Powder Blue
POWDER BLUE;; PG
Freakishly long toes and something of an ant waist is how they described her in the blind item gossip column. Gyuri read the snippet meticulously over again, flipping the page over in her chunky magazine in case there were any more details on the other side. Freakishly long toes was an apt description; Gyuri remembered those toes and their nails vividly, clawing into the skin on her thighs on long car trips home, accidentally mauling her whenever Hara had decided to stretch in her sleep and scar Gyuri from the carseat aside. There was no doubt that the piece was about Goo Hara, and still Gyuri read it over and over scoffing at it, until she was reading it in a mocking matter, picking up several dialects as if it would make the story any less trivial.
She debated calling the number, picking her phone up and then dropping it again, before picking it up after finishing the read in a Daegu dialect, punching in the memorized digits before she could regret what she was doing and come to her senses. Ring, ring.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“Who-” voice cutting itself out, realizing all too quickly.
“Were you even planning on inviting me?”
“I-”
“To your wedding?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“Liar.”
“You’ve changed your address again. And your number.”
This was true, but Gyuri wasn’t the type to admit things.
“Gyuri. Message me your address.”
“Fine. I guess I can.”
“Will you even come?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll send it in the mail.”
Phone cut out. Curt and to the point and that was that. It was a ‘Gyuri’ move and she knew that all too well. She slammed her phone down, reaching for the magazine again to comb over for anything else between the lines again, resisting a smile.
PARK GYURI:
You are cordially invited to the wedding of Goo Hara, daughter of Goo Cho-nim and Goo Jan-soo and Nam Joohyuk, son of Nam Rim-tan and Nam Bo-yeon at the Gardens of the Han Lotus Hotel, in downtown Hong Kong, Hong Kong, 520 Preen Street. 5pm Sunday, August 20th, Formal attire only please.
(No boxed gifts accepted.)
---
Gyuri put her invite down, closing the door and not tipping the eager doorman. August 20th. She had ripped the invite so eagerly and also with a little bit of spite in anticipation but she hadn’t been expecting that. Only three days away, Hara had sent the invite a week prior: she really hadn’t intended to invite Gyuri at all, in expectancy that she wouldn’t show up. Gyuri snarled, taking a good look around her apartment, contemplating. Then she pounced in her room, tore into her closet and snatched the biggest suitcase she could find overhead, throwing everything of relevance in, only pausing to dig deep into her closet for something eye-stopping to wear for the wedding. Marsala colored dress, knee cut, deep jewels, seductive gait about it, got caught in her nails as she was strumming through her wardrobe and in it went with a soft thud on the top of her luggage.
Formal attire only please, my ass, challenge accepted - she would show her!
The last person Gyuri expected to see after her horrifically excruciating flight was Seungyeon. The flight had been dismal with bad airplane food, soggy feeling blankets and turbulence that would make going to anyone’s wedding seem like heaven. So naturally, the flight had been hell- and then there was tiny Hammie right in front of her. Han Seungyeon sat at the bar of the hotel lobby, stumpy legs teetering off the too high bar stools, giggling away with stoli in hand. What was the joke wasn’t clear, but her giggles were non-stop and they filtrated the large tiled floor in echoed annoyance, mostly Gyuri’s.
“Gyuri,” she cried in shock, reaching over across twenty feet to grab her, calling another figure to take care of Gyuri’s luggage. She didn’t really reach over to give Gyuri a hug, rather embraced her in an air kiss and a possessive hold of her arm, Gyuri able to glimpse at the twenty Cartier love bracelets on Seungyeon in between flights of hair. Somehow Gyuri had ended up on the bar stool besides Seungyeon and her own legs were teetering dangerously above the air, a bad design decision to have drunk people not be able to find their own balance. And then Seungyeon was introducing the someone who had wordlessly carried Gyuri’s suitcases over.
“This is Boris. He’s Russian!” Boris had a surly disposition to him, pale skin but jet black stringy hair and his over defined muscles jumped out of his leather jacket, shrouding him in his own posture, kind of like someone who glamorized the lifestyle of western WWE wrestlers way too much. Still, he had a rugged handsome quality to him and Gyuri could easily see why Seungyeon fell for him, muscles, money, muscles.
“He does stocks,” Seungyeon was chatting excitedly, clearly unaware of any tension between her and Gyuri that Gyuri was trying so hard to radiate across.
“When I told him my best friend’s name was Gyuri he got so excited thinking you were Russian because you know Gyuri is also a Russian name but then he didn’t talk to me for weeks when I finally told him that no, you were just a feisty Korean girl who refused to talk to me for years unless I talked first and your name just happened to be Gyuri as well even though it’s a Russian name.”
Seungyeon kept flagging the bartender down for another set of drinks, ignoring her beau still standing besides the girls, not taking a seat. His presence was intimidating and Gyuri did not care for it. She flashed him a signature smile of smug and only then did he take barstool on the other side of Seungyeon, occupying himself with his mobile phone. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t speak a lick of Korean no matter how hard I try to teach him. No English either. It’s comical, really.”
“So how do you communicate?”
Seungyeon slyly shrugged, bobbing her dirty fingers in her drink for an olive, only leaving Gyuri to guess.
“You seeing anyone, then?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
"Too busy.” Gyuri said flatly. The last time Gyuri had been in a long time relationship was when they had a different president and she didn’t enjoy pressing into the matter. Five boyfriends ago was when she had decided enough was enough, really- no one was ever going to be good enough for her.
