ACJY C28
by soapa“Should I set the table on the porch?”
“Yes.”
The man still didn’t turn around.
Taeheun picked up the round aluminum table that was leaning against the living room cabinet. He opened the screen door, set up the table, and placed the bag of chicken on top. The dogs, thinking he was their owner, approached, then backed away. Unlike in the morning, they were wary, baring their teeth and growling low in a menacing manner. The saying about dogs biting at night seemed to be true.
Just then, the man came out with a plate of spicy whelk noodles. The dogs excitedly jumped onto the porch. The man bent down, petting the smaller dog first, then stroking the larger one. Taeheun felt treated worse than a dog.
Dejected, Taeheun brought out the beer he’d put in the freezer. It wasn’t as cold as he’d like, but it was cold enough. He opened a can and offered it to the man. The man took it without a word and waited for Taeheun to open his own before taking a drink, no cheers exchanged.
Then why wait? Honestly.
The man frowned. Taeheun, mirroring his expression, let out a satisfied “Ahh.” The beer was refreshing, with a sweet and bitter flavor that filled his mouth as the carbonation fizzed. It went down smoothly. The man stared into space, silently sipping his beer. Taeheun tried to catch his eye, but the man avoided his gaze.
Unable to stand it any longer, Taeheun spoke.
“Was my question that offensive? I really don’t understand.”
He continued, his expression serious.
“Mr. Gibeom, you weren’t born a father. You can go out and have fun when your child isn’t around. What was so wrong with my question? Tell me. Please?”
The man remained stubbornly silent. Finally, after a long while, he spoke.
“You have a child, too, don’t you, Mr. Taeheun?”
“Who, me?”
What was he talking about? He raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself.
“Who told you that?”
“The grandma at the supermarket.”
“Ah, that.”
So, the gossip had already reached him.
“That grandma… I only said that because she offered to set me up with someone out of the blue. I’m single. I don’t have any kids.”
The man glared at Taeheun. It was a look he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t particularly frightening.
“Then I don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what?”
Taeheun was exasperated.
“Haven’t you ever thought it was strange, Mr. Gibeom? Are you the only one in this village with a child? The only widower? Honestly, you could charm every woman in this village, and no one would say a word. Why? Because you’re a widower. Am I wrong?”
Somehow, Taeheun had become the one doing the persuading.
“You’re young. And Jihye’s not here, so it’s only natural to go out and have fun.”
“I don’t go to those kinds of places. Why pay for it?”
“No one’s saying you should solicit prostitutes! You’re twisting my words.”
He’d meant it that way, but feeling guilty, he raised his voice.
Looking at the tight-lipped man, Taeheun spoke in a conciliatory tone.
“I know we haven’t known each other for long. But it would be nice to be friendly, as we’re around the same age. I was indirectly suggesting that you take me along if you know any good places, but is that something to get so angry about? Look at this awful atmosphere. Do you think I’d dare ask you anything if I were scared of you?”
The stubborn look on the man’s face softened slightly. Taeheun waited for an apology or an acknowledgement, but the man remained silent, simply crushing his beer can.
“Oh, whatever. Let’s eat some chicken instead of sulking.”
Taeheun picked up a drumstick and offered it to the man. The man accepted it without hesitation.
Although awkward, the atmosphere wasn’t as stiff as before. Both Taeheun and the man picked up their chopsticks, eating the spicy whelk noodles and chicken. They quickly finished the six-pack of beer.
“I’ll get more beer.”
Taeheun stood up.
Twelve empty beer cans and three empty soju bottles were scattered on the porch. It was only a little past 10 PM. The man, who had already had makgeolli, could barely hold himself upright. As for Taeheun, apart from feeling full, he was pleasantly tipsy.
Drunk, the man’s voice was louder, and he laughed frequently, a wide, beaming smile that sometimes erupted into a full-blown laugh. Under the dim incandescent light, his eyelashes seemed quite long, casting long shadows over his eyes as he blinked sleepily.
The man was more talkative than usual, but all he talked about was his child, recounting every bit of mischief she’d caused from infancy to the present, reminiscing as if boasting.
How did the child become his entire world? Was that even possible? Taeheun couldn’t understand.
“Mr. Taeheun, your hands are… unexpected.”
The man said, grinning.
“Ah, I hear that a lot. My face makes me look like a pampered prince.”
Taeheun pulled the man’s hand closer and placed his own next to it. The man’s hands, calloused from farm work, were large and rough. Next to them, Taeheun’s paler hands, though whiter, were just as large and coarse.
The only part of him that resembled his mother. His hands had been large and ugly since childhood. Yet, he never said they resembled his mother’s. He had, but his mother had denied it, and the memory stung.
