Every single graduation ceremony she’d attended had been cold. Bitter cold was the one thing that all her and her children’s graduations had in common. But the coldest graduation ever was the one she experienced from the comfort and warmth of the school’s official residence. Temperatures in the countryside always felt at least five or six degrees colder than in the city. Without any consideration for rural children, whose clothing was often shabbier than city children’s, the elementary school principal went on and on with his speech for more than thirty minutes. It was the same message every year. Even his passionless, bellowing voice was a constant. What were the children thinking about as they wriggled their frozen toes? Her anger was so great that her thoughts turned murderous. Covering her ears or shaking her head delivered no relief from the torturous oration. Just when the children’s frozen toes had turned numb and her fury had melted into quiet resignation, the speech ended. It was simply despicable that there was only a thin wall between where she lived and where her husband worked. The school principal was her husband.
This mid-year graduation was her first. She vaguely recalled that these events were called cosmos graduations, but today’s oppressive late-summer humidity had choked out the last whiff of breeze that could have encouraged those willowy flowers to bloom. Pavarotti, which was a spacious café, was well air-conditioned inside. Like a blanched tomato, her senses were confused by the sudden chill thinly coating her overheated body. All of the wait staff were wearing body-hugging black uniforms. The contours of their bodies suggested a pure, lanky innocence that alluded more to adolescence than adulthood. Was this what people referred to as unisex these days? There was no way to recognize the gender of these young people. All of them had smooth, white faces without makeup and straight hair that was cut short or tied neatly into ponytails. Unlike their tight pants, baggy tops hung loosely over their flat-chested torsos. She felt an urge to furtively slide her hand over their androgynous thighs or hips, which she guessed would feel hard and frigid like a popsicle. If she were to touch a boy, it would be an act of sexual harassment. She shuddered at the burgeoning animalism inside her, pushing its way out through the encrusted chill.
How long had it been since she’d had such a queer feeling? This may be the first time in her life. She knew, and had been told, that people of a certain age should not frequent cafés in college towns. But this place was not at all shady or improper, and the music was low enough so that you could actually hear the person talking next to you. The cello music they were playing gently swaddled the interior space in subtle waves of pastel tones. The café was a clean, comfortable place with a wholesome atmosphere. The only thing that stood out, if there was anything at all, was the modern black uniform. Even before her husband arrived, she fretted that he would stick out like a sore thumb. To her, the sophistication of this place was that impeccable.
It was Chae Jung, their daughter, who chose Pavarotti as a meeting place for the two of them. Even at the time of Chae Jung’s graduation, she and her husband were separated. She was supposed to meet her husband, who was coming into the city that day, in front of a bronze statue. The university was home to several statues. Instead of checking to see if he had found the right one, he plopped down by the first one he saw, making it impossible for his family to meet up with him. Moreover, that was the day that they were to meet the parents of Chae Jung’s long-time boyfriend for the first time. Even in retrospect, the anxiety and embarrassment he had caused her made her blood boil. Because she had tried to overcompensate for her sense of inferiority to their future in-laws by stressing their family values, the events of that day were even more humiliating. But when she finally did find him after the ceremony was over and more than half of the people had already left, she wished that she hadn’t. Instead of a proper winter coat suitable for that cold day, he was wearing a quilted jacket worn out from bad laundering on top of a faded pair of cotton pants that were too short and stopped above the ankles. Even if he weren’t meeting his future in-laws, he was a sorry sight to behold. Chae Jung must have felt the same because she said in a tearful whisper, “I can’t believe him! He must hate us both to come dressed like such a bum.” Chae Jung had a bad habit of attributing everything she disliked to bums and hobos, but she didn’t mind it just then. If the in-laws weren’t there, surely harsher words would have come out of her own mouth.
Her daughter’s graduation remained forever burned into her brain because of the way her husband was dressed. For Chae Jung, the most memorable fact must have been that her father got lost. That was the first thing she worried about for her little brother’s graduation. She visited his school first and handpicked the café as a place where her parents could easily find each other without drawing too much attention to themselves. As it turned out, all that trouble may have been for nothing because mid-year graduations seem to be less crowded.
Did Chae Jung not want her parents to show up separately? This thought suddenly crossed her mind. Yes, it was possible that Chae Jung, who was now a mature, married woman with children, would have thought through such matters of propriety. But she was no longer interested in impressing her future in-laws. Marrying off a son felt different somehow. It was so liberating to feel that she had no reason to feel insecure or indebted. For heaven’s sake, the kids were married already. Let the parents think whatever they wanted of her family. This kind of audacity felt just like having a firm grip on the hilt of a sword. Although she approved of her son’s girlfriend waiting faithfully for him while he served in the military, she wouldn’t say that she prayed for them to be together. She wanted it known implicitly that her preference for a younger bride overrode the girl’s loyalty; such was the twisted mind of a mother-in-law. Her son was currently living with his wife’s family, but even that was nothing to be ashamed of. They have been married for less than a month now, and they are scheduled to leave soon to study abroad. If anything, the girl should be grateful for not having to live with overbearing in-laws, as was the tradition.
A boy—or maybe a girl—in a black T-shirt brought her a glass of ice water and then briefly hesitated. She reckoned that he or she was waiting for her to order. She was curious to hear the pitch of his or her voice, but deciding not to rush the customer, the waiter or waitress left with a generous smile unusual for someone so young. She had about an hour before the ceremony. Chae Jung had urged her not to be late because she was sure that her father would be on time. She thought that Chae Jung’s opinion of her father’s punctuality had less to do with love and respect than the belief that her father was a simpleton who did not know how to be fashionably late for anything.
Instead of waiting intently, she was staring blankly out the window when he arrived. He had on a suit and a rusty brown tie that was on too tight. She was about to stand up and wave, calling out, “Over here,” when his booming voice rang out through the entire café.
“Is this Café Pastarotti?”
