The Intruder
The weather app always said cloudy, but it was safe to say that the forecasts on Dalos Island were rarely accurate.
Even during the rainy season, when eight out of ten days were overcast, there was no need to worry. The fickle rain would pour down as if it had made up its mind, usually for about four hours, then clear up beautifully by the afternoon. Late December, when the monsoon rains grew fierce, was a different story, but muddy puddles were nothing new here.
Looking at it that way, the adults had chosen the perfect dates for their trip. I’d heard that on days with heavy rain, the waves got so rough that boats wouldn’t sail. My mom, who had impossibly good luck with weather no matter where she went, probably couldn’t even imagine people dying in boat accidents. Sometimes I lay awake at night thinking that the only flaw in my mother—who succeeded at everything she touched—was me. It was a little frightening that even the weather, which could kill people, seemed to side with her, yet it couldn’t do anything about her own child. No wonder people say having no children is the greatest blessing.
“Eun-dam. Where are you off to, all dressed up?”
Nomnom, the front desk clerk, had been chatting with her friends but turned her attention to me. I swung my leg over the bicycle pedal and shouted back as I pushed off.
“To eat dinner!”
Ever since a lizard the size of a baby crocodile appeared in the pool connected to the restaurant, I had been taking my meals in my room. I had stuck stubbornly to the same accommodation throughout my time on Dalos Island. Swimming could be done in the sea, and the breakfast menu here was more varied than at the more famous resorts. Most important of all was the casual daily conversation I shared with Nomnom at the front desk.
When you live overseas without a single acquaintance, there inevitably comes a moment when you crave conversation with someone who knows you. Nomnom’s trivial chatter helped ease the loneliness that long-term travelers feel. It wasn’t easy to meet someone abroad who was kind without prying into your personal life.
“My parents arrived from Korea today. I’m going to take them to a nearby restaurant.”
“Oh, right. You did mention that. That’s nice, Eun-dam. Where are your parents staying?”
“At Koran.”
“They’re staying at a nice place.”
Most accommodations on Dalos Island provided a few guest bicycles as a service. I pedaled the blue bike with the room number on it and crossed the narrow alleyways. The family reunion waiting for me would be one hundred and eighty degrees from the smiling farewell Nomnom gave me, but at least, by my standards, it was a meeting I could endure.
The road to Koran Villa was a mix of dusty dirt paths and rain-soaked muddy ones. In short, it wasn’t great for cycling. You also had to watch out for enormous chickens that reached up to your knees. There had even been times when local children who didn’t speak the language kicked a pink rubber ball and accidentally hit me in the head.
Still, I couldn’t give up riding just because it was scary. A bicycle was an essential means of transportation here, and in their eyes I was nothing more than a migratory traveler. Like a stone that had rolled into the lives of the locals, I had no choice but to adapt.
“Hello.”
Even though we were both East Asian, the local children must have found Korean faces quite unfamiliar. A little kid sitting in front of a tiny supermarket no bigger than two pyeong stopped sucking his finger and stared at me. I smiled as I passed, but he frowned. I occasionally ran into children this honest.
The island’s main road ran along the coastline, but traveling that way took over thirty minutes, and whenever you met a horse cart, the smaller vehicle had to yield. In my opinion, it was better to avoid the main road altogether. In the beginning, I had excitedly ridden my bike only to get splashed head-on with muddy water from a passing cart.
Horse carts rang a courtesy bell before entering narrow lanes, but on dead-end paths there was nowhere to escape. That was why experienced travelers used the inner roads where the islanders lived—routes that avoided the carts as much as possible.
As someone who had become fairly seasoned, I could reach any destination on the island by bicycle in about twenty minutes. The fact that the island was tiny also made it easy to learn the geography.
“Eun-dam!”
As the island grew dark, yellow light bulbs flickered on. There were six outdoor tables on the sandy beach in front of Koran Villa. Among the restaurant’s offerings, the most popular were grilled seafood sprinkled with spicy chili powder. The vast night sea, the sound of waves, and the sparkling grains of sand added to the restaurant’s atmosphere. I had planned to bring the adults here for dinner tonight, but my impatient mother’s group had already taken their seats.
“Over here!”
Fearing I might not have heard, Dad stood up from his chair and waved. He even ran down toward me as I turned to lock my bicycle.
“I was just about to call you. How did you time it so perfectly?”
“This place is really good.”
“Here? It just looked the closest, so we sat down.”
“This is the restaurant run by the villa where you’re staying, Dad.”
“Oh my, you’ve been living here a few months and you’ve turned into a complete local expert.”
Because there were many bike thieves, I tried to check the lock two or three more times, but Dad seemed impatient. He grabbed my wrist as I fiddled with the number pad and pulled me up the stairs. The couple really were equally impatient. If I told him I was worried about losing the bike at a moment like this, Dad would probably say something like:
‘It’s just one bike—who cares! Who’s going to give you a hard time over that here?’