“You have high standards,” Seungyeon said resolutely, finishing her drink and then taking Boris’ unfinished one and topping it off. “always have.”
“So when did you get an invite?” Gyuri changed the subject expertly, “I didn’t expect to see any of you here.”
“Oh, I don’t know. months ago. Kind of a surprise. Who would have thunkit- out of the three of us, Baby Goo getting hitched first. I wonder what her dress looks like. And have you met her husband to be yet? I haven’t. He’s that popular model, you know. The one with the baby face?”
Gyuri had seen him in numerous advertisements, tall as a dreamboat, super cute face, chiseled and hunky.
“I heard rumors you know. ‘Bout them two,” Seungyeon was whispering in Gyuri’s ear, as if Boris or the bartender or anyone nearby in the heart of Hong Kong would understand their gossipy Korean, “heard they’ve been dating for months. All low-key of course. Rumors he was dating some former idol- HER, and gave her round after round of chlamydia. Guys can only carry that STD if they’re packing huge down there, you know?” Seungyeon was winking when she said it, but Gyuri felt absolutely gross, tossing her martini’s olive down to the floor and crushing it with her bamboo wedge against the marbled tile.
Hara had been dating someone for months, been engaged for months, had been planning a wedding for months, and once had she not bothered to ring her up and inform her.
When Gyuri woke with her hair plastered to her cheeks and the feel of bricks weighing down her shoulders she groaned. Loudly. The tacky tangerine shades in her hotel room were drawn down but trickles of sunlight were pouring in jabbing her right in her eyeline and it was making her feel nauseous again. Squinting, she reached over for her phone and saw that it was 2pm already.
“Seungyeon,” she muttered inwardly, cursing Hammie for gabbing away all night, catching up and getting her so hammered that both Seungyeon and Boris had to escort Gyuri to her hotel room and tuck her into bed like some long lost parents of the past.
Making her way to the shower, Gyuri feebly attempted to remember the course of the night before, but her thoughts were muddled and she gave up quickly, succumbing to the five head in the shower, pulsating her back, slowly getting rid of her hangover. She hadn’t expected to forgive Seungyeon so easily for losing contact, in fact she had pretty much forgiven Seungyeon after five minutes of talking to her, falling so easily in their old best friend habits of talking to each other, secrets non existent, bad habits unfolded, trite confessions made in absolute confidence. Seungyeon may have been her confidant but Gyuri was not going to forgive Hara that easily, she resolved, stepping out of the shower and then looking at the clock with despair.
3 pm. She only had two hours before the wedding, only two hours to sober up and then get revenge in the best way she could.
It had been 4:30 pm by the time she had made her way down the elevator and down the stairs to the atrium where the wedding was to be held. Gyuri had thought it was ridiculous and flashy of Hara to hold her wedding overseas where only her most affluent guests would be able to attend, but seeing the atrium it all made sense. Privacy, enclosure, but beautiful all the same, the atrium looked like it was some seventh wonder of the world with clear glasshouse windows, large paneling lined with exotic palm trees and rare plants flooding the pathways. Even the stage was set up in the midst of nature, a serene man-made but environmentally friendly waterfall propped behind where the bride and groom were to soon say their “I do’s” to each other.
“Miss Park? Gyuri?” a relatively handsome waiter had appeared by her side, blushing at Gyuri’s beauty in her marsala colored dress, the crimson and maroon color of it radiating from the light pouring through the open glass panels. She’d picked some real sparkly earrings to go with it and they dazzled off the wine glass she held, an appetizer before the real appetizers.
“Yes?”
“The bride is expecting you down the hallway. Miss Hara?”
“Oh,” Gyuri did not know how to respond, looking for a face in the crowd that would tell her how to react. Seungyeon? Luckily, Seungyeon had been waiting at the doorway for her, looking more hungover than Gyuri (YES! REVENGE!) but equally beautiful, with a suit donned Boris as an escort.
“Why’d you let me drink so much last night?” Seungyeon was saying but they were at end of the hall already, and the waiter let them into the last room, an adjacent room to the ballroom of the after party reception.
In less time to anticipate, Hara was already in front of them, clamoring both girls up in her arms, friendly but all the same polite, I missed you but I haven’t been thinking about you on a daily basis miss you. Seungyeon gave her a quick formal introduction to Boris, “Oh yes he doesn’t any know Korean except thank you! And a bow,” but Hara was looking at Gyuri stiffly, those round doe-eyes expressing too much and then nothing all at once.
Those “freakishly long toes” were hidden underneath some cream glossy pumps and Gyuri marveled at how much like a barbie doll Hara looked like on her big wedding day. Her long hair had grown exponentially and fell to her waist side and it made Gyuri persnickety with envy. Hara had never had to dye her hair some peroxide blonde color to be attainable and pretty and more friendly looking like Gyuri.
“I was debating whether or not to wear something longer, but I wanted something I wouldn’t trip over,” Hara stated, thinking Gyuri was staring at the shortness of her dress, not her. Her dress wasn’t exactly wedding like, but was unique all the same, falling just above her knee, white fluttering with a whimsical tail, the strapless top just skimming above her bustline. The little specks of gold decorated on the dress suited Hara perfectly, and Gyuri almost wanted to cry, fighting her eyes getting watery by pinching her nose.