All eyes landed on him. Most of the patrons were young teens probably still in high school. Whispering, “Who’s Pastarotti?” they giggled in their seats. Instead of shouting or waving her arm, she ran over to him and dragged him to their table. He seemed relieved to have found his wife.
“So I did find the right place. Did you wait long?
Once they were sitting across from each other, they had nothing more to say. There was plenty of time left until the graduation ceremony. He took out a raggedy handkerchief and wiped the beads of sweat oozing from the smooth, bronzed top of his head. His nickname during his tenure as a principal was “Brass Potty”. He always perspired so much. But he hadn’t always been bald. In his youth, the coarse bristles of his black hair made him look a bit untamed. When he violently shook his head, shouting, “Ahh, I’m so hot,” a shower of sweat drops splashed in all directions. Did she love him then? She knitted her brows as she unearthed an old memory. Things that disappear over time—like love or hemp-like strands of hair, should leave at least a shadow of their former splendor, shouldn’t they? That, however, seemed highly unlikely.
We mustn’t fight, she thought. It would be cruel when neither of us has any means of self-defense. While she was thinking this out of the blue, he finished wiping up his sweat and began to order.
“Over here, get us two cups of hot coffee. I had it in my mind to order more expensive ice coffees, but how can I when it’s so darn cold in here, huh?”
She jumped out of her skin when his crude voice blasted throughout the room. She thought she heard more giggles from the teens who had mocked him before.
“C’mon, come and take my order. Don’t have all day here.”
“They’ll come. Just be patient, will you?”
“Why sit in here all day? Let’s just pay for taking up seats here and leave.”
“We have lots of time. Isn’t it nice here? It’s cool inside and we get to watch all these young people.”
“In a country that can’t produce a single drop of oil, I can’t believe so many of our resources are wasted on these kids who have nothing better to do than hang out all day.”
Whenever he opened his mouth, he couldn’t help but sound like an ethics textbook from the Koryo Dynasty. This is no good, she thought. If someone could read her mind and asked exactly what was no good, she wouldn’t be able to explain. That’s how muddled and irrational she was at that moment. Coffee arrived. “I’ve come to like my coffee black now. It’s not bad,” he said, guzzling it down as if he were drinking spicy beef soup.
“So, when are they leaving? The kids,” he continued.
“In a few days, I’m sure. They have to be there before the semester starts in America.”
“Why didn’t you keep them until they go? The new daughter-in-law, I mean. The son’s family should show her how things are done.”
“Son my ass,” she snapped irritably, unable to suppress her sudden frustration.
“What’d I say? Did I say something wrong?”
She was about to retort, “When do you ever say anything wrong?” but she let out a wry chuckle instead. Until the late 1970s, her husband was an ordinary grade school teacher. Even after he became the vice-principal and later the principal, he used to reminisce about those years teaching as the best days of his life. But how good could it have been as a teacher in a rural elementary school? Maybe he considered his heyday to be the time when at least there was room for upward mobility, when he could strive to become the vice-principal or the principal. This was during the Yushin Reformation when the spirit of the Saemaeul or New Community Movement throttled the last fresh breath out of children. It was suffocating for her to think about those times. His class was wallpapered with copies of the Charter of National Education and he was famous for making every student, including the ones with learning disabilities, glibly recite it by heart. Their rote memorization wasn’t merely perfunctory. When the town held a regional competition to test students’ in-depth knowledge of the charter, his class snagged the first prize. He later became the vice-principal and then the principal during the Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo regimes. As political power changed hands, so did the gigantic photograph of the President hanging from the highest place in his office. He didn’t hang the picture because he ran a public elementary school; he would have done the same whether he was a principal or an important member of the President’s cabinet. What she had a problem with was his blind subordination. Like a servant handed off to another master, he gave no thought to the character or the values of the person he served. The fact that that person was his master was the only thing that mattered to him. When a new photograph was hung, his manner of speech and behavior aped the person in the picture. His tirades during the morning assembly were undoubtedly replete with quotes from the incumbent chief of state. If he were an ambitious opportunist keen on getting ahead in life, she would have tolerated such behavior. If he were a fawning peon of a public employee who complained of his wretched servile life in the privacy of their home, she would have comforted him. How could she have not? She would have thought it noble of him to carry out his patriarchal obligation to support his family no matter how low he had to stoop in life.
But he was someone who needed no such comforting. Is there any human being more maddening than someone who doesn’t need to be comforted? His willingness to serve the system was neither forced nor self-willed. Rather, it stemmed from his innate nature, from the essence of his vacuous personality. She really didn’t want to think about any of this. But today was the last day of their separation that was justifiable in the eyes of society.
When her daughter got admitted to a college in Seoul, she left her husband behind and took the kids to the city. At her high school, Chae Jung was the first student ever to get into a reputable school in Seoul, and she was honored with a huge congratulatory banner bearing her name above the front gates. It goes without saying that they, as parents, were incredibly proud. The glory was hard earned after years of relentless, hands-on parenting. True, it had been exhausting for her, but the experience had also boosted her confidence in raising high-achieving children. She could have burst with joy when her daughter earned the right to finally march out of that small town and swim in bigger waters. Chae Hoon, who had just entered high school at that time, was a few years younger than his sister. Fortunately, her determination to send him to an even better school and her husband’s refusal to let their young daughter live alone coincided. Thus began their separation, which was perfectly natural and justifiable to others and to themselves. The first place they rented in the city was a basement unit where they could hear every sound made by the upstairs tenants. Listening to the urinating or loud chewing noises coming from upstairs was a happy reality check for her that she had, indeed, escaped the principal’s residence. Distant now were the memories of the same old tedious lectures given at the morning assembly and the squirming children dying for the agonizing tirade to end. Such were her memories of those days, as insufferable and dreadful as torture.
