At Least We Can Apologize

by Lee Ki-ho

  The woman looked just as dirty as always. Her hair was covered in dust and cobwebs and her face had smudges here and there. We faced her and greeted her politely with a bow.

  “I knew that you punks would come here, I knew it!”

  Taking another look, I realized she had a sickle-like garden hoe in her hand. She held the blade up to her neck.

  “Ma’am, have you been all right? We didn’t know you were here,” Si-bong said, smiling.

  As soon as he said that, the woman smacked the floor of the storehouse with the garden hoe and screamed. “Have I been all right?! You bastards! Thanks to you two, I almost died!”

  The woman looked as though she was very angry about something. We didn’t know why.

  “Ma’am . . . what are you talking about? We got along so well, didn’t we? You always thanked us and gave us toothpaste and soap.”

  Si-bong added, “And towels, and your old toothbrush! I remember using that toothbrush for a long time!”

  For a moment, the woman only glared at us without saying a word. We continued to look around the room, trying to see if there was any medicine.

  “I just wanted to stay alive, that’s why I did all that . . . The ones who died, they had nothing to give you, so that’s why that happened to them.”

  “All we want to do is ask a favor of you, that’s all.”

  When Si-bong and I said that, we bowed to her again. It looked as though there was no medicine in the storehouse, either. We would have to look somewhere else.

  “Are you gonna tell other people that I’m here? Are you?” She asked.

  We turned our heads to look at her again. She was standing up now, albeit shakily. The garden hoe was still in her hand.

  “Would you like us to?” Si-bong asked, taking a step closer to her.

  “No! No! Please don’t . . . This is what you guys want, isn’t it?”

  The woman pulled out a large rice sack from behind the cabinet. It was full of pills. The entire rice bag was full of them.

  Si-bong and I filled up three plastic bags with pills. The rest we left for the woman. Then we walked out of the storehouse. Si-bong bowed to the woman one more time and said to her, “We just wanted to ask that one favor of you, that’s all.”

  We walked off of the grounds of the institution. In my hands I carried the superintendent’s diaries and a bag of pills while Si-bong carried only pills. The woman stood watching us for a long time.

  14. The Head Residents’ Duties

  One day, a few months after we’d entered the institution, the caretakers called us into the office.

  The smaller one asked us, “How long’s it been since you guys have been here?”

  Neither Si-bong nor I could give a straight answer. There was no calendar in our room. We didn’t count the days to keep track. That was on account of each day being so similar to the one before. The smaller one continued.

  “What I’m saying is that it looks like you guys have gotten pretty used to life here.” He then told us we should take on the responsibility of head resident.

  “Head resident?”

  At that time there were new residents coming into the institution every day. There were some who, like me, were brought directly to the institution holding a family member’s hand, but most were brought to the institution in the director general’s van, like Si-bong. As the number of residents grew one by one, the caretakers grew much busier. They were so busy running around from this room to that room, from the workshop to the office, then again from the office to the cafeteria, that they didn’t have time to ask residents individually what wrongs they’d committed. That was on account of the residents either breaking plates, suddenly falling to the floor in screaming fits, or getting into fights. Sometimes residents would grab the caretakers’ pant legs and cry, begging to be taken home. Whenever that happened, the caretakers would hit them with pointers, or swing their belts. Si-bong and I would follow the caretakers around as they did this and confess our wrongs. That was on account of our only then feeling better.

  “So what exactly do we have to do?” Si-bong asked.

  “Well, that’s just it. You’d be like a representative for the residents.”

  The shorter caretaker said that the residents of the institution were like one big family. We ate together, worked together, took our medicine together, slept together, and because of that we were more like a family than even people who were related by blood. He then added that, as a family, we should laugh together when we were happy, cry together when we were sad, and in the case that even one person did something wrong, we should all take responsibility together.

  “So we’re telling you to take a big role in that,” the taller one added. He also taught us that when one of the residents did something wrong, apologizing on behalf of them was one of the biggest parts of the head residents’ job.

  “But . . . why do we have to do it?”

  As soon as I asked that, the shorter one answered right away.

  “Because of all the residents, you two are the ones who know the most about wrongs. So it makes sense that you guys do it, you know?”

  “But, I don’t know if we’re . . .” As soon as I’d gotten that far, the taller one’s fist came flying at my face.

  “Jesus Christ! If we tell you to do something, just do it! What’s with all the talking?!”

  And that’s how, without talking, we became the head residents.

  That was when we started to become busy. And that was on account of there being many residents, and there being just as many wrongs to match. For each one of those wrongs we began to apologize to the caretakers on behalf of the residents. That was exactly the head residents’ duty that the caretakers had told us about.

  15. The Thing We had Forgotten

  As soon as we began to take our medicine again every morning and night, we stopped feeling dizzy. Our stomachs stopped feeling queasy as well. We had once again become healthy, like when we were in the institution.

