FOOL Ch 5

The me who had spent sixteen years with my family had been spending the last seventeen alone. My maternal uncle and aunt would be sad to hear this, but if we’re talking about real family, this is the reality. Even now, my uncle mourns the loss of his younger sister, niece, and brother-in-law. I’m glad to have a relative who can cry on my behalf.

Thinking about my mom led me to wonder how Woonu was doing. I’ve never waited, so I’ve never been disappointed. All I did was scoff, wondering, what’s so special about a human promise anyway?

To be completely honest, though, I was happy to see Woonu, who nearly bumped his nose against the gate I had just opened. No, should I say I felt reassured instead? Regardless of what emotion it was, it was no longer important now that he was here. All that mattered was the fact that it was a positive emotion.

“Hello, Doctor.”

The hand that was covering his nose shifted away from his face. The blue bruise beneath his eye ignited my anger.

“You got hit again?”

His gaze flickered upward before shifting to the side. If not for the angry look on my face, he likely would have launched into a tirade about a “hyung this” and a “hyung that,” blaming himself for getting hit, just like he did last time.

Instead of answering, Woonu suddenly thrust the bag he had been carrying at his side towards me. And he wore a bright smile. Bright enough to dazzle my eyes and make my chest tingle. Like a sunflower in full bloom. So bright, I almost found myself smiling along with him in the confusion of the moment.

“I bought it at an expensive donas place instead of the market. The donas there are as classy and pretty as you, Doctor. They package them in boxes instead of paper bags. Even their boxes look cool.”

“The word classy isn’t commonly used for things you eat. For literary expressions, maybe.”

“What would an ignorant person like me know? I can’t even read or write.”

“You do realize how incredibly unrealistic you are, right?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I’m unrealistic?”

I didn’t want to believe it. The fact that there were still illiterate people in this day and age. The fact that such a normal—no, such a young and handsome man like him—couldn’t read or write. The way he was strutting around, an easy target for all to beat, despite not being particularly small in stature or build, and the way he labelled himself as witless, even though he wasn’t really. If I had known from the very start that those words of fault—that he was ignorant, incapable of reading or writing—were ingrained in him by someone else and had become a habit of speech for him, I would have never scolded him in such a way.

“Why did you get hit? Because you have no sense? You said you have good work sense, so why did you get beat for having none?”

“I didn’t get hit for lacking sense.”

His eyes shifted up and down, hidden behind his eyelashes. He dropped his head down, and I bore witness to yet another heavy moment. I knew that asking anything, even just one more question, would only make things heavier, but once again, I chose a suddenness behind which I didn’t know the reason.

“So, what you’re saying is that this wasn’t a one-sided beating, but that you fought back?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I never used to do that. I didn’t want to.”

“I don’t know what exactly went down, but you should have said you didn’t want to.”

“I did, but they wouldn’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t stop what? Were they poking fun at you?”

Woonu, who had been sketching a blank picture on the ground with his feet, lifted his head and wore that strange expression again. It was an expression I couldn’t fathom at all. From the very beginning, the world Woonu lived in existed in an entirely different dimension from mine. A bag was shaken right before my eyes, and his unexpected words struck me.

“I really missed you, Doctor. I might not be able to see you again, so I came to say goodbye.”

I stumbled, as if I had never heard such violent words before. It felt like I had been struck by those words. Which of his words was more shocking? Even now, I still can’t figure out whether it was him admitting he missed me a lot or him saying we wouldn’t meet again. I felt a stab in the pit of my stomach. Even though Woonu was still a stranger to me, someone I had only encountered a few times.

Caught up in an inexplicable hastiness, I found myself displaying yet another show of unexpected initiative. I grabbed Woonu’s arm and dragged him towards my parked car. Opening the car door, I attempted to sit him inside, but he resisted. I had to press down on his head with my palm to make him bend down. Yet he continued to resist, so I grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands. Feeling the rigidness of his shoulder bones beneath my palms, so wide yet so thin, easily fueled my anger.

“Hurry and get in.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Are you scared I’ll sell you to a deserted island or something? Just get in.”

It felt as though every little action of his was projected through a glass bead. His entire being was screaming that he had never been in such a nice car before. A sigh, almost like a lament, escaped me as I watched the way he busily shifted his head and eyes, looking almost frantic even, and the way he kept his foot on tiptoe, as if he were afraid of dirtying the car. He gripped the donut bag tightly with both hands, keeping it on his thighs.

“Just sit comfortably.”

“Okay,” came his answer, but his posture remained unchanged. When I stopped at the signal, I extended an arm and placed it on his chest, pushing him back.

“Lean back a little.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to listen to music? Are you into K-pop?”

“I don’t really listen to music. Doctor, you seem like the type of person to listen to fancy stuff like classical or English songs.”

The reason I got angry with this young man, who was pure to the point of stupidity, viewing me as this sort of knowledgeable, kind, sophisticated, and classy person, was due to my resentment towards the world he belonged to.

“I don’t like K-pop, but that doesn’t mean I hate it or find it unbearable, either. Not all English songs are fancy, and as for the standard of fanciness—ha, never mind. It’s not like you’d understand anyway.”

“I just wanted to say you’re amazing, Doctor.”

“Amazing? Would you still call me amazing even if you knew the type of person I truly am? I thought you’d know how to speak, even if you don’t know how to read or write, but shouldn’t you know the definition of the words you’re using before using them? You can’t even get your definitions right, yet you believe that attaching sophistication to fanciness definitively makes something amazing?”

“……”

Yeah. The reason for my intensifying emotions wasn’t solely due to pity for Woonu; it was also due to his goodness and purity, which coloured my emotions, faded like watercolour, into something as vivid as an oil painting.

