The Korean Word For Butterfly

by James Zerndt

  “You luck! You luck!” the girl laughed, but Shaun kept on walking. Maybe on the way back. If there was time.

  The music poured down from the top of the hill. It was the same stuff playing in just about every western bar in Itaewon. Eminem. Or Nelly singing about the temperature in rooms and disrobing.

  The first thing, though, that struck Moon once he made it to the bar was the foul smell of stale beer and cigarettes. It was funny, but he kind of missed it. He scanned the dance floor for Billie and Joe, but they weren’t among the mass of gyrating bodies, so he made his way to the bar.

  The music playing reminded Moon of K-pop. It wasn’t all that different from the substance-less garbage they fed the Korean masses. He wondered what Joe and Billie thought of it. He hoped they hated it, too.

  There were plastic cups of beer lined up on the counter for sale. Moon knew that fights broke out at these places nightly. Westerners didn’t know how to drink. They became unruly and disrespectful to one another. Moon smiled to himself. Koreans weren’t exactly monks either. There was a reason, after all, that people called them the Irish of Asia.

  He was about to give up, head back home where he probably should have stayed tonight, when he spotted Billie shooting pool. She was leaning over the table with her nose angling down the cue, a cigarette dangling from her lip.

  James Dean.

  That’s who she reminded Moon of.

  The female version of James Dean.

  “Moonie!” she yelled when she saw him.

  She had never called him that before.

  Moon made his way over to her, and, instead of bowing like he normally did at work, he met Billie’s outreached hand with his own and shook it.

  “What are you doing here? Is little Hyo with you? Tell me Hyo is with you.”

  She leaned this way and that, peering around Moon like he might be hiding the child behind him.

  “No, no,” Moon stammered. “No Hyo. Not here. No, no.”

  Billie could tell the question bothered Moon, so she changed the subject. It was a stupid thing to ask anyway. Of course Hyo wasn’t with him.

  “Joe’s in the bathroom. I have to warn you, though. He’s pretty drunk. He’ll probably try to hug you or something.”

  And that’s exactly what Joe did when he saw Moon.

  It might be the last friendly exchange Moon had with Joe once he broke the news to him, so he didn’t mind it too much. Kim and Eunice were talking about suing the pair of them, making them repay the wages they’d earned up until now. Moon understood why his bosses were so upset. Nobody liked being lied to, taken advantage of. But hadn’t Joe and Billie done a good job? Hadn’t they grown into two of the best teachers the school had?

  “Can I get you a beer?” Joe yelled over the music. “Oh, wait. No. Sorry about that. How about a Coke or something?”

  “No, thank you,” Moon said. “Full Moon.”

  Joe must have thought this was hilarious because he kept repeating it as they made their way outside to talk.

  There wasn’t any easy way to tell them that they were going to be fired, that the school was on to their little hoax, so Moon just pulled the letter from Reed College from him jacket and handed it to Billie.

  As Billie read, giant flakes of snow blotted the paper.

  When she finished, she handed the paper to Joe to read.

  “So what now? We’re fired then?”

  “After break,” Moon said. “Yes. Then fired. Maybe more bad.”

  “More bad?” Billie asked. “What kind of more bad?”

  Moon had to search for the right word. “Court. Judge?”

  “Shit.” Joe handed the paper back to Moon. “We’re sorry, Moon. Really. We just wanted to go somewhere, you know?”

  Moon nodded. He understood. He wanted to go somewhere, too. Maybe back to Portland, Oregon with Billie and Joe. And Hyo, of course. He smiled, briefly, at the thought of kidnapping his own son.

  “They want money. For teach. All you money.”

  “No,” Joe said. “No way. We earned that money.”

  “Not legal,” Moon said. “You here not legal.”

  Billie stamped her feet in the snow, kicked at a small snowdrift near one of the store fronts. “We have to go home, Joe. Like now. We have to get out of here.”

  “Good idea,” Moon said. “Go home. Most best idea.”

