The Korean Word For Butterfly

by James Zerndt

  “I didn’t sabotage”

  “I don’t mean you sabotaged me, Joe.”

  There was a 45-meter tower over the lake used for bungee jumping. Bungee jumping is a big thing here. Every time somebody went up, a huge crowd gathered. As we passed, a crowd was pointing up at a nervous teenage girl having second thoughts. Every now and then someone yelled something, and the crowd erupted with laughter. It was as if they all knew her.

  “What do you want to do Billie? We have to talk about it eventually.”

  “I swore to myself I’d never go through this. I don’t know what it’ll do to me if I do.”

  “I know,” he mumbled.

  I absently rubbed my arm, my dumb tattoo. A tree grows upwards from my elbow to my shoulder, and, in the middle of the trunk, a shrouded face peers out.

  The Virgin.

  It’s a long story. For another time maybe.

  Above us the girl jumped. She let out a loud shriek when the cord went taut and then another as it recoiled. She’d jumped head first, her head dipping into the water before the line sent her screaming back up again. When the line finally lost its energy, and she was left dangling there waiting for them to release her, it sounded like she was both laughing and crying at the same time.

  The crowd slowly interest, began to move on.

  I gave Joe’s arm a tug.

  “I feel nauseous. Can we go home now?”

  Moon

  It’s haircut day.

  It always makes Moon a little nervous, cutting and shaping his friend with the butterfly shears his grandfather left to him.

  “Good morning, Naeng. A little off the top today? Or would you prefer some bangs?”

  Moon does this often now. Talks to the bonsai.

  But the bonsai never talks back.

  Which is a good thing.

  “Would you like a beer while you wait? Oh, no, that’s right. You only drink water, don’t you. Me, too. Only water. And sometimes juice. But I don’t think you’d like juice.”

  Moon tries to keep the aesthetic simple. That way it’s easy to maintain. And, well, it’s fitting for a sober bonsai. The roots are getting bigger now, claiming the soil, the pot. A sturdy, fat tree. Just like his grandfather’s. Moon will have to get a bigger pot soon. Such a beautiful thing, the way it changes slowly over time. Most of the time he doesn’t even notice. That’s why he takes a photo every month or so. To keep track. Moon wonders if his wife has noticed the changes in him. It isn’t anything visible. Not to most anyway. But he likes to think she’s noticed something different about him.

  Still, there’s a long way left to go.

  “Keep drinking water, Naeng? Yes, I think that’s good advice. I’ll be sure to do that just as soon as I trim these nasty sideburns of yours.”

  Joe will be there soon.

  Another lesson.

  Moon hasn’t sung the song for him yet. Maybe today. Probably not though. He’s embarrassed. It’s a children’s song after all. Joe will laugh at him. Worse, he’ll be offended he turned his beautiful music into a kiddies’ song.

  Moon clips the leaves of the bonsai. Slowly, carefully, like he’s cutting the hair of a child. One of the branches is growing at a weird angle, so Moon twists a piece of copper around it, coaxes it back to where he wants it.

  “There,” Moon says, brushing the leaves into a pile. “You look ten years younger, Naeng. At least.”

  There’s a knock at the door and Moon grabs the recorder from the kitchen counter, sets it out on the coffee table. He’ll ask if it’s okay to record a few more songs today.

  “Annyeong,” Joe says when Moon opens the door. He looks tired again. Pensive. But then Joe always tends to look that way. Like he’s never had enough sleep.

  Moon bows slightly and takes the guitar while Joe removes his sneakers. They sneakers are a bright orange leather. New Balance. He probably got them in Itaewon. Moon guesses they cost about a hundred U.S. dollars. Moon would like to buy something similar, but he’d feel funny wearing them in public. Black. Almost everything he owns is black.

  “So what’s on the menu for today? Want to try some blues? Maybe some Pink Floyd?”