I wanted to say mean and base things to someone. Someone I could have ease speaking harshly to, much like I had done with my mom. There aren’t many people in this world who can do that. I even thought that perhaps that was how that group of people, whom Woonu called his hyungs, viewed him and perhaps why they treated him with such recklessness.

I was disciplined by my father that showing what I felt to others would be seen as rude. It seems that, after having been told such a thing for sixteen years and not hearing it for another seventeen, such a mindset had already left my body. Even if I couldn’t treat him kindly, I should’ve at least shown him basic courtesy as one human being to another. I was sorry. Sorry for being so reckless with his kindness.

But what transcended that sorry of mine, what choked me, was the sight of Woonu maintaining a composed expression, even though he should’ve looked rightfully hurt. I felt saddened by his side profile, looking as if the words he had just been told were the hooting of a passing car or the mundane noise of his surroundings, even though he had such a variety of expressions. How long and by how many had he been treated in such a way? Holding out against all those times—times he shouldn’t have been familiar with—he must’ve eventually grown numb to it all.

The corners of my eyes began to burn. It felt like there was a fireball in my chest, like I was about to be driven insane. I hurriedly opened the glove compartment, took out a pair of sunglasses, and put them on. My throat felt constricted, forcing me to swallow several times.

“Uh, my personality’s a bit… yeah. It’s not awful, but it’s pretty bad. Sorry for not being able to rein in my temper and speaking so harshly.”

Woonu turned his head. As I was driving, I could only spare him a quick glance. Only then did his eyes widen, as if he had just felt the delayed sting of hurt, and his thick eyelashes turned wet.

I was unable to turn my head in his direction until we reached our destination. All we did was simply breathe in and out of the same air, our words eluding us.

I stopped the car in front of a building. Inside, a classmate of mine from middle school waved at me. I raised my hand and displayed my palm to him before looking over to Woonu. My sorry feelings doubled in size after seeing that he was still seated in the same position as when he had first entered the car.

“Get out. I’ll be back after I park, so go inside.”

“Why are we here?”

“Just go inside for now.”

About ten years ago, when I dropped my phone in water and went to the store to buy a new one, I ended up running into him—an old classmate from middle school. I didn’t remember him. He expressed momentary happiness upon seeing me and didn’t seem to mind that I never looked him in the eyes. From then on, whenever I needed a new device, I would stop by the store, and he would always be there.

Not once did I remember his name. In fact, I don’t think I ever bothered to ask for it either. To me, he was simply ‘Glasses’—an employee of the store who, at some point, had risen to become the boss, and someone who wasn’t put off by the fact that I never looked him in the eye, nor the fact that I had very little to say. When he showed me the latest devices, skipping the small talk, I could make my selection without much worry. After a few repeats, he seemed to remember that I only chose black, so that was pretty convenient for me too.

Every time I changed my device, his gaudy glasses changed as well. That was the only thing I remembered. I wished for all the relationships in my life—the ones I had no choice but to encounter, even if I didn’t want to—to be similar to the one shared between Glasses and me. In retrospect, the convenience I enjoyed was born of his consideration. All I ever did was be on the receiving end of that consideration. Indifference is a convenient name for shamelessness.

I parked the car in the parking lot before heading for the store. Glasses, as sociable as ever, was making conversation with Woonu, who stood in the corner, his posture awkward and looking anxious.

“You’re here?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty quick, you just changed your phone last year. Did it break? That’d be covered by your repair insurance, though.”

“It’s not for me. Put it under my name. We’ll talk about the model, wire service, and calling plan between us.”

Woonu looked at me, rapidly blinking his eyes. As someone who was already being viewed as kind, classy, and sophisticated in his eyes, it felt burdensome to take on the role of an even more amazing being who was even going as far as buying him a phone now. But why had I stepped up and taken that burden upon myself? I didn’t want to accept his goodbye. I just needed to maintain a connection with him, no matter how. Even my thoughts were lackadaisical, thinking that it would suffice if he just contacted me once or twice a month.

“Doctor, I’m really grateful, but I can’t accept this.”

“Why not? What did I tell you last time? When someone offers you something, you must accept it—”

“Even if you give me one, I won’t be able to keep it.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to keep it?”

Woonu’s face changed. Into an expression I couldn’t decipher the meaning behind.

“Just because.”

At that moment, I knew. Woonu’s frank way of speaking wasn’t because he was stupid, but because he was, in his own way, trying to hide some kind of truth.

“Empty out your pockets, right now.”

“What?”

“Take everything out and put it on the table here.”

He began emptying his pockets, one item at a time, and as before, they seemed endless. Gum, coins, pocket tissues, two fifty-thousand-won bills, several ten-thousand-won bills, a guitar pick, and a subway locker key. As if he wanted to use those to fill his empty life, even if it was for the smallest reason. So that those trifling items could become a reason for him to live.

“What about your wallet?”

“…It’s gone.”

“How?”

He forced a smile, the corners of his lips trembling. I recognized that expression.

“Did the guy who made your face like that steal it?”

“No.”

“Then, some other dude?”

He seemed to think that, as long as he answered no, I would just assume that he lost it and stop asking questions. The light colour of his eyes made it especially evident how they trembled. Just by looking into his eyes, I already got the answer I wanted, so I was about to press on with further questions.

“Welcome.”

Three customers entered the store all at once. I slightly tugged on the end of Woonu’s sleeve and pulled him closer to me. Communication was higher on my list of priorities than forcibly buying him a phone. I mentioned that I’d be back and dragged Woonu out of the store. The little rascal seemed thrown off by the fact that his belongings were still on the table. My old classmate motioned and smiled for us to leave them there and come back for them later.