by Kim Sagwa
“I don’t wash my feet before I go to bed, you know.”
Scratching his head, Minho laughs. “And I didn’t wash my hair today.”
She turns and walks out. Minho follows her. She hands him a small bottle of spring water from the refrigerator.
“When’re your parents coming home?”
“They aren’t.”
“Really?”
“Well… I don’t know. Not till late.”
“Okay to smoke inside?”
“Umm… no. Out on the balcony. I didn’t know you smoked.”
Minho takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Unopened. Lucky Strikes.
“Hey, nice. Where’d you get them?”
“From a friend—he got them in Japan.”
“Ever tried them? How are they? Any good?”
“First time. Want one?”
She nods. They slide open the glass door, go out, and close it behind them. She opens the outer window wide and the wind rushes in and musses her hair. Minho reaches out and smooths it down.
Crystal scowls. “What are you doing? Does it look funny?”
Instead of answering he lights a cigarette and points at the two metal chairs with silver finish. “Okay to sit?”
“Not okay.”
“Fine.”
“Just kidding. Go ahead, sit. That’s what they’re there for. They’re called chairs.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Crystal lowers her head and giggles.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are.”
“Stop laughing and sit down.” Minho pulls on her arm and she plops into the chair next to him. She turns and sees his face a hand-length away.
“Oppa, is it true you broke up with your girlfriend?”
“Let’s not talk about that.”
“Why’d you break up with her?”
“Just because. I don’t know.” For a time he’s lost in thought. “It was me. I was the one who suggested it.”
“And she went along with it?”
“What?”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know. We stopped calling each other.”
“She stopped calling you? How come?”
“No, it was me.”
“How come?”
“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” He pulls at his hair. Crystal’s eyes narrow to slits. “Like I said, I didn’t wash my hair today and it’s driving me nuts it’s so itchy. Just kidding. I did wash it. This morning. She keeps calling me.”
“And?”
“Well…” With a shrug Minho says, “I leave my cellphone off.”
“Bad boy.” With her hands she neatens his messed-up hair. “My boyfriend’s a good guy.”
“That’s nice.”
“Mmm.”
“Where do I get rid of this?”
She points to a large metal plate on the floor beneath the chairs.
“Wow, that’s an ashtray? Cool.”
“Obviously not.”
“How long you been with him?”
“Oh…maybe four weeks?”
“That’s all?”
“How about you?”
“Nine hundred days.”
“Wow.”
“A little longer, actually.”
“Wow, that’s a long time—but don’t you get tired of hanging out with the same person?”
“Not with her.”
“For me the longest was two months. Even one month is a challenge. I’ll be done with this guy before long.”
“That’s not dating, you’re just fooling around.”
“Then what about you—you go out for nine hundred days then call it quits just like that?”
“You wouldn’t understand—you’re too young.”
“Only a year younger than you.”
“Congratulations—a year younger, that’s wonderful.”
Crystal crushes out the cigarette. Minho rests an arm on the back of her chair. She brings her feet up to the seat of her chair, buries her head between her upraised knees, and whimpers like a puppy. Minho leans closer. The evening breeze from off the nearby hill is ice cold. Goose bumps break out on her arms. Minho smooths her hair. She looks at him. They regard each other with no display of emotion. A long pause, the two of them drawing out the time. Minho’s arm comes to rest on the armrest of her chair. His gaze bores into her cheek. He says, “I’m out of here.” And ever so faintly her face clouds over. He gets up. She drops her feet to the floor, extends her arms straight ahead, stretching. He takes one of her arms and lifts it then passes under it. She grabs the armrests and holds tight, her eyes following him. Wanting him to look back and see her watching him. Just then he turns and looks back at her. She gets up. Scurrying after him she takes his arm. “Bye. Are you okay if I don’t go down with you?”
“Sure. You know, that T-shirt, it’s really…”
“Really what?” She looks down at her T-shirt and meets Dumbo’s eyes. “What about it?”
“It’s kind of silly…in a cute way, I mean.”