“Where’s the rest…?” Hara was quizzically looking between Seungyeon and Gyuri for something else, someone else. Nicole, Jiyoung, Youngji? “Oh nevermind, I’m glad you both came. Really.”
Seungyeon was waving her hands in the air, the first of the three to cry, but Gyuri was staying put. “Oh Hara, I’m so proud of you! I just KNEW you’d be the first of us to get married. Making your unnies look like old haggard spinsters, you.”
“But-Boris?” Hara was pointing at Boris standing by the door awkwardly, but Seungyeon merely shrugged him off, squishing herself into Hara’s side, careful not to get her dress wrinkled in the hug.
“So proud.”
“Same here, Hara. Congratulations.” Shit. Gyuri was weakening again! She tried to put her guard up, her defenses high, solid as a rock but Hara looked so beautiful, right in front of her, after all those years of not one spoken word, and there she was- in touching distance, like a piece of finely crafted artwork in a history museum.
“Gyuri,” Hara said slowly. Her eyes had fallen on to Gyuri and she hadn’t settled them off, and just the magnitude of it was pressuring, “Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
Still at a loss of what to say, Gyuri complied without much thought, following Hara into the bathroom decked out in mermaid blue, looking like it cost $100,000 for the bathtub alone. “Wow,” she followed the patterns of the floorboards that went all the way up to the wooden ceiling before Hara placed a gentle hand on hers, focusing her attention.
“Gyuri.”
“Yes, Hara.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you earlier. I thought for sure you wouldn’t come.”
“Okay.”
“Gyuri.”
“Yes?”
“Gyuri,” Hara said her name again, soft and tender, innocent but steady. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Oh.”
Was she supposed to ask what was it? Hara’s eyes looked ridiculously large, her eyelashes fluttering under the heavy weight of their American drag make-up style, over the top and exaggerated.
Her eyes fluttered rapidly, waiting for Gyuri to respond with something more, give more of a clue as to what she was feeling, but Gyuri didn’t know what she was supposed to feel.
Instead she remembered the last time, five years ago when her and Hara had been in a bathroom alone. Hara had just broken up with that weird looking model with a funny nose, and she had been sobbing her eyes out until her nose had turned a deep red and they had been due on stage for five minutes already. Gyuri had taken to embracing Hara and telling her, “It’s ok Hara, you’re better off without him!” attacking her nose with a flurry of bb cream and white powder, but Hara was only crying more and more, until Gyuri was crying in empathic sadness as well, and then both girls were trying to cover each other’s swollen redness up, laughing while they did it, falling onto the disgusting rented bathroom floor in a heave of laughter, pressed powder erratically all over their faces so that their media photos from that day looked so splotchy DSP had to issue an apology on behalf of them for not looking their best.
Gyuri wondered if Hara remembered that day, and remembered how not long after, they’d gathered to discuss a disband, hearts not in it anymore, projects not exciting enough as a group, the enticement of being solo acts too tempting to not pursue. And that had been that. Abrupt and over in a moment.
Nicole, Jiyoung, Youngji, Sunghee. They had been through a lot together.
Hara was pulling at Gyuri’s chin, caressing it but also pinching it all the same, doing anything to get her attention back. Gyuri came to, a little slow, still slightly hungover, uncomfortable at the familiar feel of Hara’s hold, her light fingers, the dainty but magnetic way she could capture Gyuri’s gaze whenever she felt like it.
“A favor.”
“Yes, a favor. as you know, I’m not that close with my parents. And my grandmother is too old to walk much these days,” Hara’s hands were still playing with the surface of Gyuri’s skin, remembering it, trying to guess how many of the wrinkles around her eyes were new, “I need someone to walk me down the aisle and-”
deep breath
“and I was wondering if you could do it. Walk me down the aisle. To Joohyuk I mean.”
“Like a father?”
Gyuri imagined it, incredulous. Hair tied up, face somber, man suit, a beard full of stubble. It didn’t suit her.
“No, like a Gyuri. Like the person who took care of me the most the majority of my adult life,” Hara’s doe eyes were brimming with tears underneath her eyelashes now, “Until. Well, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“So. Could you do it? I mean forgive me? And maybe walk me down the aisle?” A lone clock hung by the bathtub behind Hara’s head. 4:55 pm. She had given Gyuri exactly five minutes to make one of the most impactful decisions of her life. Gyuri nodded, excitedly fast, finally embracing Hara, capturing the younger one’s smell into her arms, flooding her nostrils with the smell of lilacs and petunias and everything good in the world.
“Oh Gyuri, you have no idea how much this means to me,” another hug, a tearful exchange, heart leaping into stomach. “I love you.”
Gyuri expected the walk down the aisle to either go terribly wrong or be a misfit of inappropriate feels caused by her usurping the wedding and halting halfway though, “He’s not right for you!” but wobbly knees and platformed heels aside, the walk went fine. Hara clutched at Gyuri breathlessly and the audience, the guests, Seungyeon, were all teary at Gyuri’s participation, the meaningful reunion, the beautiful girls, what it represented for Hara, Hara - the bride to be, glittering in unmasked glory, the world class barbie doll walking down the aisle like she was always meant to.
Joohyuk stood by the stage, surrounded by the waterfall and plants, almost encased in them, his own tears falling down, stricken by Hara’s beauty. Gyuri didn’t know much about the kid, other than that he had lots of money posing for underwear but he seemed kind enough, giving her a grateful hug when Gyuri reluctantly put Hara’s hand tucked in hers tightly into his trembling one, giving him a light kiss and then Hara one, slightly more meaningful, grazing her blushed out cheeks with the tips of her lips, memorizing the feel of Hara’s touch upon hers one last time.
