by Cho Se-hui
Feeling edgier by the minute, Shin-ae clapped her hands over her ears trying to block out the sound of the TV from the house in back.
“Hye-yŏng,” she said, raising her voice to her daughter in the room across the way. “How about turning off the radio?”
“Is that better?”
The sound grew softer but the English-language song from her daughter’s radio was still audible among the actors’ voices from the TV.
“Kill it.”
“Mom, you’re acting weird tonight.”
Her daughter approached. She was in her pajamas. She was holding her math notebook.
“If you’re going to study, the radio has to be off.”
“Mom, you’re saying that because you don’t know any better.”
“I don’t? Are you telling me I’m wrong?”
“You’re wrong.”
Shin-ae heard her heart drop. “All right, then, how am I wrong?”
Again she considered her age and her daughter’s. They live in the same world yet fail to understand each other. It’s because they think differently. She grew morose.
In the meantime her husband had fallen asleep. His face wore a scowl. He’ll be better come morning. What sort of anxieties kept him up so late last night?
“It’s too loud!” called out her son from the room between his parents’ and sister’s rooms.
Shin-ae, daughter in tow, went out.
“What’s the fuss?”
“We’ve got to move! Listen to that racket. We get it from the front and we get it from the back. Why should we put up with it?”
The TV from the house across the alley sounded louder in the middle room. Shin-ae hadn’t been paying attention to the sound of that TV that evening.
“At least we can try to be quiet,” said Shin-ae. “Father’s sleeping.”
“Are you kidding? How can he sleep through this?”
“You’re not old enough to know what it means to be exhausted.”
In her son’s hand was a black notebook several times thicker than her daughter’s math notebook. Her son’s classes are more advanced than her daughter’s. It’s amazing the variety of knowledge that’s accumulating in such orderly fashion inside his head. At this rate, a few more years of study and he’ll have a chance for more status and income than anyone else his age.
But Shin-ae felt stifled when she mulled over her son’s future. She sensed that for some time now her son believed that nothing was right except what he learned at school. The schoolteachers taught that everything is good. This was the accepted way of thinking in society at large. But to Shin-ae’s son it was an absurd lie that concealed a lot.
The son had absorbed too much influence from his father. He would probably suffer on account of the ideas passed on to him by his father. Wouldn’t those ideas, so forthright, so righteous, prove to be yet another source of aggravation for her son? It was clear that he’d meet with a frightful shock when he ventured out into the world.
“Your father couldn’t get to sleep last night,” said Shin-ae.
The TV from across the alley was as loud as ever.
She recalled the face of the man of that house. This man works in the advertising department of a baking company. Shin-ae was among those who had received a box of cookies from him. The wife had distributed a box to each of the neighbors, saying her husband had been promoted to assistant director.
“Just a little something—see how you like them,” the woman said. “Daddy’s assistant director now.”
She was volunteering information.
“Things are looking up. People who know about our good fortune are making a big fuss because we haven’t done anything for them. And it’s understandable, since the budget for the ad department is several billion wŏn. The people who handle TV, radio, and newspaper ads have started coming around. And people from the ad agencies, too. It’s not just cookies—his company produces ice cream and milk, too, and that’s why they have such an unbelievable budget for advertising.”
“Billions? I’ll say it’s unbelievable. But why do these people come to your house?”
The woman stared at Shin-ae. And then she spoke quickly. “They want him to buy ads. They want his business, and to get it they come loaded with money. People who know our situation realize that in six months Daddy’s going to make a bundle.”
“A bundle of what?”
“Money, that’s what.”
“How much of a bundle?”
That was the start of it. The family across the alley grew noisy. And more than just noisy, the house was unusually well lit and produced new smells. From the vent window of the kitchen, which faced Shin-ae’s yard, the smell of broiling meat rode the breeze to Shin-ae’s house. When her family sits down to dinner around their humble meal dominated by vegetable dishes, the aroma of grilled short ribs wafts across their yard.
The sound of voices comes in, too.
“Children, eat your dinner.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I cooked some ribs for you.”
“I said I don’t want any!”
“Well, later then. Pok-sun, why don’t you bring everybody a glass of orange juice.”
Like the neighbors in back, those across the alley became a scourge to Shin-ae.
“Would you like to see our new TV?” the woman had said not long afterward.
This was the TV that was blaring now.
“If a problem is important then you need to sit yourself down till you solve it,” Shin-ae told her son. “You can do anything you put your mind to. Don’t let yourself be bothered by the sound of a TV in someone else’s house. If you do, then it means your mind is drifting. Didn’t you say you wanted a job where you could make a difference? The great people of the past, they didn’t dedicate their lives to outmoded notions. I think I heard that from you. You say such things and yet you let little things get to you. If you can’t study, then go outside and get some fresh air.”
Her son said nothing. He wore a pained expression.
Shin-ae had spoken and now her heart ached. She closed the door to her son’s room.
