Main Character in the Story:

*Kim So Hyun as "Athena" Myung-hee Park

Minor Characters in the Story:

*Cha Seung-Won as Park Woo-bin {Myung-hee's father}

*Woo Hee-Jin as Park Eun-hye {Myung-hee's mother}

Chapter II: Do You Have Pancakes?

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After brushing my teeth, I go down the stairs and into the kitchen. It still feels weird to be in this house, so I stand in the doorway awkwardly and wait for my mother to say something.

She looks up from her laptop and smiles. "Joh-eun achim, Myung-hee. {Good morning, Myung-hee.}" She says, her face brightens.

"Achim-e eotteohge geuleohge sal-a issni? Naneun botong 'Neoleul modu jug-igo sipda' gibun-eul gajigoissda. {How are you so alive in the morning? I usually have the 'I want to kill all of you' mood.}"

"Geulsse, naneun sibdaeui naie igsughae jyeoissda. Achim-i deo isang naleul goelobhiji anhseubnida. {Well, I got used to it in my teenage years. The morning doesn't really bother me anymore.}"

"Eh..." I look around the kitchen, examining and memorizing every detail about it. It wasn't at all like this when I was little.

"We changed it up a lot while you were gone." My eomeoni says. It's as if she knew what I was thinking. "Geugeos-eun muneojigoiss-eossseubnida. 'Mal geudaelo'. Ulineun modeun geos-eul bakkwoyahaessseubnida. {It was falling apart. 'Literally'. We had to replace everything.}"

I nod my head. "O. Joh-a boinda. {Oh. It looks nice.}"

"Gomabseubnida. {Thank you.}"

I watch her as she returns to the computer. Her eyes: I have them. Her hair: I have that. Her chin: I have that. Her porcelain skin: I (possibly) have that. It's so strange to see the woman I share my DNA with. Not to mention, she's naturally beautiful. When I was little, I used to admire her like she's an empress from an historical Korean drama. If I imagined her wearing ancient clothes and jewelry, she would definitely look stunning as a royal.

God. Are female South Koreans immortal or something? Because seriously, when I look at the 'most beautiful Korean celebrities', many actresses' ages from late-thirties to fifties. They all look absolutely young, like they never age. I guess maybe women from my country use to take care of their skin really well.

Naneun jeongmallo nae mom-eul dolboneun il-eul sijaghaeyahanda. Paleulsulog johda. {I really should start taking care of my body. The sooner, the better.}

She looks up at me, then points to a chair. "Anj-eul su-iss-eo, neodo alji. {You can sit down, you know.}" She pushes the seat next to her out with her foot.

"Thank you. {Gomabseubnida.}" I walk towards the chair and sit down on the edge of the seat. I keep my hands folded on my lap. The cushion of the chair feels less comfortable than it looks. I press my lips into a hard line, making my uncomfort known just a little bit.

My eomeoni gives me an apologetic smile. She looks like she's about to cry again.

"Naega yeogiissneun du beonjjae jukkaji mom-i gogal doelgeoya. Jebal dasi ulji maseyo. {You're going to run out of body water by the second week I'm here. Please don't cry again.}"

She swallows thickly. "Joesong haeyo. {I'm sorry.}" He moves her hand to place it on me, hesitates, and then returns it to the computer, along with her attention.

I clear my throat. I should break the silence before it begins. "Mwohago issni? {What are you doing?}" I ask her.

"Stamford High School-e ibhaghagi. {Enrolling you in Stamford High School.}"

"Gwichanhgehaji mala. Naneun imi geogieissda. {Don't bother. I'm already there.}"

She looks at me with confusion. "Bangbeob? Nae seomyeong-i pil-yohae. {How? You need my signatures.}"

"Naega tteonan ihulo bumoga kkwae manh-ass eo. {I've had quite a few parents since I left.} Geudeul-eun modu naleul wihae seomyeonghayeo haggyoleul gyesoghal su issseubnida. {They all signed for me so I could continue school.}"

"Naneun salamdeul-eul ihaehaji moshabnida. {I don't understand people.} Geudeul-eun bunmyeonghi bumo-egeseo domang gass-eum-e teullim-eobsneun jasin-ui eolin sonyeoleul boassgo, geunyeoleul dolliji anh-assseubnida. {They see a little girl living her own who clearly must have run away from her parents, and they don't turn her in?}"

