At Least We Can Apologize

by Lee Ki-ho

  One time late at night Si-bong and I had gone all the way to the center of town to post flyers, and by chance we saw Si-yeon. She was wearing a nurse’s outfit and black stockings and was trying to grab the arms of men passing by.

  She would link arms with them and say, “Oppa! Let’s have a little fun! I’ll treat you real good, how’s that sound?”

  Most of the men would shake her off and keep walking, until two men stopped and asked, “Oh yeah? You’re gonna show us a good time, huh?”

  Si-yeon gave the one a slap on the behind and said, “Oh yeah, as long as you tip okay!”

  The men then asked her. “So . . . what about the both of us together? We’ll give you however much you want.”

  As soon as they said that, she unlinked her arms from theirs and wrinkled her forehead. A moment later she smiled once more and said, “Oh, come on, oppa! Let’s just do it one at a time! It’ll be fun, okay?”

  This time it was the man who let go of her arm. “Nah, we’re not interested in that.”

  The two men left Si-yeon where she was and kept walking. Si-yeon stood there, watching the men walk away. Then she ran back up to the men and linked her arms with theirs once more. They stopped where they were and spoke with Si-yeon for a moment. We couldn’t hear them any longer. That was on account of them being too far away from us.

  After a moment, the two men and Si-yeon went into the basement floor of a nearby building. We stood in front of that building for a long time. One hour passed, then two, and the two men and Si-yeon did not come out of the building. Si-bong and I walked home slowly. We said nothing to each other.

  That night, I heard Si-yeon throwing up in the bathroom for a long time. Si-bong and the man with the horn-rimmed glasses were both fast asleep, snoring. Si-yeon didn’t make any trickling noises. Instead, she only made a retching sound like something was caught in her throat.

  I was rubbing my eyes, crouching there with my ear up to the door. I wanted to knock, but I didn’t. In my head I kept envisioning a little bird, falling from the branch of a tree. I imagined that if I knocked, the little bird would limp along and suddenly fly up into the air. I didn’t want to see that image. I just sat there next to the bathroom, rubbing my eyes.

  I started to hear the sound of her whimpering, and eventually the sound of her crying out, “Mommy.”

  For a long time the little bird cried alone.

  7. The Client

  One evening, ten days after we’d posted the flyers, the man with the horn-rimmed glasses came home in a hurry after being out. Behind him stood a man in a suit, with neatly combed hair. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses called him a client. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses took the client into the bedroom. He had told us to wait in the living room. Si-bong and I did as he said and waited. We put our ears up to the bedroom door as we did.

  First the client’s voice could be heard from inside.

  “I’m honestly not sure that this is the right thing to do . . .”

  Then, we could hear the voice of the man with the horn-rimmed glasses. “Heh, how many times should I tell you? I mean, what I’m saying is that first we should just give it a try, right? First we’ll give it a try, and then if you like what we do, you can pay us.”

  “Yeah, but still, I just don’t know how she’s going to take it . . .”

  Then we heard the sound of a lighter. Then, the sound of the lighter again. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses spoke.

  “Right, so what you’re saying now is that you would like us to apologize to your wife and to your child, that’s right, right?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “If you think too much about something like this there’s just no end to it. Obviously, rather than just sitting around, getting out there and apologizing would be better. Then you’ll feel better, too.”

  “Still, it’s been over 10 years since we’ve seen each other.”

  We could hear the sound of the bedroom window opening. For a moment, we heard no one’s voice from the bedroom. After a moment, we could hear the voice of the client again.

  “All right. Let’s give it a try.”

  We heard one of them smack the floor.

  “You’ve made a good decision! When it comes to apologizing, the sooner the better! We’re going to do a great job!”

  “Ah, but one more thing . . . The woman I mentioned before. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that part to my wife.”

  “Ah, really? Well, then what should we say was your reason for leaving them?”

  “Well, just . . . just say that I didn’t know what I was thinking, that I got scared. I mean, the truth is I really did get scared.”

  “You mean, when your son was born?”

  “Yeah . . . I mean, because the kid wasn’t normal, you know?”

  We heard the sound of someone coughing. We also heard the sound of someone clearing his throat and then spitting.

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses spoke.

  “By the way, what about the woman you were living with? Why did she leave?”

  The bedroom grew quiet. We could hear the sound of a lighter once more.

  “I . . . Because I told her I wouldn’t have children.”

  After a bit, the man with the horn-rimmed glasses and the client came out to the living room. The client’s face looked more tired than earlier.

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses gestured toward us and spoke.

  “Say hello to our field specialists.”

  The client bowed his head slightly and spoke.

  “I appreciate you taking this on.”

  Si-bong and I bowed our heads slightly without speaking.

