Twelve Thousand Mornings

By Mary Yoo

At the age of twenty-nine, Arie’s safe, suburban world implodes. Suddenly she is unemployed, homeless, and newly divorced.

Heartbroken and desperate to leave her failed American life behind, Arie buys a one-way ticket to Seoul, South Korea.

Arie thrusts herself into the craze of Seoul night-life and fumbles through countless romantic entanglements. In the name of adventure, she rides (or escapes) on planes, trains, and tuk-tuks all over Asia. From the back-country of Laos, to the busy streets of Japan, to the back pews of churches, Arie battles old and new demons as she demands answers from God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Yoo
• Release date: Dec 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370738427

Mary Yoo

Mary Yoo is the middle child of Korean immigrants. She grew up in Chicago, Illinois as a sister between a younger and older brother. In her youth, Mary lived in the duality between conservative Korean culture and American culture. Not only did this shape how she sees the world today, this led her to be fascinated with the way culture shapes the way people see the world. Early in her career, Mary received her Master’s in Clinical Psychology and worked in the counseling field for a number of years. However, her lifelong desire to travel caught up with her in 2008, when she moved abroad to live in Seoul, South Korea. For the seven years Mary lived there, she worked in the field of education, traveled through fifteen different nations, and collected many stories. She is passionate about traveling, being connected to the global community, her spirituality, telling stories, and holding hands with her Loved Ones.

Book preview

"Twelve Thousand Mornings" is my version of my story. I estimate about 92% of the events and conversations actually happened in some fashion or another.

However, for the sake of telling the most coherent story, I have made some plot embellishments and rearranged the timing of some events. Additionally, I have shared my journey by using composite characters that represent several people in one. There is a swirl of many people’s stories combined with other people’s stories.

Please note: If you think you recognize yourself, it may be you. But if that character does something you don’t recognize, it’s because it’s not you. Moreover, I made gross changes to some of the character’s lives in order to further detach them from the people I based the narratives upon.

The only character that is (mostly) true to life is me (AKA Arie).

In addition, I did the very crass thing of numbering most of the men that I (or Arie), encountered. There was a very long season where I felt very oppositional to men, so I numbered them throughout my novel to reflect how much I hated and devalued them.

So to all the Men who read my book: I apologize for objectifying you on my pages. The truth is, I don’t fully trust you, but I do love many of you.

***

Twelve Thousand Mornings opens nine years after God and the Ants concluded.

In the late spring of 2008, my status-quo life fell apart. The man to whom I had committed my life to was no longer committed to me. Overnight, the castle we had built in our nine years together crumbled into ruins. It was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had. As I reeled from all of the brokenness, the thought of trying to piece my American existence back together was unbearable. The 9-to-5 jobs, the Dream, the Jones and the Kardashians, and the ‘happily-ever-after’ eventualities were never things I’ve wanted to chase anyway. So I poured gasoline all over my American life, lit a match, and hopped on a plane across the ocean.

I landed in the wonderland of Seoul, Korea with the hope of a fresh start.

For my first three years of living abroad, the demons of my heartbreak and addictions had a new, glorious playground to revel in. I ‘made up’ for the nine years of lost time with everything I could muster—I partied, I traveled, I kissed many many boys, and I hiked numerous mountains. It was exciting and dangerous; euphoric and misguided.

These temporal pleasures were my medication for depression, anger, and boredom.

Although I knew that these pleasures were fleeting and had consequences, they consumed me. I found myself in a new kind of grinding desperation. I was unable to control my desires to get drunk, have sex, and indulge my every whim. This troubled me deeply. Something felt very wrong about the insatiability of my lusts. I began to hate myself for the choices I couldn’t stop myself from making.

As a woman of faith, my struggles led me to ponder:

What is the Point of all of this?

Is true fulfillment and satisfaction attainable?

Does God give a shit about me?

Resolving these questions became a life and death matter for me.

Prologue: Little Green Island

The kitchen light turned on. I heard the shuffling of Surrie’s feet. She sank down and looked at me sitting under the table with a bottle of wine. She reached out her hand, touched my knee, and examined me for a long moment. Then she stood and moved around the kitchen. I heard the sound of dishes clanking and the microwave being opened and shut. Surrie scooted under the table with glass in hand and sat next to me.

This floor is filthy, you know, she said as she poured herself a measure of wine.

Oh, I looked around and saw the grime that filled in the cracks between the linoleum squares. Sorry Surrie. I’ll mop it for you guys tomorrow.

