AAE -- For Better For Worse

Part 3 -- Chapter 22

by LoveCR2

edited by All-About-AAE

 

 

Working as an exotic dancer was more physically and mentally challenging than Sun-Mi had anticipated. Between performing her routines on stage and hustling aggressively to sell private dances, there was little time to rest amidst the stiff competition for clients. Although the dancers shared a level of congeniality, Sun-Mi knew she had to watch her back, constantly alert for another girl cutting in.

 

Over time, building her strength and endurance from practicing long hours with Ericka's tutelage, Sun-Mi honed her skills and improved her dance routines, gaining confidence as she strove to emulate her mentor's grace and agility on the pole. Judith rewarded her efforts by moving her to busier shifts where she could increase her customer exposure and earning potential.

 

Still, it wasn't like Ericka had claimed. It did matter for Sun-Mi, that residual social stigma from her occupation, and the constant anxiety that Hyung-Chul might somehow find out. But she justified it to herself, that what mattered most was how much she earned. The necessity of keeping food on the table and a roof over their head, paying the bills and what she owed on her debt, was paramount.

 

Seven days a week, Sun-Mi worked arduous double shifts starting in the late afternoon that extended into the early morning hours. With a one-hour bus commute from Soho, she arrived home near daybreak to crash in bed, totally drained. Waking before noon, she barely had time for shopping and preparing their meals, then washing up and dressing, before she had to leave on the bus for her next shift.

 

If Hyung-Chul was curious about her unusual working hours, he mentioned nothing. It was more likely, Sun-Mi surmised, lost in his mental funk, he didn't notice or possibly even care. During her few waking hours with him they seldom conversed at length or about anything of importance, and she was glad to avoid any possibly awkward questions about her work.

 

With little time left for the rest of life's daily demands, housekeeping was an afterthought, even on the rare days she might muster the enthusiasm and energy. Gradually, the walls and ceiling of their little apartment gained a dingy, yellowish coating of cooking oil and cigarette smoke. Grimy windows cast a drab light even on the sunniest days. A layer of gray covered every horizontal surface and settled on the curtains and furniture. The faded Monet 'Water Lilies' poster hung askew, held to the wall by a single tenacious piece of tape. �Dirty dishes cluttered the countertop waiting to be washed, and unwashed clothes overflowed the hamper between Sun-Mi's sporadic trips to the launderette.

 

For Sun-Mi, each day was a mirror of the last, promising the same weariness and dull ache of a bleak future with no hope of something better. Buried in the numbing repetition, days blurred into weeks, and weeks dissolved into months, marked only by the seasons as spring flowed into summer. All too soon it was June, and her 31st birthday...

 

 

Coming into the VIP Lounge dressing room just before midnight, Sun-Mi is surprised to find Cielo there.

 

"Happy birthday!" she greets Sun-Mi cheerily, presenting the small cake she had purchased for the occasion.

 

Sun-Mi flashes a brief, grateful smile. "Thanks, but you shouldn't have. Manager Chin will throw a fit if he finds out you were here instead of working."

 

"I told the bartender I had to go to the loo, then snuck out. It's not every day we have something to celebrate," Cielo justifies her effort, then notices Sun-Mi's drawn face. "Is something wrong?"

 

"My stomach is a bit upset, that's all," Sun-Mi explains. "Judith said I could leave early today."

 

"Then I won't keep you. Let's get together tomorrow, before work," Cielo suggests. "It's been a long time since we talked."

 

"I'd like that," Sun-Mi agrees, giving Cielo a hug before she goes.

 

 

The night is unusually warm as Sun-Mi returns home. Although the windows are wide open, the apartment is humid and airless without a breeze when she walks in. They had no AC unit, and even if they did, couldn't afford to use it.

 

Hyung-Chul is parked on the couch in shorts and unbuttoned shirt with a four-pack of Tesco lager and the remains of the corned beef sandwich she had made for his lunch on the coffee table -- exactly as he was when she left that afternoon -- watching a Formula 1 race on TV.

 

"You're back early," he mumbles.

 

Keeping his eyes glued to the screen, Hyung-Chul leans forward, grabs his beer, puts it to his lips and takes a long swallow.

 

"Yeah. You noticed?" Sun-Mi responds tiredly.

 

Sun-Mi closes the door and shucks off her well-worn flats. Carrying her large cloth tote bag, she steps gingerly on sore feet over to the couch and drops next to Hyung-Chul with a drawn-out sigh.

 

 

Using the remote, he flicks the channel to BBC Radio 3 and adjusts the volume of the classical music coming from the TV speakers.

 

"Happy Birthday. Have one." He opens another can of beer and offers it to her. "It's not champagne, but I didn't expect you back tonight. I thought we'd celebrate before you went back to work."

 

She pushes the can away with a look of disgust, and he sets it back on the coffee table, miffed. "Hey, give me some credit," he complains, "at least I remembered."

 

Sun-Mi thinks back to her 25th birthday, and the promise he'd made -- 'After one year, two years, ten years, 20 years, I want to be there for your birthdays.' -- That night they'd toasted with pricy vintage bubbly to a live string quartet, not cheap warm beer to a prerecorded orchestra. This was hardly the fairytale future she'd imagined they would have living happily ever after.