Her daughter had stepped down to the yard. Shin-ae saw her turn on the faucet at the front of the yard.
“Not a peep out of it,” her daughter said.
“No reason why there should be.”
Shin-ae approached and her daughter observed her.
“Please go to bed early tonight,” her daughter said.
“Why?”
“I’ll get the water.”
“What’s this all about?” Shin-ae demanded.
“I want to do it, that’s all.”
“It doesn’t come on until two in the morning.”
“Still, I can sleep afterward. Every night I go to bed early and it bothers me to think about you sitting there in front of the faucet. You’re out here in the middle of the night when other moms are sound asleep. Other moms let their housekeeper get the water; they go to bed early. The people in front and back of us, they have their own water supply—they don’t need much from the city. It upsets me to think that every night when I’m going to sleep my mom is out here like someone on a desert island. Please go to bed early tonight—I’ll take care of the water for you.”
“You’ll be dozing off in class.”
Shin-ae spoke like this, but her heart thrilled. All of a sudden our Hye-yŏng is so mature! And before I know it she’ll be old enough to say, “Mom, I’m tired of everything.”
“But I’m still wondering about what you said earlier. Why am I wrong?”
“Did I say that?”
“Yes—when I said you have to turn off the radio when you study, you told me I was wrong.”
“Really, Mom.” Her daughter blushed.
On the TVs, front and back, a commercial jingle came to a climax.
“I’d already forgotten,” said her daughter. “But Mom, please try to be a little more understanding.”
“About what?”
&nbs
p; “I feel like I can study better when I’m listening to a pop song.”
“That’s a new one.”
“Honest, Mom, that’s how I feel.”
“All of a sudden the world you two live in seems so narrow.”
“You mean it was different when you were young?”
“Yes, it was. When your dad and I were your age we took part in campaigns in the farm villages—we were all quite devoted. And they tell me your grandfather spent time in China, Manchuria, Siberia, even Hawaii. Now there’s a man who had a hard time of it.”
“But why?”
“Why?” Shin-ae looked into her daughter’s face. “For the country—that’s why.”
“But I don’t understand why Grandfather was unhappy till the end of his life.”
“The way things worked out didn’t please him. Bring me that bucket,” said Shin-ae. “For you kids, there isn’t a country to save anymore.”
“Mom, why don’t you go inside now,” her daughter said again. “I’ll go to bed after I get the water.”
“Well, we could both get it.”
“Is it on already?”
Shin-ae squatted, almost kneeling, at the front of the yard and lifted the iron lid of the water meter hole. Then she bent over. “Goodness—now how did I forget that?”
To her daughter she sounded uncommonly composed. From the hole she retrieved the fillet knife.
“I was using it this afternoon and I guess I left it there.”
“Mom, that’s blood, isn’t it?”
“It’s all right,” Shin-ae said. “I had a little accident this afternoon.” Her voice was still composed.
The daughter looked into her mom’s face.
Shin-ae thought of the dwarf. Earlier that day the dwarf had been standing in front of the two neighbor women, toolbag draped over his shoulder.
“Trust me, ma’am,” said the dwarf. “Please trust me and let me take care of it.”
The woman of the house in back shook her head. “I don’t trust you.”
The dwarf said nothing.
The woman inspected the dwarf. “How old are you?”
“Fifty-two, ma’am.”
“Good lord, is that right!” She inspected him once again.
The dwarf spoke up: “I can’t find work anymore. And my kids lost their jobs at the factory and they’re out of work. Please let me do this—I’ll give you an honest job.”
But the two women, looming over him like giants, shook their heads. The dwarf did not even come up to their shoulders.
Shin-ae had been looking out the vent window of her kitchen. The dwarf stood silently, toolbag over his shoulder.
“Mister?” Shin-ae spoke impulsively. “Could you do something for us?” She had said this without knowing what the dwarf did or what work she could give him to do in the house.
“He’s lying,” said the woman from across the alley before the dwarf could answer. “He says he can put in a new faucet so we can have water sooner. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“Why is it a lie?” said Shin-ae. Her voice sounded louder than she had intended.
“Go ahead, then. You have him do it and see what happens,” said the woman from the house in back.
“Thank you, we will,” Shin-ae said as she closed the vent window.
She emerged from the kitchen and stepped down to the yard. In the sunshine stood the faucet, bone dry. There wasn’t a drop of moisture in the house. Out she went. But it was the strangest thing. No one was there. The dwarf was nowhere to be seen. As Shin-ae walked up the alley she looked toward the side street that connected with the main street. The dwarf had left the alley and was turning right onto the main street, where the bus ran.
Shin-ae scurried toward the main street. The dwarf was out of sight. She was met with the ear-splitting sound of a stereo from an appliance shop. She followed the main street until she arrived at a weathered sign. On it were painted a faucet and a pump.
“What can we do for you, ma’am?” said a man inside the shop. “Are you planning to dig a well?” he asked politely.
“No.”