Taking care of the kids was only an excuse; she realized after leaving that what she really wanted, what she had been wanting for a long time, was to not be the principal’s wife. After the separation, almost all of her husband’s monthly salary was deposited into her bank account. How he could manage with the remainder was a mystery to her. But her life in Seoul entailed many expenses that could hardly be covered by the amount he sent, so she took the money without any questions or reservations. Not long afterward, she started working to afford private tutoring sessions for Chae Hoon. She was helping out a friend who owned a discount cosmetics store in a mall adjacent to an apartment complex, and she ended up buying the business from her friend. In addition to cosmetics from domestic brands, she increased the inventory to include knickknacks imported from overseas. She proved to be an able businesswoman, and luck was on her side. Perhaps it was the kids who brought her luck. When their extracurricular activities required the most money, her income peaked accordingly. As the kids grew older and those expenses dwindled to almost nothing, a major department store opened nearby and wiped out small businesses. Before she started working, the three of them needed every penny her husband sent so they couldn’t refuse any of it out of concern for his situation; when she was bringing home a paycheck, the amount he sent seemed so trivial that she didn’t bother to worry about how he was faring. Her husband, who was always loyal to the powers that be, was for some reason forced into a very early retirement.
The news of his retirement arrived along with his announcement that he would move to an even more remote area. They happened to own an old house and some surrounding land in an area that was outrageously close to the Demilitarized Zone. He decided to live there, and thus she didn’t have to worry about his joining her in the city. Thinking about her newly retired husband made her chuckle, knowing how much he would miss lecturing into a loud microphone every morning. In the ensuing months, his pension money continued to be deposited into her account. Apparently, the kids visited him occasionally. His rural lifestyle did not impress them much, for they had told him to “hang in there for just a bit longer.” They often told her the same thing, apologetic that their parents were living apart for their sake. Or, perhaps there was another motive. It may have been in their interest to prevent their parents from separating permanently so that they wouldn’t have to worry about them or be responsible for them. Keeping their parents together was their best bet to gain independence from them.
Not once did she visit her husband in the countryside. She wanted to show the kids how indifferent she was toward him. If he did such a good job of looking after himself there without any help from her, then maybe he, too, wanted to make this separation work. It was like a battle of wills between them. She didn’t ask for his participation in this battle, but she might as well have. It was what she wanted from him anyway, so why should she care how he lived? Like an old hut rotting away and collapsing into a pile of dust, their relationship suffered a silent demise—silent enough to go unnoticed by the children living under the same roof.
“Is that the only suit you have? You should have worn something else today,” she said, looking at the deep creases in the fold of his pants, which were made of linen. His shirt collar also had a faded but visible spot, perhaps a kimchi stain.
“What’s wrong with this suit? You said so yourself that it was first rate.”
“Even if it’s first rate, you got it as a wedding gift from our daughter-in-law, didn’t you? It was fine to wear at the wedding, but you put it on every time we see the in-laws. What would they think?”
“Not all the time. I haven’t worn it since the wedding. In this summer heat, you couldn’t pay me to put on a suit and tie.”
“I mean all the time for the in-laws. We haven’t seen them since the wedding. You should have put a little more care into your outfit.”
“More care than this? Chae Jung, she’s been callin’ and buggin’ me the past few days to dress in a suit. And this is the only summer suit I’ve got, so what could I have done?”
“All right, all right. Let’s just drop it.”
It was no use belaboring the point.
“What’s more important than the suit is appearin’ like a normal couple to the in-laws, in my opinion,” he said quietly before getting up from his seat to pay the bill. She saw something close to compassion flit across his eyes and was taken aback. He pitied her when it should have been the other way around. Hah, the irony. She looked at her watch. It was time to get to the graduation ceremony.
The ceremony was being held inside an auditorium, not outdoors, probably because mid-semester graduations had fewer attendees. There were more than ten in the in-laws’ group standing by the door—the parents, their son, their other daughter, her husband, and a few others. Chae Jung was not there because she had gone inside to save seats. Thanks to her, the two sets of parents got the best seats in the house side by side, and the other family members were able to sit together as a group next to them. The two women sat next to each other with their husbands on either side, and throughout the ceremony Chae Hoon’s mother-in-law kept whispering in her ear. Having lived with her new son-in-law for almost a month, she sure had a lot to say, most of it about how the two kids got along so well. Curiously, there was much bragging cleverly disguised as humility and amusement carefully masked as hardship.
“Now I know what they mean when they say that daughters are useless once you marry them off. We did assume as much with our older daughter, but the youngest, well, my husband dotes on her so much. And I guess I did my share of spoiling her rotten, not ever letting her wash the dishes. Now that she’s married, she’s the first one in the kitchen fussing over her husband’s meals. You know what else? Every morning her father drinks freshly squeezed vegetable juice, and she demanded to know why her husband doesn’t get any. Nowadays, she comes down before I’m up, squeezes the juice, and takes it upstairs. If she’s making juice anyway, she should make enough for her father too, but she makes just one glass. I think it’s so rude of her, but do you know what my husband says? ‘Look how our little girl’s all grown up and looking after her new husband.’ He’s so pleased with his youngest son-in-law and is amused by everything he says. Granted, our Soo Jung married well, but Jung Seobang sure did quite well for himself, wouldn’t you say?”
“Certainly.”
Coerced into agreement and resenting it, she simmered with anger at this woman who was intentionally messing with her. So, it seemed that the in-laws were delighted with the newlyweds, carrying on as one would over a pretty flower or a cute baby and filling their home with much laughter and joy. And in contrast, she thought not of her own dreary living conditions but her husband’s home in the country that she had yet to see. The vision of an isolated house inhabited by an aging man—and all the desolation and squalor that it entailed—played in her mind like a tacky old movie.
“Still, they say a son-in-law must always be treated well like a guest. It can’t be easy for you. They could have come and lived with us . . .” Having said this out of courtesy, she trailed off. It made her angry that she had no choice but to trail off. Whether or not he understood the subtle psychological warfare going on between the two women, her husband stuck his neck out, his eyes fixed on the graduation ceremony.
