The Good Son

by You-Jeong Jeong

  I ran towards the abandoned village. Using the beehives as cover, I made up the distance towards Yu-min. Pellets began whizzing past my ears again but by the time I got to the steel-roofed house at the edge of the village, I had finally overtaken him. Yu-min arrived on the opposite side a few seconds later. I plastered myself against the flapping, rusted wall and heard him change his magazine for the fourth time. He was down to his last forty pellets.

  I stuck my head out, trying to get him to use up all his pellets. He didn’t disappoint. Forty pellets instantly blasted towards me. I heard a clicking sound and everything became quiet. Now he was all done. He would be grimacing and looking in the last magazine. He was so consumed by his desire to take me out that he’d probably forgotten how far we were from the bell tower, otherwise he wouldn’t have used up all his ammunition this early.

  I smiled. I hadn’t even used my weapon yet. I moved away from the wall, pointed my gun in front of me and walked carefully out to the middle of the path. It was my turn now.

  When I got to a small creek in front of a thicket, I heard something whizzing towards me. Before I could react, something had exploded at the centre of my forehead. My head snapped back and my knees folded. I fell, holding my forehead. Something warm trickled through my fingers. I heard someone running towards me, giggling. A moment later, a pair of eyes was looking into mine. They were innocent and happy, asking, You’re still not dead? ‘See ya!’ He waved and took off. I saw his slingshot waving in the air. The world turned dark. Blood was covering my eyes. I managed to sit up. I took my shirt off my waist and wiped my eyes and face with it.

  I felt my way down to the creek. I sat in the icy water and washed the wound. I thought back to how he’d bugged me to join in the game and how he had played along until he’d let the pebble fly into my forehead. Of course. He was, after all, experienced at this game. Using up all his pellets was just a cover so that I would walk into his trap.

  The bell clanged. It wasn’t the wind. It was clear that someone was ringing it. It announced the end of our game and declared Yu-min the winner.

  I crawled out of the creek, tied my shirt back around my waist and picked up my gun. I started running towards the cliff. The soles of my feet burned. My sweat dried up and I tasted sourness in my mouth. I didn’t feel any pain. I even forgot I was hurt. A solution was bubbling up from somewhere deep in my heart. I had to correct this unfair result.

  The bell stopped ringing when I got near the tower.

  ‘Stop there,’ Yu-min commanded.

  I didn’t. I didn’t stop there and I didn’t stop running. Panting, I kept racing towards the bell tower.

  ‘I said stop!’

  The blood kept flowing down over my eyes, making it harder and harder to see. The boundaries between sky and sea and cliff were disappearing. The bell tower loomed like a long red ladder. In the middle was Yu-min, who looked like a shadow.

  ‘Stop, I said!’

  Something flew past my ear. I was sure it was a pebble. It grazed the side of my head. Then another whizzed overhead.

  I kept going, nearly leaping, as though readying myself for a run-up for the long jump. One step, two step… I grabbed the railing and vaulted up and over. I leant forward and yanked the slingshot out of his hand. He gasped and tipped back towards the ocean. Before I knew what was happening, everything was over. He wasn’t in front of me any more. Only his scream rang out in my ears. ‘Yu-jin!’

  His voice slowly vanished. A terrifying, dreadful quiet. I couldn’t breathe. Blood whooshed in my ears. My head was burning, and my body felt as if it was being ravaged by spreading wildfire.

  I heard Mother calling, ‘Yu-jin!’

  Gripping tightly to the slingshot, I glared out at the ashy sea. It wasn’t me, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even touch him. Mother called again, right behind me. ‘Yu-jin!’

  Father Perishes Trying to Save Son

  On the morning of 16 April, a father from Seoul trying to rescue his son, who had fallen into the ocean, lost his life in Tan Island, Sinan-gun, Jeonnam Province. Both Han Min-seok (40) and his son Yu-min (10), who were staying at a lodge on the seaside cliff with their family, drowned. Han jumped into the water to save his son, who had been playing on the bell tower of an abandoned church and had fallen fifteen metres. Both were caught in the rough tide. The police said they were investigating the precise details of the accident.