  Moon hesitates, then decides to go ahead with the singing. Maybe it will cheer Joe up. He presses a button on the recorder, and Joe’s song begins to play. “You play this. I sing-uh.”

  “Okay,” Joe says, his face brightening just a touch. “Whatever you say.”

  Moon takes the piece of paper from his pocket with the lyrics on it. One side is in English, the other Korean. He’s tried it both ways but thinks it sounds better in Korean. Joe won’t understand the song, but at least he’ll get the idea of it. Moon nods, and Joe begins to strum. It’s a little faster than the last time he played it, so Moon has to speed up the tempo a bit.

  “Hyo, hanaui nalgae wa jag-eun sae...”

  His voice is shaky, weaker sounding, than when he practiced alone in the apartment. But Moon keeps singing, his eyes locked on the paper as Joe plays. He can’t bear to look up and risk seeing the look on Joe’s face. He probably hates it. Moon is sure of it. Joe will storm out afterwards, angry that he’s ruined his music with his horrible singing.

  Moon only makes it to the fourth verse, the part where the one-winged bird finds a friend, before he stops.

  Joe, too, stops playing once he realizes Moon is finished.

  Then silence.

  Moon still can’t look at Joe. He focuses on the Golden Disk Award hanging on the wall. It all seems so long ago now. So far away. He pictures him and Joe winning the award for their song. Best Children’s Song by a Duet. It makes Moon smile. How silly he could be sometimes.

  “That was really rad, Moon. What was it?”

  Moon doesn’t hear the word “rad.” He hears “bad” and nods his head sadly in agreement. “Children song,” he says and hands the paper to Joe. “Other side English-y.”

  Moon watches Joe as he reads. He’s grinning, nodding his head. Joe’s laughing at him.

  “I wonder if it would sound as good in English. Doesn’t matter though, I suppose. Who cares, right? Hey, what’s a Hyo anyway?”

  Moon doesn’t understand. He likes it? Or is he making fun of him? He studies Joe face. He doesn’t look tired anymore. He looks alert. Eager almost.

  “Hyo is my son name.” Moon pulls out his wallet, hands Joe a photo of Min Jee and Hyo. “Also name of bird in song-uh.”

  “Wow,” Joe says, gazing at the photo. “I didn’t know you had a kid, Moon. That’s great.” He hands the photo back. “Does he live with you?”

  “No,” Moon says. “With mother.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be tough for you.”

  “Yes.”

  Joe turns the paper over in his hand, stares at the Korean characters. “I really like this, Moon. It fits the music just right.”

  Moon is blushing. He doesn’t know what to say. Never does when somebody compliments him. “I want more. More songs if okay.”

  “More songs of mine? Yeah, sure. Why not? Are you going to write more then?”

  “Yes. I think.”

  “That’s great, Moon. Really. I’m honored.”

  Before Joe leaves for the night, Moon has three more songs on his recorder. And the lyrics to two songs already taking shape in his head. At the door, after Joe puts his shiny shoes back on, he straightens and says, “I’d like to have one someday. A kid, I mean. It must be awesome.”

  “Yes,” Moon says, his throat tightening. “Awesome-uh.”

  Yun-ji

  The soldiers did it on purpose. They even backed up so they could run over the bodies again to make sure they were dead. That’s what Yun-ji read on the internet anyway. She tried calling Soo, but there was no answer.

  Which was probably for the best.

  She put on her favorite pair of jeans. They would be ruined, but she needed something comfortable if she was going to go through with this. And they were baggy enough to allow for the extra padding.

  She
tried Soo again.

  No answer. Fine.

  But she still needed to go through with it.

  Otherwise it was goodbye college.

  Goodbye women-only internet café.

  Goodbye parents.

  Just the thought of her mother finding out sent a shiver through Yun-ji.

  No. This was what she needed to do.

  She left a note on the table.

  Went to park. Back by 7. Love, Yun-ji.