“No, no. Jung Seobang is so easy-going and pleasant to have around. The kids have been best friends since their freshman year, so he’s been coming around to our house for several years now, hasn’t he? Before I knew he was going to be my son-in-law, I treated him like he was one of my own. He ate at our table like family, and we’ve gotten very close over the years. Now that he’s one of us, well, that just makes him even more endearing to me. But I’m nothing compared to my husband. A few days ago was the jesa ceremony for my deceased father-in-law, you know. Our oldest lives in the States, and he hasn’t attended in a long time. Now our other son is obviously the next in line, but my husband made Jung Seobang offer the rice wine first, insisting that the new addition to the family be properly introduced to the ancestors. He’s like that—doesn’t mind bending the jesa rules a bit. Well, our ceremonies tend to be informal anyhow. We use portraits instead of calligraphy posters, and as for the food, we don’t usually prepare what’s proper but what the ancestors used to like eating when they were alive. I tell you, what my husband lacks in formality, he makes up for in interesting ways. He talks to the ancestors as if they were still living, chatting about our daily lives or pleading with them to go easy on us when we’re faced with problems. This time, he was so funny talking about his new son-in-law that there was more laughter than somber respect at our jesa.”
Reliving her happy memory, her in-law giggled. What did she mean, “one of us”? No matter how much this world has changed, Soo Jung, by anyone’s standard, has become one of us instead of our Chae Hoon becoming one of them, she thought. When it came to bending formal traditions, the in-laws were nothing compared to them. She couldn’t remember the last time she attended a jesa on her husband’s side of the family. He wasn’t the eldest and his older brother’s house was deep in the mountains in a distant rural area. Except for when she was a newlywed, she never went with her husband. At times when he thought he’d be too tired to teach the next day, he only sent money and didn’t go either. After he became the principal and was no longer burdened with a teaching schedule, he continued to be lax about attending jesas. He must have taken Chae Hoon with him only a handful of times. His justification was that jesas were meaningful only for those ancestors one had seen and remembered.
Given their attitudes, Chae Hoon probably grew up giving little importance to jesas. Still. To think that he had bowed to his wife’s family’s ancestors before having her bow to his own. She felt bitter. Stupid, stupid Chae Hoon. What an idiot. The more she thought about the matter, the more outraged she became. Perhaps she was taking the resentment she felt toward her smooth-talking in-law and blowing it out of proportion, turning it into betrayal from her son. She wanted to kick her seat out from under her and storm out of the ceremony. Instead, she grabbed her husband’s hand. She needed someone to walk her out, hand in hand. Hardly noticing that she was holding his hand, he was still entranced by what was happening onstage. He was like a nervous student waiting for his name to be called to receive an award. She gently withdrew her hand.
She knew what the stage meant to him. He liked stages. On a stage, his voice took on an authoritative tone, and virtuous words that no one could refute flowed out of his mouth. However small the gathering, the stage symbolizes power and authority. And as a person of power standing on the platform, he could not tolerate even one inattentive person. What he demanded from the audience was not mere attention: it was respect. He had been so committed to his responsibilities as an authority figure onstage. Who could stop him now from fulfilling his duties as an attentive audience member offstage?
The reason he was less authoritative with his family wasn’t because he was a loving family man. There was no need for him to assert his authority because he assumed that it came naturally with being the man of the house, as long as he fulfilled his role as the breadwinner. For him, that meant living on as little as possible and handing over most of his paycheck to his family. His effort in this matter bordered on obsession. This was true during their years of separation, which he accepted without any question, as well as after his retirement. What was his life like these days, she wondered. She looked at the hand she had grabbed a moment earlier—coarse and dirty under the nails. Like stepping on a foreign object and stumbling, she was startled by a new emotion stirring inside her that she hadn’t felt when she had first grabbed his hand.
Doctorates and Master’s were given out and it was time for Bachelor’s degrees. She wanted to see her son receive a degree with her own eyes. Chae Jung was in charge of taking pictures, and several of their family members were also equipped with cameras. Throngs of picture-takers, who obviously outnumbered the graduates, blocked her view of the stage. Her in-law began talking again. Amidst the noisy movement in the hall, the whispered breath on her earlobe gave the talk an air of intimacy.
“Don’t try so hard to see. We should be fine as long as the pictures turn out well. What remains of important events, except the pictures? By the way, didn’t the wedding pictures come out well? We sent you all the copies from the photographer as well as the ones our family took.”
“Yes, we received them, thank you. We also took pictures but you were so kind to send so many more. You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, when our kids were growing up, we always took tons of pictures at every milestone. It’s a hobby, and we take such pleasure in documenting their life histories. We never missed an award ceremony, so of course we went all out for a once-in-a-lifetime event like this wedding. Pictures always tell the whole story, and I’m always reminded that things should be done properly even if it’s just for show. When I was organizing the wedding pictures, I just felt horrible about not sending them on a honeymoon.”
“Not sending them? They were the ones who insisted they didn’t want to go. Wasn’t that the case?”
No longer willing to take any more abuse lying down, she faced her in-law squarely. The wedding had taken place at the peak of the vacation season. And with only a month left until their departure for America, the kids had so much to do in preparation: applying for visas, sending ahead some of their bags, and renewing their driver’s licenses to name a few. They didn’t want all these loose ends hanging over their heads during their honeymoon, so they decided to postpone it and stop by Hawaii on their way to the mainland. The decision was made by the couple and the parents were only notified. Why was this an issue now?
