The Summer Sting

1. Hello My Old Heart

Hello, my old heart. How have you been?
How is it being locked away?
Don't you worry, in there, you're safe
And it's true, you'll never beat, but you'll never break

A warm Thursday morning in late July found Ri Jeong-hyeok sitting at his favorite table by the glass panes of the Fritz Coffee Company on Saechang-ro, sneaker-clad feet crossed at the ankles under the cherry wood table as he listened to his mother's soothing voice over the phone recounting the family's hiking adventures through Bukhansan National Park last weekend. With abundant sunlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows and bathing him in bright golden light, he looked much sunnier than he felt, his white shirt crisply pressed, his army green pants well-fitting and pristine. A small smile curled his lips at Umma's quick transition into a huffing complaint about one of the ahjumma's she'd known for decades, who apparently got a hold of two tickets to a one-night-only Cats show at the Charlotte Theater and chose to go with another friend. This last part was said with such disdain.

Leaning back into the wooden chair, Jeong-hyeok shifted the phone from one ear to the other and swept his gaze over the quasi-familiar crowd. The man seated in the corner, clad in an ominously black outfit, made his pulse pick up a notch, a jolt of adrenaline electrifying his senses. He knew the man was there. He'd caught sight of him placing an order with the barista shortly after Jeong-hyeok had taken his usual seat. The man in black sat ramrod straight in his chair and pretended to be fully engrossed in a colorful pamphlet about a new development around the block.

"We miss you, Jeong-hyeok-ah. When will you come by the house?"

Jeong-hyeok shifted his attention to the street outside where the lunch-time foot traffic bustled in and out of little shops in a colorful jumble of airy fabrics. Everyone looked so young. That, or he was starting to feel old. "Soon, Umma," he promised. "I only got back to Seoul this week," he reminded her, his words punctuated by the grind and hiss of the coffee machine behind the counter. When the barista cheerfully greeted a new customer and offered the summer special, he stared down into the stark black coffee in his white mug, touching an absent fingertip to the rim. On the other end of the line, his mother told him to wait and covered the mouthpiece to chastise Ri Hyun-woo, whose endless chatter filled the family house with the jubilant energy only a child could bring.

The past three months had been grueling. He'd gone undercover as a car mechanic in Daegu, leading a drug-bust operation targeting the most powerful and dangerous drug ring in South Korea's fourth largest city. Things had gotten a little messy the last two weeks. After the shootout that ended in the capture of the ring leader, he took the first flight to Seoul on Monday morning. Since his return, he'd been holed up in long mission debriefs and buried with endless paperwork – the hallmarks of a successful homecoming. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, the memory of the old man – their target's father – whose unwavering belief in his son's path to redemption led him to the stakeout that last night was never far from Jeong-hyeok's mind. Collateral damage, he thought jadedly and tamped the remorse down quickly. No room for that now.

"I have my first Little League game tomorrow, samchon!"

Hyun-woo's excited, high-pitched voice edged past his thoughts and Umma's attempts to quiet him. It made him smile softly as Jeong-hyeok imagined his six-year-old nephew with his cheek pressed to the other side of the phone, trying to pry it out of his grandmother's hands.

"Tell him I'll pick him up and we'll go together," he said to his mother.

"Do you hear that, Hyun-woo? Jeong-hyeok will come take you to your game tomorrow. Now go finish packing your toys before lunch."

The little boy whined, but Jeong-hyeok could hear him obediently shuffle away. "How's abeoji doing?"

"He's doing alright," she sighed. "You know how he gets this time of the year."