  Every morning after we took our medicine, Si-bong and I would take a walk through the apartment complex. Sometimes, too, if we walked for a bit and our legs began to hurt, we would stop and sit down on one of the benches that had a back and rest for a long while. The weather was slowly getting warmer. The flowerbeds of the grounds were slowly becoming tinted here and there with patches of green. Si-bong and I quietly watched the branches of the poplars. We could see two magpies busy building their home. The sky seemed to grow bigger and bigger, and the colors of blankets being hung to dry on verandas were spreading across the buildings.

  After sitting on the bench for a while, we would sometimes try following the people who passed us by. We tried following the old woman who loaded a small cart full of scrap paper, and we also tried silently following a young woman of Si-yeon’s age. The woman glanced back at us a few times when, suddenly, she burst into a sprint. Because of that we stopped following her.

  We followed the mail delivery person all the way up and down the apartment stairs and tried to run after the Chinese food deliveryman’s scooter. When all of the elementary students flooded out of school toward the arcade, we followed them, matching their stride. We even once followed police officers making their rounds, and were eventually asked to show our IDs. We weren’t carrying any. Si-yeon came out of the house and for a long time was explaining something to the police officers for us. Once the police officers left, Si-yeon looked at us and let out a long sigh. We didn’t say anything to her, and that was on account of not really having much to say.

  We followed the building custodian once, and one time we followed a traveling car salesman. We once also tried to follow the building security guard, the milk delivery person, newspaper delivery person, and even once a 119 emergency rescue team.

  After doing this for a while, we saw two men. After seeing them, we stopped pursuing anyone else. From that day on, we only followed them.

  That was it. Up until that time we had been searching for someone who mig
ht be able to give us some kind of work. The plump, older woman we’d met in the institution helped us remember something that we’d forgotten. At that moment we realized something we did well, something that we could do to earn money and so something that we could do to help out Si-yeon and the man with the horn-rimmed glasses—something other than packaging.

  Apologize.

  16. The Two Men

  Every morning the two men played badminton in the recreation area of the apartment complex. One of the men was small and the other man was large. The smaller man also had small eyes and very little hair, but in exchange his ears were bigger than normal people’s. The bigger man had curly hair and a long beard, and a stomach that hung well over his pants. The smaller man called the larger man “little bro’,” and the bigger man called the smaller man “big bro’.” In spite of that, it seemed as though they were not actual brothers. The two men seemed to have nothing physical in common.

  After the two men played badminton for nearly an hour, they would drink water and head toward the shop building in front of the apartment complex. Once there, one of the men would go into the fruit stand, and the other into the butcher’s shop. The smaller man was the fruit vendor, the larger man the butcher. Less than ten minutes would pass before both men came back out of their shops holding brooms. Then, each man would sweep the walkway in front of his shop. Sometimes the men’s wives would come out as well to help sweep, and even they called each other “Miss Little Sis’” and “Miss Big Sis’.”

  At ten o’clock in the morning in front of the fruit stand, and at eleven o’clock in the morning in front of the butcher shop, trucks would stop to make deliveries. When that happened, the two men would take the shipments from the trucks and carry them inside. A truck would come by the fruit stand every day, but to the butcher shop once every two days, sometimes once every four days. Both the fruit stand and the butcher shop faced out to the road, rather than toward the apartment complex. Their signs faced out in that direction and, in fact, all of the customers who came to the fruit stand or the butcher shop were people who came from the complex across the street. Even when inside their shops, both the owner of the fruit stand and the butcher always sat facing that direction.

  The two men also always ate lunch together. Lunch was always a packed lunch box. They would go back and forth: one day in the fruit stand, one day in the butcher shop. Sometimes in the evening the two men would sit in front of the convenience store under the umbrella and have a beer, and one time they even got into a small fight with the woman who ran it. It was a fight over the cleaning schedule for the building’s restroom, which they all shared. The woman said that that week it was clearly the fruit stand owner’s turn to clean the bathroom. The owner of the fruit stand said that she was mistaken; that week, it was clearly the convenience store owner’s turn. As the woman beat on her chest in frustration, she asked the owner of the butcher shop who was right. The butcher replied that it couldn’t have been his big bro’ who was mistaken, and that it was most certainly the convenience store owner’s turn. As soon as he said that, the woman looked at the two men without saying a word and then, in a loud voice: “I’ve had it with this deadbeat neighborhood! This month I’m outta here . . . This month!”

  The two men also always left work together. Sometime around ten o’clock in the evening the fruit store owner would close the shutter, and at the same time the butcher would come out as well and close up shop. The two men, holding their badminton rackets and lunch boxes, would walk together across the road toward the other complex. The two men’s houses were one-story slab concrete buildings separated only by one fence and had identical roofs and windows. The smaller man would say, “Lil’ bro’, have a good night!” while waving his hand, and the larger man would bow and say, “Hope you do, too, big bro’!” In both of their houses the lights would go off at nearly the same time. Throughout the whole night, not a single sound could be heard from either house. Then, come seven o’clock the next morning, both men would come out of their homes, badminton rackets and lunch boxes in hand.