"Mannada. Yeogie munjega issseubnida. Geudeul-eun jeonghwaghi naega 'honja yeossneunji'alji moshaessseubnida. {See. Here's the thing. They didn't exactly 'know' I was on my own.} Naneun geu deul-eul modu sog-yeoseo jeoege geudeul-ui seomyeong-eul jueossda {I kind of tricked them all into giving me their signatures.}"

She understands and nods her head. "Naneun sinmun-e gyeong-goleul haess-eoyahaessda: mid-eul sueobsneun jijeog. {I should have put a warning in the newspaper: unbelievable intelligent.}"

"Naneun geugeos-i doum-idoeeoss-eul geos-ilago saeng-gaghaji anhneunda. {I don't think that would have helped.} Geunyang jigeum deudgo, naneun imi geugeol haegyeolhaneun bangbeob-eul algoissda. {Just listening to that now, I already know how to get around that.}"

She closes her laptop and sighs. "Geuleol pil-yoneun eobsdago saeng-gaghabnida. {I guess that's not necessary, then.}" She stands up and turns to the cabinets. She pulls out one of the coffee mugs and sets it on the counter. "Achim meog-eul geo julkka? {Do you want anything for breakfast?}"

I shrug. "Juhayo. {Sure.}"

"Gwaenchanh-a. Mwoga johgess ni? {Okay. What would you like?}"

I think of the breakfasts Tom and I would have at his house. Every morning I was there, it would be his first suggestion and I would always say yes. He made them perfectly and I hope my eomeoni can make them almost as well. "Paenkeikeu-iss-eo? {Do you have pancakes?}" I ask her.

"Dang-yeonhaji. Jamkkan hue naega sijaghalgeoya. {Of course. I'll get started on them in a minute.}"

"Gwaenchanh-a. {Okay.}" I scan the room for a second. "Um, do you mind if I just look around the house a little bit?"

"Ne jib-igido hae. Neoga wonhaneun geos-eulhaela. {It's your house, too. Do whatever you want.}"

Plain answer. Let me just see if that's true after a Project X party, a blazing fire and lots of sex. I stand up, push my chair in and start with the living room. There were pictures on every table plus the mantle over the fire place. All the ones on the table were of my parents. As I pick each one of them up and studied them, I take note of every smile, every laugh, and every good memory. My parents didn't even look worried. Did they… not miss me? Did they only fight while I was gone? Was I possibly the cause of their complications?

There's an emotional pressure in my chest. I rub it a little and keep looking around.

The more I looked at the pictures, the more I felt depressed. So many smiles that I wasn't familiar with; I can't help but think they were somewhat better off without me, I thought I broke their hearts. They cried for me. Yet there were hundreds of pictures here that screamed otherwise. All I heard when I was around them was fighting and fighting and fighting. Now that their little girl is gone, they find it an opportunity to fill their years with happy times, laughable memories? They didn't even look like they minded my absence…

Maybe I'm just being a little selfish. I was gone for nine years, for God's sake. They didn't have me around, and they couldn't find me no matter how hard they looked. They couldn't just sit around and cry for all of the time. Plus, it's clear they have fixed up their relationship a lot. They needed this. They need these pictures to be taken, these moments to happen. Should I be jealous? Or upset? Or should I be happy that they feel steady enough to take me back into their home?

Ugh. I shouldn't have come home. It makes me think too much.

When I turn to the mantle, there's a whole different theme to it: a baby Park Myung-hee. I stand in front of them and look at them with wide eyes.

They are so many of them! My Missing Person's photo was in the back of them all. Baby and toddler pictures surround them. There's a large one of me at my Baptism. On the left is me with my parents and godparents, and on the right is me with my grandparents. I nearly cry when I see them. I picked up the picture frame and stare at my eomeoni's parents (my abeoji's parents are in Donghae city province, if I remember correctly). I read the obituaries a lot in my time. They both died, my halmeoni {grandmother} when I was fourteen and my hal-abeoji {grandfather} right after my fifteenth birthday. I went to each of their wakes, saying goodbyes after everyone else had left. I hated myself after that. I still do. I broke their hearts when I left, and I didn't come home soon enough. They never saw their granddaughter again.

"Geugeon ne jalmos-i aniya. {It wasn't your fault.}" My eomeoni says, standing in the doorway.

I look back at her.

