Issue 23

Hwang Jungeun
Translated by Mirae Yang

Hanssi and Kossi had lost their way around the area.

Gom and Mim found them at the corner of a street. Hanssi was wearing a trapper hat and Kossi had a scarf wrapped around her neck. It was the dead of night.

Dad.

Gom called Hanssi.

Why are you here.

You said it’s around here.

I said around there, not here.

So where’s there.

Up there. I told you to turn left at the corner where the stationery store is.

Look, said Hanssi, looking around.

Take a look yourself and see if that store’s here anywhere.

Many of the buildings in the alley had torn down their gates and fences to put up new walls. Piles of sand used for cement mixes were everywhere.

That’s odd, said Mim.

This is supposed to be the right street, but it looks narrower than before.

Probably because it’s dark. Plus there are a lot of houses under construction.

As she said this, Gom walked on. Others followed suit and went up the street to the next corner. Look at this, said Gom.

This building, it’s being newly built. But isn’t that stationery store supposed to be here?

Is it?

Look around more closely.

It is.

It’s gone. No wonder we couldn’t find it.

They entered another alley and kept walking. A dog was barking somewhere. The pattering of their footsteps echoed down the alley. Damn it, said Kossi.

I’m gonna make her pay.

Mom, said Gom.

I understand, but we’re not going there to fight. We’ll just talk. Right?

But still, said Mim.

Mom, why don’t you think this over?

Damn it.

They stood in between the fifth and sixth buildings. Uh, said Gom, cocking her head to the side. The two buildings looked the same. Both were painted in ivory, with bricks embedded in the walls here and there, and the entrances facing south. The slanted ceilings on the top floor, gas pipes, dome-shaped light at the front door, parking lines painted diagonally, and even the glass storm door’s handles were all identical. They roamed around the two buildings, searching for a clue to distinguish one from the other. In the parking lot of the fifth one stood two locked bicycles, while a commercial van was parked in that of the sixth.

It’s this one.

Hanssi recognized the van and read out the words on a sticker on the passenger door.

CHEON-IL WATERPROOF

They stood in front of the glass storm door and looked into it. The stairway lights were out. Mim grabbed the handle and gave the door a slight nudge back and forth.

It’s locked.

Ring the doorbell.

It seems like the lights are turned off upstairs too.

What time is it?

0:36.

What if they’re sleeping?

Didn’t you tell them we’re gonna come?

Move.

Kossi stepped forward and pushed the bell. They all fell silent and waited, straining their ears. The faint reverberating sound of the bell came from upstairs. Kossi buried her nose in her scarf and pressed the bell again, hard. The light on the metal intercom station flashed on.

Who’s there?

It’s me.

Who?

We’re down here, said Kossi.

I said we’re here.

A long silence followed. Kossi looked at the intercom, Gom at Kossi, Hanssi at the top of the dark stairs, and Mim turned her gaze from them and fixed it toward the walls of the opposite building.

Hold on.

The voice answered over the intercom.

I’ll send Gumjung down.

They stepped back and waited for Gumjung. A light came on in the stairs. Gumjung appeared at the top of the stairs, with his hair looking like a bird’s nest, shoulders hunched, and wearing a shirt on which the girl from the musical Les Misérables was printed. His slippers flapped loudly as he walked down the stairs and opened the door for them.

Did we wake you? We didn’t mean to bother you, sorry.

Hanssi said to Gumjung.

No problem, said Gumjung, with a chortle.

In my case, I wasn’t sleeping anyway.

They entered the front door where the lights were turned on. A pot of fresh gardenia blooms was placed beside the shoe shelf. Paekssi and Parkssi were waiting in the living room to greet them. Come on in, Uncle Hanssi, said Paekssi with a smile.

It must’ve been troublesome for you all to travel this late.

The bottom few buttons of Paekssi’s shirt were not done up. He had disheveled hair and was wearing suit pants, barefoot. Parkssi stood next to Paekssi, rolling her eyes. Her face glittered evenly as if she had slathered on night cream. Hanssi and Kossi took off their shoes without saying a word and stepped into the living room. Gom and Mim gazed around the living room, standing by the front door. The living room was narrow and deep, a little dark, and it was dimly lit by only one lamp. The flooring, table, and everything else were brand new. None of the old things that Gom and Mim used to see in the house remained. Can the two of us just leave now? Mim muttered under her breath.

Don’t just stand there, said Paekssi.

You two, come on in.

They sat down in a wide circle, leaving the center of the living room empty. A kettle on the gas stove let off steam.

Let’s have some tea first, shall we? said Paekssi.