  The two men gave the same greeting to each other every morning.

  “So, big bro’, sleep well last night?”

  “Yep. You sleep okay, too?”

  After they greeted each other, they would walk leisurely to the recreation area of the apartment complex and there, play badminton.

  Si-bong and I watched all of that every single day for more than a week. And with that, our preparation was over.

  17. The Beginning of the Apology

  Si-bong and I first visited the owner of the butcher shop. It was right after lunch. The butcher was at the cash register, dozing off with a newspaper unfolded in front of him.

  We greeted him politely with a bow. He wiped the saliva from his mouth as he stood up.

  “What kind of cut’ll it be today, sirs?” He said, holding a large carving knife in his hand.

  “We haven’t come for meat, actually. We’ve come because we wanted to offer you help, sir.”

  As soon as Si-bong said that the butcher lay the carving knife down next to the newspaper. Then he looked back and forth between the two of us. I continued.

  “We’ve come because we’d like to offer to apologize for you to the owner of the fruit stand. That’s why we’ve come here to talk to you, sir.”

  “Apologize? Me? To the fruit stand owner?”

  We nodded our heads quietly.

  “What did I do wrong that I need to apologize to him for?”

  “Well, think about it, sir. If you take a moment to think about it, you should be able to realize what it is you’ve done wrong.”

  The butcher scrunched his forehead, looking down at the counter. He looked to be thinking it over intently.

  “Did he send you here?”

  “No. We’ve simply come here to talk to you about it.”

  “Just like that? What for?” As he asked this, he came a step closer to us.

  “We’ve decided to earn money by making apologies for people. We hoped that you might become our first customer.”

  After he said that, Si-bong looked at me and nodded. I looked back at Si-bong and nodded as well.

  The owner of the butcher shop looked at us blankly. Then, suddenly, in a loud voice he yelled, “Oh, just get the hell out of here! Who the hell are you to come in here and come between two people?!”

  The butcher grabbed a pair of cotton work gloves that had been sitting on top of the refrigerator and threw them at us. The gloves fell at our feet. Si-bong and I picked up the gloves from the floor and placed them back on top of the refrigerator. Then we bowed our heads politely and left the store.

  Everything had gone according to plan.

  18. Finding Wrong

  The two men played badminton as usual. Both men, as usual, swept the sidewalk in front of their stores and, as usual, ate their packed lunches together, and, as usual, drank beer together. As usual, they closed their stores together and, as usual, they walked home together.

  Meanwhile, we kept our eyes on them.

  Every day after lunch, Si-bong and I visited the butcher. We would say to him: “There are far more things to apologize for than you may think, sir.”

  The first few days we did this, the butcher would scowl at us and let out a sigh. Then he would usually say, “What on earth did I do wrong that you think I should apologize to him? Okay, let’s hear it!” At this point Si-bong and I would go through the list of things, one by one.

  “Just earlier today, when you hit the shuttle so high in badminton, that could be considered a wrong.”

  “And when you were eating lunch, you were picking at the banchan twice as fast. That could be considered a wrong.”

  “And when you sat down first at the umbrella, that could be a wrong, too.”

  “Even when you drank your beer faster than him, that could be considered a wrong.”

  “The thing about wrongs, sir, is that actually they have nothing to do with you.”


  “Sir, all of the things you think could be considered wrongs as well.”

  “And we’re saying that we can apologize for all of that on your behalf.”

  “Because, well, we know that it may be very embarrassing for you, sir.”

  When we spoke like that, the butcher would pick up anything—from his newspaper, to gloves, to pens—and throw it at us. After that we would pick it up from the floor, hand it back to him, bow politely, and exit the store.

  One time when we went to see the butcher there was a customer in his store. The butcher was slicing pork with his large carving knife, thinly and evenly into slices the thickness of a matchbox. The customer, a woman with a thick perm, had her arms folded as she watched him work. We stood right next to her and spoke.

  “Hello again. We noticed that you were looking pretty hard at the fruit stand owner’s neck. You weren’t by any chance looking at it and thinking about how you might want to strangle him, were you?”

  “That would be a really great wrong!”

  The butcher let out a long sigh and stopped his cutting. The customer looked back and forth with wide eyes between us and the butcher. As she did so, she slowly took steps leading her out of the butcher shop. Right then, a fat lump of meat came flying at us.

  “Get the hell out of here! Before I chop off your heads!”

  The butcher told us to get the hell out of there but we continued to visit his shop without missing a single day. We truly hoped that the butcher would realize any day now what it was that he’d been doing wrong. Because then there would be hope of some work for us, too. Because of that, even when he threw water at us, when he cursed us, when he spat at us, we never held it against him. Because he’d done it all without knowing any better, there was no room for us to hold anything against him.