Page 135 of A World Apart
“Right?” Becka grinned at me, and as a trio, we sat at the counter opening the boxes and helping ourselves, companionable chatter and laughter the soundtrack to the morning.
A car came for Jihoon at 1:00pm, after one of the best mornings I could remember.
The three of us had lain about talking about this and that, catching up on Married at First sight, and discussing Jihoon’s upcoming schedule, but with more casualness than I’d managed recently. It now seemed less fraught. The pressure to keep on top of it had eased. It felt so easy to just be Jihoon’s girlfriend once I’d put aside the need to follow every move the group made.
Becka and I had painted each other’s toenails, while Jihoon reclined on the sofa wearing one of Becka’s sheet masks. It had been… honestly, wonderful.
It was within that bubble of happiness that I’d been able to push aside all thoughts of Jihoon having to leave, but of course that time had crept up on us.
“I’ll call you when I land,” he promised, holding me tight.
I only nodded, not trusting myself to speak. We’d already agreed I wouldn’t go down to the street to see him off. He’d said I’d watched him drive away too many times already, which I couldn’t disagree with.
Becka had gone to her room to unpack, giving us a bit of privacy, and so it was without an audience, but also without a trace of awkwardness that I leaned my forehead against his chest and whispered, “I love you.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Saranghae, Kaiya.”
I smiled but kept the fact that I’d understood him to myself. I still hadn’t told him I’d been learning Korean, not wanting to disappoint him when I kept confusing words like ‘milk’ and ‘cucumber’. It felt important to at least get the basics down.
But ‘saranghae’… that I understood.
“You’d better go,” I said reluctantly. He sighed, but moved away from me to pick his bag up off the floor before heading to the door. He pulled on his hat and a pair of shades before opening it, turning to give me one last look.
“See you in a few weeks,” he smiled.
“A few weeks,” I echoed.
One lingering look later, and he’d turned away, the door closing behind him, leaving me in the hallway that still echoed from last night.
“You alright?” Becka leaned on the doorframe to her bedroom, a sympathetic look on her face.
I sighed again. “I’ll be fine, but let’s talk about it all later, okay? I need a shower.”
Becka walked towards me and gave me a brief, but firm hug.
“You’re paying for my therapy and my dry cleaning, by the way.”
“What dry cleaning,” I asked, puzzled, trying to discern any stains on her clothes, but finding none.
“I’ll be taking my eyeballs to get bleached.”
“Oh, shut up,” I bumped her with my hip, turning toward the bathroom. Her laughter followed me, even after I’d shut the door.
Chapter 43
The year was rolling to a close now; I felt it every time I stepped out the front door. Christmas decorations were everywhere, and festive shops had replaced the Halloween stores seemingly overnight. Witches had given way to wreaths, candy canes taking the place of candy apples.
It seemed to me that LA measured the passage of the seasons by the cyclical replication of seasonal stores.
November had passed by in a blur, but not for lack of activity. Pisces had taken on a large orchestral contract to re-record the soundtrack for an upcoming movie. They’d blocked out the entire building for nearly three weeks, the sound of ninety-some musicians flooded the whole ground floor for days as they’d practiced, then performed in the massive downstairs studio.
It had made my time in the storage cave a whole lot more civilised, but the addition of so many more instruments requiring stands, music sheets and every other musical paraphernalia known to mankind sure kept little ol’ me busy. The tech guys were the leads, but hell if they didn’t get their jollies off on bossing the intern around. I’d gone home every night for weeks so exhausted I couldbarely stand up.
The thought of them having to go back to doing their own grunt work once I was gone made me smile with a touch of malicious compliance.
I’d also begun to feel the hastening of time, now that I was settled on moving back to the UK.
Becka and I had sat down to really talk it through. We’d weighed all the different options, discussed ways I could extend my contract with Pisces. We’d talked about me getting work in other studios in the city, maybe even radio stations, but in the end even the tenacious Rebecca Hanson had to concede defeat. I just didn’t think this was the kind of work I wanted anymore. Not enough, anyway.
