First day
"My parents took me out for dinner in town. We were
eating in McDonald's when the North Korean terrorists attacked. First they
opened fire with machine guns and then they set bombs off, blowing themselves,
many people and McDonald's up. My parents were both killed. They were blown
apart. Nothing remained of them. They looked like red jam spread all over the
walls and floor. I remember that scene very well. I was wounded. I had shrapnel
wounds and was terribly burned. I carry the scars of both today, as you can
see. More scars are inside, hidden. I was in a coma for three months in
intensive care. I'm a casualty of war, just like my parents and the other
innocent people murdered that day. People in a war that first started in 1950
and won't ever end. Not anytime soon. This new conflict with our countries
affects both of us. I'm sick of war Chen! Let people make love not war."
Jelma explained to Chen what happened in a quiet voice. She wasn't upset. Her
pain, anger and sadness had faded over the decades. Replaced by hope and love
and creativity.
Chen nodded as he listened to his girlfriend describe her
story. It sounded like something out of a war film or a story told by a
stranger. Not an event that had happened to someone dear to him. No, that wasn't
impossible. But it was. Jelma was here, right next to him, talking about her
awful experience. That terrorist attack had happened to her, almost killing
her. Killing her parents. And many more innocent people. He traced his fingers
over the scars on her left shoulder. She let him. How was this possible? My Jelma was there. They did this to her. North
Korean terrorists.
"I don't know what to say my dear Jelma. I'm lost
for words. You were nearly killed decades before we met. That's wrong..."
Chen commented. His gaze was stern. He looked at Jelma, saw her pain at
reliving old memories. Memories where dozens of people horrifically died. Sights
from a war.
"It was... it was meant to happen," Jelma
replied, almost a whisper. Her gaze was a thousand yards long.
"What? Why do you say that? Are you mad?" Chen
was incredulous.
Those lovely eyes locked him in their gaze. "Do you
believe in fate? That something will happen, no matter what. I do. Life has
taught me that. The attack I survived over two decades ago is proof of that. It
was fate Chen. Every single bit of it."
Chen thought long and hard. He looked inwards. Time
passed. Finally he nodded. "Yes, I believe in fate. Because fate brought
us together. It never had to but it did. I felt something was missing from my
life. I felt that for most of my adult life. Even when busy studying or working,
I felt it. And then I saw you, I knew it was meant to be. And I felt complete.
So yes, I believe in fate. Of course, my story is very different from yours.
Not as..." He couldn't finish his sentence. Profound as it was.
Jelma finished it. "Not as horrific, horrible,
terrible, traumatic. And a thousand other evil bad words. Meaning pain beyond
words. And meaning death."
"Oh fucking hell Jelma. I didn't want to say it.
Fuck..." Chen looked at her. Her eyes were full of something. A survivor's
guilt and something more. A fire, an inner strength that only people who've
been to hell, and survived, have. Jelma had been to hell and she'd survived.
Even though the cost was almost total: both parents dead, third degree burns,
shrapnel wounds and who knew what else in her head.
"Yes, fucking hell. I was in hell. The North Korean
terrorists put me there. But I endured and survived. Lots didn't, like my
folks. I believe in karma and those terrorists will have a lot of bad karma to
work through. Many lifetimes in fact. I don't hate them. I forgive them. Anyhow,
it's good you believe in fate. It did bring us together." For the first
time since meeting in the French restaurant, she smiled. And meant it.
"You're a remarkable young lady, my dear Jelma. As
is your story. You're a real warrior woman. You never ever stopped fighting,
not once did you? I myself know that. And to forgive like that..."
"Thank you Chen. No, I never stopped fighting. And never
will. Fashion is my war, new designs my weapon, new dresses are my ammunition.
I won't ever quit. I feel the same as you in that regard, not ever quitting. Am
I right?"
"Yes, you're right there. I won't ever quit. My
father gave me that discipline, as did my Kung Fu training. I won't ever quit
you nor my business ventures. This stupid war threatens the second one. Damn
them." Chen held Jelma's hand and kissed it. "It's good you're a
fighter. A warrior of fashion. I like that."
"That's a nice term, a warrior of fashion. At least
no one dies. What I endured gave me my fashion passion," Jelma laughed,
all tension broken. She reached for her wine and drained the glass. Glad that bit is over. Hard to say, I've
only told that story to a few trusted people. And there's not many of them. Now
Chen knows my story.
"Anyhow, there's only one thing we can do to make
amends for all your experiences my dear Jelma," Chen nodded, eating his
meal. See what my young lady says to
this. Let it be yes when I mention it!
"What's that then hmm? Invade North Korea and get
even. Then stop all the other wars?"
"No my love. Though that's a very good thing to do.
No, not that. We get married." There, he'd said it. Must watch Jelma with that wine bottle, in case she bottles me! How
will she take this?
Her wine bottle was frozen in mid-air. What did Chen say? OMFG! He said it!
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Jelma screamed.
She dropped the bottle, knocked her glass over and got up. And leapt into
Chen's arms. He almost toppled out of his chair.
"Yes? Awesome..."