“Of course, of course. But as parents, oh, we just felt . . . so bad. This is the last wedding for both families, so we wanted to give them everything possible. That brings me to my point. We made a reservation for them for a three-night stay on Jeju Island after the graduation ceremony. They don’t know this yet. It’s a surprise. They’re done with all the graduation requirements and finally have some free time, so I’m sure they’ll be happy. Too bad that they have to hop on another plane so soon after the trip, but what’s the point of wasting a few days here in Seoul with nothing to do anyway? No doubt, they’ll spend that time being dragged around by their friends for one last drink. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” she answered bitterly, her patience dangerously close to being pushed over the edge. For whatever reason, her in-law then pulled out a white envelope from her handbag and gave her a glimpse of its contents: round-trip plane tickets and a voucher for the Hyatt Hotel. Her in-law gently placed the envelope on her lap and whispered, “You give this to them later.”
“Why?” she asked with shock, redness spreading to her ears.
“Oh, does it really matter who gives it to them? It doesn’t come with our names printed on it. The kids will be happy to receive it from you. We’ll just send them off with some spending money. It’ll be more natural this way.”
What were the true intentions of this woman, who was so friendly on the outside but full of hidden agendas? She floundered in shame, feeling that she had fallen into her in-law’s trap. Her bewildered hands somehow managed to firmly push the envelope from her lap. But before she could do anything else, her in-law slipped the envelope into her purse and tucked it into a side pocket with a quick and graceful movement. Her face burned with either anger or shame. She could not tell which. The ceremony suddenly ended at this inopportune moment and the audience became a confused mob heading for the exit. Trying not to lose her balance as she was swept along by the crowd, she somehow made it outside. The sweltering afternoon heat made the air thick like congealing taffy. The word ‘awful’ kept escaping from her lips. The monolithic mob slowly dissolved into an amorphous mass of scattering people. She wasn’t sure if she could find her husband, Chae Jung, or the in-laws. Not a single patch of shade offered her solace where she was cast off by the milling crowd, so she stood there like a torture victim resigned to her fate.
Her husband was the first to find her. Pointing to the group standing under a large zelkova tree, he called out, asking why she was standing there by herself. Upon seeing him, she remembered the envelope, a white triangle sticking out of her black handbag like a starched pocket square on a waiter’s uniform. She quickly pushed it deep into her bag and then followed her husband to the tree. Everyone was gathered there. Except for Chae Jung and her husband, no one paid her any attention, as they were too busy taking turns posing for pictures with the graduating couple. Buried in flowers and presents, Chae Hoon was smiling from ear to ear like a fool. At the ceremony, she had seen her in-laws holding a huge present wrapped in flashy wrapping paper, and she had scorned their showiness because they could have easily given it to the children at home. But apparently everyone on their side came prepared with gifts. Did she need to feel ashamed for being empty-handed? No matter how hard she tried to stand tall and proud, the course of events that afternoon shoved shame down her throat. Could it be ridicule or pity for what was contained inside the white envelope?
Chae Hoon was still busy taking group pictures and exchanging greetings. Upstaged by their group of avid picture-takers, Chae Jung, the self-appointed cameraperson on the groom’s side, was standing off to the side quietly observing the scene.
It was like this at Chae Jung’s graduation also. The parents of both families met for the first time, but the in-laws completely dominated the whole affair. They surrounded Chae Jung, taking pictures and fussing over her, sometimes acting with dignity and sometimes with playfulness. She and her husband were ignored like a bowl of cold rice. She didn’t get too upset, though. She thought that was the standard treatment for the girl’s family, and with a younger son to marry off in the future, she even hoped to learn a thing or two about being in the dominant role. That is to say, things weren’t so unjust when you had a chance to reverse the roles. She also didn’t mind the envious stares directed at Chae Jung for meeting a boyfriend while in school and being doted on by her prospective in-laws at the graduation ceremony. But look at us now. Who can I blame when my own son is a fawning fool? Like a powerful matriarch whose anger had been roused, she glared at her son.
Chae Hoon must have felt his mother’s stare. She quickly caught his roaming eyes and drew him toward her like a magnet. He was her dear son, but at the moment, he looked like a fool with a sheepish grin on his face. To make amends for having neglected her, he took off his graduation cap and placed it on her head. Immediately recognizing her chance to shine, Chae Jung shoved a camera in front of them. But she resisted his gesture, breaking free from the cap. What do you take your mother for? Before she could get the words out, her husband’s voice rang out.
“What’s da matter? If you’re happy, just say so. I dunno why you’re acting so jealous. On a day like this. Hoon, I guess your mom here doesn’t want to. But I sure do. Lemme try it on. Whatdaya call this cap, a mortarboard?”
Spurned by his mother and standing there feeling embarrassed, Chae Hoon jumped at his father’s rescue attempt, putting the cap on his father’s head and affectionately wrapping his arm around his father’s. In addition to Chae Jung, everyone with a camera on the in-law’s side zeroed in on the proud father and his filial son. Her husband instantly became the center of attention. Like a provincial farmer from the 1970s who had sold off his cattle and land to send his son to college, he posed naïvely for picture after picture. Look how happy the father is. Jung Seobang better get his advanced degree from America soon and bring his father even greater honor. Well wishes blossomed and the atmosphere became celebratory again. Time ticked on, arrogantly unhurried.
It’s so beautiful by the lake and at the outdoor theater near the democratic students’ memorial tower. What are we doing here taking all these pictures with the same backdrop? Someone called out and put a stop to all the picture-taking activities. No one objected, and the group began migrating en masse toward the more popular gathering spots. The two families naturally broke into smaller cliques consisting of their own kin, and Chae Hoon took turns walking alongside his mother and his mother-in-law, strategically adjusting his pace as he did so. Acting as a bridge between the two families, he kept them from separating as the space around them became more and more packed with people. Whenever he returned to her to take her arm after intimately whispering to his mother-in-law, she resisted him with a scowl. She had no idea where he had learned to juggle two allegiances at once. Students were performing with traditional instruments at the open-air theater, and throngs of people were gathered by the tower. It would make an ideal spot to slip away unnoticed. The mother-in-law must have thought that the envelope had switched hands by now. There had been more than enough time and opportunity.
