“It’s a gift,” he had said at the time, exasperated. “You can’t refuse a gift.”
“They’re too expensive. Besides, I already have too many pairs of shoes.”
He had rolled his eyes, bringing his face close to hers. “Do you know how many girls in Seoul would kill for a pair of Louboutins?”
“Not me.”
“Oh, come on. Is it so wrong for me to want to see you wearing beautiful things?”
Massaging her toes, Dahye made a mental note to give the heels to her best friend, Bora, who wore the same size. She would lie to Hyukjoon, tell him they had gone missing from her closet.
The ache in her feet sobered her up. She sighed and looked over her shoulder. A man was standing on the street, facing the opposite direction. He was talking on the phone. Snatches of his conversation came to her: something about a date that had gone poorly. Photoshopped pictures. A catfish. Tuning him out, she reached into her purse for her cellphone. Earlier at the restaurant, she had posted a half-dozen photos to her Instagram story. She was especially proud of the picture of the octopus, which she had carefully framed so that Hyukjoon’s hands were visible in the background. They were strong, good-looking hands.
The little red bubbles at the corner of her screen drew her attention. Twelve likes. Four messages.
OMG. That looks so good!
YOU WENT TO NEREIDS?!?
Crazy. Isn’t that place like 500k won per person? Who did you go with?
Bora had sent her a message, too.Lucky bitch!
Dahye smiled. She had just started typing out her response to Bora when the light in her window flickered off. Her head snapped up toward it, watching. Her thumbs hovered above the keyboard on her screen. A minute passed. Two. The window remained dark.
Relief washed over her. She waited a few more minutes, ignoring the messages and likes, treading into the hallway and up the stairs. Unlocking her apartment door, she stood on the threshold, listening. It was so quiet. Faint stripes of moonlight fell from the window and across the wall. She held the shoes to her chest and quickly tiptoed past her parents’ room.
In front of her bedroom, she stopped.How bizarre, she thought. The door was open just a crack. She had shut the door securely behind her that morning as she was leaving for work and remembered distinctly theclickof the latch catching.
A figure was sitting on the edge of her bed.
The heels tumbled from Dahye’s arms and bounced across the floor. She lurched toward the wall, fingers searching frantically for the light switch. Sharp, ragged breaths escaped her open mouth. Finally, she found it. Flicked it on. Light flooded the room as she blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness.
It was her mother.
“God! Umma—you scared me half to death!” Dahye pressed her palms against her flushed cheeks. She closed her eyes, breathing hard. “What’s going on? It’s late. What are you doing in here?”
“Where were you?”
“What do you mean?” Dahye bent down to pick up the shoes. “I was … working.”
Her mother’s voice was low. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Dahye could feel the back of her neck growing hot. “I worked late,” she said. “I had to catch up on stuff from the weekend. And after, I went and got dinner with my boss and my coworkers.” Hyukjoon’s name came to the tip of her tongue. She swallowed it. “You know how competitive it is at the office. I have to play the game if I want to be promoted. I have to be a team player.”
“Do you know what today is?”
Dahye’s eyes drifted toward the calendar tacked up on the wall. “It’s Monday.” Then she tensed, the realization coming to her. “I forgot.” She sat on the edge of mattress just as her mother got to her feet. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“We shouldn’t have to remind you about the anniversary of your sister’s death!”
Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, Dahye must have known. “Did you and Appa go to see her?” she asked quietly. Every year on this date, they visited Eunhye’s ashes at the cinerarium. Dahye hated it. She hated seeing all the crying people. She hated the sterile atmosphere, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. She hated the shelves crowded with urns and photographs of the deceased. The misery contained in that building was unbearable, but she hated nothing more than her sister’s one-meter-long space on the shelf.
Dahye slumped on the bed as her mother stormed out. From the other side of the room, Eunhye’s possessions called out to her. Her sister’s bed was carefully made, as though at any moment she was going to walk through the door. Her desk was covered in a thin layer of dust. Photographs decorated the wall, held in place by small strips of Scotch tape.
Over time, the sticky side of the tape holding them up had grown weak, and now, whenever Dahye opened the door, the glossy pictures fluttered. So many memories, trapped in time. Eunhye laughing in a photobooth with her friends. Eunhye and her friends at Lotte World. Eunhye and their parents shopping in Hongdae. Dahye stared at that last picture, remembering that she had been the one who took it.
Suddenly, Eunhye’s face seemed to distort, her skin becoming bloated and swollen. Her complexion took on a pale blue cast. With trembling fingers, Dahye snatched the photograph from the wall. Held it close to her eyes, blinking as her sister’s face returned to normal. Dahye’s mind returned to the vision of the girl on the bench.