ACJY C19

Around 3 a.m., when Taeheun finally fell asleep, he woke up to find no one there. He’d drifted off for a short while after tossing and turning, and during that time, the two had left. Even though he heard them leaving, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He continued to lie there. Strangely, here, even if only for a short time, he fell asleep soundly and didn’t dream. He even liked the cheap detergent smell of the pillow and blanket. 

Sniff, sniff, he sniffed like a dog and laughed.

He stretched and yawned, relieved himself, and then shuffled out to the living room. The sun, filtering through the opaque sliding door, brightly lit the room. It was only a little past 9 a.m., but the house was already stuffy. It seemed like it would be another hot day.

He was thirsty. Opening the refrigerator to get some water, the first things he saw were two large kimchi containers labeled “young radish kimchi” and “Korean radish kimchi” in marker.

Did the man know? Did he know that Taeheun had suffered through a fever because of noodles made with this very kimchi?

“Mr. Gibeom, I almost died craving this,” he said aloud, as if the man were standing right in front of him. He imagined the man blinking his large eyes, thinking, What a crazy guy.

Strangely, the noodles he had craved so much weren’t on his mind since arriving at this house. Had he not been longing for the noodles after all? Had it just been a hallucination born from his desperation to escape that place? He tilted his head.

Right above the kimchi, stacked in layers, were smaller containers of various side dishes, led by doenjang and gochujang. There were a plethora of eggs, and leftover ham and sausages were tied up in their original packaging. In the vegetable compartment, peppers, lettuce, and what appeared to be leftover cabbage and zucchini were haphazardly stored, wrapped in plastic wrap.

In the door compartment for drinks, two 2-liter bottles labeled “barley tea” and one labeled “sweet rice drink” stood side by side. Below them were smaller bottles of sujeonggwa, plum extract, mirin, soju, soy sauce, ketchup, and other unidentifiable sauces.

Taeheun, holding the barley tea bottle, looked for a cup. He found one upside down on the kitchen table, and couldn’t help but smile at the three words written on the bottom in marker: “Kim Taeheun”.

“When did he even write this?”

The cup, clearly a free gift, looked newer than the other two. He’d set out the best one he had, treating him like a guest.

He poured himself some barley tea and surveyed the kitchen. For a man living alone, the sink was tidy. It was possible he had cleaned up in a hurry because of him, but judging by the lack of everyday grime, it seemed he usually kept things clean.

Setting down the cup, he casually opened the upper and lower kitchen cabinets one by one. There were exactly three pots of varying sizes, and the only frying pan was the one on the stove. There were quite a few dishes, suggesting he had other guests besides Kwon Yongjun. Among them, he could easily distinguish the ones used by the man and the child.

“Cute.” 

Taeheun smiled, holding a Mickey Mouse bowl. It seemed the child had been very fond of Mickey Mouse at one point, as the rice bowl, soup bowl, chopsticks, and spoon were all Mickey Mouse themed. The faces were worn off from long use, but he could tell that the one wearing a skirt was Minnie Mouse.

Out of the child’s reach were Samyang ramen and Chapagetti, and within their reach were cans of tuna and canned peaches, neatly arranged. One cupboard was full of noodle packets, suggesting they ate noodles often. That was it. The household goods were modest, bordering on meager.

He put the barley tea back in the refrigerator and sat at the table. He then noticed a note. The man’s handwriting was large and square, like a child’s.

We usually have soy sauce fried rice for breakfast. Your bowl is on the drying rack. Rice is in the rice cooker.

Taeheun turned to look at the dish rack next to the sink. As the man had said, a rice bowl, soup bowl, and a pair of chopsticks were placed there. These also seemed to be the newest among the man’s dishes.

“He could have given me the Mickey Mouse one,” he muttered to himself, getting up from the table.

The tiny living room held only a low cabinet, on which sat a red cordless phone. A lace doily underneath it, similar to one his mother had used, was yellowed with age.

He absentmindedly picked up the cordless phone, then put it back down and picked up the desk calendar next to it. The calendar, from the local agricultural cooperative, was filled with notes. The man’s schedule. The man was very busy until the end of July. From June to July, it was filled with the names of fruits, suggesting many fruit farms in the area. Melons, peaches, watermelons, and grapes were interspersed with work in someone’s rice paddies and fields. Today’s schedule was harvesting melons in a greenhouse.