She had not forgotten the envelope tucked inside the pocket of her purse. How could she, when it was like a splinter stuck to her undershirt, scratching away at her flesh? When Chae Hoon disappeared among the crowd of in-laws, she tugged hard at her husband’s sleeve. An impulsive idea coincided with an opportunity. How could she think of such a thing? Her own audacity shocked her, making her heart pound and knees knock. Once she was sure she had successfully escaped with the money like a thief in the night, she swelled up with pleasure like a balloon about to burst. Perhaps it wasn’t pleasure, but spite, a malicious spirit that delighted in mischief. She felt it sprawling out, growing beyond her control. How thrilling it was to have the power to do harm! She bit down on her molars to suppress a smile.
Her husband kept asking where they were going as he was being dragged away, but she didn’t answer him. Assuming that she was searching for a restroom, he followed her without a fight. When she saw the front gates, she calmed her frayed nerves and turned to him.
“I wanted us to make a quick and quiet exit. The in-laws are sending Chae Hoon and his wife to Jeju Island today as a graduation gift and for their honeymoon. If we stay, they’ll have too many people to say goodbye to when they have so little time to pack for their trip. And after they leave, I’m sure it’ll be very awkward with the in-laws as to whether or not we should have dinner together. I see no reason to. We’re not even that close.”
“Really? The in-laws think of everything, don’t they? Even so, it wasn’t right to leave without sayin’ a word. What if they look for us thinking that we’re lost?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve dropped enough hints to Chae Hoon so I’m sure he knows what we’re up to. He’ll come up with a suitable excuse for us.”
“Shouldn’t we have given the kids some spending money? Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how to take care of these things . . .”
His words were laced with sarcasm. Granted that he had neither cooperated, nor approved what she’d done, she resented it nonetheless. She herself couldn’t comprehend why she poured so much heart and soul into something that put a damper on—or at best postponed for a day—the kids’ happiness. Self-scorn and rejection made for a strange kind of loneliness, a kind she had never experienced before. There was still time to undo what she had done, but she intended to push forward stubbornly. The thrill that had exhilarated her whole being was gone without a trace; what remained was spite, the determination to rain on someone else’s parade.
“Let’s have dinner together, you and me.”
His invitation was more businesslike than affectionate.
“When the sun’s still shining like this?”
The sun was hazy but the heat was relentless. This was unbelievable heat, considering that the first day of fall had come and gone by a few measures of the lunar calendar.
“But now that we’re here, isn’t it better to get dinner out of the way? Eating by myself is so depressing . . .”
How was it that this man was so candid? His tackiness, shabbiness, ineptness—all these things hung from him like sagging baggage, an obvious sign of someone who ate alone on a regular basis. She didn’t want to look him in the face.
“How about if I accompany you to Barani today? Why are you so surprised? It’s not like I want to go somewhere I shouldn’t.”
Barani was the name of the neighborhood where he lived. She’d learned the name from Chae Jung, who thought it was a pretty name. She, on the other hand, didn’t like the name at all. It made her think of a bunch of old folks sitting outside and waiting with their necks sticking out, on the off chance that someone might visit them.
Her husband’s face briefly showed surprise before turning blank again. Then he informed her that they had to take the subway. She followed him silently. She felt sorry for herself, for trying too hard to compensate for her sense of loss. Things had already gotten off to the wrong start today, but there was no stopping now. The train, running on a newly built line, was clean and well air-conditioned. Her husband explained apologetically that they must transfer to the national railway at Wangshimni, ride it all the way to the terminus, and then change to a bus. She pretended to listen, but nothing registered in her mind. She knew less about Seoul than her husband. Once she set up her business, she never moved once during the years she spent in Seoul because she was afraid of losing her regular customer base. Of course, most of her regular customers were apartment renters who moved often. But the ones who left were replaced quickly enough. What was important to her was that she had a steady influx of regulars, not so much who they were. For the sake of her regular customers, she learned to become a good conversationalist well versed in world affairs. She made the small store feel cozy and welcoming, a place where they could drop by to chat even when they didn’t have anything to buy. After the big department store opened, however, her store turned into a waiting room for the department store shuttle bus. At first, the customers came into the store pretending to look around before running out to catch the bus when it pulled up. Then they eventually stopped setting foot inside the store, ignoring it on their way to and from the department store. It was as if her small shop had never existed.
They had to climb several flights of stairs to transfer to the national railway, a much older line. The last stairway that led above ground was narrow and hidden in a remote corner. Above ground, the sun had not set yet. The evening sun hanging from the corner of a skyscraper was still sizzling like burning coal. The national railway station was, unfortunately for them, out in the open without a single patch of shade. It seemed like a place where passengers came not to catch a train but to be punished. The pavement was roasting from the day’s worth of heat it had absorbed, but the people standing on it waited with impassive faces, as if they didn’t care what happened to them. Her husband’s bald head was beginning to develop a dull sheen from sweat. If she were to touch it, it would surely be sticky like tree sap. She shuddered at the thought. The national railway trains apparently did not run as frequently as the subway trains. A schedule posted on a cement pillar indicated that it ran every twenty minutes. In that time, she thought, she would have to endure indignity more than the heat.
Their wait was rewarded inside the train with air that was just as cool as the subway’s. But the view outside was completely foreign, and it was hard to believe that such a place even existed in the vicinity of Seoul. It was neither city nor country, with abandoned fields occasionally carved by streams syrupy with rotting pollutants. Curved bridges leading to god knows where were held up by massive cement pillars, their foundations deeply embedded in swampy bogs. Rusting metal and rotting planks stuck out of carelessly piled heaps of garbage, and tough weeds, with their heads cocked and ready to spurt out poison, threatened to overtake rundown houses nearby. Then suddenly, a row of square townhouses loomed close to the railroad, revealing their rooftops with laundry hanging from clotheslines and humble gardens blooming with zinnias and cockscombs. Regrettably, no neighborhood kids showed up, running after the train and waving their fists in the air.
