The equipment manager from the factory asked Seok Chun to play something on the guitar for them.
Seok Chun took out the guitar and sat in the corner of the room. He placed the guitar on his lap the way a girlfriend would sit on her boyfriend’s lap and began to strum the guitar with his stubby fingers. Although he stumbled around on the guitar, his emotions had gone to a far distant place, where the sound of the roaring rapids rushed down the river and peace reigned. At times, he played the wrong chords, but it was still an emotional performance.
Sun Hee looked annoyed at her husband. “Please stop,” she interjected. “Oldies are goodies, but inappropriate here. Besides, you can’t even play them properly—”
“What’s the matter with you?” scolded the equipment manager, who had been immersed in the music. Seok Chun was about to set the guitar down, but the equipment manager encouraged him to continue playing. “Ah, come on. Play one more.”
“Then give the guitar to this comrade,” said Sun Hee, turning to her colleague. “He’s a professional guitarist from our music department.”
The equipment manager looked at the young talent who had combed his hair back with mousse and wore a fashionable suit and tie. After regarding the young man with discontent, the equipment manager spoke calmly. “We will listen to your performance when you are onstage, all right, young man? Don’t take it the wrong way, all right?”
“You’re absolutely right, sir. At a time like this, the host should perform,” said the young talent with a nervous laugh, recognizing the precariousness of the situation.
The equipment manager nodded at Seok Chun and said, “Keep playing. This time, play the one that you played at your wedding. My goodness, what was the name of that song? It was such a good song. Ah! Sun Hee would know. Remember the song that Seok Chun sang for you?”
When Seok Chun remembered the song, his heart writhed in pain. Sun Hee started without Seok Chun’s accompaniment.
I love my fatherland where I was born and raised,
The mountains and the blue sky …
Seok Chun struggled to keep up with Sun Hee, but since she sang beautifully, her voice counterbalanced Seok Chun’s ineptitude. Unwittingly, each verse and each note of the song unlocked a blissful memory that had been locked away for so long, a memory that freed him from his present troubles with Sun Hee, a memory that allowed him to experience happiness once again. He was inebriated from the alcohol, the music, and his memories.
The guests swayed and clapped along with the music till their hands were red, and they even requested an encore. Sun Hee sang another song.
The second song also struck a chord with Seok Chun and took him further into the depths of his memory. He remembered their wedding night, when he sang this song for her, and they were standing next to each other with affection that seemed everlasting. She acted coy that night and blushed whenever another song was requested. She looked at the wedding guests and, most importantly, at Seok Chun with loving, tender eyes.
But tonight, the mood had changed since their wedding night. Sun Hee’s voice irritated Seok Chun, and his bitterness toward her resurfaced. Those fond memories were adrift in the vast schism between the couple’s separate lives.
Seok Chun could not contain himself any longer and suddenly stopped playing and set the guitar down. He stood up and glared at Sun Hee. It was a bitter stare. The guests held their breath, bewildered by Seok Chun’s impetuous gesture. Silence fell on the room, and what was only momentary felt like an eternity.
Seok Chun went over to the equipment manager and said loudly, “Would you care for seconds?” He spoke with vigor in order to conceal his embarrassment.
The equipment manager lowered his eyes and replied quietly, “No, I’m fine. I ate plenty.”
“Would anyone care for seconds?” yelled Seok Chun in one last desperate attempt to free himself from embarrassment.
The festive atmosphere quickly dissipated, and an uneasy feeling gripped the room. The wine and beer could not keep the guests inebriated any longer. When Seok Chun realized that he had ushered in the sober mood, he refrained from speaking any further. The guests stole glances at one another, anticipating the next appropriate move.
The equipment manager invited Ho Nam, who had been sitting in the corner eating crackers and witnessing the whole thing, to come and sit on his lap.
“Do you want me to give you something nice?” asked the equipment manager.