“I’m a judo practitioner, you know.”
“Judo?”
The man’s eyes widened. Everyone reacted this way when Taeheun mentioned judo. Some even scoffed, asking how someone like him could do judo. The man’s gaze shifted to his ears.
“Not everyone who does judo gets cauliflower ear. Although, I did learn as an adult.”
The man still looked skeptical.
“Knew you’d say that. It’s a long story, but I have time, so I’ll tell you.”
Taeheun poured himself a glass of sake the man had brought out and downed it in one gulp.
“When I was twenty, the first thing I learned with my first official paycheck was judo. I did taekwondo briefly, too. Did I mention how dirt poor my family was? We were so poor we sometimes went without food, but my mother still sent my older brother to taekwondo school. I was so envious of his uniform as a kid. Damn it.”
The man blinked his large eyes, listening intently. His expressive face showed no pity or sympathy. Taeheun liked that, and the words poured out of him.
“Anyway, when I turned eleven, they finally sent me to taekwondo, too. They even bought me the best uniform. I went for about a year? Then my mother started scolding me for being so competitive with my brother. She asked why I was so obsessed with being better than him. It wasn’t my fault he wasn’t athletic. After that, I stopped doing sports. I just studied. She couldn’t complain about me being better at studying than him. That’s how our family made a living.”
The man openly scanned Taeheun’s body.
“Why? Are you curious how a bookworm like me got these amazing muscles?”
Taeheun flexed his biceps and grinned. The man smiled back.
“It was around ’89 or ’90. There were a lot of big guys at the company I worked for. Well, there still are. Anyway, those guys would always smirk and tease me. Especially the ones who bragged about doing judo. Those bastards. It was a joke to them, but not to me. I put up with it for almost a year. Then I got stubborn. I decided I would learn whatever sport they bragged about and give them a taste of their own medicine. So I went looking for a dojo.”
It wasn’t a time when there were hobby classes for adults like now. Most were academies for children, with high school students being the oldest.
Wanting to learn from the best, he used all of his uncle’s connections to find a teacher. His uncle, rather than questioning his sudden desire to learn martial arts, found it amusing. He probably thought,
‘Someone like you?’
Little did he know Taeheun would become a threat to his own son.
The teacher was a skilled instructor who had trained several well-known judo medalists. He scoffed at the sight of the tall, skinny, and pretty Taeheun. He looked like the furthest thing from an athlete. Assuming he would quit soon, the teacher started teaching him half-heartedly. But he soon realized that Taeheun was more athletic than most athletes. From then on, it was smooth sailing. He learned quickly, grasping ten things when taught only two. Even the teacher, who was stingy with praise, couldn’t help but commend him.
He was thrilled. He loved being praised, so even after staying up all night, he would drag himself to the dojo. The thrill of throwing someone twice his size, the pride of being able to subdue an opponent without using fists. His usually dull eyes sparkled at the dojo.
“Even huge guys wouldn’t dare mess with me. It felt amazing. I was so good that my teacher suggested I try out for the national team. He said if I were only a few years younger, I would have been a shoo-in for the national team, that I would have definitely won a gold medal. He praised me so much.”
He’d also gotten his sweet revenge on the bullies who had tormented him. Although it wasn’t as dramatic as he’d imagined.
“Later, I found out those bastards weren’t judo practitioners but wrestlers. No wonder they were so hard to throw. Funny, right?”
Taeheun chuckled to himself, imagining himself in tight wrestling gear instead of a judo uniform.
There was no response. The man was dozing against the door.
“Are you sleeping?”
Judging by his loud breathing, he seemed to be deeply asleep.
“What, am I talking to myself again?”
He looked at the sleeping man.
He looked so innocent. So much so that Taeheun felt bad leaving him leaning against the door like that.
“Mr. Gibeom, you met the right person. I’m only moving you because it’s me.”
Muttering to the sleeping man, Taeheun opened the screen door, sat in front of him, and put his arms under the man’s armpits. His limp body was heavy. Having no other choice, he laid the man down on the threshold, went inside, and hugged him from behind. He dragged him into the bedroom.
“If I weren’t drunk, I would have carried you, Mr. Gibeom. It’s been a few years since I quit training, but I can still easily lift 150 kilos. I could do it now, but it’s too hot.”
He babbled on.
He laid the man down on the bamboo mat and covered him with the folded summer blanket. He slept soundly, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
“Oh, whatever.”
Taeheun lay down next to him. A gentle breeze blew in through the open window. He turned his head to look at the man’s profile. Even his side profile looked innocent.