  “Perfect,” Joe said, lighting a cigarette. “Absolutely perfect. I’m so sorry, Billie. I thought we were in the clear.” Joe turned to Moon. “How? How did they find out?”

  Moon shrugged. There was no point in telling them he was the one responsible. No point in telling them he’d accidentally left the letter out on his desk and that Kim had found it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Billie said. “We lied to them. We deserve this. It’s our fault.”

  Behind them there was some commotion. The MPs were gathering up the soldiers for curfew, taking them back to base before any trouble started.

  One of the MPs stopped beside Joe, asked for his ID.

  “You’re kidding, right? Do I look like a soldier to you?”

  “You look like an asshole to me, but I still need to see your ID.”

  “Just give it to him, Joe. We don’t need any more problems.”

  Joe handed over his Kids Inc! ID.

  “Figures,” the MP said and smirked. “Enjoy your night. And your freedom.”

  Billie could see Joe was about to say something stupid, something drunk, so she put her arm around his waist and pulled him to her.

  “Will you help us?” she said to Moon. “Maybe help us get a cheap flight out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Yes. Tomorrow. No problem.”

  One of the soldiers was being dragged out of the bar by two MPs. He was laughing. His legs dragging behind him. He looked like a little boy.

  “Somebody help me! I’m not in the army! I swear! I’m Korean!”

  They carted Shaun off down the hill along with another group of soldiers, all of them drunk, all of them sliding around on the ice and snow and laughing.

  “We should go,” Billie said. “Get back to the apartment and start packing.”

  They trailed behind the group of soldiers, the snow dumping fat flakes on their heads. As the chants rolled up the hill towards them, they could see the flickering candles, the huddled protestors at the bottom of the hill.

  Yun-ji, watching the group come stumbling toward them, let the snowflakes land on her upturned face. They were like kisses from a baby. Cold, wet kisses from a cold baby. The soldiers were getting closer and closer. And they were all laughing. Had they no respect? Did they think they were all out there in the cold and snow just to light their drunken way back to the barracks?

  The disregard.

  The constant and utter disregard. That’s what it was. Like the Americans were the only ones who mattered in the world. Anger rippled through the crowd and Yun-ji could feel it stirring inside her, too.

  The chants began to grow louder...

  Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

  Yun-ji could make out Shaun now. His hat was off and she could see his blonde hair. His handsome, stupid face.

  Soo bent down like she was tying her shoe and began packing a snowball. When her candle got caught up in the swoop of her hands, it was almost like destiny, like somebody up there, whoever was scattering the flakes everywhere tonight, was demanding vengeance for her best friend.

  The MPs and soldiers stopped a few yards from the human barricade. The only way to exit Hooker Hill now was through the protestors. A few bored prostitutes came out to watch, and Soo noticed one of them wearing Shaun’s baseball hat.

  That was the last straw.

  She hid the snowball inside her coat sleeve, grabbed Yun-ji’s arm, and pulled her to the front of the crowd.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Something you should have done long ago.”

  While Soo waited for the right moment, one of the MPs tried to part the crow
d and a protester only feet away from swiped at him with his sign. The crowd, of course, erupted in cheers but Soo noticed one of MPs take out his phone afterwards. Probably going to call for back-up, she thought. The Americans would have their tanks down there in minutes, roll over the whole crowd if they didn’t get their way. And then Koreans would be expected to be thankful when they got a lukewarm apology from their President Bush.

  Soo reared back and let the snowball fly.

  She didn’t know what she was expecting. Maybe that some higher power would safely guide the snowball toward Shaun’s drunken face, but, instead, it sailed clear over his head and came to land on one of the prostitutes. The force of the snowball knocked the girl’s hat off, and the crowd gasped as she fell to her knees, clutching her mouth. There was blood covering the girl’s hands and mouth.

  The crowd was quiet now.

  The MPs were quiet, too.

  Only the snow falling.

  Soo wanted to disappear. Please, she thought, don’t find it. Don’t...but it was too late. One of them was standing there with the candle in his hand, showing it to the others.

