Page 113 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
‘Well, if you ask me, I’d be inclined to believe so.’
‘Wow, Bujangnim. I hadn’t taken you for a romantic!’
‘I met my wife in college. We were married the day after we graduated. Twenty-five years since. Not a day goes by when that woman doesn’t get on my nerves. Not a day goes by when I don’t thank the universe for sending her to me. If this makes me a romantic then, yes, I suppose I am!’
‘Ah, Bujangnim! I had no idea. Good for you. I’m so happy for you. And slightly envious, if I may say so. You were free to live your life as you wished to! If only I were that lucky.’ Haneul sighs.
‘If anybody hears you say you are not lucky, they’ll think you’ve lost your mind. Few people in this country, heck, in this world, are as lucky as you are. But there’s only so much luck can do for you. Beyond a point, it’s you who has to do all the heavy lifting.’
‘What do you suggest I do?’
‘Choose. Choose what really matters to you.’
‘You know, Timira could’ve chosen to not take up our job offer. I have no idea what I would’ve done then. I did not even have a backup plan. Just prayed to the cosmos that she’ll come here, to me.’
Mr Choi smiles at Timira’s mention. He cannot help but observe how Haneul brings her name up in nearly every second sentence coming out of his mouth.He must really miss her! What a pitiful boy … an accident that robbed him of his passion, parents that don’t understand him and only want to use him … Ah, what can I do to make it a little easier on him? I really must come up with something!
‘Daepyonim, let me help you choose!’
Intrigued and amused, Haneul smiles.
‘How?’
‘Pick a hand.’
‘W … what? Are you serious? You think I’m going to choose the direction of my life by playing a game? No way!’
‘C’mon, Daepyonim. Time is precious. Ppalliyo. Choose!’
‘Aaah, what is this craziness … okay, FIIIIINE! Here goes nothing.’
Haneul lightly slaps Mr Choi’s left hand. Looking up, he stares into his eyes expectantly.
‘Well?’
‘Firstly, you must “Quit Playing Games” and man up!’ he exclaims excitedly, flicking his Carter bangs back and feeling proud of this meta reference. It’s one of three Backstreet Boys songs he has ever heard and is mighty chuffed at it, having served him well on this occasion.
Haneul can’t stop himself from chuckling. ‘And then?’
‘For starters, switch your phone on and call Timira-ssi. I’m sure she’s been trying to reach you, waiting for you to call her!’
‘Okay. Then what?’
‘Then you choose her every day! Because falling in love is not up to us, but staying in love is. It is a choice we must make every single day!’
* * *
Timira has tried reaching Haneul but all calls to his number have gone to voicemail for almost two days. She had heard from Mr Choi about what happened between Haneul and Rodrigo in their teens, and later read about it in the papers and seen it on TV and online.
She is home eating dinner out of a bento box and watching the news when an item about Rodrigo comes on. The newscaster informs viewers that Rodrigo has refused to lodge a police complaint against Haneul for assaulting him. They then cut to visuals of him walking out of an unnamed hospital. Hestops in front of the dozen or so cameras and bows low, as though offering an apology. The voice-over guesses the apology is either towards his fans for his recent misdemeanour or towards Haneul for what happened in the past. Close-ups of Rodrigo’s face show that his nose has needed several stitches and lacerations across his face are dressed in antiseptic and bandages. His denim cutoffs reveal a bandaged knee, an injury the news channel suspects him to have sustained when he fell over furniture, and he is walking with a slight limp.
Timira loses her appetite almost immediately. Putting her dinner aside, she reaches for her phone and dials a number she had once upon a time memorized. Timira has taken Rodrigo and herself by surprise by calling him.
‘Timmy, is it really you?’ Rodrigo asks incredulously upon receiving her call.
Timira racks her brain for the perfect line to stay but she is too nervous to think straight.
Why did I have to call him? Shall I just hang up? Oh, god! Nahin, nahin, sochega I’m such a weirdo!
