Memories of Summer

Act 11: Negative Ten

We have already talked about how you felt about Summer, but let's take it to a more literal sense. The sensory faculty itself: the sense of touch. What things do you remember about Summer with regard to the tactile sense?

How Summer felt when we touched? Ah, that is… Well, if it’s absolutely needed.

You don’t really have to go into those little details if it’s… How would you phrase it? Yes, too intimate. We are just doing this in order to map the memories. No need to― 

No, it’s fine. I’m absolutely fine with it.

Although yeah. That did happen once. I wouldn’t really want to scar you with mental images, but yeah. Touch. Summer always felt warm. She always felt feverish against my skin and it really felt comfortable when I held her hand.

I always felt a need to hold her hands. Partly because I fear that she’ll hit me any moment I say or do something wrong, but mostly because there is nothing else that I’d like to do better than hold her. I loved holding her hand.  

Unlike other girls, her hands are rough and calloused because she refused to get her laundry done by machine. She treats her clothes with that much respect; I sometimes wished that I was just a piece of silken scarf. Maybe she’ll treat me gently then.

 …

 Anything else?

Cold. Extremely cold. Painfully cold. Negative ten degrees freezing cold.

When she broke up with me, that stupid day she broke up with me… right after saying yes, it was a cold winter night. Heaven was lapidating the ground with hail despite it being already covered with inches of snow. A person in his right mind wouldn’t dare go out in such weather but as you might know by now, I was not on my right mind. I was thoroughly mindfucked by this goddamn hell of a woman.

She broke up with me. I don’t ... I just... I have no words.  Just a day earlier I was screaming for joy, my heart out on my sleeve, standing on her front door, then BAM! She just broke up with me. I still don’t friggin understand why. God, I would totally pay a year’s worth of my salary if anyone could explain to me this woman.

She said she is seeing another man. Yes, that one. Cho Kyuhyun. But please, that’s just bullshit. We were practically seeing each other on a daily basis for more than a year. She can’t have enough time to plague someone else when she’s always out trying to ruin my everyday life, can she? …Or maybe she met him online. What kind of guy dates a girl online? He should be some socially awkward nerd with pimples all over his face. What is wrong with that woman? I don’t know. I refuse to believe it. I don’t know what to believe.

Anyway, when she broke up with me, I was stupid enough to beg her, to get down on my knees, and to run after her taxi in negative ten degrees cold winter hell. God was it cold. But of course I didn’t realize that then. My brain was still busy processing where the hell I went wrong―Was I that bad in bed, the night before? Was she irritated that I kept saying that I love her the whole time? Did the scent of my aftershave turn her off? Maybe I should have used the floral scented one instead, but how was I supposed to know? I didn’t know that it was gonna happen that day. Should we have taken it slow? But we have been dating for a year already and she started it. Was I a bad kisser? Did I use too much tongue? Perhaps too little? Maybe I should have brought a condom, but then again, how the hell was I supposed to know? ― I could have went on and on recounting everything that might have possibly caused that insanity, the most plausible one being that she was just plain sadistic and crazy, but I was reminded by my mortal shell that negative ten degrees was still negative ten degrees, heart broken or not. I passed out from exhaustion and woke up the next day in a hospital bed. Vic was beside me.

Hypothermia. I say it’s a complication of heart problems. I knew that I wasn’t wrong when I said that this woman will be the death of me.

After that day, as expected, I still had post-breakup syndrome. Countless times I tried to get back together with her. I called her, emailed her― I even stalked her for a week, for crying out loud. I had no shame. She should have at least tried to care. I just got hospitalized from hypothermia and she didn’t give a damn that I waited for her after her nightshift classes. She just went straight into that guy’s dad’s car. I’m sure that it was his dad’s because of the model. I didn’t see his face, thank heavens, but they looked happy. I could do nothing but do every self respecting man would do in that situation: back off and just wallow in self pity.

Finally, when I was done crying my pituitary gland out, I told myself that ‘Hey, maybe I should move on too. I have lived twenty-two years of my life without this wretched woman meddling. I can get by.’ And sure enough, I did… or at least I tried. Vic was always there. The problem was just me. She’s an angel and I was an ass. It’s amazing how she doesn’t hate me at all for being a failure of a boyfriend. Or maybe she is really that in control of her emotions. I applaud her for that.

I asked her if we could try again. She said maybe. I felt like a selfish user; I was still thinking about Summer.

It was a great idea, Vic and I really went along well. Despite the lack of chemistry we were at least good friends. Vic has a good understanding of me. I think she knows me more than I know myself. She was basically just waiting for the day I realize what kind of an idiot I was for wasting my time on that woman. And that day did come, hitting me straight on the face with a negative ten degree punch.

We went out on dates although her idea of a date is more like outreach programs, volunteer work and other public service sorts of gigs. I’m not a people person but at least it took my mind off things. You know, things that I’m trying to forget now. But just when you thought you have finally moved on, your not so distant past haunts you like an ambush keg party right after graduating from rehab.

She wanted me back. But I… I was already with Vic and I can’t be an asshole for the second time around. I admit I’m stupid sometimes but I’m not heartless. No matter how much I wanted that to happen, I just… I just couldn’t entertain it. I can’t.

I ignored her calls and messages. She just called, texted and emailed more. I made an obvious effort to avoid her even if it killed me ultimately. She just appeared here, there and everywhere. Sometimes I see her even if she wasn’t really there… I hate it when that happens. It’s as if even my own brain is mocking me, telling me that I’ll never forget her. It was like I was spellbound.  I swear that woman knows black magic. Evil witch. Beautiful and evil witch. It’s really hard to escape her. I figured I should just quit trying. And I did.