#25

It was still bright outside. Even so, the sun had set, and a cool breeze was blowing. Tae-heun’s hair fluttered gently. At his feet, a man’s boots were caught. Looking at his own white feet, which had turned red along the straps of his beach sandals, he wondered if the man, who had been working all day in those boots, felt stifled.

Before he knew it, the man had changed into comfortable clothes and was standing barefoot in the kitchen. When Tae-heun entered, he said, “Wash your hands and feet with soap first.” Mistaking the voice for that of a child, Tae-heun mimicked a child’s response, saying, “Yes, Father,” which made the man flinch. Though he didn’t turn around, the back of his neck turned red.

“Use the white towel.”

The man spoke as Tae-heun headed toward the bathroom.

Tae-heun went into his room, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and came out. A pure white towel hung on the bathroom towel rack. Among all his belongings, it was the newest and the whitest, and it belonged to Tae-heun. His mother always gave him the things his older brother had used or had grown tired of, but it felt strange to receive something so nice from a complete stranger.

The child ran around the house, making a racket. The man didn’t scold him with remarks like, “You little girl, you’re so noisy.”

“Be careful not to fall.”

The man’s warning was all in a small voice.

Watching this father and child made Tae-heun painfully compare them to his own family. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a harmonious family, yet he felt that way. For reasons he couldn’t understand, whenever he saw the man and the child, his mother came to mind, and he remembered his childhood, where he was always discriminated against because of his foolish older brother. A young boy who worried about his mother without knowing he had been sold to his uncle, yearning for his father’s affection. It was a shameful thing.

There was nothing better than the TV for clearing his mind.

“Ki-beom, can I watch TV?”

“Yes? Oh, yes.”

Tae-heun entered the master bedroom without hesitation and turned on the fan first. The fan was older than the one in his own room, and it was almost a wonder that it still worked.

When he turned on the TV, for some reason, only the public broadcast and MBC channels were available. Three channels in total was shocking. Even when he had gone to a more rural village than this, everyone had cable TV, so he wondered what kind of fun the man had living like this.

“Don’t you have a radio?”

There was no response.

“Ki-beom, Ki-beom!”

He called out the man’s name as he leaned out toward the kitchen. The man, who had been cutting tofu, turned to look.

“Don’t you have a radio?”

“Yes? Oh, yes… just a moment.”

The man, flustered with the knife in his hand, called out the child’s name. The child, who had been lying on the living room floor drawing pictures, jumped up and ran to his room, returning with a red cassette radio.

“Uncle, don’t bother my father.”

The child grumbled as he handed over the device.

It was a product from Geumsungsa, with a red body and black speakers and buttons. Tae-heun had a similar one at home, differing only in color. His father had mainly used it, and he probably still was.

Inside the tape was the latest pop music tape from a rickshaw vendor. Tae-heun pulled out the antenna, switched the function selection button to radio, and turned on the FM. Amidst the crackling sounds, voices began to mix in. As he adjusted the round button on the right side of the device, the voices became clearer.

On the radio, the DJ read listeners’ stories and chatted among themselves, occasionally playing a song. The DJ laughed heartily at stories that weren’t particularly funny and earnestly offered advice on ordinary relationship issues.

Meanwhile, the soybean paste stew was boiling in the earthenware pot. The smell of soybean paste filled the entire house. His face involuntarily scrunched up. He felt nauseous. After having eaten lunch not long ago, and having drunk a can of something sweet, he felt this way.

The child went to the kitchen, placed a spoon and chopsticks on the table, and prepared a rice bowl. It seemed like he was setting up for himself too, so Tae-heun hurriedly stood up.

“I don’t really have much of an appetite. I guess I ate too well for lunch. Is it okay if I go in first?”

“Uncle, aren’t you having dinner?”

The child’s eyes widened.

“What did you eat?”

The child asked with a face that still seemed incredulous.

“Duck soup. I’m sorry, Ki-beom. I’ll eat the soybean paste stew next time.”

“…Yes. Um, Chief.”

The man called out.

“It’s not Chief, it’s Tae-heun.”

“If you’re not feeling well, would you like some plum extract? It helps with that.”

The man asked without making eye contact.

“No, thank you.”

“Then at least some fruit.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, just eat.”

Tae-heun held back his rising irritation and deliberately yawned loudly.

His discomfort wasn’t because of the man. He didn’t want to take his anger out on an innocent person.

