It's Way Too Late To Stay Locked Up Inside Ourselves

Three Days (Part Three)

Se-ri sat down at the stand up piano. The warm glow of a lamp revealed a layer of dust outlining its shape. She traced the pattern of the wood grain with her fingertips. Each ring represented a year frozen forever in an instrument that time seemed to have forgotten. How lucky, to be able to freeze time and stay hidden away.

And yet despite her irrational envy, the condition of the piano filled Se-ri with sadness. The wood needed oil and care. It had sat here for years— like a silent ghost from the past. Se-ri's fingers moved down to caress the smooth keys; she was careful not to press too hard. Jeong-hyeok had been forced to take an urgent phone call from a campaign staffer after they had cleaned up from a late dinner. The outside world was already seeping in.

It all begins again tomorrow.

It was nearly eleven in the evening. Se-ri had been consciously aware of the clock as their remaining hours together grew shorter and shorter. Acts were marked in terms of being the last in her head. Everything she had looked forward to for so long was almost over. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Se-ri had lost count of how many times they had made love. They turned to it whenever they ran out of words.

Jeong-hyeok and Se-ri had run out of words a lot today.

She did not know why she was sitting here now. Her mind flashed to the first time she had visited this place; oblivious to the role that this instrument had played in her life. Se-ri turned and looked back at the kitchen, remembering where Jeong-hyeok had silently stood as she tinkered obliviously. Perhaps the piano had drawn her here because, despite all that they had shared, Se-ri had still never seen him play. Or maybe it was because this piano was like a specter that needed to be confronted. No matter how much they talked about his music, Jeong-hyeok had not gone near it for two days.

Se-ri had tried not to push too hard this weekend; rather she had focused on being strong for both of them. But now as she faced saying goodbye, her courage was faltering. Everything from the way that their bodies fit together to how he opened up to her made Se-ri more certain than ever that they would somehow spend the rest of their lives together. But that same certainty was making the idea of parting from him now unbearable. It was a waste — they had both lived long enough in this world to know that what they had was precious. And yet tomorrow morning they would go back to their respective corners of the city and pretend once again. A nation would then decide how much needed to be overcome to carve out a future together. Se-ri pressed her hands to her chest. How am I supposed to sleep in my apartment alone tomorrow? And the next night and the next...

She tried to stop her mind from playing out the next three months. But as Se-ri stared down at the alternating pattern of black and white keys, they began to blur. Then she heard Jeong-hyeok walk back into the room. His footsteps stopped. She blinked back her tears quickly and straightened her back as she sniffed. Soon Jeong-hyeok's hands were on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry I had to take that call. There's a schedule change and they needed to go over the logistics ..."

Se-ri could feel the tension in his body.

"For tomorrow."

Se-ri said those two painful words out loud for him. He sighed deeply. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against him.

"I have to be back in the city by 7 am tomorrow to prep for a pre-debate event and then do a series of press interviews. They need me to fill in while Father continues to prepare for the debate. I don't think it's gone very well this weekend. They sounded ... anxious."

She could hear the worry and dread in his voice. No matter their circumstances, it was still his father. Se-ri reached up to grip his hands.

"He will rise to the occasion. It wouldn't be a worthwhile preparation if it wasn't hard."