by Cho Se-hui
“You’re the same.”
“Different.”
“The same.”
“I’m different!”
“You’re going to go to hell because of that. A young thing and you like it!”
“That’s right. I like it.”
“You go to hell!”
I squirmed and opened my eyes. It was the middle of the night. He was fast asleep and wouldn’t awaken. My body smelled of his semen. He liked me. Young me. Liked me absolutely. And so I could liberate myself from guilty thoughts.
I took what was ours from the strongbox. In the strongbox was money along with a pistol and a knife. I took the money and the knife as well. I imagined Father curled up at the foot of the observatory on the moon. Maybe he had already seen Coma Berenices, five billion light-years away. To me, five billion years was an eternity. Not much I can say about eternity. As far as I was concerned, one night was too long. I removed the handkerchief from his face and recapped the bottle. Thank heaven for that drug! It had anesthetized my suffering body that first night and put me to sleep. And so I hadn’t been able to see his expression that first time. I opened my handbag and looked inside. Everything was there. I got dressed. My mind was a blur. I opened the door and went out to the living room. I didn’t look back at him. Nothing else of mine remained in the apartment. The clothes I had on the day I left home, the shoes with the worn-down heels, the guitar with the broken string that Eldest Brother had given me—all were long gone. I took a deep breath and opened the apartment door. Outside, I pushed the door shut. It locked automatically.
Daybreak was still distant. I waited for a taxi in front of the apartment building, caught one. The driver turned on the headlights and sped down the empty streets of Yŏngdong. We started across the Third Han River Bridge and I asked the driver to stop. I opened the door and climbed out, and the refreshing air wakened my foggy mind. I rested my arms against the railing and looked down at the surface of the Han and the milky light now reflected on the flowing water. The driver likewise climbed out and leaned against the railing. He watched me as he lit a cigarette. The sky began to brighten. All during the winter, when Father had lain in bed, Mother had gone to work. I realized now that these were the dawn colors that had greeted Mother when she left the house. I heard the screech of a boat dredging for gravel. I got back in the taxi and after taking the Namsan Tunnel we sped through downtown. The sinners were still asleep. No mercy to be found on these streets. I got out at Paradise District. I passed some time walking its streets and alleys. Finally I went to a tearoom and ordered a hot drink. As I drank I produced the sales documents Father had stamped with his seal and tore them up. When we were young this entire area was vegetable patches. I finished my drink and walked along the asphalt road that had covered those gardens. No need to wander any longer. I went straight to the precinct office. First thing in the morning and it was crowded. One of the clerks in the Construction Section glanced at me as I took my place at the end of the line. He stopped what he was doing and gave me a piercing look.
“Isn’t that the dwarf’s daughter?”
The whispering of the employees reached me. I stood tall, awaiting my turn. I heard documents being stamped, number plates dropping into a container, laughter. I produced the number plate for our house. I felt the scratches from Mother’s kitchen knife against my fingertips. My turn came.
“What’s up?” the Construction Section clerk asked. “Do you know your family moved?”
“Yes,” I said. “I need a proof-of-demolition certificate.”
“A proof-of-demolition certificate? What for?” He produced a puzzled expression. “You sold your right of occupancy, didn’t you? With that gone, what do you need this other for?”
“The man in the sedan bought it,” said the man next to him.
I stood quietly for a few seconds. “Which side are you on, mister?” I said. “We’re the ones who ought to be moving into an apartment.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
The clerk looked at the man next to him. They shrugged.
“Do you have the papers?” the clerk asked me.
“What papers?” said the man next to him. “As long as she has the notification letter and the number plate we don’t have anything to say in the matter.”
“Here they are,” I said.
I handed him the number plate and condemnation notice. The two of them compared these with the ledger. The second man tossed the number plate into a large receptacle. Inside were many other number plates. Our number plate dropped onto the others with a faint tinny click. The clerk handed me a form.
With a trembling hand I filled in Father’s name, citizen’s registration number, and date of birth and the date of origin of our squatter home. I couldn’t write straight. I’m weaker, I thought, that’s why. As my eldest brother had said, I’ve been a crybaby ever since I was young. Tears blurred my vision and I paused before finishing. I pushed the proof-of-demolition form in front of the clerk:
Number
458 Verification of Demolition of Unauthorized Structure Effective immediately
Applicant
Name: Kim Pul-i
Resident registration number: 123456-123456
Date of birth: 1929/3/11
Address: 46-1839 Felicity Precinct, Eden District, Seoul
Legal address: 276 Felicity Village, Felicity Township, Eden County, Kyŏnggi Province
Location of condemned structure: 46-1839 Felicity Precinct, Eden District, Seoul
Classification: owner-occupied (O) rental ( )
Demolition date: 197X/X/X
Unauthorized structure in existence since: 196X/5/8
Use
Application for occupancy of apartment
Verification of the above hereby requested: 197X/10/7
Applicant: Kim Pul-i
Verified: 197X/10/7
Chief, Felicity Precinct 1, Eden District
“I don’t know the demolition date,” I said.
The clerk fixed me with a stare. “Where have you been?”
I said nothing.
He wrote in the date: October 1.
