Forgetting

    He let out a sigh of relief as his fingers hit the last few letters on the keyboard, leaning backing and stretching. He remained where he was for a moment, in silent contemplation of his work, before he closed the laptop screen and stood up.

    He picked up the phone, dialed a few numbers, and picked up his cigarette. It was close to finished; only a few more pulls were left in the little stick. There was a clicking noise as the phone line was picked up.

    “It’s done,” he said simply, in place of a “hello”. He pulled on the cigarette again.

    “Daniel? What? The manuscript?”

    Honestly, his editor was a little too green for him sometimes. “Yes, the manuscript, did you expect something else?”

    “Well, no, but when a person picks up the phone he expects to hear a hello or something…”

    “You of all people should know that I’m not like that.”

    “Yeah, okay, yeah. When can I come by?”

    “Don’t bother, I already emailed it to you.” How useful. He never thought he would like the whole idea of instant communication, but it was pretty great to have around when you didn’t want to see your too-young editor in person.

    “What?! Ah, okay, then I’ll just-”

    He hung up. He didn’t care anymore. It was done, it was perfect, he wouldn’t have done another revision even if they told him to. He knew better than them by now.

    The bed creaked when he flopped down, his bones mimicking the sound shortly after. He stifled a groan and put out his cigarette. After being trapped in that chair for the last few months, you would’ve thought he would want to get up and run around. Well, no, not anymore. He’d done that enough when he was younger; now he just wanted to rest.

    There was a picture taped to the wall next to him. His eyes traveled slowly over the faded, cracked film paper; it depicted four children, standing with their arms over each others’ shoulders and grinning as though they didn’t have a care in the world. A smile flitted across his lips.

    “When is your book going to be done? I want to read it before the end of school!”

    He could barely remember those days now. Looking at that photograph just reminded him of how old he was. Not quite retirement age, not by today’s standards, but his soul felt old. The other three had gone off on their own eventually, making their own pathways through life, and they only saw each other once after Yoongjin had the baby.

    “I wish we didn’t have to meet like this.”

    It had been raining that day, and now that he finally cast a glance out of the ceiling window he saw it was raining now. He almost wanted to go for a walk, to feel what it was like to have heaven’s tears drip onto his cheeks one last time, but his umbrella had holes in it and he was too tired, anyways. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

    “How did it happen? Car accident?”

    “Motorcycle. He was driving in the country and it started to rain.”

    “Why was he always so reckless?”

    They were all gone now, through their own means; Hyukjae and his motorcycle, Taeyeon and her rope, Yoongjin and her not-nice husband. Even the baby was gone, off along with his mother and father. He was the only one left, and there was no one else to meet anymore. No one worth meeting.

    He opened his eyes and sat up, yawned a little, and made his way to the desk in the middle of the room. To a chorus of raindrops on glass, he methodically organized every one of his notes and his papers, humming along to a tune that only he knew.

    The organization took up the greater part of the day; when he was done, his stomach was rumbling. He glanced at his watch and realized that he hadn’t eaten all day. He stuck a bit of paper in his mouth and went to the kitchen.

    In the old fruit bowl were a few rotting apples and brown bananas. He wondered for a moment about how he could have forgotten to change the fruit, then laughed at himself. He’d almost forgotten that he always forgot things like that.

    He grabbed one of the less-rotten-looking apples and walked to the washroom, where he rummaged around in the medicine cabinet. His fingers held up a bottle half-full of white capsules, and he squinted in order to read the small print on the label.

    Two each day with food.

    He uncapped the bottle and poured eight or nine of the capsules into his palm. He took a final bite of the apple, tossed it into the trashcan along with the rest of the pills, and swallowed everything at once. He drank water from the tap to make it go down easier. After a second he burped, then went back to bed.

    He went back to resting, watching the rain stream down the window and sighing occasionally. He glanced over at the pile of papers on the floor and wondered what they were doing there. Had he organized them?

    He stood up again, grunting a little because his limbs suddenly felt very heavy. He gathered up the papers into a couple of plastic bags and took them to the door, where he noticed his holey umbrella. Picking that up as well, he slipped on his shoes and went outside.

    It was more drizzling than raining, a light mist drifting up amongst the toadstools in the garden, but he ignored it all as he walked down the laneway. The tin of the garbage can made a rattling noise when he lifted the lid and dropped in his umbrella and a life’s worth of writing. He replaced the lid, looked up at the sky, and went back inside.

    Finally, he could really rest. His eyelids were drooping before he had even gotten to the bed, and when he curled up with a thin blanket and an old, worn pillow, he fell asleep almost instantly.

    The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the picture of the four children, and it made him grin weakly.

    “I am naught but a sheep, depending on you, Lord, to save me from my own ruin.” The sermon that day was touching and clear, even beneath the black umbrellas and the grey, drizzling rain. “With you all cliffs become hills, all pastures become green, and even the shadow of death becomes a valley in which I walk with you.”

    “Do you think he was happy?”

    “Why wouldn’t he be? He died doing something he loved.”

    “Daniel? Daniel, pick up the phone, we need to talk about the manuscript. The title is a little too strange, we want to change it. Daniel?”

    “When you write your book, let me read it first!”

    “Okay, okay, you can be first, Taeyeon. But you have to promise to be happy from now on! No more joking around about nooses and stuff!”

    “Why on earth would you call it “Umbrella”? What does an umbrella have to do with anything? Not once in the entire book do any of those four kids use an umbrella. You’re going to confuse your readers.”

    “Where did Yoongjin meet her boyfriend?”

    “On a corner, I think? The whole thing seems a little sketchy to me, but she said he was a great guy.”

    “Never trust a guy with missing teeth, that’s what I always say.”

    “What is this thing about? Does it have some significant meaning to you? It’s a very vague sort of story…”

    It hurts, he thought. But maybe now I can have some peace.

    He had said his goodbyes a long time ago; now the only thing to do was forget ever having said them.