Shin-ae peered inside.
“Come on in.”
“We’re not getting any water from the city line.”
Shin-ae entered the shop like someone being pushed from behind.
“Then you ought to have a well dug.” The man was standing in front of a heap of metal pipe. “Once you have the well, you put in your own water service. We’ve put in practically every private service in the neighborhood. Where do you live, ma’am?”
“Down below the grape patch.”
“We’ve done a lot of work there. Hooked up the gentleman who works at the tax office.”
“The missus here lives just this side of them,” said another man. Half a dozen men were playing flower cards at the foot of the pile of pipe.
“Well, then, you probably know all about us, ma’am. We hooked up the baking company gentleman, too. Turn on the tap and the water gushes out, anytime you want. No different from using the city water line.”
As the man spoke, a chipped front tooth came into view. His right arm sported a tattoo of a nude woman. Again he spoke, revealing the chipped tooth.
“Don’t let the cost of it be your priority, or you’ll end up worrying about water the rest of your life. Just try it and see how you like it. We had a gentleman ask us to come and look at his water line—well, you can look till the cows come home but what good will it do? While we’re on the subject, I might add that we did a job up there where the president of the wig factory lives. They have a big swimming pool and they fill it with their own water. It sounds simple, but when I tell people that an automatic pump does the filling, they’re always surprised.”
“What if we put in a new faucet? Won’t we get our water sooner that way?”
“Hell, no—doesn’t make sense.”
Shin-ae regretted having entered the shop. “Well, that’s all I wanted to know.” Best be gone quickly, she told herself.
“Hey!”
The man’s shout made Shin-ae’s heart drop.
“You—I’m talking to you!”
With a frightening scowl the man hefted a cast-iron pump by the bottom. To Shin-ae the change in the man’s behavior was inconceivable. The dwarf had appeared outside and the man was about to run out after him. Steadying the heavy toolbag on his shoulder, the dwarf stepped backward hesitantly, then walked quickly out of sight. Shin-ae nudged the man aside and left. The man said something, revealing his chipped tooth, and followed Shin-ae. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. The dwarf was taking the main street. Shin-ae ran along, not looking back. From the shopfront the man shouted something. Shin-ae pursued the dwarf while trying to calm her racing heart. Presently the man’s voice could no longer be heard. The dwarf stepped clear of a cultivator emerging from an alley on the left. This was the last place you would expect to see a cultivator, a machine manufactured at a farm equipment factory, transporting a load of coal briquettes.
Shin-ae walked right up to the dwarf. “So here you are.”
The dwarf scanned the surroundings, then stepped into the alley. Shin-ae, remaining where the dwarf had stood, saw the man in front of the pump shop glaring in her direction.
“Is he still there?” the dwarf asked, not stirring from the alley.
“He went back inside,” Shin-ae said.
The dwarf set down his toolbag and mopped the sweat from his face.
“Why are you scared of him?” Shin-ae asked.
The dwarf blinked like a scared rabbit.
What could possibly have inspired such terror? Shin-ae wondered. Several people stood in front of a drugstore waiting to use a pay phone. As she turned to look at them the dwarf moved his hand. He tore off a piece of pastry from his pocket and put it in his mouth.
“Could you help us out, mister?” said Shin-ae.
Tight-lipped, the dwarf observed her.
Shin-ae turned and walked off. Behind he
r she heard the steps of the still silent dwarf.
“I’m sorry,” he said by and by. “I was afraid you and the neighbor women would get into a fight on my account, so I left.”
The dwarf’s toolbag, which he had slung over his shoulder, contained a variety of well-worn tools. That toolbag was much too heavy for him.
“Why don’t you set it down,” said Shin-ae.
The dwarf set to work. He removed the iron lid and examined the water meter. Then he produced a measuring stick and measured its depth. He also measured the height of the faucet above the ground in front of the soy crock terrace.
“Ma’am, look,” said the dwarf. “This spigot’s six feet or so above your water line. And it’s about five feet above where the line joins your meter. The other problem is, the city doesn’t have enough water for everybody. And the pressure’s low. So I’m going to put in a new spigot for you that’s lower. That way you’ll get your water before those other families, because their spigots are high, too. I’m not a liar, ma’am.”
“I know,” said Shin-ae, her heart pounding.
“We’ll keep the new spigot behind the meter,” said the dwarf. “Can’t put it in front. That would be cheating—same as stealing. You’ll have to get down on your stomach to fetch water, but that’s better than staying up all night. I imagine you’ll get your water three or four hours before the other families. That will get you by for the time being. One of these days we’ll live in a world where everyone has enough water.”
The dwarf produced his well-worn tools and set to work. Shin-ae’s heart was still racing. The dwarf bent over so far he looked as if he were planted upside down, and cut through the city water line. His tools had been used so long they were pretty much useless now. That seemed to make his work more difficult. He had one advantage, though: His small build enabled him to work bent over inside the cramped water meter hole.