“Are melons in season already?” 

Taeheun, not particularly fond of fruit, flipped through the calendar and put it back down.

Around this time, he would usually receive a check-in call. It felt strange that the phone wasn’t ringing. He laughed, thinking he must have been brainwashed in just 16 days.

Bored, Taeheun decided to visit the house uphill. He opened the sliding door to go out to the porch. The unleashed dogs, wagging their tails at the sound of him, stopped when they saw him. Taeheun also froze. The dogs started to growl.

“Ugh, you pups. Don’t bark. I’m going back in.”

He closed the door.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of the dogs. He just didn’t want to hear them barking excitedly. Well, that’s the same thing, isn’t it? Scratching his eyebrows, he decided to wash up first.

After a quick shower, he changed into a pair of thin cotton pants and a summer shirt, carefully styling his hair. He then grabbed his car keys and wallet. As soon as he stepped onto the porch, he made eye contact with the dogs again. They barked. The smaller one ran up and scratched at the porch, hopping up and down as if preparing to jump up. If it had been the yellow one, it could have easily jumped that height, so he went back inside without looking back.

“Damn it.”

Taeheun rummaged through the living room cabinet and found a diary with phone numbers. It was so worn that the cover was cracked like snakeskin, practically falling apart.

“Today is melon Jo…”

The man had written in the diary just as he had on the calendar. Unlike the calendar, the notebook had full names written, and before each name, he’d noted the main crop they cultivated: melon, pear, watermelon, and so on. Even among the Jos, some grew melons, some rice, and some both. There were so many Jos he wondered if it was a Jo clan village.

Anyway, he dialed Melon Jo’s number.

“What am I doing this early in the morning?” he grumbled, waiting for the other person to answer.

After a long while, a voice said, “Hello.” The old man’s voice was raspy, as if he had just woken up.

“Hello. This is Yoon Gibeom’s house. Is Mr. Gibeom there by any chance?”

― Gi who?

“Mr. Gibeom, or Jihye’s father. Yoon. Ji. Hye. I heard there’s melon harvesting at the greenhouse today.”

― Ah, Jihye’s dad. Yes, he’s probably working now. But who is this?

The old man asked worriedly, even though he didn’t know who was calling.

“Ah, I’m a close friend of Jihye’s father. I’m sorry, but if he’s nearby, could you put him on the phone?”

― Why, is something wrong with Jihye?

“No, nothing like that. I just have something to tell him.”

― Oh, I see. Then call the greenhouse. I’ll give you the number.

He then recited the greenhouse number.

As Taeheun was about to add the number to the man’s diary, he noticed another number written in small letters below Melon Jo’s entry. It was written tiny, but it was the same number he was just given. He’d expected the man to be careless, but he was surprisingly meticulous.

Taeheun chuckled and called the greenhouse. The man answered, panting, as if he’d run to the phone.

“Mr. Gibeom, I’m trapped inside because of the dogs. What should I do?” 

He pretended to be scared, even though he could have gone out if he really wanted to. The man paused to catch his breath. 

After a while, he replied, “Our dogs don’t bite.”

“Well, that’s what you think. Those pups were practically trying to jump onto the porch.”

― They don’t bite…

“I’m scared!” Taeheun shouted. The man went silent again. He could hear a loud trot medley playing over the phone. After a moment, the man spoke.

― Wait three hours. I’ll come home after work and lunch.

It was absurd. He should have said he’d come right away after work, even if he couldn’t leave at that moment. But the man confidently declared he would have lunch first.

“I have to wait three hours?”

― I can’t leave in the middle of work. We’re short-handed.

“Then skip lunch and come. We can eat together.”

The man didn’t answer again. The silence stretched.

“I said, let’s have lunch together. Can’t you do that much for a guest?” Taeheun insisted.

― …Okay.

The reply, which came after a long pause, was very brief. The call ended without any perfunctory goodbye or see you later. Taeheun stared at the phone and laughed in disbelief.