9.
Han Gyeonghee comes to Korea occasionally to see her son. In truth, to Han Gyeonghee, Cheon Jaerim is closer to a muse than a son. Once when the seasons change, once when the last digit of her age changes. The intervals are at her whim. Each time she sees him, her maturing son is no longer Snow White’s little dwarf.
Han Gyeonghee’s dream was to be a cartoonist. Let’s draw cartoons. The young girl’s dream was pure and innocent. Although Han Gyeonghee’s parents and her dream both embraced the consistent goal of art, their directions differed. The ambition to become a cartoonist set Han Gyeonghee’s heart ablaze. Probably until she was 14?
She even joined a club. The manga club. It wouldn’t reach her parents’ ears that she was drawing manga during class, right? That place was a gathering of outcasts. Nominally it was a manga club, but there were far more kids cosplaying manga characters. Han Gyeonghee was moved. Minorities who dream the same dream as me. It was a struggle to pursue hobbies without any interference. These days it’s respected as a preference, but back when Han Gyeonghee was young, if you said you cosplayed manga characters, the majority looked at you with extremely narrow-minded eyes. Especially in the world Han Gyeonghee lived in. Han Gyeonghee drew manga among the cosplaying kids, drawing her dreams. It was optimal for avoiding the family’s surveillance.
But a 14-year-old’s tail is long.
Just get married off. This was something like a rule passed down to the women in the family, including Han Gyeonghee. Sons continued the lineage, daughters were business intermediaries. It made her blood boil. That the purpose of raising her was only something like that.
There was a violent incident that season. To others it was ‘parents can be like that,’ but to Han Gyeonghee with her rich sensitivity, it wasn’t just any ordinary incident.
‘Let me see your bag.’
A hand painted with beige-toned nail polish snatched the bag mercilessly. Unfortunately, that day there was club activity, and the bag that had been stuck on like a turtle shell helplessly fell into her mother’s hands. Rustle rustle rustle. Papers falling. A palm-sized pocket manga book, ink, ballpoint pens.
‘You haven’t come to your senses. In the time you’re drawing this, you should be drawing that!’
In the direction the long-bodied fingernail pointed hung a work representing fine art. At the same time, the paper Han Gyeonghee had been practicing with all her heart was torn into pieces and scattered. Shredded into bits like putting a receipt through a shredder. Han Gyeonghee’s heart ached as if she herself were being sucked into a shredder.
She cried until her pillow was soaked through. There was no one to comfort her. They were people too busy with things to do to spare even one bit of interest in her. My existence was just a means to them. Her blood boiled again. To calm her heart burning with rage, she put on her favorite movie. Roman Holiday. When the scene came on where Audrey Hepburn lay in bed eating plain crackers and milk, she did the same. That was her comfort.
She made up her mind. Let’s do art. Let’s do art and become famous. I’ll become famous and live alone. I’ll draw manga anonymously. The wide forest Han Gyeonghee had drawn was cut down one by one by approaching reality. As living became busy, the youthful ambitions retreated to one side under increasing worries.
Han Gyeonghee wasn’t cut out for fine art. The smell of acrylic paint made her head throb. Even pouring tens of millions of won into a foreign school for a year, because there was no sincerity, she was treading water. The diploma obtained through studying abroad was nothing but paper. Han Gyeonghee, who returned to Korea, ran a gallery. She hung paintings she’d roughly drawn at home, and showing her face a few times a month was all.
Mid to late twenties. She married under the adults’ pressure. Dates, special items to recall memories. There was nothing. So Han Gyeonghee fell into marriage blues. The fateful meeting she’d dreamed of since childhood, burning love—none of it existed. Meeting several times to eat, being taken home, sleeping together as a formality. Then getting engaged and married.
After marriage, she learned that her husband had an ordinary girlfriend of 8 years. However, Han Gyeonghee had no intention of telling her husband and her husband’s girlfriend what to do. Such things only come out when there’s love. She didn’t feel the need. She couldn’t whine about it to the family. It’s because you’re like that that your husband goes out. Since childhood, that’s what her grandfather said to her mother. How could she forget those words?
Now that she’d married as they wanted, they urged her to have a child. It just so happened that her husband had broken up with the woman he’d been seeing for 8 years. The man liked Han Gyeonghee. Most of all, the fact that she didn’t restrain him. Unable to withstand the pressure, she eventually got pregnant. Prenatal depression? Fortunately, there was none of that. In fact, around that time Han Gyeonghee was looking at a very distant mountain. That is, one blood relation to be placed in the framework called family with her for life… she got a bit greedy. As her belly swelled, her husband started going out again. Does his leg break if he can’t fuck around?
Even someone not born that way can become cynical and pessimistic about life as they age and learn about the world. Han Gyeonghee was that type too. The period of being immersed in white speech bubbles and swimming through pink cotton candy-like clouds was gone. Some people called Han Gyeonghee the queen of supporting her husband, but she wasn’t so pure and innocent. She’d long been living reality two-faced.
