GOODBYE

Photo by Gabrielle Rocha Rios on Unsplash

No matter how many times, I never got used to the sight of Lin disappearing into the BTS station. I clenched my teeth and waved at her back. The morning wind turned chilly as December approached. My heart shrank as I imagined her on the train. I shook away the thought and made my exit.

I stopped at the boba tea cafe near the station and ordered a regular. Lin loved this place. Since our university graduation three years ago, she always went for a low-sugar-with-extra-boba. Her smile would shine as she chewed these little black pearls.

“Here’s your order, Mr.”

I received the drink, finished it, and walked to my apartment. Opening the door, half of me wanted to lie down on my bed and sleep the weekend away. The other half, however, didn’t even want to see that same bed. But once I went inside, I couldn’t avoid facing it. The shape of Lin's small frame remained on the wrinkled sheet. I sighed and threw myself on top of it.

Feeling my hands on the empty bed, I couldn’t sense Lin’s body warmth anymore. The traffic noise came in from the open window. I grabbed the TV remote controller but put it away a second later. The traffic noise would do for now.

Unlocking my phone, the white screen of the note application popped up. There was one word written at the top. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

Yesterday when I finished my work, I rushed to the BTS station to meet her. She had called me fifteen minutes beforehand. Her voice shook on the phone.

Rain rarely came this late in the year, but a drop hit my forehead the moment I stepped outside. I found Lin’s back among a huge mass in the station. She still wore her black office jacket and a tight skirt. Drops of water clung onto her high-banned hair. I called her.

Had it not been raining, Lin would have got quite a stare from all sides. But her already wet face camouflaged the tears on her cheeks. I only noticed when I saw her reddened eyes.

A thousand words came to mind, but I couldn’t let them out. We only stared at each other before I took Lin’s arm and dragged her out of the station. I stopped at the boba tea cafe and bought her a low-sugar-with-extra-bubble. She drank it. However, the bright smile failed to come upon her face.

“What did he do this time?” I asked.

“Let’s not talk about it.”

When she finished her drink, I took her to my room and told her to take a shower. She did so. When she finished, I lent her my clothes and swung a towel over my shoulder.

“You can watch TV.” I went into the bathroom once she gave an unfocused nod. When I came out in my pajamas, Lin had already lain on my bed. The TV was off. The earbuds in her ears told me she didn’t want to talk, so I sat on the floor, back against the bed, and watched TV. Curious, I peeked at her phone. To my surprise, the playlist consisted of only one song. The title was in what I believed was Japanese. I never knew she learned the language.

It was ten-thirty when the drama ended. I couldn’t concentrate on the show since I had waited for Lin to talk. But she hadn’t said anything. My vision blurred, so I turned off the TV. When silence came back to the room, I could hear gusts of breath coming from the bed. Turning around, I found Lin covering her mouth with both hands. Earbuds still covered her ears. Her eyes welled up. When our eyes met, like a sudden flood, she wailed out with all her voice. I flattened my lips. The urge to pull her into my embrace swelled in my chest.

“Let it out.” I heard myself saying.

Lying down on the floor, I kept my ears open to Lin’s sob. She went through the peak of her emotion at around midnight and began to calm down around one. I asked her if she wanted to talk.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

I felt sleep approaching, so I asked the question that had bugged me for hours. “What song are you listening to?”

A short silence followed before she told me the song title. I noted the English pronunciation down in my phone before my consciousness faded.

The vibration from Lin's phone woke me up at six in the morning. From the way she addressed the caller, I knew who spoke at the other end of the line. Their conversation went on in whispers. I only heard Lin’s “Um” and “Yes” every few seconds. Eventually, Lin hung up and sat on the bed.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

“I’m going back.”

“To him?”

“Um.”

Her response left me wordless. I couldn’t fathom how she came to that conclusion. “I see,” was all I could say.

On my now-empty bed, I looked the song up on YouTube. I hit play. The intro started with a few instruments, yet its emotional weight was tremendous. I didn’t understand a word from the lyrics, but somehow I could get a glimpse of what it said. The images of Lin back at the station brought warm water to my eyes. I held it. But when the vocalist sang the final word, the dammed up tears gushed down my cheeks. I realized we had never said sayonara to each other.

I didn’t know how long I had cried, but it was already eleven when I stopped. Wiping away the tears, I hit the replay button. I knew that I would break down again. But that didn’t stop me from replaying it over and over.