“And you don’t know where they moved, right?”
“Right.”
“You haven’t heard anything?”
Now it was my legs that felt rubbery. I propped myself up against the edge of the desk. The second man prodded the clerk. Using a small seal, the clerk stamped the form next to the word “Verified” and passed it behind him to the section chief. Holding a hand to my head, I left the line. I felt a faint fever throughout my body. The section chief rose and beckoned me. He stamped his official seal above the words “Chief, Felicity Precinct 1.” Before handing it to me, he took me to the window. He indicated a neighborhood below a grape patch, across the main street.
“Third house from the upper end,” he said. “Ask for the missus there. Mrs. Yun Shin-ae. She knew your father very well. She came here several times a day—looking for you.”
“I’ve met her,” I said. “I need to drop by the District Office and then go to Housing Affairs. When I’m done there I’ll go see her.”
“The missus will tell you everything,” said the section chief. “She’s a very nice missus.”
“Thank you.”
I said goodbye and left. The office employees were watching me as I talked with the chief. They wanted to say something to me. I couldn’t have remained there a moment longer.
I went to the main street and caught a taxi. We passed the supermarket and the bakeshop came into sight. Other girls were doing the work I used to do. If I took a look I could see our neighborhood at a glance. I steadied myself. I couldn’t bring myself to take that look. My business at the District Office went smoothly. I went to the Housing Section, turned in my proof-of-demolition, and applied for apartment occupancy. Descending the steps to the entrance, I was hit with dizziness. I felt like I’d been away from home for years.
He’d made me even weaker. Since leaving ho
me I hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep. I was undernourished not only in my mother’s womb but after I was born. The table at which we ate together was always loaded with food. But its nourishment didn’t last. It was more than just the mental pressure. He offered me tasty food and then proceeded to exploit the calories it contained. Staying up all that last night had its effect too. My only thought was to lie down somewhere, anywhere. I had to take care of my business and go see Shin-ae. She would send me to my family.
The taxi retraced the route I had taken at dawn. After emerging from the Namsan Tunnel I crossed the Third Han River Bridge. His apartment building, standing in an open field, came into sight. I opened my handbag and felt his knife inside. At the top of the ivory handle was a small metal attachment the size of a bead. Press it and the blade shot out. I had the taxi stop in front of the Housing Affairs office. Numerous people were walking toward the entrance. I hurriedly worked my way among them. And then I was carried forward. Carried by the people to the plaza in front of the building. The white building reflected the sunlight, dazzling my eyes. It was like a banquet day—awnings and all. I found the place with the application forms and stood in line. My turn came and the clerk asked to see my receipt from the District Office. He then handed me an application form. I left the line and ran my eyes through the section concerning the leasing of apartments. Among the regulations listed was this one: “Applicant and occupant must be one and the same and cannot offer a third party the right to sublease or to lease as security for an obligation.” A dead issue. On the part of the application form containing that provision I jotted down Father’s name, address, and citizen’s ID number. Again my hand shook. My legs grew rubbery and I felt like squatting down. After filling out the form I got back in line. In that line there was no one from a redevelopment zone but me. Even so, the clerk at the desk at the head of the line asked everyone the same question: “You bought it, didn’t you?”
He asked, knowing full well the answer. But his question did not bring a quick response from anyone.
“You bought it, didn’t you?” this clerk asked me as well.
“Yes, I bought it!”
That’s what I would have answered if only I hadn’t felt sick. He was an unfriendly man in a bad mood. I was sick. I said nothing. This clerk stapled together my application form, the receipt from the District Office, and the copy of our family register. He stamped the top of each page with his receipt seal. I took the papers, turned to leave, then made myself small. I went to the far side of the line and surveyed the area directly in front of the building. There he was, standing in front of his car. Standing there strong in body. I waited for him to leave, making my weak body small. I thought I just might kill him if I encountered him. The thought of dying had probably never crossed his mind. What did he know about human suffering? About despair? He’d never heard the rattling of an empty rice bowl, never heard the clatter of hands and feet, knees, teeth that couldn’t bear the cold. Naked I’d received him whenever he had wanted, and he’d never heard the moans I’d swallowed. He was one of those who branded people with red-hot iron. I opened the briefcase and felt the knife. There he was, waving. A man emerged from the building. He shook hands with the man and together they climbed into his car. The car made its way alongside the people and left the plaza. Again tears oozed from my eyes. What he had was too much.
I followed people into the Business Section. Again I fell into line. I felt my forehead and waited my turn.
“Aren’t you feeling well?” the clerk asked when my turn came.
“No, I’m all right,” I said as I handed him my papers.
He verified the documents, jotted an application number on my receipt, and told me to go to the Accounting Section and pay. A woman found some water and gave it to me. I drank the water. The people in the Accounting Section asked nothing. They counted the money, stamped a receipt, and gave it to me.
“It’s all over,” I said.
The people looked at me.
I wonder if they knew.
