tell Eunhye that Choi Sangwoo is pursuing me because of my resemblance to Misun? I realize the magnitude of this ridiculousness and resign to being sick.

I feel terrible for making Eunhye worry. I’m supposed to be an adult, one who can legally drink and hold her alcohol. Instead, I am causing Eunhye such worry and grief like an errant child.

By the time night falls, I am sick with fever and cold symptoms. It is near dinnertime when Lina and her parents visit. Aunt Yuna brings her special concoction of lime juice proven to chase away common cold symptoms. Uncle Dom offers some warm chicken soup. They discuss about me in hushed whispers; I catch minced words like drinking, depression, and therapy. Eunhye realizes I am conscious and listening, so she ushers them out of my bedroom within five minutes. Only Lina stays with a solemn expression.

“Do you know how worried I was when I realized you left the club?” My cousin’s tone hitches with anticipation. She sits to my right and runs her fingers through my hair. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” I whisper back. My world is dark and bleak. Memories of the painful confession swirl like poison. I don’t want to tell Lina that Choi Sangwoo confirmed Lee Misun is the reason why he pursued me. In fact, I don’t want to talk about him at all.

“Don’t lie to me May. I know something bad happened. You don’t ever drink like this and now you’re sick to your stomach. Tell me. I might be able to help you,” Lina pleas with me. She is probably wondering why I am pushing her away.

“It’s nothing Lina.”

“You are so stubborn.”

I roll over to face the wall so Lina cannot see the tears falling. I need time to be alone, to digest the situation. After two minutes of silence, Lina gives my shoulder a squeeze and she bids me good night.

I travel in and out of sleep, uncomfortable and shivering from an invisible cold. I am content with my gloomy world. I want to wallow in misery without company. I want to let the pain ride itself out until I am stripped down to the bare minimum. That is what they taught me in therapy. Only after am I raw will I be able to recover.

In the middle of the night, fervent voices wake me. I listen carefully and realize that Choi Sangwoo is outside of my bedroom.

Eunhye tells him I am sick and turns Sangwoo away. I hear them talking in hushed whispers outside of my bedroom. Sangwoo insists on seeing me, but Eunhye’s motherly instinct of protecting her young cub kicks in. I can hear Sangwoo’s persistence being drowned out by Eunhye’s hars
h tone. In the end, Eunhye wins; Sangwoo’s passionate voice fades into the darkness . . . .

_________________________

MY CELL PHONE WAKES ME
on the fourth morning of my purgatory. I have been in bed for two days, out for the count. All I do is eat, sleep, read, and repeat. By the end of the week, I am restless and my cold symptoms are almost gone. I am grateful to see that my phone is capable of receiving messages from someone other than Choi Sangwoo and Lina.

There is a short message from Naili that my severance check is available for pick-up at The Trax. If I am not there by two in the afternoon, Naili will mail it home in a week. I spend five minutes debating whether I should go out or not. Eunhye has given me strict orders to stay home until I fully recover. But I need to get out. I need to do something. My back aches from the sleeping position and I am anxious to get some fresh air. For the past couple of months, I occupied myself with endless hope and possibilities. Now that I have finally come to my senses that it was all illusions, I need a good dose of reality.

I shower, dress, and head outside for the first time in days. The cool summer air is refreshing. It is humid outside–an indication of summer rain. I take the bus to The Trax with great anticipation. I keep my thoughts occupied with plans for the remaining summer and school.

When I arrive at The Trax, a barrage of spontaneous noise and commotion greet me. There is construction of the main entrance; the incline leading down to the front doors is being elevated to street level. The entire brown and red building is now a bare gray color. More than a dozen construction workers parade the building; some are carrying ladders while others are attaching lengthy chutes against the side of the building. It is chaos and routine here. I am witnessing the power of money moving tangible objects.

“Hello, how can I help you?” A whimsical voice greets me near the side of the building. A newly installed door poses as a temporary entrance. A man in his early fifties, dressed in a black suit, is holding a brown clipboard by his side. He looks like a guard of some sort.

“I’m here to pick up a check.” I am careful with the curiosity brimming in my eyes.

He regards me
with a kind smile. “Yes, please come in.” Stepping aside, the guard points me to the entrance.

I thank him and step inside. The strong smell greets me first; fresh paint and wood pervade my senses. The entire interior is also bare; just a vast open space exists in a hollow shell. Even the signature bar of The Trax no longer exists. My eyes sweep the area with nostalgia. Although it is different here, I am not sure I am against it. The place feels renewed and refreshed. I am sure the new owner is on his way to creating his dream building.

“May.” Joolie is the first person I see. She is standing next to Tailor who flashes me an identical smile. There are a handful of ex-Trax employees around the open floor. We exchange smiles, but I gravitate towards Joolie and Tailor.

“Hi.” I magic a smile on my face. So far, it feels doable to put on a façade that everything is fine.

“You lost weight!” Wearing her long tresses in a ponytail, Joolie pulls me into a hug. A Cheshire grin spreads across her face. Before I can respond to Joolie’s comment, she launches into an inquisition. “What have you been doing? Have you found a job yet? The place I’m working at is actually looking for new people if you’re interested.”

My mouth goes dry at Joolie’s rapid-fire questions. “I’ve been busy with family stuff,” I answer vaguely.