It dawned on her like some great revelation that her husband was very much like the national railway train. Once this idea entered her head, the passengers around her seemed to be of a different race than the subway riders. Her husband was sleeping or pretending to sleep with his eyes closed. What am I doing, she asked herself. Losing her son was as sudden and debilitating as falling into a pit. At an age where one could stumble even on firm ground, she never dreamed that there’d be such a pit hiding in her path. She looked upon her sleeping husband with the disbelief of someone who had grasped nothing but a handful of straw as she fell endlessly into life’s bottomless abyss.
The train came to a stop and many people were getting off. Urged on by an irrepressible feeling, she shook her husband. Confused and disoriented, he got off the train with her. He was about to board again, saying that they had one more stop to the terminal, but she pulled him toward the steps.
“We have to go somewhere.”
“Where, all of a sudden?”
“The kids are going on their honeymoon today. Why don’t we have some fun of our own? What’s waiting for us in Barani except the mosquitoes?”
She recalled that Chae Jung always took a load of mosquito repellent with her whenever she visited her father.
“You’re the one who wanted to go to Barani,” he said in a quiet, admonishing tone. Then he took the lead, walking briskly and entering a barbeque joint. Instead of an air conditioner, a fan oscillating like an airplane propeller was hooked to the ceiling. At the center of every table a large hood hovered just above the hot grill, but the hall was still filled with smoke and the smell of spices. Maybe because it was dinnertime or because the locals favored it, the place was crowded, with almost no empty seats. The food arrived and she wasn’t displeased to see her husband grill the meat skillfully. This pathetic man had understood ‘having fun’ as sharing a slab of barbequed meat. But she hadn’t objected due to her sudden hunger pang. The meat was ordered by weight, and it arrived, along with a charcoal pot and some side dishes, but the rest was self-service. Her husband took care of everything, from grilling the meat and cutting it up into bite-size pieces to changing the burnt grill plate. He explained that he occasionally patronized the restaurant when he needed to boost his diet with an affordable, hearty meal.
Having satiated himself until he smelled of the barbecue from head to toe, he stepped out of the restaurant, commenting once again how inexpensive this place was, given the amount they had eaten. She had left ahead of him and paid him no attention. Someone descended from a cab in front of the restaurant, so she grabbed it, motioned to him, and shoved him in. She got in next to him and told the driver to take them to a nearby love hotel with a nice view. She said this without a flinch and with a slight emphasis on the word “love.” Then she turned to her husband and asked, “This is your first time going to a place like that, right?”
“Looks like it ain’t your first time.”
“Actually, it is for me, too,” she said firmly, to end the discussion. There was not a shred of doubt that neither of them had been to such a place. Even if one witnessed the other enter such a building, an extramarital affair would not be considered the purpose of the visit. Those were the kind of people they were. It was laughable, but true. Did that make them a good couple? How did they end up like this? A sense of defeat drained all the energy from her tense shoulders. The cab driver took no pains to hide his disdain for the perverted old couple and dragged them all over the city. Fortunately, he then dropped them off in front of a three-story, villa-like building overlooking the Han River.
It was her husband who paid the cab fare and walked up to the front desk.
“Will you be resting for a short while?”
“No, we’ll be staying the night.”
Blushing at his reply, she turned to the window at the end of the hallway and looked up at the clear sky. The sun had finally gone down.
“Well, you must have more money than I thought,” she said caustically, stopping at the stairway where it made a sharp turn. He had received the key and she was following him up the stairs. She knew him to be an unrivaled cheapskate, but he had paid for dinner and the hotel without so much as a whimper. He never had a dime to spare, for reasons she knew only too well. At times she may have been embarrassed by his frugal ways, but she never resented it. They were a couple with no feelings left for each other, not even suspicions of infidelity. Even for such couples, money supposedly remained a touchy subject, and she was surprised and ashamed to discover that this might be true in her case as well.
“You know that it was Chae Hoon’s graduation today. I thought we may go out to eat with the in-laws so I’ve been puttin’ aside some money for the occasion.”
She didn’t know how to react to his quiet and somewhat dejected explanation. The room was dim and cozy, not as racy as she had imagined. Outside the window, beautiful houses, either vacation homes or hotels probably, stood scattered on the hillside across from the Han River. The hotel building had a garden below with a well-manicured lawn that was so close to the river you could almost stand on its edge and soak your feet in the water. She stood for a long time looking out the window and listening to the water running in the shower.
“Ah, that felt good.”
When her husband walked out of the bathroom, she almost yelped in surprise before turning her eyes away. The lower half of his body, clad only in underwear, was hideous to see. The little remaining flesh on his thighs sagged like sacks of water, and scrawny calves with sparse hair stuck out below red, knobby knees. Feeling goose bumps spread throughout her body, she shuddered with loathing. It was a feeling different from disgust. The feeling of disgust has a residual veneer of interest to it. What she felt was pure loathing. This kind of emotion was not possible between a married couple who had lived together and made love for many years. They were never a lovey-dovey couple even when they lived together. On hot summer days, her husband did often walk around the house only in his underwear, and she used to reproach him by saying that kind of behavior would make it impossible for them to live with a daughter-in-law. Back then, his habit caused her more worry than aversion. Certainly, she was not charmed by the sight, but she was indifferent to it, as if seeing an old wardrobe, desk or table—something that sat where it should for a long time.
Oddly enough, the surprising emotion caused by the sight of her husband took her mind back to the white envelope. A telephone lay right in front of her eyes. The fact that she must call by the end of the day was a scripted part of her plan, but she still felt butterflies in her stomach. Her son’s mother-in-law answered the phone. She skipped the usual greetings and went straight into her act.
