#96. The Only Heart (3)
Mother was a good person. One of the many reasons was that she always had a smiling face, even in memories that had worn away, unable to overcome time.
That fact made me happy and at the same time hurt me terribly. It was because the joy of meeting such a good person like fate and the sadness of being thrown before an unwanted farewell coexisted.
A long time had passed. Whether I liked it or not, I had to adapt to the separation, and I actually did.
As the years went by, thin layers formed around my heart, one by one. The thicker this curtain separating the living from the dead became, the more I gradually became okay.
It was fortunate. If the absence of my only family had pierced through every moment, it would have been unbearable.
‘So… it’ll be okay.’
It’s just that a briefly painful season has returned. After hurting a little, I’ll get better again. Even if I can’t be completely fine, I’ll still be able to cover it up and endure it. I believed so.
In the end, I couldn’t keep my promise with Na Jihan.
Actually, he probably didn’t really expect me not to cry. That was just meant to not suffer alone too much, and it meant to call on him and rely on him when things were hard and sad. That was his kindness.
I lay on the hotel bed without even turning off the lights, forcing myself to swallow the damp and cold silence. I waited for morning, repeatedly dozing off and waking up from light sleep.
Why did time, which usually flowed so well, flow so slowly today as if completely blocked? I unconsciously counted one face I wanted to see that clearly floated before my eyes and ended up chuckling. It was because I realized that upright and kind face was the answer.
Because there was someone I wanted to see. So my impatient heart had raced ahead of time.
Thinking that way, I felt I could endure even if the waiting was boring.
* * *
Mother slept in the ancestral burial ground that the family had used for generations. Befitting a family with considerable wealth, there was even a caretaker, so I was relieved that it was managed adequately without having to check every season.
If there was one very minor problem, it was that this place couldn’t be very kind to me, who wasn’t recognized as part of that bloodline.
“Shameless.”
A voice that wheezed like deflating air stabbed sharply at my back.
“Where does he get the nerve to show his face every year like clockwork…”
Harsh complaints were added about how lowly blood was hereditary and how he unnecessarily created trouble.
Instead of responding to the caretaker’s abuse, I carefully climbed the mountain path past the old house. Although the path was gently paved, it repeatedly froze and thawed clumsily, making it easy to slip if careless.
The shrine already had memorial preparations ready. When I quietly approached and took out what I had brought, the person lighting the candles said bluntly:
“You insist on coming again this year.”
I set down a bottle of brandy—the liquor mother had loved most while alive—to use instead of ceremonial alcohol and responded calmly:
“Have you been well, Chairman?”
Strictly speaking, I should call her aunt, but since she didn’t want that, I had never called her that. They were people who hated having their blood relation with me confirmed more than anything.
Though I didn’t hear a single warm greeting, I didn’t hate them. It might be more accurate to say I couldn’t hate them.
The reason was simple. That blunt profile resembled the person I had loved far too much.
“Seowoo came.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Someone standing a step away acknowledged me. He was the most favorable toward me among those gathered.
“I heard you debuted recently and there’s been news about you often. Nothing difficult while you’re active?”
I divided some food onto the disposable plate he offered. Fruit jelly, strawberries, and steamed rice cake with pumpkin—foods that came to mind when thinking of mother.
“It’s manageable.”
“I heard that once idols start activities, their schedules are incredibly busy.”
Ahem, after clearing his throat, my uncle glanced around at others and continued politely:
“I know a few people at the broadcasting station. So if you need help…”
“What help.”
An irritated voice cut off his words completely.
“What’s so important about that trivial entertainer activity? You never asked for it. Solve your own problems.”
The chairman, who had been staring at me with displeasure, opened and closed her mouth. She seemed to want to say more, but since this was the place it was, she apparently didn’t want to cause more commotion.
We could never grow close, but we still had one thing in common.
When I stepped back and quietly kept my place, people began conducting the memorial service in earnest.
Pouring alcohol, bowing, and reading the ritual text didn’t take even thirty minutes. It was because we had shared an unspoken agreement that if our hearts remained the same, we could skip some of the mere formalities.