She safely gave birth to a child. Their lovebird-like life was occasionally featured on television or internet magazines. A wife with a cheating husband. Normally family discord would follow, but Han Gyeonghee was different.
Han Gyeonghee poured her affection into the child.
The reason was simple.
- Her romance about childcare was fulfilled.
- The child born was too adorable.
Usually newborns tend to look like burning sweet potatoes, but Han Gyeonghee’s son was different, as if born for his second life. Looking at the fair-skinned child who smelled of baby powder, desires she’d forgotten began to bloom. When his white front teeth began to come in, she drew again. She’d regained her time machine. Han Gyeonghee thought of her son as treasure. Though he also resembled the face of a man she’d never once loved, since his face was mixed more with hers, there was no problem in loving her son.
When Han Gyeonghee’s child was cultivating cabbage he’d planted himself in the garden at the private English kindergarten, a tabloid circulated. The kindergarten teachers huddled together looking at each other’s phones.
「”Watch your back~” It’s said that ㅁ Corporation’s second son Mr. A was sued for divorce by ㅅ Corporation’s Miss S and paid a huge alimony. In fact, this couple had a reputation as lovebirds, so as divorce rumors circulated, it’s giving the public quite a shock. Were they a show window couple after all?
According to close associates, Mr. A is a tremendous farmer. His sex drive overflows so much that whenever he sees women’s butts, he unzips his pants and spreads his seed. Each time, what dies is the secretary who’s busy cleaning up. In fact, changing the water isn’t important for nothing. It’s said that Miss S, who joined hands with the secretary, has been collecting all of Mr. A’s farmer qualities since early in their marriage. They say there’s even a separate folder called X-files! Those antics must be tremendous. Miss S, who we thought was so demure! The cat climbs on the stove first…」
This tabloid appeared in corners of beauty salon magazine racks, in people’s messenger chat windows, and in newspaper gossip columns that now had little demand.
Han Gyeonghee also had losses. Saying things like how could she act this way over something she couldn’t endure, how she couldn’t walk around with her head held high.
‘How will you face those people from now on!’
In front of her scolding father, Han Gyeonghee unconsciously snorted. Those guys who date around in complete chaos, who are they to criticize? She heard threats saying she was no longer his daughter. The moment she heard those words, Han Gyeonghee’s adrenaline rose enough to burst through the roof. How much she’d wanted this! A life lived as she pleased!
Han Gyeonghee left for England with her son.
***
Yo, something seriously fucking horrifying happened at my apartment recently. I’d left the door open to air out the place, right? I was wrapped in my blanket eating ice cream and reading a webtoon, ah, you know xx’s One Week? It’s a 19+ webtoon, but the art style is super realistic. It’s dope. Anyway, I’m reading that when I hear this ripping scream from outside. I figured girls were just chatting and making a fuss or whatever, and let it go. But my place is on the 5th floor so I can hear most sounds from below. The screaming kept going. So I was like what the fuck, and went out to the veranda. It was at a really horny scene too. I wanted to get rid of that beam of light. So I was just gonna take a quick look and lie back down, but the asphalt below was blood-colored. Fuck, I’ve got goosebumps on my arms right now. I’ll probably never forget it for the rest of my life. A guy in a school uniform fell from the rooftop and his body got torn apart. What? He committed suicide. When you see it in dramas or movies, it comes out filtered to some degree, right? But real life is different. Just fucking different. His neck and shoulders were bent 180 degrees like rotating the limbs of a jointed doll, bones sticking out everywhere. And… stop talking? But listen to this part too. That guy’s parents saw him fall while committing suicide from inside the house. What if they made eye contact? I really don’t think I could live sane. After a while, the kid’s mom and dad came running out like crazy… Neighborhood residents said when his dad drank, he’d turn into a total asshole and beat the mom and son like that. So that day the son got beaten too and in anger went up and just died like that. That family divorced right after their son died like that… When you think about it, it’s the price of the son’s life. If not for the son, that lady might have kept living getting beaten by that violent husband. The mom said a lot to the son like if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have to see your dad, stuff like that. Ah! Right, that guy who threw a bowling ball at your shoulder is apparently working part-time now. I heard from Jeonguk recently. After your shoulder got wrecked, even the university he was supposed to enter got his enrollment canceled.
After Jaei poured out words like a machine gun, his throat must have been parched because he gulped down water.
“Don’t you have friends at school? My ears hurt.”
“I’m a loner. I’m going to the bathroom.”
Jaei got up from his seat. The bag hanging loosely on the table corner fell to the floor. The contents spilled out with a clatter. Put that in the bag for me. Jaei opened the door and quickly disappeared. I picked up the pencil case and notebook that had rolled to my feet. As I was about to put them in the bag, I discovered something sticking out from under the notebook. How tacky. It was a photo of people gathered together wearing matching sky-blue baseball jackets. The people had the beach behind them. From people sitting cross-legged in the sand to people with bent knees, and tall people behind them, it seemed they’d taken it arranged by height.