I was done at the Housing Affairs building and I left. I made it to Shin-ae’s house without collapsing on the street. As I pressed the buzzer at the front gate I looked at our neighborhood. Our house, the neighbors’ houses, all the other houses—they were nowhere to be seen. The bank of the sewer creek was gone, the brick factory smokestack was gone, the hillside path was gone. No trace there of the dwarf, the dwarf’s wife, the dwarf’s two sons, and the dwarf’s daughter. Only a broad clearing. Calling to her daughter, Shin-ae took me in her arms. I couldn’t even produce a proper how-are-you. Shin-ae had once tended to Father like this when he was injured, and had helped him up. She and her daughter carried me inside and lay me down. While she undid my blouse her daughter brought a washcloth. She treated me as Mother would have. She wiped my face with the washcloth, wiped my hands and feet, then covered me up with a fluffy quilt.
“Thank you, ma’am.” I was barely able to open my eyes.
“Now don’t you say another word,” she said. “We’re bringing the doctor over. Let’s not talk anymore today.”
“I’m all right,” I said. My eyelids dropped shut. “It’s just that I haven’t been able to sleep. And now I’m sleepy.”
“Go to sleep, then. And sweet dreams.”
“I got back what they took from us.”
“Good for you!”
“Paperwork and all.”
“Good for you.”
“You know where they moved, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I saw the section chief.” I wasn’t sure if I was asleep or awake as I said this. “He said you’d tell me everything.”
“Is that all he said?”
“Did something happen?”
“Go to sleep. We can talk later.”
“I don’t think I can go to sleep until I’ve heard.”
I opened my eyes again. The daughter went out to the veranda. Presently I heard the front gate close. She had left for the clinic to fetch the doctor.
“Your family were beside themselves trying to find you,” she said. “From this window you can see where your mother was waiting, there where the house was torn down. The main thing was that your father went missing. Your family was moving to Sŏngnam, but your father wasn’t here. Well, what’s the use of dragging it out? Your father’s passed on. They found out the day they brought down the smokestack to the brick factory. The demolition people discovered your father—he’d fallen inside it.”
The thing was, I couldn’t get up. I was lying on my side, eyes closed, like a wounded insect. I couldn’t breathe. I pounded my chest. Father was standing in front of our torn-down house. Father was short. Mother took Father on her back when he was injured, turned toward the alley, and entered it. Blood streamed from Father. I called out to my brothers. My brothers came running. We stood in the yard looking up at the sky. Overhead a black iron ball traced a straight line across the sky. Father, standing on top of the brick factory smokestack, waved at us. Mother set down the meal tray at the end of our plank veranda. I heard the doctor come in through the front gate. Shin-ae took my hand. Ahhhhhh! The wail rose slowly in my throat.
“Yŏng-hŭi, don’t cry,” Eldest Brother had said. “For God’s sake don’t cry. Someone will hear you.”
I couldn’t stop crying.
“Doesn’t it make you mad, Eldest Brother?”
“Stop it, I said.”
“I want you to kill those devils who call Father a dwarf.”
“Yes, I’m going to kill them.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Promise.”
On the Footbridge
SHIN-AE COULDN’T GET a grip on herself. Here she was in the heart of the city and all around her as far as the eye could see were people, buildings, vehicles. Exhaust fumes, body odors, the stench of burning rubber issued from the streets. It was difficult even to stop for a moment and glance about. The sidewalks overflowed with people,
the roadways with vehicles. There was no place to linger. No place to pause a few seconds to try and boost her low spirits.
She was on her way to the hospital. Her younger brother was there. Not yet forty and he didn’t eat right and couldn’t sleep. All of his doctors were internal specialists. Something was wrong with his stomach and he couldn’t digest food. But despite his sessions with the doctors, there was no real improvement in his condition. His weight had dropped from a hundred and thirty-nine pounds to a hundred and twelve. Shin-ae’s husband had taken him to a psychiatrist. The doctors who had seen him had urged hospitalization. Fortunately, one of the doctors had been a college classmate of his and knew him well. Shin-ae put her mind to rest knowing her brother had met a doctor he could trust.
His physical condition improved dramatically.
Shin-ae climbed the steep steps of a footbridge. Partway across she stopped, moved to the side, and clutched the railing to escape the flow of people. The building where her brother’s friend had gone to work was visible. This was his closest friend. Shin-ae was all too familiar with the temperaments of these two. Their temperaments were remarkably alike. When Shin-ae was young the idols she worshiped were the protagonists of a story about opposition to one man’s despotism. It was the same with her brother when he grew up, despite the ten-year difference in their ages. His generation had not had a happy time of it in college. The slightest stir, and the universities shut down. And so, though it was an old story to Shin-ae, her brother’s generation hadn’t had the experience of being in a dim classroom during the last class of the day and watching the professor stride off after citing the tax system as one of the sparks of the French Revolution. By good fortune her brother and his friend had read books in his tiny back room—including books the other students would have found bothersome—and debated each other while drawing endlessly on cigarettes.
For these two, the society in which they lived was a monstrosity. It was a monster that wielded terrible power at its pleasure. Her brother and his friend saw themselves as oil floating on water. Oil does not mix with water. But such a comparison is not really apt. What was truly awful was the fact that the two of them stumbled along inside this great monstrosity even though they didn’t accept it.
