Page 118 of A World Apart
“You guys did a great job. I’m just sorry I had to watch it on a TV screen and not in real life.” I could see Becka through my open door, miming, ‘ask him,’ with big, expansive hand gestures. I kicked the door shut and flopped back down on the bed.
Jihoon chuckled, “Next year we tour North America, you’ll see us then.”
We’d spoken about this just after he was back in Seoul after Chuseok; the group was going on a world tour next year, kicking off in April in Korea and then othercountries in Asia, before heading to Europe, South and Central America and lastly, North America. There were currently 67 dates booked over nine months.
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next year. My contract with Pisces was up in April. I’d either have to fly home to the UK, or try to find a job in LA and get a work permit. I already knew Pisces wasn’t going to renew my contract.
While there was a lot of online speculation about GVibes going on tour, they weren’t going to officially announce it until November, after they released the next single off the new album; a collaboration they were going to be doing with American singer, Kylie Morrison.
“I hope I get to see you before then,” I said quietly.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Just then, I heard someone in the background calling his name, and the person sounded impatient.
Jihoon sighed, “I’m sorry Ky, but I have to go. Speak to you later?”
“Sure.”
“Okay,” he hesitated. “Jagiya?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called. Bye.” As the line went dead, I had to decide if I wanted to think about these mixed emotions, or put them back in the box I’d created for them, and kick the can down the road.
I chose the can.
Chapter 37
Time seemed to be flashing past now, a blur of days and weeks made relevant by whatever event it was that GVibes was doing at that time. I’d started to feel like a ghost, drifting through my own life, holding on to some unfinished business just out of reach, promising some kind of fulfilment.
Becka had banned me from spending any time in the fan groups online. She said it was bad for my mental health and honestly, I couldn’t argue that point. It was like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole, every other post was some kind of perceived drama. I never commented on a single one, but for every post I read, I couldn’t help but construct a reply in my head. It sometimes got to be like a constant mental narrative, an argument with imagined opponents. Honestly, I was exhausted.
“Enough!” Becka cried one Saturday morning in early October as we were sat in the kitchenette. My spoon clanged against my bowl of Wheebles as I looked up at her in surprise.
“The eff is your problem?” I mumbled through a mouthful of artificial sweeteners masquerading as a nutritious breakfast cereal.
“I asked you three times if you wanted to come with me to the exhibition, and it’s like you’re not even here. You’ve not been here for weeks, Kaiya.”
I looked at her, shocked to see the way her chin trembled, her eyes that shade of red just before tears spilled out.
“Becka, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you,” I stammered, “we can go, if you want.”
“It’s not about the fucking exhibition!” She pushed away from the counter and dumped her bowl into the sink so roughly I wouldn’t have been surprised if the ceramic was cracked.
“It’s about you.” She spun on her heel and pointed at me. “It’s about who you are these days. Do you even know?”
“What are you talking about?” I dropped my spoon into the bowl, appetite gone.
“I mean,” she began, and I could see she was working with a whole head of steam; I braced myself. “When was the last time your entire day was just about you?”
“Eh?” I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.
“When was the last time you went through a whole day doing what you wanted, when and why you wanted?”
“Literally every day.” It felt like my whole face had scrunched in confusion. “I go to work because I choose to, in clothes I like, I eat what I want, I watch what I want, I listen to what I want, I talk to who I want.”
“But you don’t!” Becka is really impassioned now, her arms flung out wide, as if to bring the whole world into our conversation.
“You wake up and speak to Jihoon, you go to work, but do you even want to anymore? I sure as shit can’t remember the last time you actually enjoyed it−”