"Dul da am-e geollyeossseubnida. Geudeul-eun imi jug-eo gago iss-eossda. {They both had cancer. They were dying already.}"

"Geuleona naneun tteonassda. {But I left.}" My voice comes out as barely a whisper. I touch my face; it's covered in tears. I hadn't realized I was crying. "Naneun geudeul-ui ma-eum-eul da bu pul-eossseubnida. Neocheoleom, geudeul-eun naleul dasi wonhaessda. {I broke their hearts, all of your hearts. Just like you, they wanted me back.} Geudeul-eun naleul salanghaessda. Naneun geudeul-eul salanghaessda. Geuligo naneun geudeul-eul haechinda. {They loved me. I loved them. And I hurt them.}"

My eomeoni hurries over to me, her arms opening up.

I step away quickly, avoiding the oncoming hug. I don't let anyone touch me when I'm sad.

She drops her arms and stands there awkwardly. There's the apologetic look again. "Myung-hee, neo jasin-eul tashaji mala. {Myung-hee, don't blame yourself.} Naega malhaessdeus-i: geudeul-eun am-e geollyeossseubnida. Geudeul-eun aghwadoego iss-eossda. {Like I said: they had cancer. They were deteriorating.} Geudeul-eun dangsin-i gwaenchanhdaneun geos-eul al-assgo geudeul-eun geugeos-eulo gwaenchanhdago malhaessda. {They knew you were okay, and they said they were fine with that.} Geudeul-eun gaggag ganeunghan han olae sal-assseubnida. Neoneun geugeollo amu sang-gwan-i eobs-eo. {They each lived for as long as they could. You had nothing to do with it.}"

"Naneun geudeul-ui ma-eum-eul apeugehaessda. Geugeo al-a? {I broke their hearts. Don't you get that?}" I'm yelling at her now. My anger is too high to bear right now. "Naneun meomulleoyahaessgo dangsin-ui bubuwa ssauneun munjeleul gyeondyeoyahaessneunde, aniya. {I should have stayed and put up with your couple fighting issues, but no.}

Domang gayahaessgo da chiji anh-eumyeon moduleul dachyeoss-eo! Igeon nae jalmos-iya! {I had to run away and hurt away and hurt everyone! This is my fault!}

Bil-eo meog-eul geobjaeng-icheoleom domang chyeossgo jobumonimdo jag-eun Myung-hee iga jib-e dol-a oneun geos-eul boji moshaessseubnida! {I ran away like a goddamn coward, and my grandparents didn't even get to see their little Myung-hee come home!} Neomu neuj-eoss eo! Naneun geudeul-ui ma-eum-eul eo gigo gyeolko geugeos-eul gochil bangbeob-i eobs-eul geos-ida! {I was too late! I broke their hearts, and there will never be a way to fix it!}" I look around frantically, not sure what to do. My tears are blinding me; I can't see anything but colored blurs. "Naneun wicheung-e galgeoya. Na honjadugo bwa. {I'm going upstairs. Just leave me alone for a while.}" I run towards the stairs to my room, my eomeoni watching me with tearful eyes.

I burst into my room and slam the door shut. Unable to take another step, I collapse to the floor and bury my face in my hands as I sob my eyes out with guilt and pain. I can't do this. I can't handle this. It's too much. I can't do this by myself. Naneun wae dasi wassseubnikka? Naneun wonlae gyehoegdaelo meomulmyeonseo maenhaeteun-eulo gayahaessda. {Why did I come back? I should have stayed with my original plan and gone to Manhattan.} Eom-ma-ya, gaseum-i teojilgeoya. {Oh my God, my chest is gonna explode.} Jebal, igeol kkeutnaego sipda. {Please God, I want this to end.}"

My tears slowly starting to stop when my eyes are turning red. I turn my thoughts to Tom. I need him to help me, to hold me, to make me smile. I need him to tell me everything will be okay. I need the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, and the sound of his soothing voice. I miss him too much, and now I have to deal with this issue on my own.

I think about my fit, screaming, and my crying. It was almost like one of those dramatic movie and show moments. Then I think of some sad dramatic music to play behind it, and I begin to laugh at myself. I must have looked like an absolute child. What was I thinking? I should have been an adult about it. Now all I see in that memory is a screaming little girl, stubborn and crying. I throw an anime crying face and laugh harder. Then I think of how I must look at right now. If I were looking at myself, I would probably look insane sitting here and laughing to myself about nothing to spoke for. What do I do? I laugh harder.

There you go, I hear Tom say. Make yourself feel better. Just laugh about it.

And that's exactly what I do. I laugh about it.