by Seong-nan Ha
Mom, who was putting fresh wood in the outdoor stove to boil some water, called out as I stepped past our gate. Make sure you come home by nine or you’re really gonna get it! Mom yells all the time at home like she’s at her shop.
Mom, my exam is in two days, of course I’ll be home early. I’ll be home by eight.
I was supposed to meet Miseon in front of the Blue Rose at seven o’clock. That’s when she’s the least busy.
An occasional streetlight illuminated the narrow highway. Flanked by mountains on one side and the river on the other, the two-lane highway is barely wide enough for two cars. There was a safer route with a sidewalk, but I’d decided to take the shortcut. Cars hurtled past me, their headlights blazing. Dust got tangled in my hair. You couldn’t even see the moon. It was so dark. A car appeared around the bend. It took up both lanes and zigzagged wildly toward me. I realized a moment later why it was zigzagging down the road like that. Another car was close behind. I wondered if they would crash. They seemed to be doing at least 150 kilometers per hour. The two cars accelerated, blasting their horns. The car in front was trying to block the car behind from passing. I could tell they were having a race. If a car was heading their way from the opposite lane, they barely managed to get back in their lane, but once that car disappeared, they zigzagged along the road again.
The two cars raced neck and neck with each other. In order to get out of the way, I stood right at the edge of the road. I planned to wait until they had passed. Their high beams pierced my eyes. I couldn’t see. In that instant, something struck me in the side. I flew off the road and rolled down the hill. I think the car’s side mirror hit me.
I think I dislocated my hip. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. The grass was wet and branches scratched my face. The two cars that had vanished up ahead raced back in reverse and stopped. They got out of their cars and peered down the shadowy slope.
Shit, where the hell did she come from?
One of them spat loudly down the hill.
You lost, so you go down and check.
The young man kept swearing as he came down the hill. Every time he would slip, rocks cascaded down and fell on my back. A hand clutched my shoulder and shook me.
Hey, you okay? Christ.
The one waiting above called out in a small voice, Is she alive?
The man picked me up and carried me on his back. My body became bent like a sickle.
Is she dead?
The other man helped lift me up, and gulped loudly. Um, I think she needs to go to the hospital.
You moron, are you crazy? Did you forget you don’t even have a license? You want to ruin your life? Hurry, put her in the trunk before someone sees us. Shit.
Rough hands stuffed me into the trunk of a car. The trunk was full of tires, car wax, and rags. There was barely any room. Excuse me, I’m alive. Please let me live. I don’t think they heard me. We stopped at the river. They argued for a long time, as if they’d forgotten all about me. The trunk opened. They dragged me to the river and tossed me in.
When I was in second grade, my desk mate and I always fought. I forget his name. We drew an imaginary line between our desks and if he crossed that line, I got mad at him. When we came back to school after the summer break, there was no longer any reason to fight with him. During the summer he had gone to visit his mother’s family in the country, and while swimming in the reservoir, he had drowned. Under our teacher’s direction, we observed a ten-minute silence. Some kids cried. But after the ten minutes, we completely forgot about him. As soon as the recess bell rang, we swarmed out onto the field, and laughed and played. We didn’t understand death back then. When we asked the grownups to explain death, they told us it meant going to heaven. Drawings and alphabet letters the boy had carved with his stationary knife still remained on his desk, but he was no longer in this world. He had lived just eight years.
Sometimes when I make dinner instead of Mom, I would lay the knife I’d used to chop kimchi or green onion on top of my wrist. There were times I’ve dunked my face in the basin, holding my breath, while washing my face. I’ve even looked up at the school rooftop from the field and felt an urge to run up the stairs and throw myself down. But I’m only sixteen. Sweet sixteen. I would have grown taller by the end of summer.
I think Granny Kyeongju knew she was going to die soon. Dearie, can you fry up some pork for me? She’d asked her daughter-in-law for some meat all of a sudden. When she never even touched pork all her life. And then she’d enjoyed that pork with her two remaining teeth.
My elementary-school desk mate lived eight years, and Granny Kyeongju lived eighty-two. I’m sixteen. Is sixteen years short or long? I’m slowing down. I think I’m near the mouth of the river.