  “So, about the compensation . . . how much, exactly . . . ?”

  When the client got that far, the man with the horn-rimmed glasses took hold of his wrist and guided him outside. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses and client spoke in soft voices just outside the entryway. We couldn’t really hear what they were saying. It was because the sound of their voices was so small.

  Once the client left, the man with the horn-rimmed glasses explained the situation to us.

  “So this guy got interested in a younger woman and left his wife and his kid with a bum leg. Now he wants to apologize. Poor guy.”

  Si-bong asked, “He left them—his wife and his son? Left them where?”

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses just looked at Si-bong for a moment and then said, “No, he didn’t leave them somewhere, I mean he left his home.”

  Si-bong and I nodded our heads.

  “Well, anyway, we just need to apologize for him.”

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses raised his arms above his head and stretched.

  “You guys should get to bed early tonight. You’ll be busy starting tomorrow.”

  Right away we laid our blankets out in the living room and lay down, but sleep did not come easily that night. And that was on account of it not even being eight o’clock yet. At one point the man with the horn-rimmed glasses came out of the bedroom to get some water, then stood over us for a long time, watching us.

  8. Mother and Son

  The next morning we went to find the client’s wife and son with the man with the horn-rimmed glasses. We had a map that the client had drawn for us. On the map he’d also written his address and telephone number. After making the apology, we were to call the client right away.

  The client’s wife was a small woman with high, pronounced cheekbones, and the corners of her eyes pointed downward. She ran a kimbab restaurant at the intersection in front of an elementary school. It was a small restaurant with only three tables. The client’s wife and son lived in a small room in the corner of the restaurant. In front of the window of the restaurant were two huge pots slowly boiling on large gas burners, and they were filled to the brim with dumplings and fried snacks.

  The client’s wife was wearing blue arm covers and sat right next to the door of the restaurant, cutting kimbab or trimming sprigs
of spinach. A few times she would open the door, crane out her neck and take a careful look around. A few times her eyes even met ours as we stood next to the main gate of the school.

  Each time that happened, Si-bong and I were tempted to bow to her politely, but the man with the horn-rimmed glasses stopped us. He said to us in a quiet voice: “We have to time it just right. Then we can get it done all in one shot.”

  We stood there staring at the kimbab restaurant until the afternoon.

  In the afternoon, the kimbab restaurant grew busy. That was on account of the children who came pouring out of the elementary school. They went into the restaurant in pairs or threes. The children who weren’t able to get inside stood in a long line in front of the pots waiting for their turns. The client’s wife worked by herself. She served up the ramen by herself, the kimbab, water, dumplings. She divvied up the change herself, wrapped up fried items herself, and washed the dishes herself.

  About two hours later we could see one child still with his knapsack on, carrying a tray and serving up food. The child had long hair that covered his eyebrows and he was still wearing his P.E. uniform. Limping on his left leg, the child went back and forth between the tables. Each time the child took a step, his left shoulder would sink down and then come up again, but the tray always stayed in the same place, at the same height. Si-bong and I knew who the child was. By that point, all of the people we needed to apologize to were there in one place. We looked at the man with the horn-rimmed glasses, but he said it wasn’t the right time yet. He was crouched in place, continuously testing a large recorder that he’d brought with him from home. He said that he was going to record the entire apology. He said he would play it for the client. He kept putting the recorder up to his mouth, saying “Ah ah. Ah ah.” We tried it along with him, “Ah ah. Ah ah.” Our voices picked up louder. There was no problem with the recorder.

  When it had gotten to be about dinnertime the kimbab restaurant grew less busy. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses gave us a push in the back. He hung a large knapsack with the recorder in it on Si-bong’s shoulder. He said that he would keep an eye on the situation from outside. He added that if three people went into the restaurant all together, the woman might get scared. That seemed to make sense. Anyway, the apologies were ours to take care of.

  We were about to open the door and go inside, but right there we stopped in our tracks. That was on account of our hearing the sound of someone being whipped with a heavy slapping noise inside the kimbab restaurant. We crouched down next to the large pots and listened to the voice coming out of the kimbab restaurant. It was the woman’s.

  “You know what you did wrong?”

  The child replied. “Yes, mom.”

  Again, the sound of the whipping.

  “Why didn’t you change out of your gym clothes?”

  “I didn’t have enough time. The P.E. teacher ended class later than usual so I just . . .”

  “Don’t make excuses!”

  “Yes, mother.”

  The inside of the restaurant became quiet for a moment.

  “Okay. So what do you have to do now?”

  “I’m going to write an apology letter before I go to bed.”

  “I didn’t raise you like this. You have to behave better than the other kids, you know that.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry . . .”

  The client’s wife went into their room. The child took out a paper and pencil from his bag and sat down at the table. He began to write something. All we did was stand outside the window and watch carefully.

