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But Hyunjin finds that the same song and dance is getting old, when these days the most she wants is a melona bar from the 7/11, a bubble bath, a cat.
The other day she walked past a school field where the students were kicking around a ball and she stopped and watched for as long as socially acceptable, seized by a sudden jealousy for such a simple joy. Wind in her hair.
Wasn’t Heejin supposed to be number one, anyway? Star of the show. Four out of nine. First girl of the month. Hyunjin’s stayed up countless nights on her couch or in her bed, scrolling through media articles, keeping up with the headlines:
Jeon Heejin serenades fans with her guitar in rooftop mini-concert. Jeon Heejin makes generous donation to an animal welfare association. Jeon Heejin opens up a quaint café in Hapjeong-dong, Mapo-gu.
In this way, she really has always been ahead. Hyunjin looks at Heejin, her round, patient face, the unspoken truths between them: The amount of time we’ve spent apart is slowly catching up with the amount of time we were together.
You’ve aged into this far more gracefully than I. Those really were the best years of our lives.
No time to stop, to get caught up in the unravelling of things, when there was still so much work to be done, as long as she took the opportunities when they came. Even here she has yet to take a breath. She takes it now. Static against the receiver.
The sound of rain against the hotel windows. How nice it will be, she thinks. To open her front door and step across the threshold. Water her plants and start the teakettle and sit down across the table from Sooyoung. Look her in the eye, reach over, and take her hand.