“Yeah, it is cute. I totally love it.”
He laughs. “See ya.”
“Bye.”
The door closes and Crystal, arms folded, paces back and forth for a time. A gentle smile spreads across her face. She runs to her room and throws herself on her bed. The bed rumbles and the next moment it’s still.
WOULD YOU BE MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND?
His monitor’s wide screen is a patchwork of black-and-white images. Lying sideways on Crystal’s bed, shoulder propped against a pillow, Minho stares at it. Sitting cross-legged beside him and chewing on her pencil eraser, Crystal looks between the screen and the workbook lying open on the floor.
“Oppa, can you help me with this?” She points at the workbook.
He regards it seriously, then checks the title. “I’m in the liberal arts track. I don’t do this stuff.”
“And I’m in the science track, so I don’t watch movies like that.”
“Why not? You’ve got spiral stairs, you’ve got vertigo. Isn’t that scientific?”
“No way! That guy’s a pervert, a psycho, he’s out of his mind, a dirty old man….” She checks his reaction. “Could you possibly understand what makes that guy tick?”
“Yeah. You don’t?”
“You really do… Gee.”
“Gee.” Minho mimics her and laughs.
Crystal scowls. “I’m going there during school break.”
“Where?”
She points at the monitor, “There. Saen—P’ran—shisk’o.”
“Just to check it out?”
“No, for English camp. But yeah, it’s really an excuse to have fun.”
Minho draws her close, grinning. Leaning her head against his shoulder she continues chewing on the eraser. He snatches the pencil and tosses it to the floor.
“Hey, you broke off the tip. Now what am I going to do?”
“I’m sleepy.”
“Then take a nap.” Crystal places a warm hand on his shoulder. Then she cranes her head back and looks up at the ceiling. Before they know it the sun’s going down and Crystal’s unlit room is steeped in darkness. Except for the monitor everything melts formlessly into the gloom. She buries her face in his shoulder and he takes her hand.
“I’m sleepy.”
“I am too, Minho.”
Holding her around the waist, he lies back on the bed.
She giggles. “Stop, you’re tickling me.”
“Tickling?”
“That’s what I said.”
They both laugh. The laughter trails off and their whispering breaths fill the room. They lie still for a while. Then her cellphone on the desk vibrates. She tries to get up but he holds her close and won’t let go. The phone blinks a few more times and then goes dark.
Again the phone vibrates and blinks in the dark. They lie silent and motionless. She can feel his heart beating. She feels it beating faster and faster, feels his ha
nds getting hotter. She grins—it’s all perfectly natural, physiology at work. But before long this discovery has become tedious and stale. Her phone vibrates and blinks. She makes another attempt to wriggle free. This time he lets her go, free and easy. She takes the phone and reads the message aloud in a staccato tone: “What’s up? I’m bored. Let’s hang out.”
“Who’s that?”
“My boyfriend,” she says with a smirk. “Jealous?”
“As if.” He yawns, and the next thing she knows, his eyes are shut. Looking down at his long eyelashes and the pretty shadows they cast beneath his eyes, she grins. “You’d look awesome with mascara.”
“What?”
“Mascara. Want to give it a try?”
Minho grabs at her arm but she’s able to get the phone to her ear. “Who’s that?” Minho asks again.
Crystal looks into his eyes and says, “My boyfriend.”
“What?”
“Hush.” Minho takes Crystal’s free hand and tickles the palm. She tries to yank it away, but he doesn’t let go.
A voice leaks from the phone. “Hey—where’re you at? What’re you up to?”
She bursts out laughing and gives Minho a playful slap on the back. Minho moans faintly.
“What’s so funny?” comes the voice from the phone.
“Nothing.”
“Where’re you at? What’re you doing?”
“I’m home.”
“Come on out.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Listen,” she says, looking at Minho. “You and me…why don’t we break up?”
“What?”
Minho bursts into laughter. She hits him on the back, this time harder. He covers his mouth trying to stifle the laughter, but it doesn’t work. “Hush!” Her free hand grabs his shoulder and shakes it. “Hush!”