“I wasn’t ready,” Gyuri pushed Seungyeon out of the bed after Seungyeon made fun of her crying so poignantly when the bride and groom had said their I do’s.
“It was just perfect, that’s the kicker. You had like this one tear all blackened from your mascara rolling down your face like you planned it. I wish I caught the video of it,” Seungyeon had scrambled back into Gyuri’s bed and was scrolling through her phone’s gallery in desperation of finding Gyuri at the wedding on video.
“It was beautiful, okay. Shut up.” They had been watching some old sageuk drama on television, dubbed in Cantonese, laughing at the terrible interpretation of it, throwing popcorn at each other, propped up on their elbows, feet dangled with each other from behind. Just like old times. Boris had respectively stepped out, given them their ‘girl time’ on their last night out in Hong Kong, but both of them had been too fatigued to do anything but lounge around in Gyuri’s hotel room, too fond of the days they all used to be trapped up in their hotel rooms, unable to explore the towns they traveled in even if they wanted to.
“I’m glad you weren’t bitter about it,” Seungyeon mentioned casually, pretending to be distracted by her phone but she had stopped scrolling. Gyuri shifted around in her robe, looking for the remote.
“I don’t what you mean.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“I’m just saying. It was nice to see you be the bigger one about it all. And Hara looked so pretty too.” Gyuri rolled her eyes, then tossed another popcorn at Seungyeon. Truthfully she knew exactly what Seungyeon meant but it was something that didn’t have to be discussed, especially not now. Seungyeon curled herself over to Gyuri’s side, enveloping her miniscule head into Gyuri’s neck. “Glad you’ve forgiven me too for the record.”
“Shut up,” Gyuri repeated, but secretly loving the apology. It’d be something nice to gloat about later, she thought, as there was a light pop on the door, followed by an anxious knock. They looked at each other, curious, before Gyuri hesitated to open the door, “Hammie, if you ordered even more room service, I swear to g-” and bam there was Hara again, hair tossed into a grandma bun, white paper bag of something that smelled divine, cautiously looking into the hotel room, prying to see what was going on.
“Hara,” Gyuri caught her by the wrist, concerned, making sure she wasn’t crying. “is everything okay?”
“Of course it is!”
“Honey...moon?”
“Oh, that.” Hara laughed and dismissed Gyuri with an easy wave. “We’re not going for another week. Joohyuk has business to attend to. And well I kind of asked him to give me a few hours of solitude. We have the rest of our lives to get naughty.”
She sheepishly held up the bag that smelled suspiciously like warm crispy crab crakes and seaweed rolls. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Yum,” Seungyeon offered, sitting up in the bed and patting a space for Hara. Gyuri followed Hara to the bed, where Hara carved herself right in, making an indent in the middle, her thick perfume permanently welcoming itself into Gyuri’s sheets enough to remember her by for years.
“Unni,” Hara motioned her hand up to Gyuri, and Gyuri plopped down helping herself to a crab cake before Seungyeon finished it all. “just like old times.”
It did feel like old times, down to the three of them imitating the commercials on television and gossiping about what people wore to the wedding earlier that night, howls of laughter and chatter flooding the room, ordering bottles of complimentary bridal perks, bottle after bottle. The only thing different was the feel of Hara’s weight pressing on to Gyuri’s, in casual dependence, slightly feeling cold, a hug, indifference to a bad joke Seungyeon made, cowering in Gyuri’s arm, something scary in the drama, a hold behind her back, the unforgettable feel of Hara’s toe nails digging into Gyuri’s thigh, creating new marks from a simple laugh. The only thing that was new about it was the sizable ring riding around Hara’s finger, the yellow enchanted rock big enough to catch any light from a radius of five miles.
“I could stay here forever,” Hara said dreamily. The liquor had gotten to her first, as usual and she was situating herself into Gyuri’s hold as Seungyeon knocked back another drink from the edge of the bed.
“You guys can stay over if you want. Both of you,” Gyuri added, eyeing Seungyeon to catch her reaction. Seungyeon didn’t say much, distracted by a “No, I love you more” game on the phone with Boris to see who would hang up first. Gyuri looked down at Hara, tucked under her robe, sleepy as a bat. She looked so young without the false lashes, the bridal make-up and the gauziness that followed a wedding, but something had matured about her as well, a finality about who she was.
“You’ll get there too,” Hara was murmuring with her eyes drawn shut, almost too quiet to hear over the sound of the swords clashing in the sageuk, “one day.”
“What do you mean Hara Goo?” Gyuri responded softly, unable to resist the urge of combing the long tresses out of Hara’s face, fanning them behind her neck. Hara was smiling in her comatose status, hanging on to Gyuri as if the second she stopped clinging Gyuri was going to let go.
“You’ll find someone of your own.” Hara stated, rolling over and still clutching on to Gyuri. Gyuri smiled, shutting the television off, letting herself immerse into Hara’s grasp and falling asleep herself, and soon after Seungyeon joined them, the three of them entangled in a bevy of loving limbs, too exhausted to untuck themselves out, three pairs of toes dangling off the end of the bed in a precarious manner until sunrise.
Hara would never have to know that Gyuri had already found that someone.
