ultraviolet

one

SETTLED IN SEOUL

~

MOVING FROM GWANGJU BACK to Seoul was sudden. Mother never consulted me about the move, so it pressurized the anger inside of me. I mean, who would make such a rash and huge decision without asking or informing first? Even when I was little, mother and father divorced without saying anything.

Later on I did find out the reason why they separated. Unexpectedly, mother cheated on father for over a year, almost nearing two. She'd always take little seven-year-old me out to lunch and we'd meet up with him everyday without father knowing. So, I was basically a part of her plan, not even taking notice of it.

Mother would also sneak out of the house late at night to see him and come back at like noon the next day. Father soon found out as we found mother and her lover kissing in the living room. Surprisingly, mother filed the divorce against father instead of the other way around.

And I really can't believe mother got custody of me.

Honestly, I wish father had won that one.

As of right now, I'm currently helping mother unpack the cardboard boxes filled with our needs and necessities in our new 1500 square feet apartment, sitting indian-style in the living room opening the boxes. A majority of the cardboard lay every square inch of our flat, somewhat like a sea of empty boxes. We were finishing up, though the living area and marbled kitchen still remained bare, matted white. It was furnished, of course, but it seemed all too... Boring, as most would say. Undecorated.

"(First Name)? Honey?" mother called out from a bedroom. "Will you help me place something on a very high shelf?"

Two things irritated me.

One, when mother calls me honey, and two, she can't do the simplest things by herself and has to have me do it.

God, I hate when she calls me that. It reminded me of her lover.

She'd always call him honey.

I groaned exhaustedly, and aggresively stood up, then made my way over to where mother was with annoyed stomps. I just past the kitchen to it's near right down a hall occupying the full three bedroom and two bathroom which was the rest of the entire flat, leading me to the correct bedroom, only the second door on the left.

I creaked the door open, and there was mother on the right of the brightly lit room on her tippy toes, trying to place a black box on the top shelf of the double door closet. She was grunting and jumping, but as the 4'10 mother she was, it was simply impossible for her. This time, out of many, I felt quite sympathetic. Walking over to her, I took the box out of her hands, giving her a smile.

"It's okay, I've got it," I said.

I'm really quite tall for a 16-year-old girl. Currently, I'm 5'6. Now that I realize that things like this are difficult for her, I've decided reaching high for mother isn't a chore, it should be an honor.

Once I've set the box on the shelf, I stand back and begin admiring the organized closet of clothes mother hung, separated by spaces into sections such as jackets and shirts and jeans. It was rainbow color-ordered as well.

"It looks great, mother," I smiled, my hands fixed on my waist and my weight shifted on one side.

"Thanks honey," she said, looking up at me and offering me a smile too. "I can't believe we managed to finish all this by ourselves."