Arie, she nudged me, that’s not what I’m saying.

I know. I just don’t know what else to say, I sighed. I’m exhausted.

The microwave beeped twice. Surrie crawled from underneath the table, stood, and pulled a plate out of the microwave. The smell of reheated Chinese take-out wafted toward me. She sat on a kitchen stool and put out her hand.

You’re tired because you’re not eating. Come and sit up here.

I don’t want to move, I replied, but I took her hand and let her pull me up. Setting the wine bottle on the table, I sat on a stool.

Take a bite, Surrie tried to feed me a piece of chicken.

No, I can’t eat, I shook my head.

You’ve barely eaten anything since you got here.

I’m too stressed to be hungry, I lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. What am I going to do? Where am I going to work? Where am I going to live?

I’m not sure about work, but why are you worried about where you’re going to live? You can stay with us for a while… Surrie popped the chicken into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Look Arie, we’re just relieved that you finally decided to leave.

Relieved, huh? I gave her a wry smile. You all think I’m a hot mess.

We don’t care—we’ve all been there… she said and then grinned at me. And now that you’ve been here for a week, I know where to find you when we haven’t seen you for a while.

What do you mean? I asked.

I know you need space, she waved her chopsticks at me, but whenever you go missing for too long, I know I’ll probably find you here in the kitchen, beneath this table.

It feels safer down there, I remarked blithely. Does that mean I’ve officially gone off the deep end?

Who cares? You have a free pass to meltdown, Surrie spread her arms wide. Just don’t beat yourself up about leaving, ok?

I know, I know… I bit my lip. But you know I had to try, right? I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I didn’t exhaust every option to try to fix things.

I know… Ugh. Now I can’t eat either. She shoved the plate back and put her fingers out for my smoke. I handed it to her and she took a drag. Every time you came back from seeing him, I wanted to drive over there and kick his ass.

No, I shook my head, that wouldn’t have solved anything. The concern in Surrie’s eyes made my tears well up. I looked away, Don’t worry about that anymore. I’m done. I tried. It’s a fucking tragedy. The end.

It’s not the end, Surrie chided me.

I rubbed my temples, But how long is it going to take me to get it together?

She blew smoke into the air above us, Who cares how long it takes? Just focus on what’s in front of you— Surrie tried to hand me a pair of chopsticks, —like this Chinese food.

I can’t eat, I waved the chopsticks away. But… is it really ok? Your roommate doesn’t mind that I’m here?

We want you to stay here. We’ve already talked about it, Surrie patted my knee.

If you’re sure… I said and held my fingers out towards her for my cigarette. God, I’m an idiot for smoking again after seven years, but if I had any excuse to start again—

I’ll smoke it for you, Surrie held the cigarette away from me, and you can eat this plate.

You’re not the boss of me, I laughed weakly and pulled another cigarette from my pack. I’ll eat later. I promise.

That evening, after Surrie and I smoked two packs of cigarettes and drank two bottles of wine, I fell heavily onto her green couch.

That couch became my island of books and journal-writing for many months of late evenings. Through those summer months, I tried to be helpful around the apartment by washing dishes, mopping floors, and cleaning out their overflowing pantry. Several times a week, my friends coaxed me out of my safe haven beneath the kitchen table and pulled me out into the world. We watched movies, drank whiskey, and flew kites on the beaches of Lake Michigan. I often trailed behind them and watched the ground, but their jokes kept pulling me back into the present. They’ll say anything to make me smile. I am grateful. I feel like a burden.

As the summer turned into autumn, a space began forming between those green couch cushions. My back began to hurt. The nights grew cooler so we closed the windows and turned the heat on. However, the drafty windows allowed the cold to descend around my little green island. I drank whiskey and held books with frozen fingers late into the night. The dawn often came before sleep did.

Although the weight of a full-time job felt like far too heavy a burden to bear, I felt the pressure to get back onto my feet. After applying for a dozen jobs, I donned a suit and a plastic smile for numerous interviews. My suit felt loose because I had lost so much weight. As I sat across from interviewers, the florescent lights hurt my eyes. But I gave the right answers to their predictable questions.

Upon being offered a few opportunities, I read through the job descriptions and immediately felt burnt out: Forty-five hours a week. Droning computers. Paperwork. The smell of Xerox toner. Two weeks of vacation.

What was worse was that all the jobs were right there in the city—which created the very real possibility that I might run into him. Or her. The idea of seeing either of them made me cringe.

