by Mi-ae Seo
“Call my lawyer. I won’t stand for this.”
“Whatever you want. But you know what? You’ve lied to the lawyer so many times, I don’t know if he’ll go out of his way to come see you. When the trial’s over, you know.”
Hearing him say that, Yi Byeongdo flushed with anger and began to scream.
“Guard! Guard! Call the chief! I need to see him!”
The guard, however, who came running from the end of the corridor, stood by the security manager without so much as a look at Yi Byeongdo.
“What do you think you’re doing? Do you know who I am? I’m Yi Byeongdo! Do you think I’ll just sit and do nothing?”
“Why don’t you keep on screaming?” the security manager said, unperturbed by his raving.
Suddenly, the other prisoners began thumping on their doors. They swore and cursed, saying he was being too loud. They didn’t want to hear him anymore, either.
Yi Byeongdo gripped the bars, trembling. He was hot with fury. Somewhere, the song started again; he had no time to waste. His mother’s song that was slow, and made him crazy with suffocation. Bang, bang . . .
The security manager and the guard opened the middle steel-barred door, leaving him behind, glaring with bloodshot eyes.
Left alone, he sank to the floor, his back against the wall, and began to think.
He couldn’t just sit helplessly. He had to find some way to see her again.
Seonkyeong was the only one who would understand his mother’s song, which kept playing in his head; she was the only one who could make it stop. He wanted to tell her, just her, the old story about his mother and him.
The day he committed his first murder in the rainy yard, he checked to make sure that his mother was dead, and dug in the ground all night and buried her. The blood that reddened the ground got washed away in the rain and disappeared down the drain.
Just like his own birth, his mother’s death drew no one’s attention. They had kept to themselves, away from the world, so no one ever came to see them, anyway.
Several days after burying his mother in the yard, he went to the police station and reported that she had left home. She hadn’t been home in days, he said. The police gave him some papers to fill out, and asked questions as a formality. He asked them if they shouldn’t set out on a search, but they said that they couldn’t spare their efforts on someone who had left home of her own will. They only said that he should go home and wait, since she was an adult and could come back, if she had left of her own will. He walked out of the police station, looking grim, but he hummed on his way home. His mother would never come back. She had never left in the first place.
For the first time in his life, he slept soundly, not trembling in fear.
When he thought back, he’d always leapt to his feet at the sound of footsteps, or the slightest rustle, not knowing when she would smother him with a pillow. He never slept well at the orchard house, either. When he fell asleep, his mother appeared in his dreams and pulled him by the arm, wanting to go home. He would struggle in resistance, and she would throw him into a deep tub. He woke up many times, feeling suffocated. He’d often walked through the apple trees in the orchard all night, thinking it would be better not to sleep at all.
Finding out for the first time how sweet sleep could be, he never for a moment thought about his mother.
Several years later, the police asked him to come identify a body; shocked, he ran all the way to the station. Someone had drowned in a reservoir, and the body had been discovered when the water was drained; it must have resembled the description on the papers he’d filled out. He shook his head, saying it wasn’t his mother, and expressed anger at the police, who were still making scant effort to find her.
On his way back home, he even wondered where his mother had disappeared to. But although he had thought he had thus erased her completely from his mind, he’d only been fooling himself. His mother was still alive and breathing in his mind, and came to him and sang “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” in his ear when he was deep in sleep. It was fifteen years later when he realized that.
He was living among people, working at a new factory in the area and enjoying a monotonous life of going from home to work. The work was simple. He hung out with his coworkers occasionally, and even met girls. Women always smiled and came up to him when they saw him. They were all taken by his handsome and kind-looking face, but the more aggressive they were, the further he distanced himself from them. He felt more at ease without women around.
Seeing how he acted around women, his coworkers thought he was shy. They thought he just lacked experience. Perhaps they were right. He didn’t want to find out what women were like. It would be more correct to say that he was afraid.