“Whatever shall I do? I completely forgot to give the envelope to the kids. My husband was in such a hurry to leave, you see. He said that on a day like this it’s best to leave the boy alone so he could spend more quality time with his wife’s family. He said that you might be uncomfortable with us hanging around. He’s like that, overly accommodating sometimes. It turns out, he had a plan of his own. I’m at his friend’s vacation home in Chungpyung right now. He spends a great deal of time alone on the farm, so whenever he comes up to Seoul, he goes out of his way to make the time with me special. He is just too much, sometimes. Oh heavens, look what I’m doing. I called about an urgent matter and I’m digressing. What are the kids doing now? They couldn’t have left since I have the tickets with me here . . . Will the plane tickets and the hotel voucher be valid tomorrow? We’ll head to Seoul first thing tomorrow morning, so please send Chae Hoon to our store. I still can’t believe how we blundered like this. What do we do now that we’ve ruined their plans?”
“Oh, no. You haven’t ruined anything. They left on their trip as planned. The reservation is still good even if they don’t have their tickets. Please don’t worry about them and enjoy your time there.” Her in-law spoke matter-of-factly without any sneering undertones.
Although she had been succinct, there was enough underlying disdain in her own speech to offend. It may be true that you learn to imitate what you scorn. She was the one who had spoken so glibly the whole time.
How could this be? All the effort that went into disrupting, or at least inconveniencing, their warm and fuzzy happiness had amounted to nothing. The thrill of playing an elaborate trick on them had backfired in the form of plain and simple ridicule. A deep sense of failure now furthered her sense of inferiority, making her misery intolerable. Her husband spoke with a concerned voice.
“You did or said something wrong to the in-laws, didn’t you? I hope you weren’t foolish.”
“What did I do that was so foolish? You don’t know anything,” she snapped angrily, suppressing a sob.
“Oh, I know you’re smart. So, so smart. I always thought so, but I gotta admit that you did look a tad foolish next to Chae Hoon’s mother-in-law today.”
She remained silent, afraid that her sob might break loose if she spoke. Her husband spoke again, this time in a gentler voice.
“You’ve all been saying that Chae Hoon’s major doesn’t lend itself to a job these days without a degree from overseas. That’s why I didn’t object, but frankly, I’m worried about their expenses. All I’m good at is not spending money, and I feel terrible about how long you’ll have to continue to work.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about me. Why do you think that we need to help the kids with their expenses? We’ve done more than necessary up to this point.”
“What did we do for them exactly?”
“When the kids got married, I told Soo Jung not to worry about wedding gifts or new furnishings. Do you have any idea how much all that is worth? Her parents immediately understood what I meant and said that they’d leave some cash aside in dollars. After they burn through that lump sum, I’m sure Soo Jung will get a job or something. She’s the one who coaxed Chae Hoon into studying abroad. Don’t you think that she’s prepared to do that much at least?”
“Even so, we gotta do our part. Let’s scrimp and save and do what we can to send them some money every month.”
“Do our part? Hah! I can’t spend any less than what I’m spending now. The business is dying, so I’m planning to close the store soon. So don’t expect me to bring in any income. If you really want, you can ‘scrimp and save’ and send that money or go on a trip to America. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’m trying to spend as little as humanly possible. You know that, don’t you?”
The sad resonance of his words made her spring to her feet.
“Get some rest. I’m going out to get some air.”
She left as quickly as her feet would carry her, leaving her husband lying on the bed. Because she wanted to escape but had to prevent herself from doing so, she left without her purse. The second floor hallway was as quiet as an empty house. The emergency exit at the end of the hallway opened easily, and outside was a small space where one could slip out for a smoke. She went down a spiral staircase leading to the garden on the ground floor, and there was a small pond and a bench under the shade of a tree facing the river. No one was taking advantage of these amenities, for the place was deserted.
Looking up at the three-story building, she saw that some of the windows were lit and some were dark. The light coming from the windows was not bright but muted. The emptiness she felt after having wasted her whole day grew inside of her, growing into a vast emptiness, the sense of having wasted her whole life. She felt infinitely small and worthless. Did she know that she would end up feeling this way, and was that why she had scuttled around all these years trying to fill the void? She had desperately tried to grab on to something, anything, even a handful of straw. Opening her fingers, she now realized that what she had seized in her final, desperate attempt was her husband’s boney shin. This revelation was also the manifestation of a deep despair that made her think that she couldn’t possibly go on living with him.
She did not drag him to this place with the expectation of sex. She considered herself beyond the age of desire, but even when she and her husband were younger, they were hardly a couple with overactive libidos. They had sex routinely until their separation, and with neither being the first to suggest it, they settled naturally into mutual abstinence. Thus, they lived as two perfect strangers without any physical contact. If there was even an ounce of physical intimacy left between them, she might not have been so repulsed by his legs. If there was some connection between the lack of physical intimacy and her loathing, perhaps she shouldn’t have taken that aspect of their relationship so lightly. What she yearned for today was definitely not lust. If a friendly act like scratching each other’s backs could have filled the void, wouldn’t it be nobler and lovelier than lust? Now that she realized the impossibility of this prospect, she began to regret the time their bodies had spent completely apart. She had no idea that it would be such an irreversible mistake.
She gazed at the flowing river for a long time, long enough for her husband to have fallen asleep, before returning to the room. It was cooler in the room than by the water, and her husband was snoring in his sleep in his worn-out underwear with the blanket kicked off to the side. Before she could feel repulsed by his appearance, she felt concerned that he might catch a cold. She reached for the light, flower-print blanket, and while doing so, she couldn’t help but see his legs up close. They were covered with mosquito bites, some swollen red at the peak of inflammation and some healing down to brownish patches. There were so many. How could those tiny creatures be so cruel as to suck the blood from those scrawny legs? What was his life like, that he’d allow himself to be mutilated like this? From the dirt under his nails, she could see the impoverished and exhausting life he had eked out. His monthly income was more than enough for him to live comfortably in retirement, if he wished. A hot lump of compassion rose to her throat as she looked at her husband who so willingly shackled himself to his patriarchal responsibilities. She gently stroked the mosquito bites on his shin as one would caress a piece of antique furniture beat up and grimy from years of wear.