At Least We Can Apologize

by Lee Ki-ho

“But you said that it’d be okay if he never came back. You said it’d be fine with you.”

  “What?”

  “You said you wouldn’t cry over him.”

  Si-yeon looked me in the eyes without saying anything. Then she turned back around, buried her face in the bed, and cried, her shoulders heaving up and down. Si-bong spoke.

  “Hey, shouldn’t we call the wife?”

  Si-yeon cried as she spoke. “What are you talking about? Who says that fuck’s got a wife?”

  “Last time we saw him he was talking on the phone.”

  Just then, Si-yeon started to wail even harder.

  “That idiot always does that when he’s drunk! He always does that, that crazy bastard . . .”

  She said nothing more after that.

  18. The Apology That Comes from an Apology

  Two days after we came back from the police station we went to visit the client. That was on account of his asking us to stop by for a minute.

  Si-bong and I sat facing the client in the living room. The child was in the bedroom. It was a weekday, but the client had not gone to work. He was still in his pajamas.

  The client smoked continuously. Si-bong and I looked around the room without a word. The picture frame we’d seen last time next to the television had disappeared somewhere. There was a soccer ball placed under the table. The client opened his mouth.

  “So, is everything taken care of with the police?”

  We answered by nodding our heads.

  “Yeah, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  The client flicked his cigarette a few times over the ashtray, then stopped to look us in the faces. Cigarette ash fell to the floor.

  The client turned his head down again and spoke.

  “So . . . did he really die for me?”

  We nodded our heads silently. That was on account of it being the truth.

  “And there really wasn’t any other reason behind it? I would like to know the truth.”

  “No, there’s no other reason. It was all for the apology.”

  “No, but I mean . . . even still, it just doesn’t make sense. I mean, it’s just something that you can say with words . . . and I mean, if it doesn’t work then you could just give up and it’s really not that big a deal . . .”

  “Exactly. So then why did you pay before the apology was even made? Since he’d already taken the money, he had to do it.”

  After that, the client had nothing more to say. The phone rang, but the client didn’t pick it up. The child cracked the bedroom door open and looked at us. As soon as his eyes met ours, he shut the door again. The client spoke.

  “I have one more favor to ask.”

  Si-bong and I looked him directly in the eyes.

  “My son . . . Please take him back to her.”

  “Why? Now the apology has been made, so you guys can live together no problem, can’t you?” Si-bong asked.

  “No . . . After all this, how could I? She must be very shaken up . . .”

  “You won’t regret it?” I asked.

  The client took out another cigarette and put it in his mouth. Then he slowly shook his head. Smoke slowly floated down to rest on the floor.

  We soon came out of the house with the child.

  The child had changed back into the clothes he’d first come in and put on his knapsack. Then he followed us, bowing politely to the client to say goodbye. The client looked at the child as he did that, then stroked the child’s head and spoke.

  “So, do as your mom says. Be good.”

  The child bowed his head once more. We did not bow our heads. The client did not say anything else.

  Once we had gotten nearly all the way to the end of his small street, the client came running out of the house in rubber slippers. He had a soccer ball in his hand.

  “Here! You forgot this.”

  The child looked at the soccer ball. It was a soccer ball so clean it looked as though it had never been kicked before. With his head down, the child accepted the ball. And that was the end. The client didn’t follow us again.

  Once we got out to a bigger street, as we passed a playground, the child threw the ball under a swing. He didn’t take another look at it and kept walking. Si-bong asked the child.

  “You want me to go get it for you?”

  The child kept his eyes forward and said, “It’s fine.”

  “But . . . it looks new.”

  “Huh! What’s a kid like me supposed to do with a soccer ball?” The child continued on, limping forward.

  “So why’d you take it at all?” I asked him.

  “Because if I take it, it hurts him even more.”

  We nodded as we tried to walk in stride with the boy.

  “So it’s at least good to be going home, right?” Si-bong asked.

  The child didn’t say anything. Still, Si-bong continued to talk. “Your dad says he’s sending you off because he’s thinking of your mother. Even though the apology’s all taken care of.”

  The child stopped. He looked back and forth between me and Si-bong. Then he spoke.

  “Are you guys stupid or something? You really think that he was thinking about my mother when he sent me off?”

  Si-bong and I looked at each other. That was on account of our really thinking that that was why he did it.

  “My dad sent me off now because he couldn’t handle it. When he’s with me, all he can think about is what he did wrong.”

  When he said those words, he continued walking. We stood there watching him walk away for a long while and then continued to follow him.

  Si-bong asked the child.

  “Hey, so how do you know all this stuff so well?”

  The child didn’t miss a step as he spoke. “All this stuff . . . I learned it all from my mother.”

  As the child got closer and closer to the kimbab restaurant he walked faster and faster. We followed him without speaking.