Minho puts his mouth to her ear. “All right,” he whispers. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Shh!”
“What? Say what? Run that by me again.”
“Pyŏl—let’s cut the cord.”
“Crystal, is this some kind of game?”
“No, I’m dead serious.” She tries to steady her breathing, but one look at Minho’s face and she bursts out giggling. Minho joins in. She’s barely able to reel herself back in before continuing.
“We need to break up…yeah…I’m awfully sorry, but let’s call it quits. It’s not working. Not anymore. I mean we’re done. All right? Finished. The end. Closure.”
“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t hang up. Don’t. You do and you’re dead. Dead. You, dead.”
“Cool it. I’m right here.”
Pyŏl is silent. Then Crystal hears him curse loudly in the background, and then the cursing becomes threats. And then he’s speaking into the phone again. “What’s got into you, Crystal? This is so sudden.”
“You really want to know why we need to split up? It’s because I’m into someone new.”
Another burst of laughter from Minho.
Crystal covers his mouth. “Quiet!”
“What was that? I can’t hear you.”
“Why do I have to keep repeating myself? I said I have someone else. Don’t you get it? Want me to say it in English?”
Another voice comes on the line. “Hey, Crystal, can you tell me what’s wrong? Just chill—why don’t the two of you meet and talk it over.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m a friend of Pyŏl’s. He’s a good guy, you know.”
“I know he’s a good guy. Could you put him back on?”
“Sure. Hey, Pyŏl.”
“Yeah, like he said, meet me and we can talk.”
“What for? Is there anything left to talk about?”
“Who’s your new lover boy?”
Minho gets up from the bed. “Bathroom.”
Crystal nods. Perched at the edge of the bed, face solemn, she looks at the monitor. The actress—tragic expression and tragic posture—scurries through the garden with a man in pursuit.
“I don’t love you,” says Crystal.
“I asked who the asshole is.”
“It’s a girl. Happy now?”
“What girl?”
“Mina.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Yes, I am. Crazy in love.” She giggles. The woman on the screen jumps from a tower. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Crazy bitch.”
“No cursing.”
“You are a crazy bitch.”
“Well, I guess this conversation is over. Bye. Take care. And have a happy life.”
“Crazy—”
She snaps the phone shut and tosses it on the bed, then sits primly waiting for Minho.
“Done?”
She nods.
Minho sits down next to her. “Movie’s over too.”
“That’s right.”
“How come you’re always breaking up with someone when I’m around?”
“Maybe you jinx my relationships.”
“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m serious. Think about it.”
Crystal looks at Minho and smiles. Minho looks at Crystal and smiles. Seeing him smile puts her in a good mood. He has a refreshing smile.
“…Yeah, I like it.”
“What?”
“I like it. When you smile, Oppa. Smile. Like that. Smile. Yeah, smile. I like it when you smile, Oppa.”
Again she looks at Minho and smiles. They smile awkwardly at each other, the dark, underhanded grins of accomplices.
“I need to get going on my homework. You ready to go home? I kind of liked the ending of that movie…”
“You’re really weird.”
“That’s why you like me, right?” She pokes him in the arm. “Right? Right? What do you think? I’m right, aren’t I? Come on, tell me.”
The phone rings. She quickly taps Off and while she’s adding Pyŏl’s number to her blocked list two texts come in. She reads and deletes them. Another text pops up. This one she deletes without reading. Minho vacantly watches her looking at her phone with a grave expression. She looks up at him. “Want to go for a smoke?”
Minho nods. They cross the living room and go out on the balcony. She takes his left hand in hers and puts it to her cheek. “I love you.” He removes his hand and lights up.
“Oppa, how come you act like you don’t smoke?”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Then what do you call this?”
“Well, just once in a while.”
“So once in a while means you don’t smoke?”
“Mmm.”
She gives him a sweet smile. “Want to see something?”
“What’s that?”
Cigarette in her mouth, she unlocks her phone. “Check this out. See?”