___________
+imisskara
Freakishly long toes and something of an ant waist is how they described her in the blind item gossip column. Gyuri read the snippet meticulously over again, flipping the page over in her chunky magazine in case there were any more details on the other side. Freakishly long toes was an apt description; Gyuri remembered those toes and their nails vividly, clawing into the skin on her thighs on long car trips home, accidentally mauling her whenever Hara had decided to stretch in her sleep and scar Gyuri from the carseat aside. There was no doubt that the piece was about Goo Hara, and still Gyuri read it over and over scoffing at it, until she was reading it in a mocking matter, picking up several dialects as if it would make the story any less trivial.
She debated calling the number, picking her phone up and then dropping it again, before picking it up after finishing the read in a Daegu dialect, punching in the memorized digits before she could regret what she was doing and come to her senses. Ring, ring.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“Who-” voice cutting itself out, realizing all too quickly.
“Were you even planning on inviting me?”
“I-”
“To your wedding?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“Liar.”
“You’ve changed your address again. And your number.”
This was true, but Gyuri wasn’t the type to admit things.
“Gyuri. Message me your address.”
“Fine. I guess I can.”
“Will you even come?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll send it in the mail.”
Phone cut out. Curt and to the point and that was that. It was a ‘Gyuri’ move and she knew that all too well. She slammed her phone down, reaching for the magazine again to comb over for anything else between the lines again, resisting a smile.
PARK GYURI:
You are cordially invited to the wedding of Goo Hara, daughter of Goo Cho-nim and Goo Jan-soo and Nam Joohyuk, son of Nam Rim-tan and Nam Bo-yeon at the Gardens of the Han Lotus Hotel, in downtown Hong Kong, Hong Kong, 520 Preen Street. 5pm Sunday, August 20th, Formal attire only please.
(No boxed gifts accepted.)
---
Gyuri put her invite down, closing the door and not tipping the eager doorman. August 20th. She had ripped the invite so eagerly and also with a little bit of spite in anticipation but she hadn’t been expecting that. Only three days away, Hara had sent the invite a week prior: she really hadn’t intended to invite Gyuri at all, in expectancy that she wouldn’t show up. Gyuri snarled, taking a good look around her apartment, contemplating. Then she pounced in her room, tore into her closet and snatched the biggest suitcase she could find overhead, throwing everything of relevance in, only pausing to dig deep into her closet for something eye-stopping to wear for the wedding. Marsala colored dress, knee cut, deep jewels, seductive gait about it, got caught in her nails as she was strumming through her wardrobe and in it went with a soft thud on the top of her luggage.
Formal attire only please, my ass, challenge accepted - she would show her!
The last person Gyuri expected to see after her horrifically excruciating flight was Seungyeon. The flight had been dismal with bad airplane food, soggy feeling blankets and turbulence that would make going to anyone’s wedding seem like heaven. So naturally, the flight had been hell- and then there was tiny Hammie right in front of her. Han Seungyeon sat at the bar of the hotel lobby, stumpy legs teetering off the too high bar stools, giggling away with stoli in hand. What was the joke wasn’t clear, but her giggles were non-stop and they filtrated the large tiled floor in echoed annoyance, mostly Gyuri’s.
“Gyuri,” she cried in shock, reaching over across twenty feet to grab her, calling another figure to take care of Gyuri’s luggage. She didn’t really reach over to give Gyuri a hug, rather embraced her in an air kiss and a possessive hold of her arm, Gyuri able to glimpse at the twenty Cartier love bracelets on Seungyeon in between flights of hair. Somehow Gyuri had ended up on the bar stool besides Seungyeon and her own legs were teetering dangerously above the air, a bad design decision to have drunk people not be able to find their own balance. And then Seungyeon was introducing the someone who had wordlessly carried Gyuri’s suitcases over.
“This is Boris. He’s Russian!” Boris had a surly disposition to him, pale skin but jet black stringy hair and his over defined muscles jumped out of his leather jacket, shrouding him in his own posture, kind of like someone who glamorized the lifestyle of western WWE wrestlers way too much. Still, he had a rugged handsome quality to him and Gyuri could easily see why Seungyeon fell for him, muscles, money, muscles.
“He does stocks,” Seungyeon was chatting excitedly, clearly unaware of any tension between her and Gyuri that Gyuri was trying so hard to radiate across.
“When I told him my best friend’s name was Gyuri he got so excited thinking you were Russian because you know Gyuri is also a Russian name but then he didn’t talk to me for weeks when I finally told him that no, you were just a feisty Korean girl who refused to talk to me for years unless I talked first and your name just happened to be Gyuri as well even though it’s a Russian name.”
Seungyeon kept flagging the bartender down for another set of drinks, ignoring her beau still standing besides the girls, not taking a seat. His presence was intimidating and Gyuri did not care for it. She flashed him a signature smile of smug and only then did he take barstool on the other side of Seungyeon, occupying himself with his mobile phone. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t speak a lick of Korean no matter how hard I try to teach him. No English either. It’s comical, really.”
“So how do you communicate?”
Seungyeon slyly shrugged, bobbing her dirty fingers in her drink for an olive, only leaving Gyuri to guess.
“You seeing anyone, then?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
"Too busy.” Gyuri said flatly. The last time Gyuri had been in a long time relationship was when they had a different president and she didn’t enjoy pressing into the matter. Five boyfriends ago was when she had decided enough was enough, really- no one was ever going to be good enough for her.