  Yun-ji saw what her friend had done. Or tried to do. She wanted to run, too, all the way back to Bundang-gu. Then maybe keep going, jump off the end of Korea and swim to Japan. But she wasn’t going anywhere. Those around her knew who’d thrown the candleball, and they were backing away from both Soo and Yun-ji now.

  Moon wanted to hide, too. What an embarrassment his people could be sometimes. He busied himself by taking care of the girl, placing a handkerchief to her mouth. It wasn’t serious. Just a bad spot for a cut. As Moon placed his arm around her, the girl leaned into him, nestling into his shoulder. She was shaking. Whimpering. “Why?” she kept asking him. “Why? I’m their sister.”

  Moon didn’t have an answer for her.

  Nobody seemed to have answers for anybody, and both sides seemed frozen, unsure of what to do next.

  Soo, never one to be shy, pushed her way out of the crowd dragging a reluctant Yun-ji behind her. She addressed the protestors in Korean first, deciding that if there was going to be trouble, she had at least get them on her side.

  “I threw the snowball. It was me. And I’m sorry I hit the girl. I wasn’t aiming for her. I was aiming for him!” With that she jabbed her finger at Shaun who was still being held by one of the MPs and who still hadn’t seemed to recognize it was Yun-ji standing there only a few feet away. “This megook. This American asshole got my best friend pregnant, and he doesn’t even know it. I’m sorry, but since she’s too nice and too good of a person to say anything to him, I thought I would do it myself.” Soo placed her arm around Yun-ji who now looked absolutely mortified. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I hurt our sister over there with my candle. I didn’t know what to do. It just isn’t right that he should be out here drunk and having fun while my friend has to forfeit the rest of her life.”

  The crowd let out a sympathetic moan when Soo finished her speech and Yun-ji, even though she was living out her worst nightmare, hugged Soo back when she put her arms around her. It was then, as she was stroking Soo’s hair, comforting her as if she were the one with the bulging belly, that Shaun finally noticed her. And, by the stunned look on his face, he’d also noticed her belly.

  Oh, she wanted to be back home and in bed.

  This was no way to bring in the New Year, no way to announce the birth of a baby. She might as well have invited Shaun onto one of those horrible American talk shows and broken the news to him there. Then, just as she was sure he was going to climb the alley walls and make a run for it across the rooftops, Shaun approached her, slowly, almost as if Yun-ji were pointing a gun at him.

  “Is it mine?” he asked, nodding his head toward her belly.

  “Yes,” Yun-ji said. “It is ours.”

  Yun-ji wasn’t sure what she expected him to do upon hearing this but dropping to his knees in the snow wasn’t on the list.

  “Can I?” he said, knee-deep in snow, his hand reaching toward her belly.

  Yun-ji took a small, hesitant step forward.

  His hands were shaking. There were tears in his eyes. And when he went to lay his head against Yun-ji’s coat, she felt all the resistance building up inside her start to melt away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Yun-ji wasn’t sure how she would have responded to this, but, as it turned out, she didn’t have to. Joe, realizing that the scene unfolding before them was no doubt killing Billie, stumbled forward toward the crowd and, even though he wasn’t sure at this point what he was going to do exactly, held the thrown candle up for all to see.

  Joe decided he’d try to light it and reached into his pocket for his lighter, but no matter how many times he tried to light the thing, it wouldn’t catch. Some of the MPs, as well as a number of protestors, started to snigger.

  Fine. Laugh. He was used to it. People had been laughing at him since he’d gotten there, hadn’t they? He’d be leaving soon anyway. What did he care? Just so long as Billie was distracted...

  He knelt down in the snow, began packing snow with his bare hands. When he finished, he stood, showing the big round ball to the crowd.

  “This is the proper way to make a snowball!” he yelled.

  When his proclamation was met with silence by both sides, Joe added, “And this is how you have a proper snowball fight!”

