One Fine Day 3

One Fine Day, I awoke up. It occurred to me that I shouldn't drink this day. I needed to prove to myself that I was not completely dependent on alcohol. I took a shower. I looked at myself in the mirror. I decided that I wasn't going to go to work today. After all, I owned the business.

-You want a short, conservative cut?

-Yes, chop away all this 1980's hair.

-OK.

Within thirty minutes, most of my hair fell off. I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror. I had closed my eyes until then. I opened my eyes slowly. Oh my God, I was the spitting image of my father. How had the hairstylist done such a cut.

I consciously tried to walk straighter. I walked straight onto the glass doors of a clothing shop. I entered and bought myself some nice clothes.

For a while, I just killed some time, wondering what the hell I was doing. Perhaps this was my last attempt to save the marriage. I wasn't quite sure why I was doing this except that I wanted to give the life that I had with my wife a chance. I listened to some classical music, and tried to get into it. It was useless. It was way too slow. My nerves were starting to get to me and my stomach hurt a little. I needed a drink. I would resist. I would resist. I needed to kill some time. Time keeps on ticking into the future. Time, time, time not to drink. Time to get up and greet one's wife.

I entered my home and sat down on the dinner table. Both my wife and daughter stared at me for a long time. I just kept my mouth shut and ate my dinner. My wife was really a great cook. 

-So you've decided to join us for dinner.

-Father, you look like a new man. 

I smiled.

I looked at my daughter for what seemed to be the longest time, but for the life of me, I could not remember her name. Then it occurred to me that I didn't need to know her name because I was a Korean and I could just affectionately call her daughter.

-Tonight, your daughter is going to be giving a concert. Chopin's Raindrop Prelude.

I actually knew that piece. 

-I would be honored to attend.

I looked at my wife again, and truthfully, I didn't even recognize her. There was nothing fun about her anymore. She looked completely serious and filled with a strong and unyielding internal purpose.

The Concert was attended by 600 or so people and I greeted a whole set of strangers whom my wife seemed to know on a last name basis. I said the bare minimum to each person and followed my wife's lead. Sometimes, I felt sick inside because of all the drinking, but I hid that well. I sat down next to my wife and prepared to listen to the piece.

There were a few young, budding musicians who performed before my daughter. During this time, I felt acutely uncomfortable. Then, all of a sudden, I felt OK. My daughter approached the grand piano. There was applause. Then she began to play. I was actually beginning to enjoy the music and my daughter was actually very good. I liked Chopin. After all, it wasn't one of those long pieces with movements. I could actually hear the rain falling. I imaged all the rainfalls in the afternoon, times I had been drenched coming out of a bar, all the rains followed by moody sunsets and THEN, I heard it. My daughter had made a mistake. THEN, I heard it again. I looked at my wife. I saw her eyes twitching. THEN, they twitched again. THEN, another mistake. THAT NIGHT, my daughter had made seven mistakes. Each time I heard a mistake, I thought of leaving my wife. After all, if this is what she expected me to be, I could not be this person.