My wife dried some orange peel, so she was boiling it.

No thanks, my dear nephew, said Kossi flatly.

I’m not thirsty.

As Paekssi motioned Parkssi away, she went to the kitchen with her mouth shut. They heard the clinking of teacups being laid out.

I said I’m fine.

Aunt Kossi, please, I insist.

Kossi unwound her scarf from her neck, rolled it into a tight bundle, and put it down on the floor. Gom was standing with her hands in her coat pockets, staring at Kossi’s bright red nose.

Sit down, said Paekssi.

You too.

Parkssi came back to the living room holding a tray. She laid down teacups in front of each of them. After staring at them for a while, Gumjung went back into his room, scratching his head.

Hey.

Hanssi spoke to Paekssi.

It was hard to get here. We got lost and wandered around the area for a long time.

Really? You should have called me.

The hell with calling, said Kossi.

My dear nephew, I came here today to tell you how hurt I am.

As you please, Aunt Kossi.

I called your wife today, see.

Kossi lifted her finger and pointed at Parkssi.

I wasn’t asking for help or anything, I was feeling so depressed by one thing and another that I just wanted some comfort, that was all, but you know what she said? Please, that’s enough, I’m sick of listening to that kind of story, she told me not to call her ever again if I were to go on about that stuff, so I hung up, but the more I thought about it, the more furious I felt, I mean, wouldn’t you?

True, Aunt Kossi.

Kossi rolled up the sleeves of her coat.

So I rang her again and asked what I’d done to deserve such treatment, and what was the problem between us, but before I’d even finished, she hung up on me. Fuck.

Aunt Kossi, please don’t swear, said Parkssi.

Don’t swear, I tell you.

You’d better keep your mouth shut, said Kossi.

You have so many ideas of how to irritate your elders. I know I’m worse off than you right now, but how dare you look down on me?

My goodness, please don’t say that, Aunt Kossi.

My dear nephew, what I’m saying is that she did it eight times, she hung up the phone, the phone, she hung up again, and again and again, and she said, Now I get what kind of life you’ve been living, but seriously, what exactly does she get about my life? How dare she say that she “gets” it, that I’ve become a mess and whatnot?

When did I say that? said Parkssi.

I said I felt sorry, I never said you’re a mess.

They’re the same thing.

How are they the same?

How are they not the same?

What I meant was, you used to be so slim and as beautiful as a doll, but as you got older, everything changed, and that made me feel sorry, that’s what I meant.

Then they are the same thing.

How are they the same for god’s sake?

Well, if we do say that they’re indeed the same thing, said Hanssi.

Hadn’t you become a mess yourself way earlier? At least I think so.

Uncle Hanssi, said Paekssi, grinning.

Isn’t it a bit too much to say that?

Gom gazed at the wall where the TV was mounted.

… Is it forty-six inches?

Damn it.

Kossi sprung to her feet and went to the kitchen. She grabbed a cup from the cupboard and looked around for water. Shreds of dried noodles were scattered all over the counter, and a trail of chopped green onions was left on the cutting board, which seemed to indicate that they had cooked noodles for dinner.

Aunt Kossi, why don’t you take the tea?

Paekssi’s voice came from the living room.

No thanks.

Kossi turned on the faucet and held her cup below it. She filled it to the brim and drank it, filled it up again and drank it, and finally filled it halfway and drank it, before throwing it into the sink. It bounced off the sink and fell to the floor. Kossi returned to her seat, leaving the faucet running.

Eight times, I say.

Mim stood up, heaving a sigh, and went into the kitchen. She turned off the faucet, picked up the cup, and while she was at it, washed the knife resting on the cutting board and put it back in the rack under the sink.

She did it eight times.

Gumjung opened the door of his room and peered out at the living room. Hanssi was fumbling in his coat pockets, seemingly searching for something, while Kossi was wiping her nose with a rag she had dragged over from nearby. Gom was fiddling with her watch, lost in thought, and Mim was standing in front of the sink with a sullen face.

Paekssi gestured to Gumjung.

Check the indoor temperature, will you? It’s too hot.

Gumjung examined the thermostat on the living room wall.

It’s twenty-two degrees, said Gumjung, scratching his side hard.

In this case, do you want me to lower it?

We need to save if we want to heat the house longer.

Gumjung turned the dial slightly to the left and went back to his room. The boiler, which had been rumbling goo-goong goo-goong in the background, settled into silence.

Check.

Gom thought.

Check.

Check.

What should I do?

Check.

Check.

My fingers are.

Too.

Check.

Far away.

Check.

Check.

Check.