  She didn’t take her normal, leisurely walk around the lake. She went straight for the bungee jump. She knew if she gave herself enough time, she’d lose her nerve.

  Luckily, the park was busy. She wanted it that way. She wanted to be one of many, just another anonymous body falling from the sky. And there was one other person in front of her. A young male. Somebody she might have known back in high school. But he was already on the platform, already strapped in, ready to go.

  Yun-ji looked over the release form as she listened to the lady at the front desk. There was a section called Covenant Not To Sue.

  Covenant.

  The word was biblical. She recognized it from her Bible study days. It reminded her of nuns. The thought made her wince. Below the word “covenant” was a list of things she wasn’t supposed to be under treatment for: -high blood pressure: no

  -history of psychological disorders

  or mental illness: no (not yet anyway)

  -pregnancy: no

  Yun-ji filled the forms out hastily, signed her name four different times, then paid in cash. Surprisingly cheap, she couldn’t help but think, for the service they were about to provide.

  After everything was set, Yun-ji rode the elevator up with the man who would be her jump master. He was handsome. Fit. Healthy. A nice smile. All the girls probably swooned over him. He reminded Yun-ji of pictures she’d seen of her father as a young man. Before...

  She was told that she could change her mind at any time, but that she wouldn’t receive her money back. There was also a time-limit set. If they didn’t do that, the man explained, people would keep them up there all day before they got the nerve to jump.

  She had ten minutes.

  After that, they’d take her down again. Simple as that.

  “No,” Yun-ji told him. “That won’t be a problem.”

  “That’s good. You don’t seem nervous. Most girls are all giggles their first time.”

  “No. I want to do this.”

  She caught him watching her, studying her. Did she say something wrong? Maybe he’d guessed what she was up to.

  “Do you know how you want to jump?”

  Yun-ji didn’t understand what he meant. “Downwards?”

  The man looked like he was about to laugh, but when he realized Yun-ji was serious he stopped himself. “I mean, do you want to do an ankle-jump, or a--”

  “Yes. That one. The ankle jump.”

  “You know that one’s a little more risky. You’ll have to jump head first.”

  “Yes, I know. I want to be dipped in the water. Can we do that?”

  The man told her they’d try, but that all they could do was calibrate the cord’s tension to her body weight. Sometimes people went into the water, sometimes they didn’t. What mattered was safety. That was his main concern.

  “Right,” Yun-ji said. “I understand. If it’s at all possible though, that’s what I’d like.”

  The preparation took longer than Yun-ji expected. First she had to remove her jewelry, which wasn’t a big deal as she never wore much. Then they had to find the right size body-harness. Then the process of strapping in, the checking and re-checking of the hook-like clips, the endless stream of safety precautions being rattled off in her ear. By the time she was standing on the yellow line looking down at the water, Yun-ji felt like she was sleepwalking.

  Only her entire body was trembling.

  Adrenaline. That was why people jumped.

  To feel something.

  But Yun-ji wasn’t really in her body.

  Yun-ji was back in her parents’ restaurant as a child, bringing plates of food to the customers, her father patting her on the head, her mother forever humming to herself. She was graduating from high school with honors, all of her friends gathered together, talking about the future.

  She was a lot of places, but she was not there.

  Yun-ji hesitated.

  She could stop this.

  She turned around.

  The jump master gave her a thumbs-up.

  So handsome.

  Just like her father.

  She wanted to tell the man that she didn’t know how she got there, to take her out of the straightjacket somebody had put her in, but she couldn’t.

  She couldn’t bear to look at his face again.

  Instead, Yun-ji crossed herself, folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes before leaning out into the air.

  Billie

  It was a nice Burger King.

  Joe found a table overlooking the street so we could watch the crowds. He thought some fries would be comforting. At least he knew enough not to speak to me on the way there. I could feel it coming though. His mouth was like a dam, the words trembling behind it.

  “So the test was positive?”

  “All three were positive, Joe.”

  “Just making sure.”

