6

Se-oh, after keeping herself shut indoors for so long, had finally left the house again when her father hurt his tailbone. It took her two and a half hours to go to the bank and back. She had to pay the utility bills not through a bank teller but at a machine that looked a lot like an ATM but was designed expressly for paying bills. It bewildered her. After a good bit of puzzling, she got the security guard’s help, and as she was feeding the bill stubs into the machine, she was struck by how the world kept on changing, as it always had, quickly, indifferently, and with no regard for her.

By the time she got home, her body was trembling and feverish. But she had succeeded at something. She had thought if she so much as set foot outside, she would run into someone intent on tracking her down. That people would be lying in wait around every corner to accost her. It was not the case. It had happened to her long ago, but not anymore. There was no one hiding behind a utility pole, keeping a lookout on the alley. There were no threatening letters in her mailbox. No one had graffitied curses on the wall.

There was one person who stared. It scared her at first, but when she gave it a little thought, she realized it was probably because of the large surgical mask covering her face and the knit cap she was wearing out of season. Most everyone else walked right by without a second glance, not even at the cap. The whole time she had stayed locked up at home, she had imagined the outside world as a place that could swallow her whole at any moment. But in truth, it was a place that paid her no attention at all.

From that first outing, her father had learned the trick to getting Se-oh out of the house was for him to be bedridden, and so afterward he was frequently unwell. The less well he was, the better he was able to get her out.

It had also taught Se-oh that no one was going to recognize her and come charging after her. That said, it wasn’t enough to convince herself the world was safe. She had just gotten lucky. She agreed to the next errand in order to test her luck again. This time, it was to a large grocery store. She kept her head bowed so low that she attracted the attention of an employee. Each time Se-oh bent down to look for something, the employee bent down too, and followed Se-oh as she moved along the rows. But that was as far as it went. No one tried to hunt her down or attack her.

By gradually venturing outside the house, taking her time as she went, Se-oh learned that while the world contained everything she was afraid of, it was not all going to come rushing at her at once. This was a little bit depressing. Not only was the world indifferent, she also had to wonder if the people whom she’d assumed were suffering because of her had in fact forgotten all about her. But that was impossible. They couldn’t have forgotten her any more than Se-oh could have forgotten those she was connected to. That they had not yet appeared was not due to the kindness of coincidence but because they were still in hiding.

Before leaving the house, she counted the people she dared not run across. On some days, she counted more than thirty, but there were also days when she thought of only ten. But that was still more than the people she had to see or wanted to see. That gap never shrank.

The day of the accident, her father had sent her to a department store near the bus terminal.

“If you leave at two thirty, the timing will be perfect.”

Unlike for her other errands, her father had set an exact time for her to leave, but Se-oh didn’t ask why. If she had, would her father have finally told her what was really going on and asked her advice? Had he ever felt hurt by the fact that Se-oh was so unresponsive, never arguing with him or questioning anything?

“Be safe out there.”

Her father said that to her as she was leaving. She glanced back at him. He was standing outside the front door, watching her go. When she reached the end of the alley and glanced back again, her father was still standing there. Se-oh petted the yellow dog and walked out of the alley.

When she’d arrived at the department store counter with the claim check her father had given her, the sales clerk greeted her and brought out an item wrapped in plastic.

“Why don’t you try it on?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father put so much care into picking this out for you.”

She’d stared at the sales clerk, wondering if she’d heard her correctly. The clerk offered her the item again.

Clothing. That her father had picked out. Just for her. He had walked around a fancy department store and selected this item of clothing for her. For her birthday. He had never given her a gift of clothing before.

Se-oh slowly unpacked her father’s actions step by step. It helped to reduce her wonder and awe and doubt. But progressing to the final step didn’t come naturally. Doubt continued to linger. Questions like, why on earth did he do that?

It was a purple trench coat. The neckline was round, and the hem narrowed at the bottom like a vase. The pocket was embroidered with two cherries and a green leaf. It was girly. It was not pretty. It looked more like a tablecloth than clothing.

“Try it on. We should probably check the size,” the sales clerk said. She seemed to sense that Se-oh didn’t care for the coat.

Se-oh stood in front of the mirror. Just as something could be girly and still be ugly, it could also be ugly yet still look good on her. She took off her long, blue padded coat and put on the purple trench coat. There in the mirror was Se-oh Yun wearing the very first item of clothing purchased for her by her father.

He had never given her anything he had picked out himself. He might have given her some little things when she was young, but after she’d grown up, all he gave her was spending money. And after she shut herself up at home, there was no need for that either. Did he think that the daughter who never left the house would want to go out if she had something new to wear?

Her father knew Se-oh didn’t have anything appropriate for the weather. He also knew that trench coats were the latest trend. But he did not know that he knew next to nothing about his own daughter.

“Shall I bring you a different size?” the clerk asked Se-oh’s reflection in the mirror. The sleeves were squeezing her forearms, and the shoulder seams were hiked up close to her neck. The clerk brought out a bigger size and helped Se-oh try it on. Se-oh’s father was always nagging her to eat more. Too skinny. Nothing but bones. He’d probably said the same thing to the clerk. She picks at her food. She’s so skinny.

“This size is perfect. Or I could show you some pants?”

Se-oh took that to mean that while the coat fit, the clerk thought the style didn’t suit her at all. She shook her head.

In the mirror stood a short woman dressed in a purple trench coat. The edges of the T-shirt that stuck out of the coat were frayed. Her unmade-up face looked dry.

The coat didn’t suit her, but there was one thing she’d liked. The thickness of the fabric. It had seemed just right for the weather. Though it was still cold out, the wind was no longer biting, and so she’d thought she could get away with wearing something that thin and brightly colored. But more than anything, it was the first article of clothing her father had ever picked out for her. Of course, she didn’t know at the time that it would also be the last.