“Pardon?”
“All the other teachers have decided to go there. They’ll need a lot of hands. But I’m the director, you know. The director over there would feel a bit uncomfortable around me too, so I’ve decided not to go with them. I’m going to quit working at the orphanage and leave this place.”
“Teacher! But then…”
“Chiwon-ah. Come with me.”
Please. Let me protect you. That’s what the teacher said. All I could do was nod my head. I couldn’t survive without relying on others’ goodwill.
I asked the teacher to keep it secret from my younger siblings until the very end—that I would be leaving alone. Until moving day, I tried my best to take in the sight of my siblings with my eyes. Many of them came with their pillows, wanting to sleep with me, perhaps feeling lonely that I was moving. Even Chanhyeong showed up at the door one day with his pillow. Not many words were exchanged, but as I gave the younger ones arm pillows and patted their bellies, I barely held back my tears. Precious time only becomes vivid when it’s about to slip through your fingers.
They were kind and good family. Probably ones I’d have difficulty meeting again.
Turning the teachers and all my younger siblings into memories was hard. Right now, I couldn’t do it because tears kept coming. But it would get better with time, right? I’d be able to keep them in my heart and take them out to look at occasionally.
Among those I’d turn into memories were friends and teachers too. Junsu, Woojin, Hyeonho, Hyeonho’s classmates, the Class 5 kids. My homeroom teacher.
Eorin.
I held back tears and packed my bags. Even I was allowed to grieve this much.
On the day my younger siblings left, the other orphanage sent over a car. That car was loaded full with luggage, and the children rode in our orphanage’s old car. Some children who were going to different orphanages had already left in taxis with one of the teachers. With faces swollen from crying their eyes out while seeing those children off, my siblings got into the car one by one. Quite a few children glanced back at the orphanage.
The end had truly arrived. After Chanhyeong finally boarded the car last, I approached the car door. I could see Jumin sitting inside properly, wiping away tears while holding Chaeyoung’s hand.
“Jumin-ah.”
“Yeah?”
“Take this. It’s yours now.”
I held out what I’d been carrying. Bear plushies. Three large, fluffy bear plushies so big they couldn’t all fit in little Jumin’s arms.
“This is all I had to give. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”
“Oppa…?”
As if realizing what promise I was talking about, confusion rose on Jumin’s face. Worried that the other children would catch on, I immediately stepped back from the car.
“…Hyung?”
Chanhyeong’s call sounded distant. Not wanting to show my crying face, I smiled.
“You all have to stay healthy, kids. I love you so much.”
I closed the door just like that. Beyond the window, I could see my siblings’ faces. Expressions appeared one by one on faces that had been blank. When Chanhyeong, with a face close to despair, tried to open the door, I shook my head. Chanhyeong tried to open the door with an urgent expression, but his hand must have slipped because he ended up pounding on the window and shouting something. I tried deliberately not to listen, but I heard it all too clearly.
No, hyung.
“Take care, kids.”
Soon after, the car started. I waved at my siblings beyond the window with a forced smile. The children started shouting while pressing against the window, but soon the car picked up speed and moved away from me.
Standing alone in the orphanage yard, I soothed my sense of loss.
“Let’s get going now too, Chiwon-ah. Come out with your luggage. I’ll call a taxi.”
“Yes, Teacher.”
The director wiped away tears, patted my shoulder, and went inside the orphanage. I stood there for a while, then took out my cell phone from my pocket. Since I’d had it turned off for some time, as soon as I turned on the phone, text message notifications rang out noisily. They were probably from friends. I didn’t read them.
Eorin’s phone… would be turned off. Just like it had been all this time.
Suddenly, tears flowed endlessly.
I missed Eorin. But I couldn’t see him. Even if I could meet him, I wouldn’t have looked at Eorin’s face. I couldn’t possibly tell him that because I could no longer receive the money your family was giving me, I couldn’t attend school with you anymore… that I was leaving this place forever.
I felt miserable, resentful, wronged, and devastated. What was this feeling? Was it the last bastion protecting my heart that loved you? Was it the pride that stubbornly remained?
I felt the gap between Eorin and me down to my bones. Eorin giving and me receiving, being endlessly grateful and endlessly small was all I could do… Me, being swayed by Eorin’s world, uprooted and shaken to the core.
Why can’t I let go of my inferiority complex even when loving you?
I’d never once pitied myself for not having money or blood-related family. When I was young, I was arrogant enough to even think I was somewhat admirable. Look how well I’ve grown up without those things. Even without money, I had a place to live which was enough, and even without blood relations, I had family.