  I kept rereading that sixteen-year-old newspaper article at the pergola table. I’d found it stuck on the last page of the journal. Mother must have cut it out and saved it. Why did she want to keep this? As a souvenir to look back at the incident? To remind herself that it was a lie? To remind herself that I’d killed my brother? If she had believed me, if she’d believed that it was an accident, would everything have turned out differently? Would I have become an average harmless person in her eyes? Would we have lived together for a long time?

  I flicked the lighter and set fire to the article. I threw it in the barbecue. I pushed the pages of the journal on top of it, one by one, taking my time. I burned it all. I felt as if I had cremated myself alive. The past lives to which I couldn’t return bobbed above the dying fire. Rage and despair and self-pity churned violently in my head. The sorrow that had been pressed deep in my stomach erupted like heartburn. My body grew limp. All of it was awful.

  Reality opened up once the embers died down. The moment I could no longer put off had arrived; I had learned all there was to learn and got all the answers I could. I had to make a decision. What was I going to do? A chill ran down my back. I closed the barbecue and came down from the pergola. I stared at the ground as I walked, moving slowly to delay the moment of decision by even a few seconds. What would Hae-jin do if he were me? I leant my head back and squinted at the sky. Light snow flurries were coming down. The pale winter sun was sinking below the heavy clouds. I drew in a breath and let it out in a long sigh, and I could see my breath before me in the air. Another chill went down my back. The cold dug into my teeth. Darwin’s maxim came to mind: adapt or die.

  I thought about dying. That was certainly the easiest solution. I could hang myself, jump off the building, or cut my own throat with Father’s razor. It was also the neatest solution. I wouldn’t have to be cuffed, embarrassed or face judgement. I wouldn’t have to face Hae-jin, who would be disappointed and afraid of me, which would be the worst thing. The only problem was that I didn’t want to die yet. At least not next to Mother. I didn’t want to be forced to die; I wanted to be able to choose the time, place and method of my demise.

  But neither did I want to confess. Just thinking about sitting across from a police officer and trying to explain what I didn’t want to talk about – it made me feel like shit. It would be better to die now rather than to be cross-examined and read about the crime scene in the newspapers. I dismissed this option without thinking any further about it. There was only one way left – vanish as soon as possible. It was now or never. I could think about the rest after I’d gone.

  I went back into my room and sat at my desk. Every summer, we went to see Father’s side of the family in Cebu. My grandmother would embrace me each time, tears streaming down her face. I remembered her embrace, which was soft and smelled nice, and what she would say as she stroked the back of my head: ‘You look just like your father the older you get.’

  I took out my passport. I still had over a year before it expired. Would she hug me like that this time? Would she hold me in her embrace even if she knew what I’d done? Maybe. Hope fluttered its wings. I wanted to remain in that hope.

  I took Mother’s mobile from my drawer. I took her credit card out of the phone case. I turned on the computer, and heard the familiar sound of it booting up. But my mind had to go and ruin it all: Are you serious? As soon as they find out what you did, your grandma’s going to pick up the phone and call the police. She’ll hear it on the news. Even if she does hide you, how long could she stand the pressure? It’s better to go somewhere you don’t kn
ow anyone. Then you won’t have to reveal your true identity. Find somewhere like that.

  I went to an airline website and clicked randomly on all the countries and cities to which there were flights. Kathmandu, Jakarta, Manila, LA, Dubai, Rio de Janeiro. I suddenly remembered my birthday eight years ago, when I was a high-school senior. All I did every day was go to school and come home, immersed in studying for my college entrance exams. That day was a Sunday; not that it mattered, as I woke up at dawn anyway. Sundays were reserved for a special extra study course that finished late in the evening. But that morning Hae-jin had texted me. Get ready to be at Yongsan station at 10.

  I immediately understood what this was about. A few days before, he’d asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday. I told him I wanted to go on a day trip to the furthest place possible without getting caught by Mother. I hadn’t thought it was possible, but here he was, having planned something.

