Two-Sided Coin

Chapter 15

Not many people understand the power of photographs. To some they may be simply a waste of paper, while to others, they might hold their entire world.

I had few photographs. Someone once said, "If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph." And sometimes that is very true.

After lying around in bed for a few hours, torturing myself with the thought of the second hoddeok sitting in the fridge, I decided to clean up my room. It was then that I found them. The small, faded pile of photographs I had saved from my childhood. A wave of nostalgia almost knocked me off of my feet and I sat down carefully on the edge of my bed.

The top photo was of my mother on her wedding day. It was ripped and frayed along one edge, suggesting that some part was torn off, most likely the image of my father. She was wearing a gorgeous white sleeveless gown, tight at the top and flowing into a waterfall of lace on the bottom. A slit was in the skirt, running elegantly from the edge up to just above her right knee. Her ankle was peeking out from it and a hint of playful flirtation was hidden in her smile. Chills ran down my spine as a certain memory of this photo floated to the surface of my mind.

-Flashback-

I was no older than seven. My mother was stroking my hair as I lay across her lap, watching some cartoon on the television. Neither of us spoke; there was nothing to talk about. I was thinking that it might finally be a calm day, one without any incidents.

But, no. Life didn't work that way.

"Seoyoon!" my father's voice boomed through the house and I winced, hearing his loud footsteps thudding through the hall and towards us. My mother quickly pulled me up into a seated position and stood, a hand still reassuringly placed on my shoulder.

"Seoyoon!" he yelled again, bursting into the room. His face was turning red with anger and a familiar, terrifying glint was in his eyes. My mother stood silently, waiting for an explanation for this outburst.

In my mind, she was still as a statue. My mother always seemed so strong and brave to me, but now that I look back on it, she was shaking like a leaf.

"Explain this," my father ordered, shoving a photograph in my mother's face. She looked at it for a moment, her expression neutral, then frowned slightly.

"That's just our wedding photo. I don't see what wro-"

"You bitch!" he screamed, his open palm making contact with her cheek. I shut my eyes tightly and  slowly inched back into the corner, hoping to go unseen. I heard another loud slap follow, then a soft groan from my mother.

"You wench! Tramp! Slut! Whore!"

He called her so many names, I was losing track. Each venomous word was accentuated with another sound of her being hit and her muffled cries. I felt tears begin to run down my cheeks as I curled up into a ball, trying to make myself look smaller. I had made my way around the couch and was out of their view, but the horrible sounds coming from them made their presence seem spread all throughout the room.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," she stuttered, her voice thick with tears and possibly blood. I shut my ears after that. I rocked back and forth with my fingers in my ears, humming, blocking out my father's screams and my mother's desperate sobs with a tune I had heard on the radio.

-End of Flashback-

My fists clenched around the photo, but I managed to keep calm. I smoothed a hand over it, trying to remember my mother's touch, then set it down.

The next few photos were random images of scenery. We had never actually gone on vacation, but whenever someone we knew did, I usually stole a photo or two just to keep.

The fifth photo was of me and one of my classmates. Not many people could tell from one glance, but both of our smiles were tight and faked. Fear was echoing in his eyes and shame in mine.

I wasn't sure why I kept that photo; I suppose it was the memory of my sole friend, other than Jungkook, growing up. Maybe it was because of him that I gave up on telling the truth about myself. Once he found out what happened to me, he turned tail and ran, then spread nasty rumors about me through school to force me to move.

Now that I thought about him, he was almost as mean as my own father. As I learned from Amber, some people know a thing or two about sympathy. But not him. What was his name? I suppose I erased it from my memory. Maybe I should burn this photo. But for some reason, I couldn't. There was an unexplained emotional connection between me and this boy. I hated him, yet, he was my first love.

I wondered for the longest time whether I'd meet him again. I think I'd like that. It'd be nice to know what he was up to.

We were so close before he found out the truth about me. He'd been like the older brother I'd never had. He told me all of his secrets and I remembered that he'd always promise that he'd get me to tell him mine. I guess he got what he wanted, though it was far from what he'd expected. I wondered if he would have given me another chance. Maybe he was just shocked and didn't know how to react. If we'd met again, I think he would have apologized. That's what I liked to think, anyway.

Would that be possible? Meeting after such a long time? I didn't even remember his name, though I was sure I'd recognize his face if I saw it. He was so beautiful, even at age eleven.

As I was trapped in memory lane, Jungkook came home. I snapped out of the trance I was in and quickly put away the photos. For some reason, this was one thing I wanted to keep to myself.

"Hyung? I'm home," he called and I stepped out of my room, a dreamy smile still on my face. He eyed me strangely for a moment, then seemed to brush it off and hugged me briefly.

"I have a treat for you," I told him, half-skipping into the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow, but followed after me. I pulled out the hoddeok with a flourish and handed it to him.

"Tada! I got it this morning. It's not hot anymore, but it's probably still just as delicious."

His eyes went wide and he took it gingerly from me as if it were the crown jewels.

"Thank you, hyung," he said absently, studying it for a moment, then taking a small bite. A smile bloomed on his face and he hummed happily, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"Thank you," he repeated and took another bite.

"Be careful or you'll get indigestion," I warned, patting him on the back, then slipping back into my room. I couldn't bear look at the photos at the moment. It was enough for the day. But what was irking me was that boy. I was best friends with him since the first day of school up until the end of primary school. And yet, nothing was left of him other than bitter memories and a single photograph.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember him. If I closed my eyes, I could picture him. He always had such nice, smooth haircuts that worked perfectly with his dark brown hair. His cheeks were round and his chin was pointed, making him look just adorable. He had almond eyes with small cushions underneath, making them look bigger.

Had he changed at all? Well, it's been five years since we'd seen each other. Does he think of me like I do of him? Does he even remember me?

I had drifted off to sleep thinking of this beautiful boy. His name was constantly at the tip of my tongue. I dreamed of primary school and talking with him. I remembered the way he held himself so kindly. He always cared for me like I was his own blood.

Then, in the wee hours of the morning, I woke up with a start. I shot up in my bed into a seated position, my eyes darting around the room. It came to me. His name. I remembered his name.

Kim.

Seok.

Jin.