I quietly observed the people in the photo. Jaei was also in the very back, smiling brightly and making a V sign. Among the people in matching outfits like election campaigners, a man wearing a lone dark shirt caught my eye. He was frowning slightly as if uncomfortable in this setting. His hair, which felt somewhat shorter than the men around him, was like a round chestnut. A feeling of not fitting in and being left out. Overall, he didn’t match.
“What are you looking at?”
Shaking the water off his hands, Jaei came back. Who is this? A clean fingernail without a single hangnail pointed to the dark shirt. Jaei pressed the call bell on the table while glancing at the direction Cheon Jaerim pointed. Him? A returning student. Super shy.
Curiosity arises from the most trivial things.
The slightly upturned eye corners were wary of me from the first moment. I almost laughed seeing him push his chair back and sit far away. Was I too harsh? When I heard a trickling sound and joked asking if he’d peed, seeing him turn tail and run away, laughter burst out of me audibly.
Did he really go to the military? I sent a text to Jaei.
[Yeah. He looks super young, doesn’t he? Different from your old-looking ass.]
The group photo I’d stolen from Jaei went safely into my jeans. The fold mark avoiding the chestnut sitting in the middle is still there. I flipped that photo over and slid it under the glass panel on my desk.
Even his name was tacky. Kim Sunjo seemed to have no particular interest except in himself. However, watching him flinch every time I tossed out a word was quite satisfying. Looking once at the rectangular paper stuck in the desk, looking once at Kim Sunjo. Kim Sunjo probably has no idea that his face is under his arm. When will…
Sometimes my mouth itches like a mosquito bite. I wanted to lift the glass panel, take out the photo, and hold it up in front of him. Do you know who this is? You look like your older sister… I wanted to see his flustered expression. An expression of confusion with his pupils rolling around—no matter how many times I saw it, I wouldn’t get tired of it. I wanted to grab his hair. Wearing a wig, spreading his thin pants-clad legs wide was ridiculous.
He looked familiar. My eyes went to him because he resembled something I knew. Looking at Kim Sunjo in the photo reminded me of the golden hamster I raised when I was young. Mom hated animals like dogs or cats because hair flew everywhere they went, so my first pet was a hamster. I want to raise one again. But forming a bond with an animal that can’t speak is incredibly difficult. Jjongi also grew sickly for unknown reasons and went to the other world. If I could raise one again, I wanted something that could talk, show emotions on its face… something easy to handle.
“Eat this too.”
A hamster that gulps down whatever food you give it. A hamster that glares and turns its back to the corner when in a bad mood. A hamster that frantically digs through sawdust to catch my attention.
It was from then that I thought it would be nice if Kim Sunjo demanded my attention. However, Kim Sunjo was someone who had no interest whatsoever in relationships with people. According to Jaei, he was an even worse outsider than himself. Hmm. Not the type to be popular in group activities. In reality, I was the one doing what the hamster did to get Kim Sunjo’s attention. I brought up lame excuses to extend tutoring time for Kim Sunjo, who was indifferent to anything besides studying and eating. Even though his expression clearly showed he wanted to go home, Kim Sunjo obediently stayed in his seat.
When he bowed his head to highlight English passages with a highlighter, his long hair fell to the side of his face, and between it, I could glimpse his lips. I wanted to bite and hide those lips that chattered with the single-minded intention to teach. It seemed like if I went inside there, juice would burst out like biting into green grapes. When can we play together? Sometimes when I shake my leg and bump into his neatly placed knees, it feels like his hard kneecaps are melting like candle wax.
‘He looks like Jjongi that I used to raise.’
‘That hyung is seriously like a wall.’
‘Is he good at studying?’
‘You crazy bastard. I know what you’re thinking.’
‘I’ll give you that limited edition game console you wanted.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. And…’
The reason for being friends with Jaei was simple. He doesn’t dig deep, doesn’t pry into others’ private affairs. The reason we became close was simple too. Jaei came backpacking to the area where I lived. From the fact that this stupid-looking guy was walking around in an area full of pickpockets with his phone stuck in his bag’s side pocket, he was like an idiot. Sure enough, a bastard appeared putting his hand in the bag, and I spoke to Jaei. The guy with bangs cut straight across, his hair looking like a lid on top, followed me around all day being annoying, saying he was grateful. In the end, Jaei stayed at my house instead of the hotel he’d reserved. He came to visit after that too.
Even living abroad, I was a person of color. It was natural to feel drawn to a guy with the same skin, eyes, and hair color as me. Thanks to Jaei, I connected with Jaei’s Korean friends too, and when I went to Korea with my English friends, we sometimes played games with swimming. The flaw was that there was a guy who felt inferior to me.
‘Isn’t this too much? What kind of cross-dressing is this?’
‘It’s fun though.’
Ah, the first experience.
We’ll both have our first experience.
For me, it’s my first time tutoring, and for you, I’ll be your first.
