A Way Home

End of the Line

"Is she unwell?" Namjoo worried.

Following directions, the man pulled out a plate of pancakes and tucked them into the microwave. Pressing the reheat button he explained as the machine hummed, "It's cancer. First stage."

"I'm sorry." Namjoo apologized.

Dropping his head, the man sadly smiled but offered no exchange. He popped the microwave opened when it beeped and slid over the plate as he took the chair across her.

"Please," he encouraged, "have some."

Thinking of the ailing woman's effort, Namjoo took a napkin from the side and helped herself. The pancake was fluffy. Somewhat sugary. The sweetness dissolving quickly on her tongue.

"Now," the elder man wondered, "what was his name?"

"Sehun." Namjoo answered albeit timidly. "It's Sehun."

Though she did not know what kind of situation she was in, Namjoo promised she would digest the situation slowly. Piece the puzzle once they finished talking and she heard an explanation.

"Ah..." his tone drew. Patting around his pocket he pulled out an aging brown leather wallet. Its crease heavily blackened. Passing over a business card, he started, "I run an acting academy."

Namjoo noted the name in big bold lettering. The institute logo. Phone numbers and names below.

Son Chae Ha.

"It's where newbies start out," he went on. "Film directors come find us if they need backdrop performers."

Lifting her head up, Namjoo said, "I don't get it."

She wouldn't get it. Everything in her head was a jumbled mess. A crossword puzzle where the letters weren't aligning. Even with a college degree Namjoo lost the ability to put two and two together.

"Miss..."

"It just...it just doesn't make sense." Namjoo shook her head.

Empathizing, the man quietly watched denial trickle through her. Sending her into a wave of hysteria and disbelief.

"Why?" Namjoo gasped. Gripping the pancake, she shot, "What about the woman you were with? She was your wife...Se...Sehun's mom...a...and she was married before." Her eyes widened, carrying a profound hope, "You're divorced?"

"Miss Eunhae?" he asked. Nodding, "She belongs to the academy. Would you like to speak to her?"

"No," Namjoo instantly spat.

Offering a comforting smile, the man explained, "About why, I apologize I cannot answer that. The best I can give you, is that I don't have a son."

That was a jackhammer blow to her. A stab to the chest.

Namjoo couldn't grapple onto what she was hearing.

The floor endlessly spun underneath her. A mouth opening up to swallow her and everything she thought she'd had.

She heard her mother mocking her. "And you know him so well."

I do! her insides screamed.

I do!

I do!

I do!

I do!

Subconsciously dropping the pancake as the chair scraped back, Namjoo rose. The words she'd been saying constantly lately, "I'm sorry," fell from her mouth like waterfall. Whirling around she snatched her bag and ran out of the house.