Episode 3
Sunday April 20th, 2014.
He rested the third morning and went to have lunch with his mother.
He rode the bus from Paengmok to Namak with Sang-Ho, another civilian diver, and from there transferred to the bus that would take them to Mokpo’s bus terminal.
Sang-Ho looked out the window in silence for the first part of the journey. Only after having black coffee and twisted donuts for breakfast during the transfer did he feel like talking.
I dreamed last night that they were breeding those kids like one breeds carps or trouts, said Sang-Ho. The parents spawned thousands of the fishkids in giant, murky fishponds. The children ate pellets made of the flesh and oil of other fish and powdered amoxicillin and grew fast and strong, but somewhat dumb and clumsy. We ate them fried. Mostly.
When did you start diving?
About twenty years ago. My parents were members of the Shincheonji church of Jesus and I thought that if the world was coming to an end, like the pastor said, it wouldn’t be wind or fire or earth which killed us, but water. Water falls from the sky and runs under our feet and waits patiently around us. The Earth was and still is as corrupted and violent as it was during the first covenant. I was sure he’d break his pact and put an end to all of us, that everything on Earth would perish. I didn’t build an ark. Instead I taught myself how to survive the impending flood. I read everything there was to read about it and worked for forty days and forty nights on things I’m unable to discuss anymore and saved to buy the equipment piece by piece. I’m still waiting for the day of judgment. I’ve run out of oxygen twice before but could survive because I can hold my breath underwater for more than seven minutes. Enough to make it back to the surface in most cases. I’ve been quite lucky. I’m getting old, though, and I know in my heart of hearts that one day soon I’ll run out of it.
Hang-Kwong was about to say something in reply when they heard something like a shotgun blast and the bus stopped. A large dove had smashed through the bus’ windshield. No one was hurt, but the passengers had to wait for more than half an hour for a substitute vehicle.
They said goodbye and parted ways. Hang-Kwong walked from the terminal along Yeongsan-ro, took a bus to Daeseong-Dong, and from there walked for about an hour till he saw the low and naked buildings of Namgyo-dong. A gray, cold morning. Thick clouds invaded the sky.
He stood in front of the bare brick, two-floor house. A short flight of cement steps led down to his mother’s basement apartment.
She greeted him from the kitchen of her small apartment. The thick smell of ferment got into his nose like a pair of fingers. It was always some degrees colder inside the apartment. A yellow scraggy dog came to him wagging its tail.
Hey, William, he said, crouching to scratch the dog under the chin. The dog looked at him with what seemed to be affection. One of his eyes was blue and the other orange.
William had been his gift for her 70th birthday. He planned to buy a dog from a breeder of a pet shop but his mother insisted they visit the dog pound. After she chose William and William chose her, he had asked the attendant, a skinny man wearing a red cap, about the other dogs.
This week we have about three dozen. The week after new year’s is the worst, we can get up to a hundred.
What will happen to the rest?
You mean those who aren’t chosen?
Yes.
The healthiest will be sold for meat. The rest will be gassed. The one your mother chose got lucky. He was to be gassed along with nine more tomorrow morning. I have to send about ten of them each Monday to dog heaven. The long-term residents go first. Makes you wonder. To have the power to decide who gets to live and who doesn’t.
Thanks for being with her, he whispered in the dog’s ear. You’re a good dog, you know. Best dog I’ve ever known.
The dog seemed to rejoice at the human’s compliment and went back to the kitchen still wagging its tail.
Besides the shower toilet room, he could see the whole apartment from the entrance. To his right, the double burner stove kitchen where she cooked and had her meals. A dwarfish refrigerator. A small, round table and two chairs next to the sink. Right in front of the kitchen was her bed, covered by a worn flowered bedspread. The hybrid fan and heater he had bought her for christmas was under the bedside table he had made for her. A compact television tuned day and night on the news hung precariously from the wall adjacent to the kitchen. From the portable radio came tunes from the late 80s. Better times. Simpler. She came to the door as he was taking off his shoes and touched his face with care and grabbed his shoulder. She squeezed. Like someone in a dream making sure that what the hands touch is there and it’s real. In spite of the lack of space, he didn’t feel the room cramped or suffocating. His mother was small and, like a cat, moved quietly around it.
She’d lost weight. Again. Her hair a cloud of ashes. The former grandeur of a pretty woman.
She placed boiled black beans, sliced cucumbers, boiled spinach, kimchi, and rice in front of him after he sat at the table. She also placed a plate with five vegetable pancakes, and another one with stir-fried beef strips and snow peas. A cup with two raw eggs. Warm water, hot tea.
There’s more where that came from, she said.
I can’t eat this much.
You can. And you will. You can do everything you put your heart and soul to. It’s a matter of discipline. A commitment. Eat.
He smiled and ate. The food was fresh and good.
Won’t you eat anything? He said.
I’m not hungry.
He knew she was, but insisting would be a waste of time.
How is your wife? She said.
His mother had begun forgetting things, confusing names and dates and faces. Hang-Kwong had divorced over a decade ago. His ex wife had full custody of their only daughter Hyunjin. He could only see her every two weeks on Sunday morning or evening for a couple of hours.
She’s doing fine, mom.
And your daughter? She must be so big. Please bring her one of these days to see me.
I will, mom. Are you eating well?
More than enough. Have you been swimming these days?
Diving, mom.
That’s what I said.
Yes, I have, mom. I‘ve been busy with the ferry.
Poor kids.
I know.
I can’t imagine what they went through.
He lowered his gaze and chewed and said nothing. He had almost drowned when he was three. His mother always told him he must have made up memories of what he had heard from her and other relatives when he was growing up. But he remembered, he remembered it all. The wave, the inflatable capsizing, the surge of panic, his stomach filling with liquid, followed by his small lungs. The horrible pain of suffocation before he blacked out. He remembered waking up at the hospital, the fear on the nurses’ faces, the doctor’s satisfaction as he resuscitated. He only found the next day that his dad had died while trying to save him. Life has its ways, he thought. Had his father not died that day, he would in all likelihood not be eating breakfast with his mother that day. His father used to beat her to a pulp each time he found a reason to do so, which was quite often. Had his father survived the accident, he thought, he would have let the years pass until he could kill him with his own hands.
Your life is like a cloud, said his mother.
What?
Your life is like a cloud. If you look at it one moment, you might think it looks like this or that, that it has a certain color, a certain shape and texture. A moment later it can look quite different. An hour later it might be gone. Like those kids going to Jeju. I cannot understand why this shall happen to those kids. How it can happen. Kids are open. They have no baggage. No belief system. Kids don’t know how things are supposed to work or what rules they are supposed to follow. They just know what is. And now they’re there, bloating, their little selves decaying in a metal coffin.
She stood up and walked towards the kitchen. He heard her sobs. Hang-Kwong couldn’t think of the right words to console her.
He finished eating in silence. After a while he said, I must go, mom, and brought the dishes to the kitchen. He found his mother leaning against the old refrigerator.
She lifted her head and said, Will you come see me again?
Of course.
Soon?
As soon as I can mom.
Alright.
I left your money on the table. Please pay rent.
You don’t have to. I have my pension.
No, you don’t, mom. Please pay the rent.
Alright.
I love you.
I love you too, son.
He touched her wrinkled cheek with his hand and smiled at her.
Don’t be a cloud, son, she said.
I’ll try my best not to, mom.