“Wow, he just doesn’t give up. You don’t mind me seeing these?”
“I don’t care if he keeps texting.” She scowls.
“What’s that?”
“A dying kitten.”
“What?”
“A dying kitten, that’s what.” She blows out a cloud of smoke. “Damn, I need to quit smoking.”
“Do it then.”
“I don’t want to. I also filmed it.”
“Let me see.”
Crystal hits the video replay button and turns up the volume. Against a dark background the little kitten is lying stretched out and moaning. Minho scans the living room. “It was here.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Crystal’s dry voice can be heard: “Hey kitty, don’t die, kitty.”
“That’s you?” Crystal nods. “Your kitten?”
“Nope. Well, it almost was. But it died.”
“Did you buy it?”
“No, I found it next to the garbage cans.” On the screen Crystal takes the cat by the tail and yanks it. Minho looks on, eyes gleaming with curiosity. With difficulty the kitten lifts its head, bares its teeth, and
growls. They hear Crystal’s dry laughter. Then her apology. Then her sobbing. Then her laughing. Another apology. A scene from the theater of the absurd transplanted into the twenty-first century.
“Wait a minute—are you sure it was dying?”
“Positive.”
“But why’d you film it? And how’d it die? Did something happen?”
“I killed it, that’s how.”
Minho stares at her.
“It’s true. I killed it. What do you have to say to that? Tell me. Now that you’ve seen it, maybe you don’t like me anymore.”
“Am I supposed to stop liking you now that I’ve seen that?”
She nods. “That’s what happened with Mina. She said she doesn’t like me anymore.”
“It’s a big world. Why don’t you find yourself some new friends.”
“No need. Now that I have you, Oppa.”
Smiling, Minho puts his arms around her and draws her close.
“You watched me break up with him. I did that for you, Oppa, because I love you, Oppa.”
Minho replays the video. “But why did you do that? How could you kill a kitten? A cat would be hard to kill, wouldn’t it?”
“I threw it against the wall. A bunch of times.” She stubs out her cigarette and snatches her phone from him. “That’s enough. It’s not exactly wholesome entertainment for a kid.”
Suddenly Crystal flies into a rage. She walks out onto the balcony and kicks the railing: one, two, three, four, five times.
Minho watches her, unnerved.
“It’s invincible! Okay. Done with your smoke? Then let’s get you on your way.”
Minho has no idea what’s just happened. But he doesn’t wonder and so he doesn’t question her about it.
No attempt to understand. Keeping silent. That’s the lifestyle he’s chosen. It keeps things simple and peaceful. He doesn’t write down or talk about anything. His thoughts drift from left to right and fly off in the company of the wind and dust. Day after day passes in the same fashion. Time flies and there are no worries. You could simply say that he’s thought-less and opinion-less. If you were to say that to him he would of course protest, saying: No, I’m more complicated than that, I’m smart, I think all day, I’m maybe a bit nastier than you think, a bit more esoteric, a bit more tainted, a bit more sensitive. But that’s his misunderstanding. He’s inclined to overrate himself, just like any schoolboy. He doesn’t talk simply because he has nothing to say. Being taciturn is indicative of a one-dimensional brain. Being polite is indicative of an apathetic heart. When he has nothing to say, instead of trying to think of something, he just keeps his mouth shut. He started out keeping quiet because he had nothing to say, but because he never said anything he grew more and more quiet. He’s ever more thought-less and opinion-less, and all the more charming for it. His skin, pale throughout the summer, and his fine bone structure and lean physique, just right for a T-shirt and jeans, coalesce into charm and mystique in the eyes of others, particularly schoolgirls. On the other hand, with those he’s attracted to he’s loquacious and mischievous, even a bit of a risk-taker, and is inclined to be direct. But this side of him is veiled in politeness and doesn’t come across as rash and, because of his taciturn manner, is considered a conscious choice on his part. His lifestyle defies any comprehensive value judgment. Indeed, it makes him an archetype of a contemporary kid, and this is the very reason Crystal and Minho are attracted to each other.