And this watch. It seems to be out of order. Because. By the way. Clocks don’t usually sound like this. It doesn’t necessarily have to go “ding” and then “ding.” Because, it’s a wristwatch. But it should at least go “tic.” Or “tick-tock.” And yet.

Check.

Check.

Check. Check. How on earth does a clock sound like this? Check. Check. Check. Wait. People may think that I am absent-mindedly doing nothing, but in fact, at this very moment, I am busy. Like this cornhusk stuck between my first and second molars on the right side. Even such trivial stuff has demanded my attention since a little ago. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. And while I am sitting like this, I can figure out a lot of things. For instance. Check. Check. For example, about this sound. Check. Check. Check. Check. I’ve been carefully calculating how often this sound occurs. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. In between six and twelve, there should be thirty “checks,” and another thirty “checks” from twelve to six, but at some point the time is dragged or fastened, so comes only eighteen or twenty-seven, or in extreme cases, even nine or forty-five checks. But it was four months ago that I discovered this fact, so for now, have no idea how messed up it is. In the world of this clock, no one can give an answer. That is to say, no one won’t ever be able to know what time it is now. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. You listen. Check. Check. Check. Check. Right? Check. Check. Between the first and the second “check” just now, there was enough time for three more “checks.” Would anyone notice? Wouldn’t they just think that the watch is just doing its job because it’s a watch? Check. Check. Check. It’s no use asking me what time it is now. Check. Check. Why isn’t anyone saying anything? Check. Without bleeding and without weeping, they are fighting. Where’s the fun in that? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Hang on. Check. Check. I think I read something similar in Alice Through the Looking Glass. Or was it Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Either way, they’re both about Alice. What’s the point of reading books with no pictures and no dialogue? Well then, what’s the point of reading about fights with no blood and no tears? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Is Mom crying? No. Is Dad crying? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. This is bullshit. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. It’s too quiet. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. I’ll smoke a cigarette. Check. Check. Check. Check. Just saying, that’s all. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Apparently if you start smoking as a teen, then in your twenties your brain will be like a seventy-year-old’s. Check. Check. Check. Check. No, was it sniffing glue? Check. Check. Check. I think it was glue. Check. Check. Check. Check. Yes. It’s glue. Anyway, I don’t sniff that kind of thing. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. But should I give it a go? Broomcorn in the corn field is corn that belongs to the owner of the broomcorn field, and corn in the broomcorn field is the owner of the broomcorn in the corn field, and corn in the broomcorn field is the corn of the broomcorn in the corn field … Something’s off. I got mixed up somewhere. I’ll try again. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Idiot. Check. Check. Check. Check. Who’s the idiot? It’s. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Didn’t somebody just say something? Check. Check. Check. Oops. I missed that. Check. Check. The cornhusk, I mean. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. I need to eat something. Check. Check. I’ll just have the tea. Check. Check. Check. I’ll, Just, Have, The, Tea. I’ll just, Have, The, Tea. I’ll just have, The, Tea. I’ll just have the, Tea. I’ll just have the tea. I’ll just. Have The Tea. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. My stomach is churning. Check. Check. Check. Check. If I had diarrhea in the toilet here, would they hate me? Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Who cares. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. But. Check. Check. They’ll probably hear me. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Damn it. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Eek. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. What?

Check.

Check.

Check.

Check.

What?

Eight times, said Kossi.

Kossi absently wiped the floor in front of her with the rag.

How on earth nobody, I mean not a single person, has ever loved me, ever supported me, or ever respected me, and to be completely honest, my dear nephew, the only mistake I’ve made in my life is that I spent a little time at a dance hall in my old age, after my glory days were over.

Kossi, what you’re saying now has nothing to do with this.

It’s not, my dear nephew, to hang up eight times like that, it’s not something she’d do unless she really despised me, unless she thought inwardly that I’m a little bitch who used to sow my wild oats. Am I right?

No, said Parkssi.

Aunt Kossi, you cussed at me. You started cussing as soon as I picked up the phone. Do you just expect me to listen to you without saying a word?

Of course not, said Kossi.

Judging by how you say you feel sorry for me, it’s clear you think you’re in a position to pity me now, that’s why you go on about how sorry you are for me and what a mess I’ve become.

I didn’t say it like that.

I told you, they’re the same thing.

Oh for Christ’s sake, I’m getting a knot in my chest.

Now that you’re better off, and getting along all right, you think your elders are failures.

That’s well said, failed elders.

What?

Oh, enough, Paekssi said to Parkssi, laughing.

Why don’t you back down?

But what did I do wrong?

You don’t know? Kossi raised her voice.