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses came up behind us and asked, “What are you doing? Why aren’t you going in?! The tape’s gonna end!”

  Si-bong responded, “I think now is not really the right time.”

  “I think that if we went in now we wouldn’t be able to take care of it all at once,” I added.

  We all turned our heads again toward the inside of the restaurant.

  The child was sitting up straight, still writing on the paper. His face looked serious, and blue veins showed through on the back of his hand with the pencil. The woman, however, did not open the door to the room a single time.

  9. A Question of Stance

  We went once again to the kimbab restaurant. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses suggested that this time we try going in when the son wasn’t there. He said that we would probably be able to make the apology more quickly that way.

  “Why’s that?” Si-bong asked.

  “Whatever the situation, no mother wants to talk about another man in front of her son. I mean, even if you say it’s the kid’s father.”

  We nodded. Just like last time, the man with the horn-rimmed glasses did not go into the restaurant with us. He said that he would wait outside keeping a close eye on the situation.

  The client’s wife was sitting, slicing fried egg into strips, then stood up. Drying her hands on a towel, she asked us, “What’ll it be?”

  Si-bong and I greeted her politely with a bow. Si-bong spoke loudly, looking at the bag hanging off of his shoulder.

  “We’ve actually come to make an apology for someone. We were asked to do so by your husband.”

  “An apology?”

  “That’s correct. It’s regarding the way he got afraid and left home. He informed us that that is what he would like to apologize for.”

  The client’s wife looked at us for a moment. Then she sat back down where she was. She put the strips of egg onto a plastic tray. She didn’t say a word.

  We both kept facing the bag as we spoke.

  “Your husband told us that he has been thinking about this and only this for the past ten years.”

  “And that he believes that everything is his fault.”

  We both knelt down right next to the client’s wife. We continued speaking.

  “You can think of us as your husband. If you like, feel free to think of us as him and beat us until you’ve gotten out all your anger.”

  “You can even try strangling us if you like.”

  The client’s wife continued to say nothing. She began slicing pickled radish. From the first slice to the last, she cut it perfectly evenly. The expression on her face remained exactly the same as well.

  We sat there kneeling for an hour, and then came out of the kimbab restaurant. That was on account of the man with the horn-rimmed glasses signaling us with his hand to come out. At first, Si-bong and I were not able to walk straight. That was on account of our legs buckling before we could move each time we took a step. We were soon all right, though. It was just our ankles that tingled a bit.

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses asked us, “It’s not going okay? What’s taking so long?”

  Si-bong answered. “She’s not talking. She’s not hitting us, either.”

  Then I spoke. “Do you think that maybe she’s completely forgotten about him? I mean, ten years is a really long time.”

  The man with the horn-rimmed glasses turned his head to look inside the kimbab restaurant. The client’s wife was wiping down the tables with a dishcloth. It was almost time for the place to be overrun with children. Si-bong looked at me and spoke.

  “Man, if that’s it, then we’re in trouble. She has to remember so that we can apologize.”

  Si-bong and I looked at the man’s face. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses pushed back his hair with his hands. The client’s wife was stacking cups on each table.

  “Hey,” he said, “What about changing your stance?”

  Si-bong and I went into the kimbab restaurant once again. As soon as we went inside, we put our heads to the floor and stuck our behinds into the air. This was between the tables. We put our hands behind our backs. It was a position the man with the horn-rimmed glasses suggested. It was an extremely difficult position to hold. The top of my head was in such pain it felt as if someone had pounded on it, and my calves began to tremble all on their own. There, in that stance, we apologized to the woman.

  “So . . .
he said that . . . especially, because . . . the child wasn’t normal. . . he was . . . even more . . . scared.”

  “He said . . . that he wanted to come looking for you . . . but that he didn’t . . . have . . . the courage.”

  Elementary school children began entering the restaurant one by one. They argued amongst themselves about who was going to sit at the table first. They yelled at each other as well to order the kimbab quickly. We remained there, in between the table with our heads pegged to the floor.

  There were a few children who came up to us asking what we were doing. Each time one of them asked, Si-bong and I stuttered in response that we were in the middle of an apology. Soon enough, though, we stopped even responding. That was on account of there being too many children asking. There were even some children who copied us, putting their heads on the ground and pointing their behinds in the air. With their heads pegged to the floor, they giggled. There were even some who tried to climb onto our backs. Still others would come up from behind, poke us in the butts and run out of the restaurant quickly. Soon we were in an absolute daze. We fell to our sides a number of times and each time we did, we could see the children’s dirty tennis shoes. Each time we fell over, the restaurant broke out in the children’s laughter.

  The woman did not laugh.

  10. In the Case of No Wrongdoing