  19. And Then Someone Else

  As soon as the child entered the kimbab restaurant he knelt down in front of the woman. The woman was sitting by the door straight up in her seat, her eyes closed. Si-bong and I stood in front of the restaurant next to the large pots, watching closely. The child, kneeling there, said something to the woman and began to cry, but the woman neither held him nor even looked at him. The woman got up from where she was sitting and took from the refrigerator white plastic containers filled with the items needed to make kimbab. The child kept on crying, and the woman prepared to begin her work again. We only watched them up until that point, and then left the front of the kimbab restaurant. That was on account of things seeming as though they would be all right if we watched no further. It seemed as though the child would continue on living, apologizing.

  Si-bong and I trudged back home. I thought about Si-yeon, still lying there in bed. Ever since the man with the horn-rimmed glasses died, she wasn’t going to work, nor was she eating. Whenever she saw me and Si-bong, she would grab whatever was closest to her and throw it at us. We were struck by crumpled tissues, alarm clocks, headbands. Even as she threw things at us, we tried to open the door to the bedroom. Each time we did so, Si-yeon was lying on the bed sideways, crying. When we saw her back heaving up and down, only then did we close the door to the bedroom quietly.

  Si-bong and I had gotten into the elevator and, as he pushed the button, he started sniffing and asked me. “Does it smell like something in here to you?”

  I moved my head to and fro in the elevator trying to smell the scent myself. “What kind of smell?”

  “I don’t know, something I’ve smelled a lot before.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  I bent over slightly and tried again to smell what it was. Then, just barely, I could smell it. It was a smell I knew well, the scent of freesia. And as I wondered where it was that I’d smelled that smell before, the elevator doors opened.

  Right at that moment I received a strong blow to the head and went unconscious. Only later did I fin
d out that of course Si-bong, too, had received a strong blow to the head and had been knocked unconscious along with me. Someone had been waiting for us outside the doors. We learned who it was not long after.

  They had returned.

  Part Three:

  Cultivating Wrong

  1. Reunion with the Caretakers

  Si-bong and I were being dragged somewhere.

  When I opened my eyes, I could see Si-bong’s back right in front of me. Both of Si-bong’s hands were tied behind him. His feet were bound tightly with rope and duct tape and the rope that went around his waist was connected to my waist. My hands and feet were all bound as well. There was tape covering my mouth.

  I tried turning my head around and saw empty cigarette packets, a shovel that was without a handle, and a bag of cement mix. That’s when I realized where we were: Inside the one and only van of the institution. Si-bong and I had been loaded into the van. The van was speeding somewhere.

  A bit later I could hear voices coming from the front seat. They were both familiar voices.

  “So, those fuckers got out and were together this whole time, eh?”

  “Yeah, well, since the work was cut in half better for us, right?”

  Since I couldn’t lift my head, I couldn’t see out the window. The top of my head was throbbing.

  “So the one guy doesn’t have a home?”

  “Who? The taller one? Sure he does.”

  “He does?”

  “One time a few years ago there was a guy who said he worked with the kid’s dad, came looking for him at the institution. You know that private middle school over by city hall, right? Says this guy’s dad is an English teacher there.”

  “Huh. So he’s a normal kid then, I guess.”

  A song I didn’t recognize was streaming from the van’s radio. I was listening carefully to every word the caretakers were saying.

  “Oh, right: When I saw him, I realized he’d come in looking for the guy’s father, too. Something about how he’d just disappeared all of a sudden.”

  “Oh yeah? So did he find him?”

  “Pff . . . no. After he brought the kid in we didn’t hear from that little shit’s father again. No records on him at all. He just talked to the superintendent and left.”

  “Huh. So I guess he really doesn’t have a home.”

  The van rattled a bit. Each time that happened my face smacked the floor. I could see Si-bong’s shoulders wriggling. I could see that the middle of Si-bong’s pants were darkly soiled. The smell was filling up the van.

  Again, I heard the voices of the caretakers.

  “I mean, do we really have to bring ’em in like this? Can’t we just take care of ’em anywhere?”

  “I’m so fucking pissed off at them, it’s not going to go down that easy.”

  “Heh, me too, I guess.”

  “Plus, there’s something I wanna make sure about.”

  “Oh, right, that. You really think those fuckers remember all that stuff?

  “We’ll find out when we get there.”

  The speed of the van slowly started to decrease. The rattling sound grew more intense. I could see Si-bong’s feet move back and forth a few times. I wanted to say something to him, but my voice wouldn’t come out. Cement dust was rising into the air.

  The van stopped for a moment, and I could hear one of them get out and open a steel gate. The van started moving again but didn’t go very far before stopping again. Then the engine turned off. We had arrived somewhere.

  Before long the back door of the van opened. The first image that came to my eyes was that of the hill tinted by the sunset, next to which the outlines of the two caretakers began to form slowly from dark shadows. There they were, the caretakers, whom we hadn’t seen in such a long time. Just as before, the shorter one was wearing his white doctor’s gown and the taller one was wearing jeans.

  The two caretakers looked down at me and Si-bong for a moment, then yelled at almost the exact same time.

  “Out, motherfuckers!”