You’ve forgotten your past and stuck your nose in the air. If you were one of my children, I would’ve fixed that behavior of yours, even if it took some smacking.

Then smack me, said Parkssi, nodding her head.

Until you vent out all your anger, just smack me.

Mim cut across the living room and entered Gumjung’s room.

It was a long room covered in sky-blue wallpaper. The window facing the alley was fitted with blinds. Magazines, textbooks, game CDs, and flung-off clothes were piled one over another on the desk, and empty pudding cups were spread over the floor. Gumjung was playing a game on the computer, which was placed by the window. As he moved his controller’s stick to the left, a weird ball on the screen moved to the left, too. Mim sat near the door and stared blankly at the ball. Gumjung glanced back at her and said,

Want some pudding?

Nope.

You don’t like it?

I don’t feel like eating it.

Okay.

Gumjung chortled.

What are you doing? said Mim.

I mean, what are you doing with that?

In this case, I’m rolling the Prince’s ball.

What’s that?

A game.

What kind of game?

You roll a ball, attach things to it, make it bigger, and present it to the King, who’s your father in the game. Then the King judges whether the ball has grown large enough and sends it off to space. There the ball becomes a star. You can even make a constellation. If you create a Cygnus or the Big Dipper, a girl wearing overalls appears and says, “I can feel the Cosmos.”

Cosmos?

It’s something like the universe.

The universe.

It’s something like the world.

Hmm.

Want to try rolling it?

Mim took the controller and moved the stick following Gumjung’s instructions. The ball began to roll slowly. Clips, erasers, mosquito coils, tissue rolls, this and that, and cats all stuck to it, and finally even a postman. Mim tried to pick up a scooter too, but failed, only managing to shake it a bit.

You can only stick on stuff that’s smaller than the ball, said Gumjung.

Keep adding on the small things until you get a larger ball, and then you’ll get to attach what you couldn’t before.

Shit, said Mim.

Something strange just latched on.

That’s a telephone pole.

The ball now looked like cotton candy on a stick, which made it bounce up and down and roll in unexpected directions. Although it’s a ball, not every ball is round, said Gumjung. I know, replied Mim.

In a case like this, try not to take pointy things.

What do you mean pointy things?

Something like a transmission tower.

Got it. Like a very thin person, right?

Like an oil tanker.

…

…

Where should I roll it to from here?

Go down to the sea.

I just caught a whale.

Roll it.

Mim’s ball was now splashing around the sea, picking up small islands.

I was so annoyed that I asked what I did wrong, and it got on her nerves, so the line—hic—went dead, eight times, I say, eight times, said Kossi in the living room.

What did you say? said Parkssi.

Dear, slow down, said Hanssi.

The ball got too big, said Mim, absent-mindedly rolling the ball across the boundless ocean.

You can’t even see the Prince now.

The living room was silent. Everyone was buried in thought, their cups of cold tea in front of them. Every once in a while, Kossi hiccupped. Hanssi took off his hat, held it in his hand, and gazed at the hollow part.

Hic.

In my opinion, said Hanssi, breaking the silence.

My dear nephew and you have been really nice to us, you know. In 1999, as you should remember, my house was foreclosed and up for auction, just because I signed a sheet of paper saying that I’ll stand surety. I knew and everyone else knew that it wasn’t my fault, but the situation was harsh. When my salary was seized, my house was put up for auction, and I was at my wit’s end, the only person that called me and asked what was happening was your husband, he was the only one, you know.

Hic.

Even when my own brothers turned a blind eye, you and your husband made every effort to help us that none of my other relatives would dare to try. When my family left the house and went to Jung-gok, Jung-gok, I mean, what do you call it?

Uncle Hanssi, it’s Jang-gok, said Paekssi.

It was Jang-gok, as your husband said, where the local bus ran every two hours, with a single small store selling only four items—seaweed, dried laver, instant noodles, and cigarettes, plus there was no light on the streets, and graves outnumbering the houses people live in, and when we were thrown out of our own house with nothing to pack and forced to move to that village, your husband was the one who took us to his van and helped us get there, and he was also the one who laid styrofoam on the unheated floor of the clay house, which was falling apart and had cracks in the wall, so that we could sleep lying down, and he said, Keep your chin up, Get up and move, Good times will return, things like that, making jokes to put a smile on our faces, so I was sure he was a genuine person, you know, in Jung-gok, Jang-gok, Jung-gok, near our place, there was a river on the north side, and only two houses within a radius of five hundred meters, our house and our neighbor’s, which stood side by side, and outside the front entrance of the house next door, there was a big doghouse where about a dozen dogs were raised, and the doghouse was frozen solid by the harsh weather, and the dogs, which weren’t very used to hearing people pass by and were being raised for food without care, would bark like hell at the slightest sound, and as I managed to get to the mouth of the village always after midnight, when the buses stopped running, I had to walk for an hour to reach my house, and late in the night, when the dogs started barking, my children came out to the front yard holding a lantern and lit up the corner of the hill, and once they were sure that the person approaching was me, they shone the light on my feet to guide me home, and then with that light, I could just barely make out stones or dips in the path, and I walked through the streets under the darkness which was like a pitch-dark pit, following that weak, pale light, and you know what? I can never forget the taste of tears I ate then, how the hell could a person feel so lonely like that?