“Why am I so tired when I haven’t done anything? I guess I walked too long in the blazing sun.”

He added as an excuse.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Having had his face scorched in the blazing sun for nearly two hours, he really felt like he might have heatstroke.

“Ji-hye, can I borrow this cassette radio?”

When he asked while holding up the cassette radio, the child nodded.

“Father, did that uncle eat two bowls of soup?”

Tae-heun heard the child asking the man from behind him. He chuckled softly and closed the door.

A breeze came through the open window. Outside the screen, a few bugs were trying hard to get in. He flicked the screen with his fingernail, and the bugs quickly flew away.

The forest seen through the window had a certain charm. The leaves rustled in the wind, making sounds. Last night, it had sounded so noisy, but now it felt like a lullaby. As he listened closely, drowsiness slowly crept in. He lay down on the floor without even spreading out a blanket.

He dozed off. This time, he had the same dream. Tae-heun was standing in a small flower bed, looking at the two-story house, and the owner of the house, his father, bowed toward the house as always.

As soon as he woke from the dream, Tae-heun examined his palm. On his neatly trimmed palm, where there usually wouldn’t be any marks, there were nail marks. His fist felt numb. He spread his fingers wide and shook them. He rubbed them here and there to get the blood flowing to his pale hands.

He felt thirsty. When he stepped out of the room, the living room light was off. It was excessively quiet, like a house where no one lived. The doors to the master bedroom and the child’s room were open. Tae-heun walked as quietly as possible to check if the two were in the room. Both were sound asleep. The clock was just past 9:30. No wonder it didn’t matter that there were only three TV channels.

He went to the kitchen and drank some barley tea. As the cool liquid went down, his stuffy feeling eased a bit. Since Tae-heun usually didn’t go to bed before midnight, going to bed early felt awkward. He turned on the borrowed radio and just blinked his eyes. After 10 o’clock, the DJ’s chatter decreased, and songs began to play endlessly. Thoughts kept creeping in. Damn it. He frowned as he cursed.

He looked at the clock. There would be messages on the voice mailbox. To use a payphone, he had to go to the village hall. Even though there were two perfectly good phones, he didn’t want to use a payphone because he didn’t want to leave any records, whether at this house or the one above. He couldn’t trust them one hundred percent either.

After turning off the radio, Tae-heun picked up the car keys and his cell phone. The old door creaked as he opened it. He managed to pass through the living room, but the porch creaked under his weight. Tae-heun held his breath and observed the surroundings. Fortunately, neither the child nor the man made a sound. The damn dogs were the problem, but since they hadn’t barked at him in the evening, he decided to trust them again.

Just as he felt relieved, a hoarse voice asked, “Where are you going?”

Tae-heun turned around in surprise. The man peeked his head out from the master bedroom. His hair was a mess, and he could barely open his eyes. Rubbing his large hands over his eyes, the man tried to come out.

“I’m sorry for waking you. I left something in the car, so I’m just going to get it. Please go back to sleep.”

“Oh….”

The man disappeared. There was a rustling sound from inside the room, and the man came out wearing a T-shirt.

“I’ll hold onto the kids in case they wake up.”

His voice was still hoarse.

“You said they wouldn’t bark?”

“They do at night.”

The man said flatly.

“Then that’s fine. I’ll just get it tomorrow.”

As Tae-heun tried to go back inside, the man came out onto the porch, saying it was fine. His large body swayed with each step.

Ah, this isn’t right.

He scratched his eyebrow.

Is the man watching me? That thought briefly crossed his mind. It was only natural, after all. He wouldn’t have entrusted himself to someone without any compensation.

The man turned on the incandescent light hanging under the eaves and knelt at the end of the porch. Then he curled his body up and looked down. He must have been checking if the dogs were sleeping there.

“Go down.”

The man gestured for Tae-heun to go with that posture.

“I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m worried the kids might wake up when you come in.”

“Yes. I’ll be back quickly.”

With reluctant steps, Tae-heun descended into the yard.

The dry air had a suitable chill to it. The breeze was refreshing. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he opened the front gate. The creaking sound was quite loud. Afraid the dogs would wake up and run over, Tae-heun hurriedly closed the gate.

He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He hadn’t come out to smoke, but habitually put a cigarette in his mouth and inserted the car key to open the driver’s side door. He awkwardly perched his backside on the driver’s seat with his legs still outside.