  2. The Wrong That Still Lived

  The two caretakers locked me and Si-bong up in the laundry on the first floor of the main building. They did not untie our hands and feet. They also did not take the tape off of our mouths, nor did they change Si-bong’s pants. All we could do was lie there on the blue-tiled floor. Si-bong’s forehead was swollen and looked like a huge mushroom was sprouting from it. He could barely open his eyes normally. I felt as though I were falling asleep, too. Whether I closed my eyes or opened them, the darkness was all the same. I couldn’t even tell if my eyes were opened or closed.

  In the middle of the night the male caretakers came into the laundry room with two lit candles. The shorter caretaker wore latex gloves on both hands and the taller caretaker wore tightly laced boots. The caretakers stood us up against the wall. They took the tape off of our mouths. We couldn’t stand properly and were wavering in place, so they undid the tape around our ankles as well. We were then able to stop swaying. The shorter caretaker spoke first.

  “So how’s it feel? Glad to see us after such a long time, eh?”

  Si-bong and I bowed our heads quickly in greeting. The taller caretaker gave us each a kick in the stomach with his boot. Si-bong and I fell forward. Then we stood back up. That was on account of our having always done that in the past when the caretakers beat us.

  “You boys are looking good! What have you been up to all this time?”

  Si-bong answered. “We’ve been apologizing.”

  “Apologizing? For what?”

  “We’ve been apologizing for people. We did that for a job.”

  The caretakers looked at each other for a moment. They shared a silent snicker. The shorter caretaker spoke.

  “Is that so? Looks like it’s time to apologize to us now, too.”

  The taller caretaker held a steel pipe in his hand and stepped closer to us.

  “We went through a lot of shit ’cause of you two.”

  The taller caretaker smacked Si-bong on the shoulder with the steel pipe. Si-bong collapsed where he stood. Then the taller caretaker smacked me on the thigh with the steel pipe. I collapsed there as well.

  The shorter caretaker crouched down in front of us. “Just one question: How much do you fellows remember?”

  I asked back with difficulty, “About what?”

  “About the people who died in the institution. You remember them?”

  “Yes.”

  As soon as I answered, the taller caretaker kicked me in the face with his booted foot. My mouth was bleeding.

  “You remember where they’re buried?”

  “Yes.”

  This time the taller caretaker smacked my side with the steel pipe. Now, I couldn’t even tell where it was that hurt. That was on account of all I could hear in my head being some kind of sound like a bird whistling.

  “So I guess you guys also remember how those people died then, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  The shorter caretaker asked Si-bong the same questions he had asked me. Each time Si-bong answered, just as he did to me, he would kick Si-bong with his booted foot, or smack him with the steel pipe. Si-bong’s answers were no different from mine.

  “Shit, look at that. You guys remember everything after all.” The shorter caretaker spoke to us, pulling our hair as we lay on the ground. “Well then, I guess there’s just one apology left that you guys have to make to us.”

  I asked in a small, extremely labored voice. “What’s . . . that?”

  I could hear the caretakers laughing. Si-bong said nothing. All I could hear from him was the sound of his heavy breathing. The shorter caretaker put his face right up to mine as he spoke.

  “The fact that you punks are alive right now is a wrong. So, what’s the apology for that one?”

  I couldn’t answer. And that was on account of not being able to think of what it was.

  The caretakers then laughed even bigger, and for a good while.

  3. Di
gging Up Wrongs

  The next day, sometime around dawn, the two male caretakers marched me and Si-bong up the mountain behind the institution. Our hands and waists were still tied with rope. The caretakers followed behind us, each with a shovel in hand. They were the same shovels we used to use from time to time when we were in the institution.

  Although it hadn’t rained for a long time, the earth on the hill behind the institution was damp. With each step we could smell the scent of pine needles, and soon the bottoms of our shoes were matted with dark, red earth. Somewhere around us the cicadas started to sing, and from beyond the main gate of the institution the morning sun was rising faintly. Si-bong was walking a half pace ahead of me, and his back and armpits were growing dark. Even up until then, his pants had not been changed. His steps were quick.

  We stopped near the barbed wire fence. The taller caretaker took a look around and spoke. “Is this right? It’s somewhere around here, isn’t it?”

  The shorter caretaker tapped the trunk of a fir tree next to him and spoke. “Yeah, it’s right under where you’re standing.”

  The taller caretaker looked for a moment at his feet, then moved toward the shorter caretaker.

  The caretakers untied the rope that had been tied around our hands and waists. Then they put the shovels in our hands.

  “Ooookay! Now we’re gonna dig deep, deep into the earth! Understand? You guys need to dig as deep as the wrongs you’ve committed!”

  “And that’s the apology?” Si-bong asked. The shorter caretaker let out a chuckle.

  “We’ll see, depends on how you guys shovel.”

  Si-bong and I took the shovels and started digging right away. The male caretakers sat against the trunk of a tree and smoked. At times they even yawned. From somewhere nearby a bird cried out noisily.

  We shoveled sluggishly. That was on account of being hungry and thirsty. We hadn’t had anything to drink since the afternoon of the previous day, and we hadn’t had anything to eat. We also hadn’t taken our medicine. Each time I scooped up earth I felt dizzy. Each time we tore into the earth the smell of pine spread, and a smell like freshly gutted fish. My sweat streamed down in large drops onto the head of the shovel.