Joolie’s lips form a perfect circle as though she understands. “So is Son. He’s opting to have his check mailed to Busan. Apparently he’s helping his family run business. That makes a lot of sense about his bossiness huh?”

A smile spreads across my lips at Joolie’s statement. Suddenly, a feeling of nostalgia comes across me. I miss working here. I miss The Trax distracting me from my mundane life. I don’t have to think about Choi Sangwoo and Misun when I am taking down orders and serving people. I miss the chaos of the restaurant and bar world. I took the distraction for granted. Seeing Tailor and Joolie reminds me that my worries, concerns, and memories can reduce with a busy work schedule.

“We should all make plans to hang out some time,” Tailor speaks up, pulling me out of my reverie. He places a gentle hand on Joolie’s shoulder. My eyes sweep over to Tailor who is dressed down in a gray sweatshirt and corduroy pants. It is clear something has developed between Tailor and Joolie. Joolie is especially attentive to Tailor; there is an undeniable spark in her eyes when she looks at him.

“Hi Tailor.”

“Hi May. How are you?”

“Doing well. You two?” I eye them warily, grateful for the fact that the conversation is shifting. I don’t want to ask bluntly if they are dating, but I do
want to know.

“We’re good.” The light flickers in Joolie’s eyes again. She wraps an arm around Tailor and leans into him. Joolie is answering my question with her body language.

“Congratulations,” I tell them. A surge of emotions comes over me. They are finally together after months of flirting. 

Tailor looks slyly at me. “Thank you. We’re trying it out. If it doesn’t work, I can always return her.”

“Hey!” Joolie punches Tailor’s arm in a playful manner. They are still in their honeymoon stage. Joolie seems like a different person now that they are official. I suppose a relationship has the power to morph you into a different person.

Tailor faces me with a goofy grin. “We’re waiting for Naili. She’s probably going to show up with the new owner.”

That sounds like Naili’s style. Turning my head, I survey the vast open space once more. The other ex-Trax employees are engaged in hushed conversations; some scan the room in the process while others glance anxiously at their cell phones. No one likes to play the waiting game.

“We definitely think it’s one of the best options out there, but we are still open to other possibilities.” Naili’s signature voice permeates the air as she enters the room. Her shockingly red heels click with every step that she takes. Signature red nails, paired with a black jumpsuit, mark Naili’s immaculate appearance. She is engaged in conversation with a man walking beside her. Naili’s black lacquered eyes sweep the entire area until they land squarely on me. 

Oh shit
, my conscience curses.
Yes!
My intuition fist pumps into the air. My eyes travel from Naili’s gaze to the man standing next to her.
Heart attack.
I find myself locked in the stare of the blindingly handsome, enigmatic, and mysterious gang lord–Mayhem. My breath snags in my throat. The revelation hits me out of left field. The new owner of this venue is Mayhem–Yoon Jaewon. All along I have been mentally accusing Choi Sangwoo, but in actuality it is none other than the other elusive and brazen gang lord.

A tint of a smile crosses Mayhem’s lips. Effortlessly, I lock in his dark, smoldering gaze. There are no traces of surprise on his model-like face. He is dressed in an all-black Executive suit today. The only thing that stands out about Mayhem is the expensive wristwatch on his arm. His black, tousled hair marks his tall, dark and handsome package.

“May I have your attention, please?” Naili clears her throat and calls for the chatter to lower. She really doesn’t have to. Everyone in the room is already quiet and stationary. Expressions of disbelief and apt attention travels from one face to the next. They focus on Mayhem, obviously surprised at his youthful and inexplicable appearance.

Joolie nudges me and murmurs, “He’s hot!”

Tailor flashes Joolie a disapproving look. I am too stunned to speak. Joolie and Tailor have no idea that the man standing in front of them is responsible for instilling fear and tyranny in people. Memories of my last meeting with Mayhem creep slowly into my mind.

Naili clasps her hands together and begins her short address. “Thank you for taking the time out to come today. As you all know, I am forevermore grateful for
your service at The Trax. We’ve had a number of great years. But like all good things, it must come to an end. I always prefer to walk away from something when it is at the height of its success rather than its low point.” Naili pauses momentarily to look at Mayhem.

It is clear from Naili’s passive facial expression that the brooding gang lord affects her. Mayhem, on the other hand, is closed from public discussion. How does he manage to appear so elusive in front of more than a dozen people?
They teach those skills in gang-lord-training-one-oh-one,
my intuitions teases me. 

Meanwhile, Naili takes a deep breath as she finishes her speech. “The new owner of this building was kind enough to write everyone a severance check as a parting gift.” She extends a dramatic hand to introduce Mayhem. The blush on Naili’s face says it all how she feels for him.

Without feeding into Naili’s fawning, Mayhem steps forward. His hands clasp together in a business-like manner. Those brooding eyes scan the room. When he speaks, Mayhem’s tone is clear and professional. “First off, I want to thank you for your superior service to The Trax. Naili and I both know the sacrifices and hard work you all have contributed to this venue. I know some of you are still looking for jobs and rearranging your situations, so hopefully these checks can support you in your endeavor.” Such an arrogant gang lord, isn’t it he? The pity smile Mayhem adorns us with accompanies the set of thin, white envelopes he has in his hands.