 

"I'd rather not be reminded," she grumbles, "What's there to celebrate anyway?"

 

"Don't be a spoilsport," he chides, moving closer and leaning in to kiss her.

 

But Sun-Mi is not in the mood. Rejecting his advances, she turns her face away, reaches for the remote, and shuts off the TV.

 

"Why did you do that?" he protests.

 

"Senior, we need to talk."

 

"About what?"

 

"This..."

 

Opening the bag, Sun-Mi removes a pair of black 'stripper shoes' with thick platforms and towering eight-inch stiletto heels, setting them down in front of him. Then she lays out her dance costumes on the coffee table so he can see them clearly.

 

"Look closely. I want you to see what I wear for work now," she states candidly.

 

His attention captured as intended, a sick feeling roils his stomach as Hyung-Chul envisions Sun-Mi up on a dance stage, writhing sensually around a pole as she bumps and grinds for a raucous male audience. Without a word he picks up his beer, drains the remaining contents, and crushes the can loudly in his hand.

 

Flinching at the sharp sound, Sun-Mi continues...

 

"I started three months ago. I only did it because we needed the money," she justifies herself. "But I was afraid of facing you."

 

 

He turns his head to look at Sun-Mi, his jaw tense, asking dryly, "Then why are you telling me now?"

 

"I needed to know how you felt about it, about me."

 

"What man wants his wife parading her body for other men to gawk at? It's shameful for him," Hyung-Chul replies disdainfully. "Did you think I'd be happy and give you an award?"

 

His sarcasm stings. "If it's so shameful, do you want to split up with me?" she snaps back, baiting him.

 

"Should I? Is there something more you haven't told me?"

 

 

"Yes... I went to the clinic yesterday, and found out I'm ten weeks pregnant!" Sun-Mi reveals, glaring angrily. "What a way to ruin a birthday!"

 

Her negative attitude toward what should be good news makes Hyung-Chul concerned. "Why aren't you happy? Isn't this what you always wanted? A baby? You tried so hard, for so long," he points out her former attempts at IVF. "So why are you like this?"

 

"How can I be happy? Look at this dump! Can we raise a child here?" she berates him. "We can barely pay the rent! How will we afford formula and nappies? Soon I'll start showing. And then, no work, no money. We won't even have a place to call home then!"

 

"I'll get a job, I promise."

 

"Like you did the last time? Or the one before that?"

 

"Give me another chance," he begs. "I'll change. I'll do better."

 

"I'm tired of empty words and useless promises!" Sun-Mi derides his intentions. "Anyway, there's no need. I've already made an appointment for next week, to terminate it."

 

 

Appalled, Hyung-Chul objects, "Without asking me first?"

 

"I didn't need your permission. It's solely my decision," Sun-Mi disputes his right to be involved. "I only told you now so you'd understand why I have to do it."

 

Hyung-Chul tries to dissuade her. "But the Church says abortion is a sin!"

 

"What's one more sin, on top of all the others I've done?" she argues, raising her voice. "Does it even matter?"

 

"Of course it matters!" he presses back. "Every life matters to God..."

 

"Shut up about God!" she rages. "If God cared, then why did he take our baby?! Why couldn't we have another child before?! Why now, of all times, does this have to happen?! Does God think this is funny, some cruel sick joke?!"

 

Tears sting in her eyes as she pours out her anguish. "I can't be having this baby!" she wails, "What child could love a mother like me?!"

 

He reaches out to take her hand, speaking consolingly. "Don't say that. What have you done that's so bad?"

 

Throwing his hand off, she charges, "You already despised me as a slut and a whore. And now it must seem that I've proven you right! Everyone knows what a stripper is and does. What do you think I did?"

 

 

Hyung-Chul recoils. Staring at Sun-Mi in shock, he jumps to conclusions, "What are you saying? That I'm not the father?"

 

"If you weren't, would you still want me to keep the baby?" she challenges him. "Would you still say God cared?"

 

"That's not the point!" he shouts back. "You whored yourself out for the money? Or is there another man? Which is it?!"

 

 

Stung by his presumptions, Sun-Mi lashes out. "If there was another man, would I still be wallowing in this pig sty with you?" she spits acidly, her eyes flaming with fury. "And do you really think I could sell myself, with no regard for our marriage?!"

 

"What else am I supposed to think?" he bellows back.

 

"That there might be some things so precious, that even a sordid person like me would never betray!" she contends, trembling with indignation. "This time you've gone too far, you g--d-- bastard!"

 

Getting up, Sun-Mi rushes to the bathroom and slams the door shut, latching it securely.

 

From the couch, Hyung-Chul yells after her, "Which bastard is the father? Come out here, bitch, and answer me to my face!"

 

Behind the barred door, he hears Sun-Mi's muffled whimpers.

 

Frustrated, he picks up one of her dance shoes and throws it forcefully at the bathroom door, quickly followed by it's partner, then whatever is handy -- the beer cans, the remote, his lunch plate -- until his outburst is exhausted.

 

Burying his face in his hands, Hyung-Chul despairs in self-recrimination and remorse, "My god, what have I done?"