“You have high standards,” Seungyeon said resolutely, finishing her drink and then taking Boris’ unfinished one and topping it off. “always have.”
“So when did you get an invite?” Gyuri changed the subject expertly, “I didn’t expect to see any of you here.”
“Oh, I don’t know. months ago. Kind of a surprise. Who would have thunkit- out of the three of us, Baby Goo getting hitched first. I wonder what her dress looks like. And have you met her husband to be yet? I haven’t. He’s that popular model, you know. The one with the baby face?”
Gyuri had seen him in numerous advertisements, tall as a dreamboat, super cute face, chiseled and hunky.
“I heard rumors you know. ‘Bout them two,” Seungyeon was whispering in Gyuri’s ear, as if Boris or the bartender or anyone nearby in the heart of Hong Kong would understand their gossipy Korean, “heard they’ve been dating for months. All low-key of course. Rumors he was dating some former idol- HER, and gave her round after round of chlamydia. Guys can only carry that STD if they’re packing huge down there, you know?” Seungyeon was winking when she said it, but Gyuri felt absolutely gross, tossing her martini’s olive down to the floor and crushing it with her bamboo wedge against the marbled tile.
Hara had been dating someone for months, been engaged for months, had been planning a wedding for months, and once had she not bothered to ring her up and inform her.
When Gyuri woke with her hair plastered to her cheeks and the feel of bricks weighing down her shoulders she groaned. Loudly. The tacky tangerine shades in her hotel room were drawn down but trickles of sunlight were pouring in jabbing her right in her eyeline and it was making her feel nauseous again. Squinting, she reached over for her phone and saw that it was 2pm already.
“Seungyeon,” she muttered inwardly, cursing Hammie for gabbing away all night, catching up and getting her so hammered that both Seungyeon and Boris had to escort Gyuri to her hotel room and tuck her into bed like some long lost parents of the past.
Making her way to the shower, Gyuri feebly attempted to remember the course of the night before, but her thoughts were muddled and she gave up quickly, succumbing to the five head in the shower, pulsating her back, slowly getting rid of her hangover. She hadn’t expected to forgive Seungyeon so easily for losing contact, in fact she had pretty much forgiven Seungyeon after five minutes of talking to her, falling so easily in their old best friend habits of talking to each other, secrets non existent, bad habits unfolded, trite confessions made in absolute confidence. Seungyeon may have been her confidant but Gyuri was not going to forgive Hara that easily, she resolved, stepping out of the shower and then looking at the clock with despair.
3 pm. She only had two hours before the wedding, only two hours to sober up and then get revenge in the best way she could.
It had been 4:30 pm by the time she had made her way down the elevator and down the stairs to the atrium where the wedding was to be held. Gyuri had thought it was ridiculous and flashy of Hara to hold her wedding overseas where only her most affluent guests would be able to attend, but seeing the atrium it all made sense. Privacy, enclosure, but beautiful all the same, the atrium looked like it was some seventh wonder of the world with clear glasshouse windows, large paneling lined with exotic palm trees and rare plants flooding the pathways. Even the stage was set up in the midst of nature, a serene man-made but environmentally friendly waterfall propped behind where the bride and groom were to soon say their “I do’s” to each other.
“Miss Park? Gyuri?” a relatively handsome waiter had appeared by her side, blushing at Gyuri’s beauty in her marsala colored dress, the crimson and maroon color of it radiating from the light pouring through the open glass panels. She’d picked some real sparkly earrings to go with it and they dazzled off the wine glass she held, an appetizer before the real appetizers.
“Yes?”
“The bride is expecting you down the hallway. Miss Hara?”
“Oh,” Gyuri did not know how to respond, looking for a face in the crowd that would tell her how to react. Seungyeon? Luckily, Seungyeon had been waiting at the doorway for her, looking more hungover than Gyuri (YES! REVENGE!) but equally beautiful, with a suit donned Boris as an escort.
“Why’d you let me drink so much last night?” Seungyeon was saying but they were at end of the hall already, and the waiter let them into the last room, an adjacent room to the ballroom of the after party reception.
In less time to anticipate, Hara was already in front of them, clamoring both girls up in her arms, friendly but all the same polite, I missed you but I haven’t been thinking about you on a daily basis miss you. Seungyeon gave her a quick formal introduction to Boris, “Oh yes he doesn’t any know Korean except thank you! And a bow,” but Hara was looking at Gyuri stiffly, those round doe-eyes expressing too much and then nothing all at once.
Those “freakishly long toes” were hidden underneath some cream glossy pumps and Gyuri marveled at how much like a barbie doll Hara looked like on her big wedding day. Her long hair had grown exponentially and fell to her waist side and it made Gyuri persnickety with envy. Hara had never had to dye her hair some peroxide blonde color to be attainable and pretty and more friendly looking like Gyuri.
“I was debating whether or not to wear something longer, but I wanted something I wouldn’t trip over,” Hara stated, thinking Gyuri was staring at the shortness of her dress, not her. Her dress wasn’t exactly wedding like, but was unique all the same, falling just above her knee, white fluttering with a whimsical tail, the strapless top just skimming above her bustline. The little specks of gold decorated on the dress suited Hara perfectly, and Gyuri almost wanted to cry, fighting her eyes getting watery by pinching her nose.