One evening, at a get-together after work, they’d gone for a second, then a third, round of drinks, and he’d left by himself. It was quiet there, away from downtown, and after midnight there were no people around, only the glaring lights of bars and clubs. Reeling from the drinks, he began to hum a song, without being aware of it.
Bang! Bang! Maxwell’s silver hammer . . .
Realizing what song he was singing, he froze on the spot, frightened. A woman he didn’t know smiled and came up to him. That was when the murders began again.
He shook his head. It was no use thinking about what happened so long ago.
He thought of the apple Seonkyeong had handed him.
The woman at the orchard house used to pick big, fresh apples, hanging at the top of the tree, and put them in his hand. The apple took him back twenty years. He was once again at the orchard in June. He saw green apples swaying in the wind. He saw two older girls and a younger one. For the first time in his life, he’d felt at peace.
He thought about it. He believed that he could return to those days, if he saw Seonkyeong again. He’d thought that he had already been given the one chance in his life. But after twenty years, another chance had come his way. He couldn’t let it pass. Seonkyeong said she’d give him another chance. If only he could see her again.
She would stop the song for him.
26.
THE ASHEN CLOUDS THAT HAD GATHERED SINCE THE AFTERNOON colored the sky black. The clouds, heavy with rain, began to get entangled and spark up. The wind smelled of damp air.
Seonkyeong came home after meeting Sergeant Yu feeling as bleak and gloomy as the weather.
She opened the gate, rattling in the wind, and went inside and looked around at the house.
A gold rubber ball, which the puppy had been playing with, was rolling around in the yard; the willow tree was swaying in the wind, its leaves like disheveled hair. There was a little light on in the living room, and it was quiet in the house. The light was off in Hayeong’s room upstairs. She must not have been back from school yet.
Seonkyeong still couldn’t fully understand the things she had heard.
She couldn’t believe everything Sergeant Yu had said. He himself had admitted that he had no evidence, that it was only something of his own deduction. But when Seonkyeong thought back to Hayeong’s first day at the house, she couldn’t completely discount what he’d said.
Hayeong had never talked about her grandparents since she came to live with Jaeseong and Seonkyeong after the fire. That hadn’t even occurred to her until Sergeant Yu pointed out the fact. She’d thought only about how the fire must have shocked Hayeong. She believed that Hayeong was making a conscious effort not to think about it because it was too hard to bear.
Considering that she’d been through a terrible fire, however, she didn’t seem under much stress. She quickly adjusted to living with her father, as if she’d just been waiting for the chance.
Could she really have set the fire? Seonkyeong wondered.
It wasn’t just the fire. Sergeant Yu had suggested an even more unsettling possibility.
Hayeong’s grandparents died of poisoning before the fire broke out. Who could have poisoned the old couple and set the fire? Awful possibilities reared
their heads, and Seonkyeong shook her head. Nothing had been confirmed. There should be no jumping to conclusions. She wished that Jaeseong was with her.
It would be at least ten days before he came home. She would be alone with Hayeong until then. The time seemed to strangle her, tightening its grip on her neck.
The wind began to pick up. Raindrops plopped down. As Seonkyeong headed toward the front door, her foot got caught on the rubber ball. She picked it up, thinking of the puppy. It couldn’t be. The child, who cherished the puppy so much, couldn’t have done something so horrible. The more she tried to deny it, however, the faster other memories flooded her mind, unsettling her.
She bit down on her lip. She gave the ball a gentle squeeze, then put it down. She went into the house and her eyes fell on the staircase leading up to the second floor. She wavered between going upstairs to ascertain facts, and not wanting to find out anything, for fear that she might end up seeing something beyond imagination. After some hesitation, she ended up going to Hayeong’s room.
WHEN SHE OPENED THE door, the puppy ran over and greeted her. She picked it up and went into the room. She looked around, not knowing what she should be looking for.
Everything was nicely organized. The books and the pencil case were all in their proper place on the desk. Seonkyeong could see that Hayeong liked things neat and tidy. She opened the desk drawer. Notepads, notebooks, and various stationery items were neatly arranged.
