AAE -- For Better For Worse

Part 3 -- Chapter 11

by LoveCR2

edited by All-About-AAE

 

 

"Aren't you coming home?" Sun-Mi's voice conveys her exasperation over the phone line.

 

"I'm working late," Hyung-Chul replies without apology.

 

"I hear music. Where are you?"

 

"In my office, of course. I'm playing a CD."

 

"Then you're alone?"

 

"I sent my admin off an hour ago," he shows his irritation at getting the third degree, "Why all the questions?"

 

"Can't a wife ask her husband what he is doing?" she retorts. "Are you hiding something from me?"

 

"Do you want to see the pile of papers on my desk? The contract draft is due for review tomorrow morning," he grumbles tiredly. "If that's all, I have to get back to work... Don't wait up."

 

"I won't!" she retorts sharply -- he can picture the sparks flying in her eyes. "I'm... I'm hanging up now!"

 

Sun-Mi slams the phone down, cutting of the call abruptly.

 

 

With a long sigh, Hyung-Chul flips his mobile closed and sets it down on the table.

 

The young Thai girl sitting in the booth next to him, dressed in a daringly low-cut tube top and hip-hugging microskirt, asks in accented English, "You have long week? Pour you another, Mister?"

 

He nods, not bothering to look at her, his mind occupied by more pressing matters...

 

 

It was not just a long week, but a long six months since the day he was given notice that his job at the BBC was terminated.

 

He had thought that with his wide network of contacts, years of experience at the top levels of business, and fluency in English, Korean, and Japanese, landing a new job would happen before the final transition weeks had ended. But in the midst of a general souring of the British economy, the market for expat executives with experience limited to broadcasting proved thinner than expected.

 

His hopes soon dwindled as the responses to his resumes returned more negative than positive. Follow up interviews proved even more elusive. On his last day with the BBC, he was still unemployed, and the prospects of beginning another job soon were nonexistent.

 

That's when it hit home. Lying to one's spouse with good intentions is easy, but sustaining a lie over days and weeks is a much more arduous task. He knew the fury he'd face once Sun-Mi learned her of his deceit and discovered she was the last to know the truth. That this would likely result in his facing a long 'cold war' at home just added to the pressure he was under.

 

Therefore, to keep up appearances, he had continued to go off to 'work' each day. During these 'office hours' he conducted his job search at the local library branch, or sometimes on a park bench when the weather was amenable. A hired day office provided the occasional clerical services required for sending resumes and a mailing address. And after hours, he found stopping off at one of the local pubs for a few drinks helped settle the tension before returning home to have dinner with Sun-Mi.

 

As the weeks wore into months, it initially appeared that his deception was working. Sun-Mi had seemed completely unaware of his situation, contentedly following her normal routine. She split her days between pious attendance at church, outings to satisfy her lifelong interest in the arts at the city's many art museums and galleries, and bouts of shopping at London's top emporiums and upscale fashion boutiques.

 

Yet over time, the strain of keeping his secret from Sun-Mi had built a wider wall between them. Their dinners together, once filled by her lively chatter about the day's adventures, became more an endurance of cold silence. Evenings they found easier when withdrawn to their separate spaces -- he to his study to drown his problems in alcohol -- she to her dressing room to immerse herself in Korean melodramas or cheap manhwa books picked up at the Korean bookshops.

 

But his desire to isolate himself wasn't only from a need to maintain his male pride, he was now under pressure from another, more serious threat -- a worsening financial situation that was moving quickly to bankruptcy.

 

He had courted Sun-Mi lavishly, gifting her with jewelry and designer clothes, treating her at expensive, trendy cafes and fine-dining restaurants, all while ferrying her about in his luxury cars, hoping to prove his love by showing how much he valued her. After marrying, he had provided her with a life of comfort and luxury as the wife of a mid-level executive, intent on fulfilling his promise to keep her happy.

 

So when he had lost his job, his first instinct was to insulate Sun-Mi from any apparent financial consequences, maintaining the trappings of their life far longer than what was sensible given his limited resources.

 

The efforts to fight Director Kim's attempt to take over MBS had drained his bank accounts and significantly reduced the value of his stock holdings. With bills mounting and credit cards extended, he had liquidated his remaining investments one at a time, staving off a reckoning as long as possible. Next, he sold his villa in Seoul -- they were unlikely to ever live there -- buying more time. Eventually, all that remained was his Milwall flat.