  With that he launched the sphere high into the air and then watched the snowball come crashing down harmlessly as the crowd parted. It was like Joe had unwittingly found the solution to all the country’s pent up frustration for the army, for foreigners, for their crushed dreams at the World Cup. All at once, like a hundred light bulbs had gone on at once, the crowd began digging in the snow for ammunition and the MPs, the soldiers, Billie, Moon, the prostitutes, all of them scattered to the sides of the alley as the first snowballs came flying.

  It could have been a slaughter.

  The Koreans could have pelted them black and blue.

  But, instead, down came a soft and steady volley of white from the sky. They were lobbing them. And they were laughing. Without malice or hate. Just the pure, infectious joy of childhood spreading throughout the crowd. And, for the time being anyway, everything seemed to be forgotten. The protestors soon got bored with pummeling the outnumbered foreigners and turned against their neighbors. By the time the U.S. and ROK forces got there, the only use they had for their shields was to ward off the friendly fire.

  It wasn’t long before midnight came and went.

  And nobody seemed to notice.

  Nobody seemed to care.

  January 2002

  Billie

  It’s over.

  Joe and I are safely on our way home.

  Thanks to Moon.

  We lost him the night of the snowball fight. Joe said he saw him going inside one of the shops with that girl who got hit by the candle. We sort of got caught up in the fun after that.

  I think the worst part about having to leave like this is not being able to say goodbye to the kids. I’ll get over it. It’s just that there are things I would have liked to tell them. Like Richard. That red marks on your paper are okay. That life is full of red marks. And some of them you can’t ever erase.

  And Sunny. Your sister Jenny will always be smarter than you. And you will always be prettier than her. But don’t let those things define you. There’s more to both of you. And both qualities are useless if you’ve got a rotten heart. Which neither of you have.

  I don’t know. Something like that.

  I don’t know what, if anything, I could have said to the masturbating girl. I just hope it was a phase. And that child abuse is something else that’s “strictly a foreign problem” in Korea.

  And sweet, darling Alicia. It’s okay if yellow is fire and you find yourself standing on it. You’re strong. You’ll survive the flames. Just hop yourself over to blue or green.

  We left a note for Kim a
nd Eunice on our kitchen table.

  An apology. Of sorts.

  We didn’t admit to anything though. Just in case they decide to hunt us down in the U.S. Joe’s idea, though I’m pretty sure it was unnecessary. It’s not like we killed anybody or anything.

  I didn’t just say that.

  And Yun-ji.

  I wish I could have said goodbye to her. Congratulated her properly. I wanted to tell her that I finally understood what she meant about Koreans being like a snowball. I wanted to tell her that she’s a snowflake whether she likes it or not.

  That a person could be both snowflake and snowball.

  And Jean-Paul.

  What can I say about him? Every second that we move further and further away, he turns a little bit more into memory.

  A memory that will always remind me of what I did.

  My three shadows will never leave me.

  And what makes everything worse is that I could have kept him. Or her. It wouldn’t have mattered. If I had known we were going to get caught, going to get sent home, would I still have gone through with it? I don’t know the answer to that, but I’m guessing the question will haunt me the rest of my life.

  Joe is listening to a CD Moon made for him. Apparently it’s some children’s songs he wrote using Joe’s music. And not bad from what Joe tells me. I guess they might have a chance to do the real thing if Moon can find somebody who’s interested. Which would mean Joe would be flying back here at some point.

  I hate irony.

  But I am happy for him and Moon.

  They both deserve it.

  While Joe nods along to his CD, I pick up my pen and start a poem I’ll probably be writing for years.

  But I need poetry right now.

  Without it, I’ll go the way of my father.

  The anger eating away until there’s nothing left.

  Moon

  Hyo’s fourth birthday party is a small affair. Three other children and their mothers. Moon is the only father there. After he and his wife split up, some of the other mothers in Hyo’s playgroup stopped returning Min Jee’s phone calls. It was hard on her. Moon knows that. Single motherhood is like a disease in Korea. A disease other mothers are petrified of catching.