O Chin - Now That It's Over

But would he do it again, he was often asked, a follow-up question, and he would say, turning to me, smiling: maybe, maybe.

The closely clustered trees tower over me, the thick unruly undergrowth edges out onto the cracked tarmac, the long road curves round a bend before emerging again. My thoughts slip in and out of the crevices of my mind, gaining no real purchase. The sun is now at its zenith, blinding. I take off my shirt and tie it around my waist. My skin feels taut, as if I might burst out of it anytime, like a snake shedding its old skin.

My pace has slowed considerably, and I can feel blisters mushrooming on my torn soles. I glance back occasionally for signs of movement, but there’s nothing, only a long grey stretch of road traversing the landscape, winding through the trees. Two dark smudges move through the sky in unison—eagles? One of them lets out a doleful cry, dips low and disappears into the treetops, while the other cuts a straight path ahead. I watch as it flies beyond the hills and vanishes into a bank of low-lying clouds.

For the first three months I was dating Cody, I was also casually seeing another guy on the side. Andy was twenty-eight, and worked as a senior data analyst in a market research firm; we met through a mutual friend. He was fine with the arrangement, as he had just got out of a six-year relationship and wasn’t looking for anything serious. Because nothing was asked besides mutual pleasure, we enjoyed the sessions we had, with some lasting up to three, four hours. Right from the start, because I knew what I was in for, I did not expect much from him, and was wary of making any unnecessary demands on his time. We met when we were free or bored or horny, and we left the rest of our lives opaque to each other. There was nothing else to hold us together, and we were okay with what we had.

So when Cody asked whether I was seeing anyone else over brunch one morning, I was caught off-guard. I studied his face to see whether his question was asked out of plain interest or suspicion. I could not sense the intention behind his expression.

“Why do you ask?” I said.

“Just curious. You’re always checking your mobile phone,” he said, biting into his kaya toast, a light dusting of bread crust falling to the table top.

“It’s a bad habit, I guess. Okay, I promise not to check my phone so much,” I said.

“No, no. It’s okay with me. I’m just wondering, that’s all. So? Are you seeing anyone else?”

I smiled. Cody’s look was a mix of anticipation and curiosity.

“Nobody serious. I’m ending it anyway.”

“Oh. Who is he?”

“Just a friend. Well, a friend of a friend, actually.”

“You like him?”

“He’s okay. But he’s not you.”

“Ah, trying to flatter me?” Cody smiled, looking like he wanted to say more, but in the end he refrained. I deleted Andy’s number from my phone and did not answer his calls or messages after that. He persisted for a while, and finally I had to meet him over coffee to explain.

“So that’s why you are avoiding me like a plague? You just have to tell me straight. I’ll understand,” said Andy.

“I just thought perhaps it’s better to tell you face to face.”

“So this is it? You are serious about this guy?”

“He’s decent, and I like him.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“A few months.”

“You should have told me earlier. At least I would have some time to look around for another fuck buddy.” Andy laughed, but there was no mirth in his laughter.

“You will find one soon enough, with your looks.”

“I don’t know. It’s not easy to find someone who is compatible, you know.”

“You will, I’m very sure.”

After coffee, Andy offered to drive me home. Coming to the block of flats where I lived, Andy pressed me into my seat. “For old time’s sake,” he said.

“No, better not, people will see.”

“Not that it has bothered you before. Come on.”

“No,” I said, but Andy was already lifting my shirt, teasing my nipple with his tongue. I dropped my hands to my sides. Andy unzipped my jeans and reached in, stroking my cock against my underwear.

“You’ll miss me. You sure you want to give this up?” Andy whispered into my ear, grasping my cock with an assertive firmness. And when he kissed me, dipping his tongue into my mouth, I relented. He bent down and took my cock into his mouth, glancing up at me, silently commanding my attention. When I was about to come, he pushed my cock deeper into his mouth. Unable to hold back, I shot my load, and he swallowed demonstratively.

“You sure you want to give this up?” Andy asked again.

Tattered images cloud my mind as I trudge, my pace slowing to a snail’s crawl, the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun dulling my thoughts. Chafing against my worn-out shoes, the blisters on my feet and ankles have swelled to white, soggy patches, leaking blood and pus. Every little movement takes Herculean effort, even keeping my head up to check what’s ahead of me. The bundle I’m carrying on my shoulder feels like a bag full of concrete blocks, digging into my flesh.

Feeling faint, I amble towards the shade of a tall tree with sprawling roots, and collapse in a heap onto the grassy ground. I close my eyes against the shifting light filtering through the tightly-knitted canopy of leaves. Something hard and sharp jabs my shoulder, but I’m too exhausted to move away. My breaths are slow and mechanical, my mouth a burning furnace. I fumble for the bottle of water in the bundle, remove the cap, and pour the contents over my face. The water runs into my mouth and nose; I gag and throw up everything that I’ve drunk.

Everything starts to slip away from me—I imagine my body slowly disintegrating into the dark soil, sinking into the depths.

Lying in bed in the dark, Cody and I talked about death, the kind of death we envisioned for ourselves.

“Something quick and fast, definitely,” Cody said.

“Like what?” I said.

“Like a car crash or a sudden accident, something totally out of the blue.”

“So drama, so David Lynch-y.”

“Ha, but without the sexual fetishism. Yeah, that way there is no suffering at all, gone, just like that.”

“In a blaze of glory?” I said. Cody’s laughter echoed in the room. “For me, it’s simple. I want to die surrounded by my loved ones.”

“That’s so cliché, boring. Think of a better one.”

“I always have this fantasy that I’ll die of an incurable disease. There I am, on my deathbed, and I have just made a terrible confession to my family. There are tears all around, the nervous clasping of hands, and everyone offering kind words, consolation, forgiveness. You know, the whole works. And then I die very slowly, very beautifully.”

“What the fuck! What’s wrong with you? This is so fucking Korean drama, so totally unoriginal.”

“I know, I know. It’s weird. It’s just a fantasy.”

“I always knew you were such a drama queen!”

“Fuck you.” Cody leant in to kiss me on the forehead. I caught the scent of toothpaste on his breath and sought out his lips.

A savage cry pulls me back from the shadow land of dreams into the present. I open my eyes to the bright, piercing sunlight, and look around. Where has the sound come from? Was it a part of my dream? Peering into the dark undergrowth, I can’t discern any movement. Perhaps I’ve conjured it up in my imagination—the sound seemed wild, distorted, unnatural. I push myself upright and lean against the rough trunk of the tree. I survey my surroundings and the quiet road in front of me. Nothing moves.