by C. S. Won
“Hello?” The voice was laced with sleep, weary and heavy.
“Any news?” Jae asked.
“. . . Mr. Yeon?” There were some rummaging noises and the sounds of blankets being moved and discarded. “What time . . . ?”
“It’s been seven months since we last spoke.”
A pause. “Seven months? Yes, but . . .”
“That’s why I’m calling, because you weren’t calling. Did you forget our arrangement?”
“I didn’t, Mr. Yeon. I’m still working on your case, believe me.”
“Then what have you found?”
A long silence lingered. The PI cleared his throat. “As I told you in our last call, if I find anything I will let you know.”
“What does that mean? Explain it to me like I’m stupid.”
“The trail has been cold for some time, but that’s—”
“You found nothing these past seven months?”
“Nothing substantial, Mr. Yeon, but—”
“How? I’ve given you so much time. What am I paying you for?”
“Your brother is a difficult person to track. He—”
“Isn’t that what you do, track people? You came with high recommendations, but so far it’s been nothing but disappointment with you. I’m paying good money for results, not empty promises.”
“I apologize, Mr. Yeon, but searching for missing persons can be a long and tedious process, especially in the case of your brother. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, he vanishes. Either he doesn’t want to be found or someone is doing the hiding for him.”
“The information I gave you, does that not help? He works for the government. I realize that doesn’t really narrow it down, but it has to help, right? Don’t you have contacts within the state that you can get in touch with?”
“That’s the only information you’ve given me, and that was over a year ago. I’ll need more if you want me to build a credible lead.”
“Then get more, damn it. You’re the PI, aren’t you? Don’t look to me to do your job for you.”
“I’m doing the best that I can, Mr. Yeon. And yes, I have made inquiries, several in fact, but so far they’ve all led to dead ends.” The PI cleared his throat. “If I may be candid for a moment; if it’s true that your brother works for the government, then this search may end up being futile. His superiors may not want him to be found and contacted. They’ve hid him so well that I can’t help but think that he’s not even real.”
“If that’s the case then I’m wasting my time and money on you. The only things you’ve given me in a year are broken trails and false hopes. I’m terminating our contract. It was good working with you, Mr. Grayson. Have a nice night.”
“Wait, Mr. Yeon, I still think—”
Jae hung up. The phone dropped on the table with a loud rattle. Jae’s temples ached with a heavy dullness, and he could feel his muscles tensing up. He took the card and tore it into small, indistinguishable bits. The pieces fell onto the table one by one.
He took out the photograph, unfolding it. In it, his mother was standing tall and proud in front of the backdrop of a lush green park. She beamed as she huddled around her two sons. The photo was aged and yellowed, the color and crispness showing signs of considerable wear and tear, but Jae’s mother still looked as beautiful as ever, with her warm smile and long, polished hair. Jae felt a lump jump in his throat.
Where are you Han? Where have you gone?
Chapter 3
Madeline curled a hand around Jae’s arm and gripped it tight. “Do we have to ride this?”
Jae arched his brow. “I thought you were looking forward to this.”
“I was.” She frowned. “But now that I look at it . . .”
Jae peered up at the rollercoaster looming before them. The Dare Devil Dive, it was named. Painted apple red and lemon yellow, curved into high-arching loops and twirling corkscrews, tracks bent and twisted like a tangled ball of yarn, it stretched wide and stood tall. An enormous steel camel-hump served as the dare devil’s infamous dive. The drop from that apex was a vertical plummet that was sure to peel the skin off of anyone courageous enough to take the plunge.
“It doesn’t look that bad. I’ve experienced worse,” Jae said.
“When?”
“When I was dropped on my head as a kid.”
Madeline smiled up at him. “That explains a lot.”
A train-car raced along the tracks, metal rumbling and screeching as the car zoomed by. Passengers screamed wordlessly against the wind, arms flailing over their heads like kites caught in a fierce gale. Up and down they went through the various loops and turns, bodies pulled this way and that way. Their faces contorted into strange, twisted expressions of numbness, excitement, and a little bit of fear.
“What do you want to do after this?” Madeline asked.
“Food? It’s been a while since we’ve eaten,” Jae said.
“Agreed, I’m starving.”
“We still have a ways to go, though. The line’s long and it’s moving at a snail’s pace.” Jae traced his thumb along the long procession of people coiled around them, curving around metal partition railings, its tail stretching deep into the park.
“How long have we’ve been waiting here?” Madeline asked.
Jae didn’t know. He had given up keeping track of time long ago, but the sun was high and hot when they first took their place in the line, scorching summer rays tanning their skin brown. Now, the sun was in the midst of its departure, descending beyond the horizon; although, it was still charitable in its abundance of heat. The colors of the night were starting to bleed into the sunset, with broad strokes of purple washing over the sky. The faint outline of the moon could be seen in the shadow of the sinking sun, not fully formed but plain to see.
“Too long,” he said, fanning himself with a crinkled pamphlet. “Way too long.”
“In that case, I’m going to take a nap on your big, beefy arms. Wake me when we’re up.” Madeline nestled her face against him.
