I made my way back to the pond; not for any reason other than to stay away from the others. I knew I'd have to get back, eventually. But for now, I needed some time alone. My heart hurt more than I had ever allowed it to before, and I knew I'd have to pay a price for that. There was always a price to pay.
When I finally got to the pond, however, I realized I had company. Beside the pond, crouched Chung-Hee, holding a basket upwards. I blinked, trying to make out exactly what she was doing, and after a few moments, I realized; she was trying to catch the falling petals. Innocent enough, but the last thing I felt like was having to explain myself, so I turned to quietly leave and find somewhere else to cry.
And accidently stepped on a branch, splitting it in two with a satisfying 'crack!'
Although my desire was to quickly flee, my instinct, weirdly enough, was to stay where I was. I almost regretted it, though, when I heard her voice. "Miss Ha-Na?" Chung-Hee called.
Too late to keep going now.
"He-he, hi, Chung-Hee." I swiveled around, stepping through the lovers' knot of tree branches to move in closer to the pond. How on earth did she know it was me?
"Your footsteps are always very light." She smiled serenely, content with her explanation, even if I found it a bit disconcerting, still.
"Well, you'd be the first person to say that." My attempt at humour came across hollow, even as I said it with a little, tinny laugh. I tried to switch gears as quickly as I could. "What brings you here, Chung-Hee?"
Chung-Hee held out her basket. "I was just getting petals for my medicinal essences. The camellias are blooming late into this season—I thought I should take advantage and get some more while I can."
"Ah, yes. It's…getting hot, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is, Miss."
We were silent for a moment, before I started getting genuinely uncomfortable. It wasn't Chung-Hee's fault; she was one of the more normal people I'd met here, considering Seung-Ro and Queen-of-Nasty-Dowager. But I'd come here to be alone in my sorrow, and no one else quite belonged in that space. "I should probably start heading back up to the palace," I said, dully.
"Wait, Miss." Chung-Hee reached out and took my hand. "Let me gather my things and I'll come with you. You'll need help getting ready to meet the Queen Dowager."
I froze. I never told her about the Queen Dowager asking me to dinner.
Through my stunned confusion, I tried to debate whether to ask Chung-Hee about this or not, but before I could come to any decision, she already walked away and was picking up another basket. When she returned to my side, she smiled as though nothing odd had happened. "If you'd like, Miss, I'll make you a homemade camellia perfume. It won't be ready for a few months; the petals need to steep. But it'll suit you well, once it's done."
"Sure, thank you."
"It'll be special too, seeing as the petals will be from where you and the Prince first met." While Chung-Hee's tone had been comfortable and serene before, something was different this time. Something knowing.
"Chung-Hee," I turned to face her. How could I put this, so I didn't sound totally crazy? "How is it that you always seem to know about me?"
"About you, Miss?" Chung-Hee wasn't playing dumb; while her voice was genuinely inquisitive, her eyes told me that she knew what I was getting at. She was just waiting for me to say it, myself.
"I mean," I took a deep breath. "How do you always know so much about stuff that's going on around me? You seem to understand how I'm feeling, but also why I'm feeling the I do." I shivered. Now that I'd finally said it, she was reminding me of Seung-Ro a lot. Much sweeter and less annoying, but still, there was something about her that felt unsettling. Not sinister, just disarming in a way that made me feel bare, as if I could hold no secrets.
Chung-Hee was thoughtful for a few moments. "Do you know what it takes to be a lady's maid, Miss?" She finally asked.
I realized that I didn't. My silence was Chung-Hee's answer.
"To be a lady's maid is to be her best friend, in a way. I couldn't pretend that you may think of me that way, of course, Miss. But I must think of myself that way. A lady's maid stays with her lady for as long as she can, and through that, she comes to know her. She knows her likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams, and disappointments. She's there when her lady marries, when she gives birth, and if her husband is not—or cannot—only care for her, then the lady's maid is there to dry her tears." She looked me straight in the eye, then, and I knew that somehow—as impossible as it may seem—she knew everything that had taken place over the last few hours. "It's a long role of service, and it requires that I remain in tune with you."
"So," I paused, trying to get my wording right. "You know everything about me…just by watching me?"
Chung-Hee smiled. "It's a bit like that. But I suppose it's more of a gift—intuition, perhaps."
Was intuition even a word back in Goryeo? "So…so do you know about how I feel now?"
Chun-Hee no longer smiled. She nodded. "Of course. You're grieving."
"Um, I guess." Wasn't grieving something you felt when someone died?
My face must have said it all, because Chung-Hee quickly responded. "Perhaps it's a bit of a solemn word, Miss. But grieving doesn't only have to do with death. It could be about missing something…or someone, I think."
As she spoke, my mind automatically cycled through everything that had happened. Not just over the last day—although that was certainly the hardest—but over the last several years. Moving around, being alone in a new city, the intensity of grad school, then having it all seemingly come crashing down after all my hard work and sacrifice—it had all taken its toll. When I was with Chi, it had felt like, for a moment, that weight had lifted. Like I could be a whole person again.
And now, that part of myself would have to die, all over again.
"It's a bit bold of me to say, Miss." Chung-Hee broke through my reverie by taking my hand. "But perhaps you shouldn't avoid grieving. If there's anything I've learnt from other ladies' maids, it's that sometimes, we must grieve in order to accept."
I thought about that too. I'd known that I'd been unhappy for a long time but assumed that I was "grieving" by feeling sad. I'd always tried to avoid that feeling, if I could. Maybe Chung-Hee was right—that grieving was a process to go through, and if I could get through it, I could be stronger in the end.
"Maybe you're right," I echoed my thoughts. "Chung-Hee, what if I can't grieve because I still…because I still love him?"
Chung-Hee didn't need to ask me who "he" was, and she didn't even flinch when I said the L-word. Being a lady's maid was more skilled work than anyone would realize. "I've never been in same the position as you, Miss. But I think if I were you, the sooner you grieve and forget, the better. It's best not to hold onto hurts that can never be fulfilled."
After the initial punch in the gut that her words left, I knew that she was right. As much as it hurt, there was simply no way that Chi would ever be mine. Protocol and common Goryeo-sense didn't dictate it, and as far as I knew, history didn't dictate it either. The sooner I helped myself through that pain, the better off I would be.
"You know, I do have to go to that stupid dinner with the Queen Dowager—" I cut myself off once I heard myself say "stupid." I'm pretty sure it wasn't a Goryeo-appropriate word. Despite the burning feeling of sadness in my stomach, I couldn't help but laugh a little as I met Chung-Hee's dancing eyes. "Sorry, I shouldn't curse. Not very lady-like."
"I think, Miss, that cursing is sometimes very appropriate, especially when talking about the Queen Dowager." She took a pace ahead. "Come with me, and I'll help you get ready for dinner. Your prince," she emphasized the 'your,' "Won't be able to take his eyes off you."