Dad had suffered greatly in his youth, which left him with a deep distrust of the world. The problem was that this distrust didn’t apply only to himself. If his daughter showed even the slightest sign of discomfort or inconvenience, his arrows of anger flew at the world instead. Before the innocent world could be attacked, I had developed the habit of simply keeping my mouth shut.
“Here she is—our Eun-dam has arrived!”
With Mom’s applause and Dad’s proud smile, I appeared looking like a molting chicken. My hair was a mess from riding the bike and I hadn’t had time to fix it. Aunt Su-young, as if sensing my embarrassment, politely averted her eyes.
“Sit down, Eun-dam. We already ordered for you… is that okay?”
Without his glasses now that it was evening, Uncle In-ho looked much younger and more energetic. I gave an awkward smile, bowed my head slightly, and sat beside Mom. On the table with the seafood platter stood two empty wine bottles. They had already had a drink. These were the kind of couple who could enjoy themselves perfectly well even without a young guide.
“I was going to make a reservation here. You’ve already started without me.”
I hadn’t missed the part about reserving the restaurant, but I tried a bit of cute pouting anyway. Of course, it didn’t work.
“Hey, these people get shaky hands once it’s past five o’clock. How long do you think we went without eating because of the boat ride? Our daughter who showed up at six is too young to understand.”
They must have been starving after the long boat journey. I shook my head when Uncle tried to pour me the remaining wine. Since I had to ride my bike back, I had no desire to get drunk.
“The view was better during the day. Now that it’s dark, you can only hear the waves. Oh, right, Su-young. You brought a swimsuit, didn’t you?”
“Come on… I told you I don’t swim.”
“What are you saying after coming all the way here? I saw swimsuits for sale at the shop earlier. Just buy one.”
“I’m fine. I hate water.”
“Aigoo, your name is Su-young and you hate swimming?”
Mom’s boss-level dad joke left my jaw hanging in shock. Everyone else at the table burst into loud laughter, clearly quite tipsy. Just as I was wondering whether there was any point in staying sober, Uncle, who had been laughing heartily, looked at me.
“Eun-dam, you really are beautiful no matter when I see you. You’ll be ready to get married soon.”
“Right? The water here must agree with her. Even though she’s my daughter, I was shocked when I saw her earlier.”
My expression froze for a moment. Mom’s excessive praise, which came out of habit, was poison. And it didn’t stop at being bad for me. Those words had a way of completely changing the flow of any conversation.
“Honestly, our Eun-dam is one thing, but—”
Because from this point on, the pattern always shifted to since I praised my child, you should praise yours too.
“Jun-jae never fails to amaze me. I still can’t believe he’s the son of that model student Professor Cha.”
“Remember when he stopped by our store last time? After he left, we all talked about it. Su-young, you really hit the jackpot with that son of yours.”
I didn’t know why my life could never escape these set patterns. The name that could make even my parents—who constantly bragged that their child was the best—back down had appeared. Aunt Su-young’s eyes, quickly searching for something to praise me about in return, felt burdensome. To cut the momentum, I turned my head toward the waiter.
“Mom, Aunt. You don’t know this, do you?”
The waiter who made eye contact approached with a friendly gesture. Dad muttered something about ordering more and flipped through the menu, but what I was about to order wasn’t food.
“The wine here isn’t very good. Maybe because it’s an island, it’s even more expensive than the original price.”
I smiled brightly and wrapped an arm around Mom’s shoulder as if I were the sweetest daughter. Adults usually nodded when you pointed out both price and taste. I spoke politely to the waiter who had now come to stand beside us.
“Five bottles of Dalos beer, please. One, two… five bottles.”
I had tried everything, but the only thing that could put the name Cha Jun-jae to sleep was strong alcohol. Normally the intruder would be the one to adapt, but Cha Jun-jae was an exception. His name was as potent as a trending flu—once it intruded, it filled every corner and refused to leave.
“Make them nice and cold.”
I take back what I said about not wanting to get drunk. At least when it came to forgetting the conversation that had just been happening, alcohol wasn’t so bad.
“Beer? That makes you full, I don’t really want…”
“Mom, I guarantee you’ll order another bottle after the first one. Want to bet?”
This was how I dealt with Cha Jun-jae, the stone that had rolled into my life. I tried to treat the living him as if he were dead. Thoroughly ignoring him. Sometimes forgetting him.
Because only then could I survive. That guy splashed worse mud than any horse cart and blocked my path constantly without even ringing a warning bell.
Listening to the loud laughter of the heavily drunk adults, my consciousness began to drift away.
I always thought about it. The starting point had been there.
First grade, class one.