“My arms are too hard to use as pillows. You on the other hand . . .” Jae plopped his head down between the cleft of Madeline’s breasts, cooing like a baby.
“Jae!” She leapt back in a fit of laughter and shoved his head away, covering her chest and giggling as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. A few people turned to see what was going on, but the couple’s antics were largely ignored by the teeming masses, indifferent faces gazing past with tired, blank eyes. Madeline slapped Jae’s shoulder and gave him a friendly scowl.
Jae stretched his arms with an airy yawn. Standing around had made him complacent and sleepy, and basking in the scalding afternoon heat wasn’t helping. He felt an urge to lie down and take a nap, or at the very least sit down and rest his legs. He yawned again and eased back into the railing, resting both hands against the warm, sunbeaten steel. Madeline snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
They stood conjoined in silence, time fading away. Jae noticed the back end of the line starting to thin out. It seemed the long wait was proving too much for latecomers to endure. Even the people ahead were beginning to jump ship, shaking their heads in resignation as they muttered that they’d try again next time. Jae contemplated leaving too, as a glance at his phone told him that the park was going to close soon. But he and Madeline had already waited for what seemed like hours, and departing now would be a waste.
He looked down at Madeline, who appeared to be sleeping in his arms. Her eyes were closed, lips parted slightly as her breathing came slow and steady. The sun had washed her whole face in a soft red glow. He brushed away a coil of hair pressed against her cheeks.
Madeline opened her eyes and stirred in his arms.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked.
“No, I was just resting my eyes,” she said.
“I’m not sure if we’re going to make it. The park is closing in about forty minutes, and there’s still too many people waiting ahead.”
/> She had a solemn look on her face.
“What’s the matter? We can come back and try again next week. Don’t worry.”
She pulled away from him, chuckling. “Do I look sad? Because I’m not.”
“Could have fooled me. You looked pretty depressed there.”
“I’m not depressed; I was just contemplating, mainly about the conversation we had last night about your brother.”
“Really? What about it?”
“It’s just something you said got me thinking. About his supposed abandonment. What if that’s not actually the case? What if he’s actually . . . ?” She trailed off, looking for the right word.
“. . . dead?” He finished for her. “No. I’m sure he’s fine. If he was dead, then someone would have told me by now. He’s out there, somewhere, doing God knows what.”
“No, I didn’t mean to say that I thought he was dead or anything, just . . . that I hope he’s not in any sort of trouble, you know?”
“I don’t think he is. I hope not.”
“Where do you think he could be right now?”
“I have no idea. I actually hired a private investigator for that very purpose, but he couldn’t find Han either.”
Madeline arched her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you hired a PI.”
“Yeah, about a year ago.”
“Who was he?”
“The PI? Some guy Gabe knew.”
“And he found nothing on Han, even after a year?”
“Nope, and I ended up terminating our contract because of it. I wasn’t getting my money’s worth.”
“That’s too bad.” A pause mingled with unspoken and unanswerable questions in the gradually dimming evening. “Remember when he used to call me ‘tomato face’ back when I was a kid?” Madeline asked.
Jae chuckled. “I remember. A fitting name, I might add. Your face was so big and round back then, and you were always blushing.”
She punched him in the arm. “And despite that you still couldn’t resist me, could you?”
“What can I say? The tomato ripened.” He checked the time on his phone again. “We’re definitely not going to make it. We’ve hardly moved, and the line is still too long. We’ll have to come back some other time.”
She didn’t appear disappointed by the news, smiling up at him. “Let’s get some food then. I’m starving.”
“What are you hungry for?”
She placed a finger on her chin, thinking it over. “Ice cream?”
“Ice cream it is.”
The day had nearly completed its shift into a full-moon night, the sky transmuting into a pool of star-kissed amethyst. A small gathering of storm clouds converged overhead. It was enough to throw a tint of grey across the horizon but not enough to blanket the entire sky. Pressure was mounting, however, and the grumbling of thunder far off in the distance hinted at the possibility of a coming storm.
But even with the threat of rain and the nearness of closing time, the park still swelled with people. Groups of adolescents ran past, some gripping colorful balloons of various shapes and sizes, while others clutched at snow cones and ice cream bars. Lascivious couples, perhaps thinking nightfall could hide their passion, tucked themselves away beneath thick groves of trees and shaded parasols, bodies and faces pressed against each other in a tangle of legs and groping hands. Tourists of all shapes, sizes and colors—hailing from a host of different cultures and backgrounds—strolled past with cameras dangling around their necks and arms full of merchandise.
Jae bought Madeline ice cream from a kiosk. Using the moon’s light to guide their path, they stalked off to a nearby bench nestled underneath the shadow of a towering rollercoaster. Sitting down with a sigh, Jae splayed his legs out before him, giving them the rest they so deserved. Madeline swung her legs over his and rested them on top of his lap. He looked at her, and she giggled in response. He placed his free hand on her thighs and massaged them, running his fingers over in slow, deliberate motions. Her legs were firm, smooth, and warm. As Jae worked, Madeline rested her head on the bench armrest, eyes closed and lips lulled into a smile, her ice cream tilting over to the side.
