A Light in the Dark (Kim Jongin)

Chapter Two

 Jongin let himself into the lavishly decorated foyer and was, as usual, struck by how cold and empty the room was. He dropped his jacket on one of the cream sofas with gold trimmings and moved towards the grand, sweeping stairs that led to the upper floors.

  "Where were you?" a voice stopped him in his tracks. Jongin let out an exasperated breath and turned towards the speaker. His father was standing under one of the intricately carved arches that led into the sitting room, a glass of Scotch in his hand.

  "Out," Jongin replied curtly, starting to turn away.

  "You missed tea," the older man replied in a matching tone "I told  you that an important man will be attending. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me when I told him that you would be there and you didn't turn up? You made me look like a fool." The man's lips thinned out angrily.

  Jongin fought  the urge to roll his eyes. He turned away and started trudging up the marble steps. His father did not like being ignored and he could almost feel the elder bristling with anger.

  "I am talking to you, Kim Jongin, and you would do well to listen."

  Jongin kept moving upwards mechanically. His father, he knew, was about to explode.

  "KIM JONGIN! "

  Jongin halted, but he didn't turn around.

  "I will not be disrespected like this in my own house, and I certainly will not have any of your insolence. When I speak, you will listen. Is that clear?"

   Jongin sucked in a breath through his teeth, nails digging into his palms as he balled his fists.

  "Do you know how important this deal is to me and the company?" his father said, his voice steely. "How dare you make a fool out of me? I invited him to tea trying to make a good impression, to show that we are-"

  "What? A happy family?" Jongin turned now. "But we're not." His voice matched his father's. Steel for steel. The elder's face twitched. "We're not a happy family so why pretend? You do what you want and I'll do what I want."

  The older man's nostrils flared angrily. "How dare you talk to your father like that you ungrateful punk?!" he spat but Jongin was already continuing his climb up the stairs. "Yah! Jongin you insolent boy! I'm talking to you! Kim Jongin! " The livid yells fell on deaf ears. There was an ear- splitting shattering of glass as his father flung his glass of Scotch onto the polished floor but Jongin didn't stop. Resisting the urge to throw one of the expensive china vases placed here and there as decoration at his father, he carried on upstairs.

  It had not always been this way. They had been happy, once. Jongin and his mother and his father. Back then, when Kim Holdings was just a small company and his mother was well, they had sat at the table for family dinners, the three of them, laughing, smiling, despite living in a tiny apartment with a leaky roof. Now, it was just him and his father and the icy silences that stretched out at breakfast before  the elder rushed off to some meeting or the other, leaving the boy in the company of vast empty rooms and the ghosts of a happy family that had once been.

  Like after every argument with his father, today too, Jongin moved towards the room at the far corner of the right wing of the house. He put a hand to the cool wood of the heavy oak door for a moment, savouring the sinks and depressions of the worn lumber, before twisting the gold doorknob and pushing the door open. As he entered, Jongin's dark eyes travelled over the familiar interior and he smiled wistfully. It had been his mother's room.

  He let the door close behind him with a soft click before walking up to the shelves that bordered the right wall of the chamber. Picture frames lined the polished wooden shelves. Jongin fingered them tenderly, missing his mother more than ever. He picked up the picture of his mother holding him when he was a baby. It had been taken on a trip to Jeju and her smile sparkled in the afternoon sun like the deep blue sea behind them.