The puppy in her arms whimpered, feeling stifled. She put it down and opened the wardrobe. The clothes were hanging in an orderly fashion. She ran her hands gently through the clothes, then closed the wardrobe.
She recalled how she’d slapped the child. It was possible that Sergeant Yu’s words were misleading her. Hayeong must have an explanation that Seonkyeong wasn’t aware of.
She would pretend she didn’t know anything. She couldn’t break the peace now because of a stranger’s presumption. Thinking that, she couldn’t stay in the room. She grasped the door handle to open the door, but at that moment, she heard the puppy whimpering somewhere. She turned her head back toward the room.
The puppy was whimpering, scratching one side of the dresser. It seemed to have smelled something that drew its attention. Reluctant to open the dresser, she just stared at it for a while. Then, finally making up her mind, she opened it.
There was an extra blanket inside.
She heaved a sigh without realizing it. The puppy whimpered even more. She was about to shut the drawer, but she carefully lifted the blanket. There was a little box underneath. She had an ominous feeling about it. A faint, strange odor seemed to emanate from it.
She had come this far. There was no turning back now. She took the box out and sat on the bed. The box was the size of a tissue box. It wasn’t heavy. Opening it with caution, she nearly dropped it in astonishment.
The things that fell out of the box got scattered all around. Looking at those things, Seonkyeong felt aghast. She couldn’t believe her own eyes. There were several stiff, dead birds in the box. Some with the feathers plucked, and the bellies cut open. There was a bloody paper knife in the box as well, probably used to cut the birds.
Seonkyeong’s blood froze.
She recalled how, on the day they went to the school for the transfer procedures, Hayeong had tried to catch birds at the nature study area.
Seonkyeong now also pictured Hayeong thrusting a knife at a cat. Hayeong had followed the other kids to look for the cat, knowing full well who had taken the birds but feigning ignorance. She was probably curious as to what they were going to do. What would have happened if they hadn’t been startled into letting the cat escape?
Just thinking about it made Seonkyeong’s hair stand on end.
She quickly picked up the puppy as it began to sniff at the dead birds on the floor. She got some tissues, picked up the birds, and put them back in the box. All kinds of information flashed through her mind. She gripped her forehead and flopped down on the bed.
Unaware of what was going on, the puppy jumped onto her lap. Holding the puppy and stroking it, Seonkyeong wondered what she should do. She decided that for now, she would wait for Jaeseong to come home.
She stared at the floor for a while, then closed the box full of birds that had died in pain.
SEONKYEONG WAS SITTING in the living room, deep in thought, unaware of the rain that was pouring down. She didn’t even notice Hayeong, drenched from the rain, come in through the front door. She came to herself only when Hayeong called out to her. Seeing Hayeong, she finally turned her gaze out the window and saw that it was raining.
“Oh, I didn’t know it was raining,” she said.
“Could you get me a towel?” Hayeong asked.
“Oh . . . yes, just a minute,” she said, finally getting to her feet after sitting in a daze, just staring at Hayeong as she stood there wet. She felt stifled and uncomfortable, as if her head were stuffed full of crumpled up rubbish.
She brought a large towel from the bathroom at once, and dried off Hayeong’s hair and body. She was completely wet, and her clothes had to be taken off. Her body was cold—she must have been in the rain for a long time. Her little shoulders were shivering.
“Why didn’t you call me from school?” Seonkyeong asked.
“It’s okay, I like it when it rains,” Hayeong said.
“Go to the bathroom and take a hot shower. I’ll bring you some clothes.”
“No, I will,” Hayeong said and went upstairs, still dripping, without waiting for Seonkyeong’s reply.
Seonkyeong boiled water while Hayeong took a shower. She prepared some hot milk and chocolate mousse cake. Hayeong’s cheeks were flushed from the shower. She seemed to be feeling better, too. She came into the kitchen and saw the snack laid out on the table, and put her arms tightly around Seonkyeong’s waist.