In the middle of the night, I began chatting online with a good friend who had moved overseas.

[Me] What time is it in Korea, Ellie?

[Ellie] It’s 5pm-ish, I’m at work.

[Me] Can you chat?

[Ellie] Yeah—there’s nothing to do right now. I’m getting paid to warm my desk for another hour.

[Me] Really? I’m beginning to think I need to get out of America like you did. How do you like it out there?

[Ellie] Well, I’ve only been here a few months… I miss Chicago and I miss you guys, but Korea’s awesome. There’s so much to do.

[Me] Like what?

[Ellie] Like anything you want—there’s outdoor stuff like hiking and camping and tons of urban stuff like dancing and shows.

[Me] You sound like a travel brochure for Korea.

[Ellie] That’s another thing—it’s easy to take trips out of Korea to wherever you want to go.

[Me] Are you just saying exactly what I want to hear?

[Ellie] Arie, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes to me that you come out here.

[Me] It seems complicated.

[Ellie] It really isn’t. A few days ago my boss told me we’re going to hire another consultant. You’d easily qualify for the position.

[Me] Yeah, but… Something feels odd about moving to Korea—I mean… my parents emigrated from there. Shouldn’t I try some other country?

[Ellie] Like where?

[Me] Anywhere—I’ve been doing some research. There are opportunities all over the world: South America, Europe, different parts of Asia.

[Ellie] But you can’t speak any of those languages—and you already speak some Korean. That would make the transition much easier for you. You’re not trying to do something too complicated.

[Me] Completely uprooting myself and moving overseas isn’t complicated?

[Ellie] Trust me. They make it really easy. They pay for your airfare and you’ll have an apartment to move into right off the plane.

[Me] What if I apply and I don’t want to take the job? Will you get in trouble?

[Ellie] Nah. Just apply and see what happens.

I poured myself a measure of wine as I considered this.

Why not live and work abroad…? You’ve always wanted to do it… Maybe the daily grind won’t feel so bad in a different country.

That evening, I scattered my resume across the globe: Vietnam, Guatemala, Saudi Arabia, and Korea. Over twenty schools received my work history that evening. I fell asleep well after the morning runners had passed my window.

When I awoke in the afternoon, there were already two emails from Korean recruiters in my inbox. And then over the next week, I was offered every job I had applied to in Korea.

Surrie, Ellie’s university interviewed me this afternoon, I said as I perched on the kitchen stool across from her.

And they offered you a job, didn’t they?

Yeah.

I knew they would, Surrie bit her lip.

They’ve offered me a really good deal—they’ll cover my airfare, my accommodations, and I’ll have a decent salary.

We need whiskey, Surrie said and grabbed two glasses with a clink.

Do you think it’s a bad idea? I asked.

No Arie… It’s probably a really good idea. But I love having you here and I don’t want you to go.

I know—and I love being here, I stuck out my lower lip. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but I think I have to. Something just doesn’t feel right about living in America anymore. I’ve failed here—or maybe America’s failed me, I don’t know…

You haven’t failed anything. Things just went wrong for a while.

Yeah, I agreed ruefully. But I’m so much better than I was in the summer. You guys sure know how to cheer a gal up.

We all had fun, Surrie said, but you’ve already decided, haven’t you? You’re leaving.

I think so, I nodded. I’m ready to get out of America and do some of the traveling I’ve always talked about.

Of course you are, she gave me a sad smile. When are you leaving?

They want me there next week.

What? That’s too soon! she exclaimed.

I know, I know, I replied. I was able to push them back an extra week, but they need me there ASAP.

That’s still too soon, Surrie complained.

Yeah, I looked her and raised an eyebrow. Surrie opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she picked up the bottle and crawled under the kitchen table. I leaned back to look at her and frowned.

Get down here and keep me company, she said defiantly. You owe me.

I got off the stool, crawled next to her, and looked at her. She started laughing. We couldn’t stop laughing.

Part One

Chapter One: Reset

After nineteen hours of travel, Ellie picked me up from the airport. We boarded a bus that carried us past an alien swamp and stark winter valleys.

So this is the Motherland? I asked as I stared out of the bus window. The landscape didn’t match what I had heard about the hustle and bustle of Seoul, South Korea.

We’re on the outskirts—wait until we get into the city, Ellie replied as she watched the changing expressions on my face.

The scene grew more and more crowded the further along Ellie and I rode. Roads transformed into winding knots of traffic and the horizon filled with blocks of buildings and rising skyscrapers. Fluorescing Korean lettering and flashing lights polluted the sky.