“Where’s the rest…?” Hara was quizzically looking between Seungyeon and Gyuri for something else, someone else. Nicole, Jiyoung, Youngji? “Oh nevermind, I’m glad you both came. Really.”
Seungyeon was waving her hands in the air, the first of the three to cry, but Gyuri was staying put. “Oh Hara, I’m so proud of you! I just KNEW you’d be the first of us to get married. Making your unnies look like old haggard spinsters, you.”
“But-Boris?” Hara was pointing at Boris standing by the door awkwardly, but Seungyeon merely shrugged him off, squishing herself into Hara’s side, careful not to get her dress wrinkled in the hug.
“So proud.”
“Same here, Hara. Congratulations.” Shit. Gyuri was weakening again! She tried to put her guard up, her defenses high, solid as a rock but Hara looked so beautiful, right in front of her, after all those years of not one spoken word, and there she was- in touching distance, like a piece of finely crafted artwork in a history museum.
“Gyuri,” Hara said slowly. Her eyes had fallen on to Gyuri and she hadn’t settled them off, and just the magnitude of it was pressuring, “Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
Still at a loss of what to say, Gyuri complied without much thought, following Hara into the bathroom decked out in mermaid blue, looking like it cost $100,000 for the bathtub alone. “Wow,” she followed the patterns of the floorboards that went all the way up to the wooden ceiling before Hara placed a gentle hand on hers, focusing her attention.
“Gyuri.”
“Yes, Hara.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you earlier. I thought for sure you wouldn’t come.”
“Okay.”
“Gyuri.”
“Yes?”
“Gyuri,” Hara said her name again, soft and tender, innocent but steady. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Oh.”
Was she supposed to ask what was it? Hara’s eyes looked ridiculously large, her eyelashes fluttering under the heavy weight of their American drag make-up style, over the top and exaggerated.
Her eyes fluttered rapidly, waiting for Gyuri to respond with something more, give more of a clue as to what she was feeling, but Gyuri didn’t know what she was supposed to feel.
Instead she remembered the last time, five years ago when her and Hara had been in a bathroom alone. Hara had just broken up with that weird looking model with a funny nose, and she had been sobbing her eyes out until her nose had turned a deep red and they had been due on stage for five minutes already. Gyuri had taken to embracing Hara and telling her, “It’s ok Hara, you’re better off without him!” attacking her nose with a flurry of bb cream and white powder, but Hara was only crying more and more, until Gyuri was crying in empathic sadness as well, and then both girls were trying to cover each other’s swollen redness up, laughing while they did it, falling onto the disgusting rented bathroom floor in a heave of laughter, pressed powder erratically all over their faces so that their media photos from that day looked so splotchy DSP had to issue an apology on behalf of them for not looking their best.
Gyuri wondered if Hara remembered that day, and remembered how not long after, they’d gathered to discuss a disband, hearts not in it anymore, projects not exciting enough as a group, the enticement of being solo acts too tempting to not pursue. And that had been that. Abrupt and over in a moment.
Nicole, Jiyoung, Youngji, Sunghee. They had been through a lot together.
Hara was pulling at Gyuri’s chin, caressing it but also pinching it all the same, doing anything to get her attention back. Gyuri came to, a little slow, still slightly hungover, uncomfortable at the familiar feel of Hara’s hold, her light fingers, the dainty but magnetic way she could capture Gyuri’s gaze whenever she felt like it.
“A favor.”
“Yes, a favor. as you know, I’m not that close with my parents. And my grandmother is too old to walk much these days,” Hara’s hands were still playing with the surface of Gyuri’s skin, remembering it, trying to guess how many of the wrinkles around her eyes were new, “I need someone to walk me down the aisle and-”
deep breath
“and I was wondering if you could do it. Walk me down the aisle. To Joohyuk I mean.”
“Like a father?”
Gyuri imagined it, incredulous. Hair tied up, face somber, man suit, a beard full of stubble. It didn’t suit her.
“No, like a Gyuri. Like the person who took care of me the most the majority of my adult life,” Hara’s doe eyes were brimming with tears underneath her eyelashes now, “Until. Well, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“So. Could you do it? I mean forgive me? And maybe walk me down the aisle?” A lone clock hung by the bathtub behind Hara’s head. 4:55 pm. She had given Gyuri exactly five minutes to make one of the most impactful decisions of her life. Gyuri nodded, excitedly fast, finally embracing Hara, capturing the younger one’s smell into her arms, flooding her nostrils with the smell of lilacs and petunias and everything good in the world.
“Oh Gyuri, you have no idea how much this means to me,” another hug, a tearful exchange, heart leaping into stomach. “I love you.”
Gyuri expected the walk down the aisle to either go terribly wrong or be a misfit of inappropriate feels caused by her usurping the wedding and halting halfway though, “He’s not right for you!” but wobbly knees and platformed heels aside, the walk went fine. Hara clutched at Gyuri breathlessly and the audience, the guests, Seungyeon, were all teary at Gyuri’s participation, the meaningful reunion, the beautiful girls, what it represented for Hara, Hara - the bride to be, glittering in unmasked glory, the world class barbie doll walking down the aisle like she was always meant to.
Joohyuk stood by the stage, surrounded by the waterfall and plants, almost encased in them, his own tears falling down, stricken by Hara’s beauty. Gyuri didn’t know much about the kid, other than that he had lots of money posing for underwear but he seemed kind enough, giving her a grateful hug when Gyuri reluctantly put Hara’s hand tucked in hers tightly into his trembling one, giving him a light kiss and then Hara one, slightly more meaningful, grazing her blushed out cheeks with the tips of her lips, memorizing the feel of Hara’s touch upon hers one last time.
