Don’t look at the phone.
How many hours had it been now? How long had she been sitting, waiting-praying that the phone might suddenly ring. It seemed ages. And part of her kept saying, over and over, that this was ridiculous. Right now, sitting by the phone, staring at it, practically begging for it to ring-this hearkened back to the days when she was a teenager, fresh out of high school, waiting in breathless desperation for a boy to call. Yea, right now-it kinda felt like that.
Except-except the fluttering sensation in her stomach, the one that, at one time, brought with it a kind of tremulous joy, grasped at her with a far harsher grip now. A long, cold hand whose shrill fingers latched on to her insides, threatening to rip them all out and leave her torn open. Pulsing up through her limbs rocked a tremor, a quake that, fight though she may, bellowed in a loud, cruel voice that soon, it would be in control of her body. She was to be rendered helpless. Soon she would fall onto the floor, as rigid as a corpse.
Don’t look at the phone.
Funny, in all the time they had been together, Nim never once doubted that Junsu would call. Her friends would complain to her sometimes that their boyfriends forgot to call them all the time; but not her Oppa. In all the years they had been dating, if he said he was going to call-he did. Simple as that. Junsu always called. He called her when he got to work, to tell her he arrived safely. He called her when he left, to say he was coming over. And even on the nights she did not see him, he called her to say goodnight. Always.
Had she taken it for granted? Was the horrible silence rising in the room now some kind of punishment for not being grateful enough?
Don’t look at the phone.
Oh, how quiet the room was. But this was not the gentle quiet, not the quiet in the absence of sound. No. Right now, the silence had taken over sound. A looming, bilious creature sucking into its ghastly lungs every sweet sound, every trace of life. With a long gasp, the monster inhaled any friendly companion of sound Nim might hope for, to keep her company, to soothe her nerves-leaving the young girl desolated in silence.
And alone with her thoughts.
She had told him not to go. Pleaded that this one time he let someone else do it. One of the other members could go; it was just an interview. And the management said they only needed one member of TVXQ to go. Junsu volunteered. Nim begged him to stay. Hadn’t he been through enough lately? What with the accident leaving him wheelchair bound through the better part of the Mirotic tour? And lately, after the release of the new Japanese album-things had been crazy and showed no signs of slowing down.
So, when he called her to say that he was taking the flight to China, when he called her to say that he’d be gone for a day, Nim begged him not to go. After all, why should Junsu have to do this? He was not the leader of the group, not the one responsible for promotions like this.
Of course, for Junsu to be whisked off to another country was not unusual. In fact, charging off to other countries seemed to be part of being a member of TVXQ-as much as the singing and dancing.
So why then had she panicked so? Even now, sitting here, waiting for the phone to ring, she did not know. And yet, when Junsu told her, an awful, rasping cry rose up within her. A terrible wail, clawing to burst forth from her and tell him not to go. Demand he stay.
Junsu had smiled. He reached out for her hand that night and smiled.
“Nim,” he began, “I know I’m not around much. I know. But Jagiya-”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” she gasped, “I don’t know-Oppa! Please don’t go.”
And the eyes, the small sweet eyes she had looked to so many times, always bright, looked hard upon her at that moment. And she, hardly able to withstand their weight, looked away.
“Nim,” Junsu began. “I can’t not go after saying I would.” He drew her near. “But, I’ll call you and I’ll be back so fast-you won’t notice I’m gone, okay?”
His arms were about her, and though the dark brown eyes still were stern-Junsu smiled. Smiled and leaned close to Nim, catching her mouth upon his own. Kissing her, almost begging her, to believe him. To believe he would come right back.
The phone rang.
Grasping at the receiver as if its ring were connected to her very heart’s beat, Nim answered-her voice hollow.
But the voice on the other end was not Junsu’s. In fact, the voice speaking to her was Yunho’s.
Nim’s mind, weak from the violence seeping across her body, barely heard him. In fact, it might be more correct to say that she did not want to hear him. Right now, waiting on baited breath, her very life’s line connected to the phone, Yunho had the audacity to call her. She did not want to talk to him right now. She wanted Junsu.
“Nim,” Yunho cried. “Nim! Can you hear me? Are you there?”
“Huh,” the young girl mumbled, trying to pull herself out of her thoughts. “Oh, yea. Sorry, Yunho. It’s just that I was waiting for Junsu to call and-”
“Nim. Do you have the news on,” Yunho asked, not at all in response to what she had said.
“Huh? No. Why would I have the news on?”
A strange falter choked Yunho’s voice. “Turn it on.”
Still confused, the young girl put the phone down and went across her living room to turn on the television to the local news station as Yunho asked. And when the odd blue light from the screen filled the room, images of fires, flashing ticker-tapes running violently on the bottom, and reporters easing in on what looked like a wreck of some kind-Nim still did not understand.
Picking up the phone again, she said, “Okay Yunho. It’s on. Now what?”
“Nim,” he gasped. “Don’t you see that plane? Junsu was-”
For the first time now, Nim looked at what was really on the screen. Yes, there were wavering camera shots of fires leaping out of a mangled wreck of steel, twisted and bent upon the ground. Yes, reporters scrambled to get near, hoping for some gory scene to comment upon. Yes, ticker tapes flashed violently across the bottom of the screen. Because a plane had crashed. A plane set to fly to China. And among one of the passengers was rumored to be TVXQ member, Kim Junsu.
No.
Nim felt as if her body was shriveling up. As if the silence had finally reached her and dove now into her body, sucking away her insides. Her soul.
No!
She told him not to go. Begged him not to leave.
Junsu.
Nim toppled over, the phone falling from her hands. A dizziness swept over her body, buzzing in her ears. And somewhere in the background was a strange beeping, a nasty repeating voice-Dead-Dead-Dead-Dead!
Had the door opened?
Were they coming to take her too? Take her to be dead and gone like Junsu? Monsters. They were monsters. Not to let her stay here-here where they had been together. Here where he kissed her so many times.
“Nim!”
Strong hands were about her, lifting her up. And a voice, a sweet, wonderful voice floated over her.
“Nim! Wake up! I’ve been trying to call you-but the line was busy.”
Struggling to see clearly, Nim fought to open her eyes. Fought to see clearly the figure who held her now. These were his arms. His voice. All washing over her now like some kind of glorious song.
“Junsu,” Nim whispered, reaching up to touch his face, to make sure he was really there. “But-but the plane crashed. Right there,” she pointed to the television. “I thought-”
How close her held her, how near, as he replied, “But Nim. That’s why I called. I was trying to call and tell you I got on the wrong plane. And I realized it right before we took off. I was trying to call you and tell you-to tell you I was coming over. Nim! I’m okay!”
Don’t look at the phone.
Don’t look anywhere.
Except in his eyes.