 

Their home's value was now underwater with the general economic slump, so selling it would provide no relief. Hyung-Chul had held back the monthly payments to pay off other debts, negotiating with the lending bank for extensions on the loan until the court process had been exhausted, hoping in the meantime his luck would turn before the bank ultimately took outright possession.

 

Then yesterday, his luck ran out with the arrival of the eviction warrant. In two weeks, they would be homeless. His house of deception had collapsed, and there was no putting it off any longer. Tomorrow, he had to come clean with Sun-Mi.

 

 

The Thai girl leans closer to fill Hyung-Chul's shot glass, bringing her ample bosom directly in view to entice his attention. Seeing his eyes refocus instinctively onto her deep cleavage, she places her hand on his knee and slides it up his thigh.

 

"You like what see?" she purrs huskily into his ear.

 

When he doesn't respond, she ups her ante, brushing her lips against the side of his neck provocatively. "We go to private massage room, Mister. I show you more..."

 

 

Shrugging the thinly veiled proposition off, Hyung-Chul takes a long draw on his cigarette and blows out a thin stream of smoke. The girl, rebuffed, gets up and stalks off in a huff to troll more promising waters.

 

Alone, he stares dully at the nubile dancer on the stage in front of him. Writhing sensually to the pounding beat of the music, she caresses the pole with her long, limber legs, artfully removing her clothing one piece at a time.

 

But the alluring view of female flesh before Hyung-Chul's eyes doesn't connect with his mind. His attempt to distract himself is to no avail. Even the alcohol buzz can't dim the mental picture he regrets most -- Sun-Mi's shocked, angry face, and the desolate pain in her eyes, when she hears the truth...

 

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

The late afternoon sun is shining through the wall of glass overlooking Hyde Park into Hyung-Chul's face when he wakes up. Hangover throbbing, he is still dressed in his wrinkled clothes after a short but restless night on the couch.

 

In the kitchen he finds a curt note: Out shopping. Hangover medicine is in the cupboard next to the frig.

 

Instead he turns to the 'Hair of the Dog' theory, taking out a six-pack of beers from the frig, and sits down at the table to self-medicate.

 

 

Hours later, when Sun-Mi returns with an armload of shopping bags, she finds Hyung-Chul seated at the table with a beer in his hand.

 

"Senior, what's going on?" she asks, seeing the half-dozen empty and five unopened cans in front of him. "You're drunk!"

 

"You're right, I am. Because there's something I need to tell you," he replies, "Something I've been putting off..."

 

"I already know," Sun-Mi interrupts, her expression tense, "It's another woman... I saw the lipstick on your collar this morning."

 

"It's not what you think."

 

"Then what is it?"

 

 

She drops the bags and sits down at the table across from him. But instead of the angry tirade Hyung-Chul is expecting, she sighs with relief.

 

"I'm glad it's over. Actually, I've suspected this for a long time. The hours you've been keeping, avoiding me at home, the smell of alcohol on your breath when you come in. I knew you were holding something back from me..."

 

Grabbing an unopened can, Sun-Mi pops the top and chugs down the contents as he watches. Opening another, she puts it to her lips and drains it, too. She reaches for a third, but Hyung-Chul puts his hand on top of hers, stopping her.

 

"What are you doing? You should at least eat something first."

 

"I don't want to eat. I want to get drunk, right now. Or would you rather I throw a tantrum?" she threatens.

 

 

Hyung-Chul lets go of her hand, and Sun-Mi pops the can open, but doesn't drink.

 

"Should I blame you, for betraying me? ... Yes ... But do I? ... No ... I don't have the right to," she surprises him with her conclusion.

 

"Because of me, you gave up everything. But what did I give up for you? What did I give you in return? Nothing. It was only a matter of time before such an out-of-balance relationship tottered, and you found someone else who suited you better."

 

She picks up the beer, and takes a long swig.

 

"If you want a divorce, go ahead," she offers. "I've had a long time to think about the possibility, and won't contest it. I won't hang onto you any longer."

 

She tips up the beer can, finishes it off, and sets it down, empty, beside the others.

 

"That's the only thing I can give you, all that I have left to offer," her voice breaks with a sob, "The freedom to leave me... and be happy..."