He pulled a shiny toy car made of stainless steel from his pocket. He had engraved Ho Nam’s name and birthdate on the license plate. The car also had real wheel bearings and a man in the driver’s seat. It was truly an elaborate toy car.
All eyes were fixed on the toy as the equipment manager wound up the car and released it on the living room floor. The toy car raced across the floor, making a lively chirping sound like crickets in a field.
Ho Nam, bursting with excitement, grabbed hold of the car. But the car had so much force and power that it escaped the boy’s grip and went in another direction. The guests learned that this was not simply a toy but a miniature prototype of new machinery that the factory was planning to produce in the future.
The laughter and wonderment of the adults revived the somber atmosphere.
The equipment manager was the best technician at the factory, and it was evident that he had put all his time and energy into making this toy. Seok Chun knew that the toy car was not simply another toy for Ho Nam to play with; it represented the old technician’s genuine desire for his family to be harmonious. This alone moved Seok Chun to tears.
While the other guests were still lounging around, the equipment manager got up and put on his red cap.
Sun Hee was surprised and asked, “Why don’t you stay a bit longer?”
“I’m sorry, but I should be going now,” said the equipment manager. “Mrs. Chae, take good care of Ho Nam. He is the future of our lathe factory. When he grows up, he will become an outstanding technician.”
The equipment manager went over to Ho Nam and reached out his calloused hand for a handshake. The child stuck out his right hand like an adult. The equipment manager shook the child’s small hand as if he were transferring his spirit and passion for working with steel to Ho Nam.
The others came out to bid him farewell. While they were standing in the front yard, the equipment manager put his hand on Seok Chun’s shoulders and whispered, “Hey, what happened back there? Huh?”
Seok Chun knew that this solemn question was a rebuke. The evening was dark, but the equipment manager clearly read Seok Chun’s face. He knew that the equipment manager worried for his family. Ashamed to look at him, Seok Chun lowered his eyes. After some time, the manager patted Seok Chun’s shoulders in a gesture of encouragement.
“Don’t be too distressed. It must be lovers’ quarrels. They’re soon forgotten. Besides, your wife was also once a lathe operator. Don’t let her forget that.”
Seok Chun walked the equipment manager out of the house, but he could not free himself from the agonizing torment of his distress.
It was true that his wife had been a lathe operator at one point. The night that the cuckoo sang its melody, silver fog covered the hillside with the rapids crashing along the riverbank. Although he stumbled around with the guitar, Sun Hee still gazed at him with loving and gentle eyes. But all that had vanished now, washed away by the tides of oblivion.
The other guests left, and Ho Nam fell fast asleep with the toy car cuddled in his arms.
Sun Hee stared out the window into the melancholy night and said quietly but sternly, “I don’t think we’re right for each other. We are not on the same rhythm.”
“I think you’re right. Rhythm. You’ve used the perfect analogy.”
“So, what do we do about it?” asked Sun Hee.
“You do whatever you want to do. You don’t have to ask for my opinion. I’m so busy with work, I don’t have time to argue with you anymore.”
Seok Chun went to the master bedro
om and closed the sliding door.
Their domestic problems soon leaked out to others, becoming fodder for gossip. Even though the community tried to help the couple with their marriage with collective advice, they could not heal the wound. The wound grew wider and deeper and festered more and more, leaving a horrible scar that determined once and for all that the relationship could not be repaired.
Seok Chun went to work in the morning earlier than he had before and returned later in the evening. Sometimes he slept at the factory. He buried his troubles in work.
“And that is how our marriage deteriorated. Comrade Judge, I’m not trying to make excuses for our marital problems. But I cannot bear to live with her anymore. You must divorce us. I really think that we’re not on the same rhythm anymore.”
“So, did you eventually complete your project?”
“Yes. Last month I presented it to the Provincial Science and Technology Fair.”
“So, you’ve succeeded,” cried Jeong Jin Wu in a celebratory way. “How many years did it take you to make it?”
“Five years or so.”
“It must’ve taken a toll on you. It’s not easy to invent a new machine.”