But now, finally, I pitied myself. It was the first time love felt miserable.
My pitiful one-sided love. My pitiful heart.
Why can’t I be ordinary?
[Thank you.]
I sent a text to Eorin. So that when things calmed down and Eorin was okay, on that someday whenever it came, when he turned on his phone he could read my text. I wanted to say the farewell I couldn’t finish, at least this way.
I thought there would be no reply. But surprisingly, not long after sending the text, an incoming call screen appeared on my phone. It was a call from Eorin. Holding the phone that was buzzing and whining in my hand, I stood there blankly, then soon pressed reject. The phone rang several more times, but I continued not to answer.
It’ll be hard now, but it’ll be okay. You’re someone who will live a happy life. Because you shine so brightly. Don’t worry. I repeated this to myself and wrote another text. Only at the very last moment did I finally write down my true feelings.
[I really liked you. Eorin-ah.]
Send.
The phone rang again.
[Please answer the phone Chiwon-ah]
[Please]
These dreamlike days I had to let go of now. I had been in love.
In love…
[Please. Chiwon-ah]
I was seventeen.
—
**02. Adult You and Me**
I became an adult without warning.
After dropping out of Haebam High School, I didn’t go to another high school. Instead, at nineteen in April, I got my diploma through the GED and immediately jumped into society. I didn’t even consider a regular university. Just the teacher and me living together made life tight. Besides, to attend school for several years would mean the teacher would have to support both of us alone for that long again. I wanted to earn money quickly.
The teacher refused the support money the foundation had offered. The teacher said she was fed up with that side. The person who had graciously taken care of us until now was the old chairman, not that shameless bastard now, she also said. The teacher I got to know anew while spending all day together had a somewhat tough side. It was somehow strange that there were parts I didn’t know even after living together for over ten years.
After hearing that I wouldn’t go to university, the teacher was silent for a while, then one day suddenly brought me a booklet. She said that these days there are many places where you can study even if it’s not a regular university, that you can get a degree in two years and also get certifications, so think about it. The booklet was a bit worn, showing how much this person who had no place to get such information had searched for it.
These days you need to have learned something to get by. That’s what the teacher told me. She said she could pay for the two years of tuition, so don’t worry and think about it. Knowing that I didn’t dislike studying, she was very upset that I had no thoughts of going to a regular university, but since I wouldn’t budge on my opinion, this was the compromise the teacher had reached on her own. The tuition wasn’t expensive and it wasn’t something I’d have to attend for long, so she seemed to think I wouldn’t feel burdened.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to attend school either. That night, looking at the sleeping teacher, I went out to the living room and cried a little while holding the booklet. And the next day I said I would do as the teacher said, but that I would pay the tuition myself.
Since classes were conducted online, I could attend classes while working. Juggling work, classes, and studying for the childcare teacher certification, the two years passed in an instant. As soon as I received my degree and got my childcare teacher certification, I quit all the part-time jobs I’d been doing and immediately got a job at a daycare center.
My ultimate choice to stay by children’s side might have been lingering attachment. Because the crying faces of my siblings I’d seen last that day were stuck in my heart. Or perhaps it was simply because that was all I knew how to do. Or maybe it was because the strongest adult I’d seen up close in my life was “Teacher.” Whatever the reason, when I said I would study for a childcare teacher certification, the teacher just smiled and said “I see” without much else to say.
Around the time I got a job and started to get used to the work, the teacher quit her job. It wasn’t voluntary. The teacher was already close to retirement age, and her physical condition was getting worse to the point of being sick every night. When quitting work, the teacher worried that life would become tight, but I could somehow manage on what I earned alone. But living completely dependent on someone was such an unfamiliar life for the teacher that she started taking on all the household chores we’d been sharing. I told her several times to just rest since she must be in pain, but she only smiled, saying she felt more comfortable doing something.
From time to time, a brief silence would slip into the conversation between the teacher and me. We both knew what it was. It was hesitation about a form of address. A certain form of address I wanted to call her and the teacher wanted to be called. However, both of us found it difficult to readily put that word in our mouths. Both the teacher and I were people who’d had no connection to that form of address all our lives.
And I deeply regretted that. Because not long after life had stabilized enough that I could live sufficiently on my earnings alone, the teacher collapsed as if she’d been waiting for it.
“…Chiwon-ah.”
“Yes, Teacher.”
“Thank you so much. Thanks to you…”
That’s what I should be saying. I forcibly held back my tears. Hair that had now turned completely white, and hands that had turned like tree bark after passing through harsh years. When did she become so withered? The teacher’s eyes became hazy.