We shared a drink and were about to gather our things and leave the shrine when the chairman called me to stop.
“Come at a different time next year.”
This was also something I heard every year. I didn’t bother to argue, but it was also something I only listened to without agreeing to.
Dawn was mother’s favorite time. I didn’t want to compromise on that time either. If they hated seeing me so much, the ones who hated it should be the ones to avoid it. I wasn’t that hateful.
I was about to go outside saying “stay healthy” as always.
“You’re becoming more and more like that bastard.”
I stopped with one foot on the stairs. Heat rushed to the back of my neck and ears, and my heart pounded.
The words that I resembled my father—this one insult was hard to get used to.
“If it weren’t for you two…”
When she was young, because mother had insisted on marriage despite fierce opposition, all the family members hated father. If they had lived well after eloping for love, at least they would have lived well, but the end wasn’t pretty either, and there was even a time when they eventually had to ask relatives for help, making it even worse.
The chairman and others believed that father, and I who inherited father’s blood, were mother’s misfortune. The kind of bad luck that not only threw her life into hardship but ultimately prevented her from dying a natural death.
“The saying about living according to how you look isn’t there for nothing.”
I clenched my fist tightly at those words, then released it.
I didn’t agree. I didn’t want to agree. No, I couldn’t agree.
I was different from father. I did resemble him, but only in appearance. Moreover, even if not as much as these family members, mother’s features were mixed in too.
Even if I didn’t resemble mother even the slightest bit, I didn’t want to live like father. I didn’t live that way either. I tried to be sincere my whole life because I hated losing to the saying that inherited blood couldn’t be helped.
Besides, if people lived according to how they looked…
‘Then you would have been at least a little kind to me, Chairman.’
You resemble mother.
My heart bubbling over made my throat sting. Even though I wanted to let it pass as a familiar annual occurrence, at times like this my heart just wouldn’t listen.
The reason these people’s hostility hurt so much might be because I unconsciously agreed with that mistreatment. Because I secretly sympathized with the words that mother’s death was because of me.
So maybe I foolishly keep my place every year not knowing whether what I want is recognition, forgiveness, or atonement. While stubbornly carrying this lukewarm guilt that doesn’t diminish no matter how much time passes.
Anyway, this much was enough for this year. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and slowly exhaled. It was to calm my churning stomach.
Even that didn’t completely settle my restless heart, so I took another deep breath, when a familiar cypress scent tickled my nose.
“Hello.”
Na Jihan, dressed in a black suit, approached me.
“We meet again this year.”
Na Jihan, who had greeted me curtly with a cool tone, extended his arm to me. The hand touching my shoulder, the body coming close like that, was familiar and reassuring.
“Did the memorial service go well? Did you bring everything properly?”
“Yeah.”
“Aunt would have been pleased.”
I wondered if he might have heard the earlier conversation. I hoped he hadn’t. Being scolded by adults was too unsightly.
Of course, Na Jihan knew all about my family circumstances, but even with someone I knew well, there was such a thing as pride I wanted to maintain.
But the moment I saw Na Jihan’s tightly clenched fist, I couldn’t help but sigh.
‘He heard everything.’
Since it’s someone else’s family business, he probably just endured it because he couldn’t interfere. I was sick of showing such disgraceful behavior every year in front of someone who grew up in a picture-perfect harmonious family.
I glanced at the chrysanthemum bouquet in Na Jihan’s other hand and moved away from him.
“Go say hello to mom. I’ll go down first.”
I quickly turned around before even hearing his answer. I even hurried my steps, ignoring the aching pain in my feet and knees.
If I didn’t, it seemed like he would catch me completely red-faced and teary-eyed. I really didn’t want to show such a sight to the person I liked.
A buzzing-like tinnitus filled my ears completely. I went down the mountain path while struggling to steady my increasingly blurry vision. The ground was so muddy that my feet sank deep with each step, but strangely, not a single raindrop fell on my body.
Before I could think carefully about why that was, I stopped abruptly in place, flustered.
“…Huh?”
The parking lot visible in the distance. In that place where morning sunlight was shining down, a familiar yet unfamiliar figure was wavering about.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