Jeong Jin Wu smoked a cigarette and sank deeper into his thoughts.
It seems like the usage of “not on the same rhythm” may have hit the nail on the head. Whose fault was it, then? After his invention, their problems with their marriage seem to have worsened. Since he succeeded in inventing a new machine, he should’ve been able to save face and win his wife’s approval. But is there something else that he isn’t telling me?
Ho Nam mumbled something in his sleep and then smiled, revealing his dimples.
Seok Chun leaned toward Ho Nam and wiped the perspiration off his feverish forehead.
“Wake him up. It looks like his fever has gone down. Besides, we need to eat dinner,” said Jeong Jin Wu as he got up to prepare dinner.
“You don’t have to do this. I will carry him home,” replied Seok Chun.
Seok Chun tried to get up, but Jeong Jin Wu pushed down on Seok Chun’s shoulders.
“My wife is away on a research trip, so I haven’t made anything fancy. It’s no problem.”
“I came to pick up my son and discuss my marital problems. How can I stay for dinner?”
Seok Chun got up, feeling ashamed.
“My house is not a courtroom. So please sit down and relax. Don’t get me upset, now.”
There was a faint knock at the front door. Jeong Jin Wu rushed over and opened the door. Sun Hee was standing there, fatigued and soaked from the rain. In one hand, she was holding a bag, and in the other was a flower-print umbrella with water dripping from it.
Sun Hee trembled, “Comrade Judge, is my son—”
She had been running from the kindergarten to her house, and then to her theater and back to her house in the rain. The thought of Ho Nam missing frightened her. When she had finally encountered the young woman in her neighborhood and found out that her son was at the judge’s house, she raced over to Jeong Jin Wu’s apartment.
“Why are you standing there like that? Come in,” invited Jeong Jin Wu.
When she realized that her son had really been at the judge’s house all along, she was relieved, and life returned to her face. She squeezed the ends of her drenched dress outside the door and followed the judge into his apartment.
“Comrade Seok Chun, look who’s here. She’s been wandering around in the rain looking for you and your son. The whole family is together now. Wait a second, I should prepare a better dinner for this joyous event.”
The judge tried to be humorous, but it did not seem to break the austere atmosphere in the room. Jeong Jin Wu took the apron down from the wall and wrapped it around himself.
Seok Chun, motionless and irresolute, did not know what to do or say. Sun Hee sat beside Ho Nam and began to change him into the dry clothes that she had brought with her in the bag.
She struggled to put his shirt on. Ho Nam’s head jostled inside the shirt, trying to find its way out. Then she struggled to pull his arms out through the sleeves. When Seok Chun squatted to hold the child, Sun Hee swatted his hands away with a ferocity reflective of the couple’s relationship.
When she finally managed to put the clothes on Ho Nam, he opened his haggard eyes. He glanced at his parents and then looked at Jeong Jin Wu. He remembered what had happened, and his eyes regained their luster.
As soon as Sun Hee grabbed Ho Nam and pulled him into her arms, Judge Jeong Jin Wu reprimanded her in the same way he had at his office.
“Comrade Sun Hee, let the child go. Take him home after he has eaten.”
She realized that the law supported her son’s welfare more than hers, and she cowered before the judge’s sharp words.
Jeong Jin Wu prepared dinner for the blameless child of the contentious couple.
Ho Nam looked to his parents for permission to eat, but they were motionless. He then looked at Jeong Jin Wu, the gray-haired man who had carried him to this place on his back and had shown his generous nature. That very man was kindly urging him to eat. Ho Nam began to devour his dinner like a child starved for food and affection. When he saw tears rolling down his mother’s face and his father’s misty eyes, he put his spoon down gently. “I’m full. Thank you for dinner, mister,” Ho Nam said.
“Thank you very much,” said Sun Hee to Jeong Jin Wu, as she rose from the floor.
Was it about her son, or something else? thought the judge.
Sun Hee went to her son, but Seok Chun grabbed him first.