When Ellie and I arrived at my new apartment building, we lugged my two suitcases past grumpy-looking guards, took the elevator to the third floor, and finally rolled through the doorway of my new living quarters. Catching our breath, we took an inventory of the space. There was a desk, a bed, a little kitchenette, and a bathroom.

Ellie walked through and touched the surfaces. It isn’t much, but it’s rent-free.

No, this is amazing, I protested. Two weeks ago, I was unemployed and homeless.

True, but wait until you get to the office to thank me, she laughed. Don’t forget I’ve already warned you: the job’s easy, but it’s boring.

I don’t care. I’m not looking for a challenge, I shook my head. I couldn’t handle that right now. It’ll just be nice to make money again.

That’s all it is. A paycheck, Ellie raised her hands. And a new country to explore.

Seems too easy, I rubbed my temples.

Just enjoy it, Ellie gave me a hug and gestured to my suitcases. I’ll leave you to it. Remember, I’m just one floor down. If you need anything, holler.

Just one floor down, I chuckled. It’s like we’re back in college.

Ellie laughed and turned toward the door, Make sure you hop on the wifi and let Surrie know you’ve landed.

Yeah, I’m sure she’s wondering.

I sank onto the bed and checked the time. Surrie wouldn’t be up yet. A wave of loneliness rolled over me. I was six thousand miles away from my whole life and everyone I knew.

Standing, I stretched and walked over to the desk in the corner. As I opened and shut the dusty drawers, I noticed how hollow and empty they sounded. After running a dust rag over the surfaces, I unpacked my clothes and books. My bathroom and kitchen sundries were quickly lined up in their respective spaces. Then I placed my laptop with the Obama ’08 sticker in the middle of my new desk. Curling my toes on the heated vinyl flooring of this unexpected place, I touched the peeling sticker with my fingers.

God, is this right? Korea?

A knock at the door roused me from my reverie. Ellie stood ready with her purse and a transit card in hand.

I know you just landed three hours ago, but do you want to check out the city and get some home supplies?

That sounds a little crazy, I chuckled, but I couldn’t sleep if I tried.

There’s my girl, Ellie said. Let’s go.

A swerving bus. Winding streets. I grabbed the back of Ellie’s jacket as she began slipping through the shoulder-to-shoulder Seoul crowds. It was a sea of black hair and olive complexions. Oh… This is bizarre. Everyone kind of looks like me.

As we walked along, loud electronic music blared from storefronts and vendors shouted to attract customers. I looked for street names but completely lost all sense of direction. Neon lights blazed from every direction as I slowly sounded out the Korean lettering.

What’s a ‘hoh-puh’?

It’s ‘hof—a bar, Ellie said, German, I think. There are hofs all over Seoul."

I turned in a circle and counted, I see at least five hofs right around us.

Only five? Look at all these drunk people, she cocked her head at the staggering trio we were passing. There are way more than five. They like to drink over here.

I bit my lip and considered that. A loud buzzing sounded behind me.

Hey, watch out! Ellie yanked my arm. I flinched as she pulled me out of the path of a swerving scooter.

Those things are allowed on the sidewalk? I watched the scooter continue through the crowds.

Technically, no.

Ellie, I laughed, I’m gonna need a drink.

After doing some shopping, Ellie guided me down a bustling street lit up by food signs. Workers shouted, beckoned, and flirted outrageously with us as we passed. One man planted himself in our path and began clapping his hands. He looked like a cartoon. I tried to respond in Korean, but the sentences that spilled out of my mouth were broken and awkward.

Oh, America! Come, the man placed himself between us and pulled our arms. We laughed and let him lead us into his restaurant. Collective groans from the other restaurant workers resounded from down the street.

The man seated us at a table designed with a griddle embedded into the center. Enormous trays were herked and jerked around the room. Suddenly, a dozen side dishes crowded every inch of our table. While Ellie and I chatted, a new server bounded over to us every few minutes to stir up the spicy vegetables, chicken, and rice cakes that cooked on our griddle. Steam rose all around the restaurant as the prattle of Korean words filled the room.

Soju, Ellie placed a shot of clear liquor in front of me. We’ve gotta toast your first night. We tossed back the shots.

Tastes like the cheap stuff I drank in high school, I grimaced.

The cheapest, she laughed as she poured us two more shots. But you’re in Seoul now. You’re gonna have to get used to it.