Seonkyeong held her breath. She barely managed to keep herself from shoving the child away.
Sitting down, Hayeong told her about her walk in the rain. She chattered in a cheerful voice, sounding happy. Normally, Seonkyeong would’ve been quite responsive. But she pretended she was busy putting dishes away, avoiding Hayeong’s eyes.
“What kind of weather do you like?” Hayeong asked.
“Me? Sunny spring weather, I guess,” she said, without really giving it a thought. She wished that Hayeong would finish eating quickly and go upstairs. She didn’t want to sit face-to-face with her, pretending nothing was wrong, nor did she think she could. She needed time to pull herself together.
Hayeong was unusually talkative. She went on and on about the things that happened at school. She talked about how she had tended to the vegetable patch with her friends. Everything she said grated on Seonkyeong’s nerves. Hayeong’s teacher had sent her a text message, worried that the other kids were avoiding her after the incident with the cat. And here she was, lying with a straight face when it was so easy to catch her in a lie if you paid just a little attention. Seonkyeong wondered if she was doing it to show that she wasn’t having any problems at school, or if there was another reason.
Noticing that Seonkyeong was different from usual, Hayeong stopped in the middle of talking and looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Oh, um . . . I have a little headache,” Seonkyeong said. Her temples really were beginning to throb. No, her entire body was beginning to throb.
“Are you very sick?” Hayeong asked.
“No, I’ll be all right after I take some medicine and get some sleep,” Seonkyeong said.
Hayeong just sat there blinking, trying to read her face.
Lightning suddenly flashed. Soon it began to thunder. Even Hayeong, who said she liked rainy days, flinched and looked out at the yard.
Staring at the rain striking the window, she whispered, “This is like the day my mom died.”
Seonkyeong felt alarmed.
“There was a storm, just like this,” Hayeong said, sounding gloomy. Memories of her mother se
emed to have put her in low spirits. She appeared to have lost her appetite as well—she put her fork down, and went up to her room.
Seonkyeong went into her own bedroom. She felt heavy, and had a hard time standing on her feet. She put a hand to her forehead—it was hot. She had caught a cold, it seemed.
She got some cold medicine from the cabinet and lay down on the bed. Her head was pounding. Her mind kept darting to the second floor, but there was no sound other than that of the rain, and the rattling windows.
As the medicine began to take effect, she dozed off.
27.
IN HER ROOM, HAYEONG LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW FOR A MOMENT, then climbed onto the bed. There was a flash of light, and then the window began to rattle. She hid under the blanket and squeezed her eyes shut. There, her fear lifted somewhat.
The reason why she’d kept talking to Seonkyeong after coming home was that she didn’t want to be alone.
The whole way home, walking in the rain, she’d felt strange—as if someone were following her. She wanted to turn around and look but couldn’t. She was afraid that her dead mom would be there if she did. Her dream had made her think of her mom.
The night before, her dad had come to talk to her in her room.
He said he was going away on a business trip for ten days, and told her to have a good time with Seonkyeong. Hayeong nodded. She hadn’t liked her at first. Her mom had told her that she was a bad person—a wicked woman who had taken her dad away, someone who was very selfish, and destroyed other people’s family. But as time passed, Hayeong realized that her mom had lied. Her dad seemed much happier when he was with Seonkyeong than when he’d been with her mom. Seonkyeong didn’t yell, or drink, or curse.
She’d slapped her on the cheek, but it hadn’t really hurt. She said she was sorry. Hayeong’s mom never did.
Hayeong found it strange that her dad had made her promise, again and again, that she would be obedient to Seonkyeong. She wondered if it was because Seonkyeong didn’t like her. She thought that was why her dad was telling her to be careful. But when she thought about it, that didn’t seem true. Seonkyeong held her gently in her arms now. When Hayeong was in Seonkyeong’s arms, she wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. She felt comfortable. Her mom hadn’t liked hugging. Her mom hugged her only when there were other people around.