Ho Nam appeared to be accustomed to this kind of behavior from his parents. He did not say anything and hopped on his father’s back.
The judge was not a relative or a friend, and it was out of the ordinary to invite the family over to his house and offer this kind of hospitality. The three left the judge’s apartment. Jeong Jin Wu went downstairs to the first floor to bid them farewell.
Ho Nam waved goodbye to Jeong Jin Wu. Seok Chun mumbled something to Ho Nam, but Jeong Jin Wu could not make out what he was saying because of the rain gushing down the apartment drainpipes.
The family faded into the dark, rainy void. Indistinctly, Jeong Jin Wu saw Sun Hee holding her umbrella over her son and her husband. It was most likely to prevent Ho Nam from getting wet again, but in any case, the family was walking together under one umbrella.
The rain continued to pour down. A cold gust of wind suddenly blew rain into Jeong Jin Wu’s face.
Jeong Jin Wu stared solemnly into the empty night. Seok Chun and his marital problems left a grim cloud behind. Jeong Jin Wu felt like the cold rain was afflicting his soul. Although the three were walking under one umbrella in the rain, they still got wet. Jeong Jin Wu could not ignore the haunting concern he had for the couple.
In the apartment building across the street, myriad lights shone through the windows. Jeong Jin Wu imagined that a husband, just returned home from work, was probably greeting his wife, and the children were probably throwing themselves at their father. A family should at the very least live like that, conversing with one another and sharing their emotions affectionately together like a peaceful stream flowing with no obstacles in its way.
The rain came down harder. The water from the drainpipes beat on the metal sheets, making a noise that hurt his ears.
The rain rolled down his face, dripped down his neck and into his shirt.
The weather was getting chillier as a cold front was coming in from China.
Jeong Jin Wu remembered his wife.
It must be hailing or snowing in the high altitudes of Yeonsudeok. The ground might have thawed out during the day, but it will freeze again by dawn. She took only a light sweater. She really didn’t have to go. The farmers there are more than capable of taking care of the vegetables.
Suddenly, Jeong Jin Wu felt the presence of another person. He turned around.
By the stairs, a woman with a thick old sweater lingered with an umbrella in her hand
. It was the wife of the coal miner who lived on the second floor. She was well into her forties but looked younger. She was a schoolteacher at the local middle school, and everyone in the apartment complex called her by her occupation.
She would always wait for her husband by the front gate of the apartment building at this time of the evening. She would wait to greet her husband, but there were plenty of times when her husband would enter the apartment building through the back gate without her knowing. Her husband enjoyed drinking. He would drink either at the local bar or at a friend’s house. When he would get drunk, he would not cause a ruckus or do anything else to disturb the neighbors. He would go to sleep quietly without saying a word. He truly loved his wife and never fought with her at home. They appeared to be happily married, but the wife worried about his addiction to alcohol, while he cared little for his deteriorating health.
The schoolteacher had many other things to worry about and mounds of work to do for the school. Updating and preparing for her lessons and proctoring students’ math diagnostic tests were some of her responsibilities along with being a homeroom teacher, modeling good behavior, grading, and disciplining the students. There were so many things that added to her daily duties as a teacher, but at the end of the day, she would treat her husband as tenderly as she did her students. No, she probably loved her students more than her husband. The schoolteacher was still as pure-hearted as she had been before she got married.
The schoolteacher spent her energy on her students, which did not allow her any time to experience the wonderment of falling in love. She never had a chance to receive the kind of love a child in a normal family would receive because her parents had been killed by the Americans during the Korean War. At a young age, she was deprived of the love of her parents and engulfed by the cruelty and terror of the world. She had no family, no relatives, no friends to whom she could turn. Solitude, fear, and melancholy were her only friends. She had been naked to the bitter wind of misfortune, but when she was brought to an orphanage, she was clothed with love and care. She learned that collectivity supersedes individual desire and ambition. The notion of “self,” or “my future,” or “my ambitions” did not exist in her life.
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