“I wasn’t ready,” Gyuri pushed Seungyeon out of the bed after Seungyeon made fun of her crying so poignantly when the bride and groom had said their I do’s.
“It was just perfect, that’s the kicker. You had like this one tear all blackened from your mascara rolling down your face like you planned it. I wish I caught the video of it,” Seungyeon had scrambled back into Gyuri’s bed and was scrolling through her phone’s gallery in desperation of finding Gyuri at the wedding on video.
“It was beautiful, okay. Shut up.” They had been watching some old sageuk drama on television, dubbed in Cantonese, laughing at the terrible interpretation of it, throwing popcorn at each other, propped up on their elbows, feet dangled with each other from behind. Just like old times. Boris had respectively stepped out, given them their ‘girl time’ on their last night out in Hong Kong, but both of them had been too fatigued to do anything but lounge around in Gyuri’s hotel room, too fond of the days they all used to be trapped up in their hotel rooms, unable to explore the towns they traveled in even if they wanted to.
“I’m glad you weren’t bitter about it,” Seungyeon mentioned casually, pretending to be distracted by her phone but she had stopped scrolling. Gyuri shifted around in her robe, looking for the remote.
“I don’t what you mean.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“I’m just saying. It was nice to see you be the bigger one about it all. And Hara looked so pretty too.” Gyuri rolled her eyes, then tossed another popcorn at Seungyeon. Truthfully she knew exactly what Seungyeon meant but it was something that didn’t have to be discussed, especially not now. Seungyeon curled herself over to Gyuri’s side, enveloping her miniscule head into Gyuri’s neck. “Glad you’ve forgiven me too for the record.”
“Shut up,” Gyuri repeated, but secretly loving the apology. It’d be something nice to gloat about later, she thought, as there was a light pop on the door, followed by an anxious knock. They looked at each other, curious, before Gyuri hesitated to open the door, “Hammie, if you ordered even more room service, I swear to g-” and bam there was Hara again, hair tossed into a grandma bun, white paper bag of something that smelled divine, cautiously looking into the hotel room, prying to see what was going on.
“Hara,” Gyuri caught her by the wrist, concerned, making sure she wasn’t crying. “is everything okay?”
“Of course it is!”
“Honey...moon?”
“Oh, that.” Hara laughed and dismissed Gyuri with an easy wave. “We’re not going for another week. Joohyuk has business to attend to. And well I kind of asked him to give me a few hours of solitude. We have the rest of our lives to get naughty.”
She sheepishly held up the bag that smelled suspiciously like warm crispy crab crakes and seaweed rolls. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Yum,” Seungyeon offered, sitting up in the bed and patting a space for Hara. Gyuri followed Hara to the bed, where Hara carved herself right in, making an indent in the middle, her thick perfume permanently welcoming itself into Gyuri’s sheets enough to remember her by for years.
“Unni,” Hara motioned her hand up to Gyuri, and Gyuri plopped down helping herself to a crab cake before Seungyeon finished it all. “just like old times.”
It did feel like old times, down to the three of them imitating the commercials on television and gossiping about what people wore to the wedding earlier that night, howls of laughter and chatter flooding the room, ordering bottles of complimentary bridal perks, bottle after bottle. The only thing different was the feel of Hara’s weight pressing on to Gyuri’s, in casual dependence, slightly feeling cold, a hug, indifference to a bad joke Seungyeon made, cowering in Gyuri’s arm, something scary in the drama, a hold behind her back, the unforgettable feel of Hara’s toe nails digging into Gyuri’s thigh, creating new marks from a simple laugh. The only thing that was new about it was the sizable ring riding around Hara’s finger, the yellow enchanted rock big enough to catch any light from a radius of five miles.
“I could stay here forever,” Hara said dreamily. The liquor had gotten to her first, as usual and she was situating herself into Gyuri’s hold as Seungyeon knocked back another drink from the edge of the bed.
“You guys can stay over if you want. Both of you,” Gyuri added, eyeing Seungyeon to catch her reaction. Seungyeon didn’t say much, distracted by a “No, I love you more” game on the phone with Boris to see who would hang up first. Gyuri looked down at Hara, tucked under her robe, sleepy as a bat. She looked so young without the false lashes, the bridal make-up and the gauziness that followed a wedding, but something had matured about her as well, a finality about who she was.
“You’ll get there too,” Hara was murmuring with her eyes drawn shut, almost too quiet to hear over the sound of the swords clashing in the sageuk, “one day.”
“What do you mean Hara Goo?” Gyuri responded softly, unable to resist the urge of combing the long tresses out of Hara’s face, fanning them behind her neck. Hara was smiling in her comatose status, hanging on to Gyuri as if the second she stopped clinging Gyuri was going to let go.
“You’ll find someone of your own.” Hara stated, rolling over and still clutching on to Gyuri. Gyuri smiled, shutting the television off, letting herself immerse into Hara’s grasp and falling asleep herself, and soon after Seungyeon joined them, the three of them entangled in a bevy of loving limbs, too exhausted to untuck themselves out, three pairs of toes dangling off the end of the bed in a precarious manner until sunrise.
Hara would never have to know that Gyuri had already found that someone.
___________
+imisskara