  “I know. I was still hoping there’d been some mistake, too.”

  I was talking to him, but only a very small part of me was doing this. The rest was hiding somewhere deep inside. A Burger King in Seoul wasn’t the place to be talking about something like this.

  Then again, where was?

  “How was the doctor?”

  The doctor? The sanctimonious prick more like.

  “He was wonderful, Joe. A real understanding, kind man.”

  Poor Joe. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to handle this well. I knew he was trying. I realized that. But I also didn’t care a whole lot.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just...well, he made me feel like I was some ignorant piece of foreign trash. Do you know how to use a condom? Yes, you condescending fuck. Do you know about birth control? Jesus. And I had to just sit there and smile, you know. I was polite, for crissakes. I didn’t know what else to do. And he just sat there reclining in his big leather chair, this fat ugly grin all over his face.”

  “I’m sorry, Billie.”

  “If you don’t want the baby, then why did you become pregnant?”

  “He didn’t actually say that?”

  “I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to. Jesus, I felt like I was ten years old. And he was sooo fucking smug. Why do people have to be like that? What’s wrong with them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The smell of hamburgers and fries was all wrong. I wanted to cry. Or scream. But I just stared out the window.

  “Nothing matters to a person like that,” I went on after nibbling on a fry. “I could have told him I was raped by Hitler, and he still would’ve judged me. I don’t care what country you’re from, or what your beliefs are, you don’t treat people that way. Ever. The way he ran his eyes over me. I can’t explain it, Joe. It was like, like, you stupid American whore.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just maybe misreading how he--”

  “Don’t.”

  “Sorry. That was stupid.”

  “I know exactly what he was doing. Listen, it doesn’t matter. It’s over with now. Let’s just eat and get the hell out of here.”

  “Did you schedule another appointment?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t worry. I got the name of a woman doctor who does the sort of thing you’re not referring to.”

  “That’s good, right? I mean, if we decide to go that way.”

  “If I decide to go that way, you mean. There’s no we about it unless you plan on having someone sucked out of your uterus, too.”

  Joe was quiet.

  What could a person say to somethin
g like that anyway?

  I was horrible.

  “It’s twenty minutes or so from here. Near the women’s University. In case you were wondering. Which, my guess is, you were.”

  “You have an address?”

  “They said she speaks good English.”

  “She?”

  “Yes. The doctor is a woman. Hence, the women’s university part.”

  “Right. So what do you think?”

  “I don’t know what I think.”

  “Can I say something?”

  “You usually do.”

  “I told you I’d go either way on this with you. It’s totally your call. But...”

  “Here we go.”

  “But I think if you are going to go through with this, you should do it now. Today.”

  “And why, exactly, is that?”

  “Because you’re sick, Billie.”

  “I’m not sick, Joe. I’m fucking pregnant.”

  “You throw up every day. The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you’ll be back to normal.”

  “And what do I do about teaching? I can’t just go right back to teaching. It takes a lot out of you.”

  It takes a lot out of you.

  Jesus. Literally.

  “I’ll tell them you’re sick. All the other teachers do it. You think two days would be enough?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  “I’m really not trying to pressure you, Billie. I just don’t want to see you go through another week of pain for nothing. If this is what you’re going to decide anyway, why not just get it over with now? That’s my way of thinking. How I’d handle things if it was me.”

  “But it isn’t you.”

  “I know that. I wish it was, Billie. I really do.”

  “I can’t have a baby out here. Maybe if we went back home but not here. I don’t know. I need time to think. I could probably handle one more week at school. I don’t know.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see two Korean girls in school uniforms approaching our table.

  “We’re sorry to bother you...but can we...practice our English with you?”

  I pushed my tray away from me, went back to staring out the window. On the street below there was a man selling something from a cart. Like a hot dog vendor. Only he wasn’t selling hot dogs. I wished I was him, whoever he was. He was probably happy. And he probably didn’t have anyone growing inside of him.