But the thing is, said Parkssi.

That’s not my fault.

Then are you saying that it’s my fault?

No, I’m just saying that it’s not my fault.

Of course, said Hanssi.

What I meant was, in the middle of all that, I thought that my dear nephew and you are always there for me; I’ve been believing in you two, but when something like this happened, can you imagine how betrayed and lonely my wife and I felt?

Wait, you can’t tell me that, said Parkssi.

I feel like that too. I receive your wife’s calls every other day, but I can’t tolerate everything she says to me. She always talks about depressing things, every single day. So it’s fair for me to sometimes feel fed up or on edge. So just because I hung up on her a few times, how could she do this to me, like she was going to kill me or something, in the middle of the night? You know what? She, your wife, says that she doesn’t want anything from me, but for me, who has to listen to all those depressing stories day after day after day, it’s like being soaked in day after day after day; however many times I tell her to pull herself together, she just says, you don’t understand me because you’ve never been in my shoes, she’s always like that, then why did she call me in the first place? I can’t help but ask myself; it’s not that I’ve committed some crime against her, but why does she always push everything to me? I can’t get these thoughts out of my head, you know.

What? I pushed everything to you?

Kossi stood up, knocking over her cup of tea. Her spilled tea spread toward the middle of the living room. Well, said Hanssi, clicking his tongue.

My dear nephew, your wife is certainly not a normal person.

I’m a normal person.

You’re normal?

I’m just normal.

Oh god, Paekssi laughed and rose from his seat.

Uncle Hanssi, it’s quite late now. Let’s just call it a night, you’d better go home and sleep.

My dear nephew.

Aunt Kossi, I think it’s enough for today, you’d better go back.

Hey, are you kicking us out?

There’s no need to keep arguing like this, you know, it won’t do any good.

If we finish here, I will never see you again, said Hanssi. Paekssi stared at the clock on the wall.

Even if that happens, it can’t be helped.

What?

My wife has issues with blood pressure, and that’s been concerning us lately. Look at her face redden. Plus, we have some waterproofing work to do in the morning. Uncle Hanssi, I’ve had fond memories of you and Aunt Kossi, and I’d like to keep them untainted. Now and forever, indeed. So, why don’t you go back to your place?

You think I won’t get out of here? Well, you got me wrong.

Okay then, please go back.

You can’t do this to me.

There’s no reason I can’t. You know, we all have our own lives.

How dare you say that.

Well, I never thought I’d say this, said Paekssi, stacking the cups on the floor on top of each other.

Hanssi fiddled with his hat, as if he is thinking about what to do with it. Kossi opened her mouth to say something, but instead let out a hic. Mim poked her head out the door of Gumjung’s room.

Hanssi jammed his hat on.

Gumjung escorted them downstairs. They descended the stairs silently as they did when they had ascended. Gumgjung released the lock on the front door and opened it outward. It was still the dead of night. Hanssi was wearing a trapper hat and Kossi had a scarf wrapped around her neck. Gom and Mim went outside after their parents.

Mim first turned the corner out of sight. After Hanssi disappeared, Kossi turned the corner. Gom stood at the corner and waved to Gumjung. Gumjung waved back to her. Slowly, the fog was rolling down. Gumgjung stared at the empty alley for a while and then locked the door. He gave the door a pull to check whether it was locked and went up the stairs, yawning.

Shall we go to bed now? said Parkssi.

Okay, said Paekssi.

Gumgjung entered his room and closed the door. Both inside and outside the house now fell silent. The alley was dark with no passerby. The distant sound of a motorcycle driving down the road was heard. Withered branches blown by the wind swept the window.

Hey, said Paekssi, as if he awoke from sleep all of a sudden.

Turn off the light. Before anyone knocks on the door.

Originally published in Korea by Changbi Publishers, Inc. English edition is published by arrangement with Changbi Publishers, Inc.