•
It was a young couple who found me. They were taking a stroll along the secluded riverbank. They stepped into a little nook and kissed. His hand burrowed into the folds of her clothes and stroked her chest. What does it feel like to kiss? Miseon would have laughed out loud. You’ve never kissed anyone before? she’d say and make fun of me. They started breathing heavily. At that very moment, the girl’s gaze happened to land on me. Her bloodshot eyes widened and she let out a scream.
There was no longer any current to carry me down the river. This is where the sediment is deposited. There are no pebbles or rocks; everything has been reduced to sand. My head was stuck between two large boulders. Every time the water lapped over me, my jacket billowed to the surface. The frightened girl began to weep, and the man took a cautious step in my direction. When he discovered my half-submerged back, he tripped and fell on his rear-end. He scrambled backward. Ah, I never wanted to scare anyone like this.
I hear the siren. I think the police are here. They pull me out of the water and lay me on the ground. The sun is warm. People start to gather around. The police rummage through my pockets, but they’re empty. When I bounced off the car and down the hill, my wallet fell out of my pocket into the weeds. That place is always full of garbage. Because people in passing cars toss empty soda cans and snacks out of the car.
No ID? asks the detective who’s standing, lighting a cigarette.
Nothing. Who the hell would do such a—
The one who’d been rummaging through my pockets finds the fishhook stuck in the back of my jacket. He pulls it out. Maybe he’s thinking of his youngest sister, who is around my age. I’m still in tenth grade. I’ll get my ID card next year, around my birthday.
Ah, it was me giving off that stench. I heard someone say that I’d already started to decompose. This river has polluted my body. It’s a good thing I can’t see my face.
My student ID would be in my wallet. Maybe I only imagined that it fell out of my pocket into the weeds. Or did I leave it on top of the desk in my room? This jacket’s new. As I was changing, I might have forgotten to put my wallet in my jacket pocket. I can’t remember. Ah, I think the river took my memories away.
The police detectives load me into the ambulance. These are the only details they know about me: the pleather jacket, which I cherish, my jean shorts, my sneakers, the cross necklace around my neck, and my muddy white T-shirt.
I think those white flowers are blooming along the riverbank. The ambulance picks up speed. They flap like laundry hung out to dry.
Would Mom be at the market? Maybe Miseon ended up calling my house after she got tired of waiting for me. If Mom finds out I’m friends with Miseon … I don’t even want to think about it. Maybe she thinks I ran away from home. Maybe she thinks Miseon was a bad influence on me. Mom would have closed up her shop and would have started by searching the nearest gas stations. Who will wash my dad’s face for him now?
The ambulance is entering the town now. I know, because we’re slowing down. I know this place so well. I was born and raised here. I think I see my school in the distance. Right about now, the kids are probably running around the field in single file. Short and sweet, short and sweet. I think I hear them shout.
I
finally remember the name of those flowers.
Daisy fleabane, that’s what they’re called. The ones that had been blooming in heaps when I’d come here with my dad. They’re covered in tiny hairs and have small petals. But why are they already in bloom? Isn’t it early spring right now? Ah, I’m getting all mixed up. I’m sure they’re called daisy fleabane. I can smell a faint whiff of fish.
Stories in this collection have previously appeared in Asymptote, Ricepaper Magazine, the New Quarterly, and the Malahat Review.
Ha Seong-nan was born in Seoul in 1967 and made her literary debut in 1996, after her graduation from the Seoul Institute of the Arts. Ha is the author of five short story collections and three novels. Over her career, she’s received a number of prestigious awards, such as the Dong-in Literary Award in 1999, Hankook Ilbo Literary Prize in 2000, the Isu Literature Prize in 2004, the Oh Yeong-su Literary Award in 2008, and the Contemporary Literature (Hyundae Munhak) Award in 2009.
Janet Hong is a writer and translator based in Vancouver, Canada. She received the TA First Translation Prize and the 16th LTI Korea Translation Award for her translation of Han Yujoo’s The Impossible Fairy Tale, which was a finalist for both the PEN Translation Prize and the National Translation Award, and longlisted for the 2019 International Dublin Literary Award. She has translated Ha Seong-nan’s Flowers of Mold, longlisted for the PEN Translation Prize, Ancco’s Bad Friends, and Keum Suk Gendry-Kim’s Grass, and Yeon-sik Hong’s Umma’s Table.
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