  I smiled despite myself. Yongsan station! I packed my bag with the usual contents in case Mother became suspicious. Pens, notebook, reference books. As I left my room and went downstairs, Hae-jin came out of his room with a camera. Mother was making breakfast. She’d already laid out the traditional birthday meal of seaweed soup, along with the grilled mackerel that I liked, and the glass noodles that were Hae-jin’s favourite. Hae-jin and I sat across from each other. Hae-jin raised his eyebrows, which I took as a reference to his text, and I nodded.

  ‘Can you boys come home early today? Let’s celebrate tonight,’ Mother said, placing a bowl of rice in front of me.

  I picked up my chopsticks and shook my head. ‘I can’t. I have to study.’

  Hae-jin dipped his spoon in his soup and shook his head too. ‘The club’s going to Daebu Island. We’re going to find a place to shoot our graduation film. Sorry.’ He bowed his head further, trying to hide his flushed face.

  ‘You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not my birthday.’ Mother looked at us, her lips pursed. She was obviously disappointed. She paused, giving us a chance to change our minds.

  I swirled the glass noodles around my chopsticks and Hae-jin shovelled the hot soup into his mouth.

  Twenty minutes later, Mother dropped Hae-jin off at the bus stop. Ten minutes after that, she pulled up to the school gates. I opened the car door and Mother handed over a 10,000-won bill, my daily allowance.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at eleven?’

  ‘Okay.’ I got out, and Mother turned the car around and drove off quickly.

  When she was gone, I waved down a taxi. My heart began to pound once we were racing towards Yongsan. It wasn’t really important what Hae-jin was planning or where we were going. The very fact that we were going somewhere was key.

  Hae-jin was waiting for me in front of the Honam Line ticket booth. He handed me two tickets, one for the 10.37 a.m. train to Mokpo and the other for the 6.57 p.m. train coming home. Just as I had wanted, this was the furthest we could manage in a single day. ‘Are you excited?’

  I nodded. I was excited, but I also felt a little like an idiot. Why had I never thought about trying something this simple? Maybe it was because I was beaten down by Mother’s rules. It could also be down to the different ways we received our allowances: Hae-jin got a weekly allowance, as he had more freedom, while I was handed a 10,000-won bill in front of school every morning. According to Mother, it had to be this way because I used money thoughtlessly. You couldn’t do anything with 10,000 won; it was barely enough to buy two snacks at the supermarket. So my allowance usually disappeared the same day. That might have been Mother’s plan all along; she might have thought: he can’t do anything if he doesn’t have money.

  ‘Let’s get something to eat,’ Hae-jin suggested.

  We went into a fast-food restaurant and I ordered a shrimp burger with fries and coffee, and he got a bulgogi burger with a fountain cola. We barely talked on the train, but it was still awesome. I felt peaceful and free just sitting across from Hae-jin and looking out of the window. The train zoomed through hills covered in cherry blossom and shimmering green barley fields and big cities and small villages before arriving at Mokpo.

  We had four hours before we had to get on the train back home. We only had 20,000 won left after having paid for the train tickets and food. There were maybe three things we could do with that amount of money and time: eat a late lunch and relax in a park, take a cab to the beach, or find a cinema and watch a film. We didn’t have to discuss it; we agreed on the third option. At a nearby cinema, The Bucket List was playing. Hae-jin liked Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson, and the film would begin in fifteen minutes. We could share a bag of popcorn with the remaining cash, too.

  Carter, a car mechanic, and Edward, a billionaire, are lung cancer patients who meet in hospital. They decide to create a bucket list for their last few months alive in order to figure out who they really are: this includes hunting in the Serengeti, getting a tattoo, sky-diving, laughing until they cry, and having their ashes scattered in a scenic place. It was hilarious, even with death as the subject. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for the bastard who kept kicking the back of my seat. Hae-jin was quiet the whole time.

  On the train back home, he blurted out, ‘I don’t like how they made light of death.’ It was just as we passed Gwangmyeong station.