Jae pulled his head back and rested his eyes on the stars flickering above, scanning for constellations. Unfortunately, visibility had become poor. The dawdling, infantile storm clouds had grown more obese, more swollen, and more hungry since the last time he’d noticed them. Now a giant grey mist, the cloud cover swept in from the east to lay its claim. Thunder barked across the sky, growling and snarling with a ragged ferocity. The biggest stars could still be seen through the muted sky, but they were few and their light dull and weak. There would be no sightings of constellations tonight. The thought chafed at Jae.
“Looking for Orion?” Madeline asked.
Jae shifted his eyes toward her. “How’d you know?”
“Because I know you, stargazer.”
He smiled. She was right. He was fond of stargazing, had been for years. It was a habit he picked up from his father, who could always be found looking at the stars, especially after Jae’s mother had passed away. He remembered a childhood lying next to his father in their backyard, staring up at the night sky, and drawing out the constellations by tracing his finger from one star to the next. He would ask his father which constellation this or that one was, and what kind of story it told, and his father would always answer with great relish, regaling him with lengthy history and detailed lore. And yes, as it turned out, Orion was Jae’s favorite, and as he stared wide-eyed at the huntsman’s cosmic outline gleaming up in the sky, he had often wondered what it would take to have his own body forged among the stars.
Orion wasn’t the only hero he’d admired as a kid, though. Every day after school he would travel to the library to read heroic stories, filling his head with tales of brave men and women who ventured forth and overcame impossible odds, thriving on challenges and dispensing justice. It didn’t matter if the heroes he read about were real or fictitious; their will to act, to fight for the principles they believed in, and to show courage in the face of overwhelming adversity was an inspiration. It helped him cope, and he wanted to use the examples those heroes set as motivation to try and move forward himself, to become the man that he wanted to become—a man his mother would have been proud of.
But while the stories were inspirational, the heroes in them could never really compare to the one person that made a real impact on his life, a hero that he could actually forge a bond with—his father. Weeks after Jae’s mother passed and Han departed from their home, Jae’s father went back to work with a steely resolve, toiling day and night to provide food for the table, a roof over their head, and a school book in Jae’s lap. This real-life hero had sacrificed much and more, and whatever free time he had he spent with his son, teaching him, guiding him, and letting him know what it took to be a man in a world that may have seemed cruel and indifferent to his needs and wants. Jae’s father never complained or cried about his own pain and loss, opting to attack each day with his chin held high and eyes primed forward. He was a warrior because it was the only choice he had.
But Jae wished his father would open up about the pain he felt. It was a difficult subject to broach. Whenever Jae tried to bring it up his father always refused to indulge him, waving off his attempts with a big, calloused hand. Jae’s father was always a free and easy talker, but the mere mention of his wife’s passing or his eldest son vanishing caused him to hunker down. He would narrow his eyes and grit his teeth. But despite the hard exterior, Jae knew he was hurting. His father did his best to shroud the pain by toughening up his act, but the weariness in his eyes never lied. The tragedy that had befallen the only woman he’d loved ate away at him like a corrosive poison, dissolving him from the inside.
It was only after he fell ill that he finally opened up, pouring out the sadness, pain, and regrets he had bottled away for so many years. It was startling to see because Jae had gotten used to his father’s stoic demeanor. It almost frightened him
, in fact, to hear the crack in that gravelly voice and to see the tears welling up in those hard, brown eyes. Jae was used to behaving and acting a certain way around his father, but he was at a loss for words, his mind frozen in a state of uncertainty as his father lied dying with his face flushed with grief.
But in the end, things worked out. He had grown even closer with his father during those last moments, and he came to understand why his father tried to never show weakness all those years before. Jae’s only regret now was that his father wouldn’t be able to see him get married. He could only imagine how happy his father would have been to see laughing grandchildren. Dad would have liked that. Jae slipped a hand into his pocket and grasped the engagement box nestled inside, the velvet exterior brushing against his palm. I hope you’re watching, dad.
“You asleep?” Madeline asked. She sat up and used her wrist to wipe her half-open eyelids. She leaned over and placed a hand on the scruff of his neck, smoothing the back of his hair.
“No, I was just thinking,” Jae said.
“About what?”
“The future.”
“Oh? And what did you see in this future?”
A nearby lamp threw a thin bar of faded porcelain across her face, lighting up the freckles spattered on the bridge of her nose. A breeze tousled her hair with delinquent playfulness, pulling wispy strands of red silk across her face. Her lips were curled inquisitively, her head tilted at an angle, curious and wanting.
“I see us . . .” He began, moving her legs over and standing up. She shifted into a seated position on the bench as he reached out and held her hand. “. . . together.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket, close-fisted, concealing the boxed ring. “Madeline, I—”
Rain screamed down with the fury of a loosed bull, drowning out his words. Madeline jumped into Jae, shouting her surprise and horror. Red hair clung to her scalp in long, wet threaded filaments. Jae looked up at the sky, letting the torrent wash over his face. The rain came down as heavy as a mallet, wavy sheets pounding the earth one after the other. He smiled. You’re right, dad. An amusement park is a lousy place to propose.