  I took my eyes off the dark window. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s just dishonest. It’s sugar-coating the facts.’

  ‘You don’t have to be so serious,’ I countered.

  He stared out of the window, looking blank for a moment, the way he did when he thought about his grandfather. ‘I read once that there are three ways to protect yourself from the fear of death. One is repression, forgetting that death is approaching and acting like it doesn’t exist, which is how most of us live. The second is never forgetting about it, living every day like it’s the last day of your life. The last is acceptance: people who truly accept death aren’t afraid of anything. You feel peaceful even when you’re at the point of losing everything. But do you know what the three approaches have in common?’

  I shook my head. It would be easier to just keel over and die rather than worry about this.

  ‘They’re all lies. They all are manifestations of fear.’

  ‘Then what’s true?’

  ‘Fear itself, I guess. That’s the most honest emotion.’

  I didn’t ask what the point of all of this was. Hae-jin had given me a perfect gift, and I’d liked the film, especially when Edward said, ‘The simplest thing is I loved him and miss him.’ If fate called Hae-jin first, I thought I’d say something similar, and I was pretty sure he would feel the same way about me. ‘Let’s do it too,’ I said.

  ‘Do what?’ Hae-jin looked at me.

  ‘Let’s write down one thing we want to do before we die.’

  Hae-jin grumbled – why would we do something like that, that’s stupid – but when I took out two scraps of paper and a pen from my bag, his demeanour changed. He covered his note with his hand and wrote down his wish as though he thought I would peek.

  ‘Hand it over,’ I said, folding my note four times and giving it to him.

  He folded his and passed it to me.

  ‘One, two, three,’ we said, and opened each other’s notes and put them side by side. Going out on the ocean in a yacht for a year. Celebrating Christmas in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro.

  The yacht was mine. Rio was his. We smiled at each other. We knew exactly what the other meant.

  ‘Happy stories aren’t usually based in reality.’ That was what Hae-jin had said after we saw City of God. I wanted to ask him what truth he was hoping to find in Rio, but didn’t. The train was already crossing Han River; we had to get our things together.

  Mother never found out about our secret. She was so focused on her own hopes and dreams that she probably didn’t even know what mine were, or that I would be able to grant Hae-jin’s wish with her credit card.

  I took out a USB drive from my desk and plugged it in
to my computer. I was the one who made the airline reservations for us to visit my grandmother in Cebu each year, so everything I needed was in here – the certificate of authentication for online banking and copies of our passports. I reserved a round-trip ticket to Rio, connecting through Dubai, the return valid for six months. My Christmas gift to Hae-jin. I would go on my own trip and disappear forever, and the truth of what had happened in this house and where I had gone would remain a mystery. I forgot about my situation for a moment as I thought about Hae-jin’s face when he saw this electronic ticket in his inbox. I grinned, imagining how he would explore the alleys of the favelas, camera in hand, tanned from the sun.

  But now someone was pounding on my door. Had he seen the email confirmation already? He was supposed to spot it only after I left. I shoved Mother’s credit card into my desk and closed the browser. ‘One sec!’

  Hae-jin was outside my door, looking not surprised or happy but pale and nervous, almost confused. ‘We need to talk.’ His voice was cold and stiff.

  My smile faded. ‘I’ll be down soon.’

  ‘No. Now.’ He stepped closer.

  I moved aside grudgingly. ‘Come in then.’

  He stood in front of my desk, shaking his head. He seemed confused.

  ‘Do you want to sit on the chair?’ I offered.

  ‘No, I’ll just sit here.’ He sank onto the corner of my bed, looking flustered. He put his hands on his thighs and breathed deeply, then bent over, his elbows resting on his knees. He gripped his hands together before opening them.

  I perched on the edge of my desk.

  ‘I… I have something to ask you.’ Hae-jin’s voice was shaking.

  I hoped he wasn’t going to ask about the airline ticket. I was going to have to give him an answer; maybe I would say, Do you remember when we took that trip on my birthday and we wrote our last wishes down? This is my present to you.