Chapter 83: Side Story - Mother (4)
Chapter 83: Side Story - Mother (4)
I’ve suffered from motion sickness since I was a small child, a fact my mother and the rest of my family knew all too well.
Despite that, I chose to sit in the front passenger seat next to her. As her son, it felt wrong to sit in the back like some high-ranking official being chauffeured around. If the whole family had been in the car, I would have quietly sat in the back with Yuri, but sitting in the rear while riding alone felt a bit awkward.
Consequently, my motion sickness was worse than usual.
In truth, I had prepared myself for it. It wasn't as if I had anything urgent to do today or tomorrow, so I figured suffering through a day of nausea was a fair trade. I was going to have to take a leave of absence to enlist in the military anyway, and though things were awkward between Mother and me, I thought it would be good to spend at least one day together.
So, I remained quiet in her car.
Fortunately, regardless of my condition, Mother looked after me well, leading me exactly where I needed to go. To put it another way, I wasn't exactly rational or in my right mind the entire time we were driving. Yet, Mother handled everything I needed and everything that had to be done without a single word of complaint.
Considering that, even if she hadn't been acting like herself yesterday and today, it was clear she was still the same mother I had always respected and loved.
"Wake up."
After a cycle of drifting off, waking up to do what needed to be done, and falling back asleep as soon as I got back in the car, I felt Mother shaking my shoulder.
"…Yes."
"Are you dizzy?"
"A little."
"Do you want to rest more? I’ll open the door for you."
I only realized it after waking up, but the car was parked in what looked like a parking lot. The engine had been turned off for quite a while, as there wasn't even a hint of the car's characteristic vibration.
She knew that the engine's idling made my motion sickness worse, so she must have turned it off and waited until I could no longer feel the vibrations. It was a deeply considerate gesture. I suppose a mother is still a mother, after all.
Feeling her meticulous care, I brushed back my bangs, which were damp with cold sweat.
"Yes, I think… I should."
"Rest for a moment. Do you want something to eat?"
The questions came in quick succession. I failed to answer at first, not even realizing she had asked me something. It was only when I felt her gaze on me that I snapped out of it.
"Pardon?"
"Food."
"Food… right now…?"
"It’s dinner time."
Wait, it’s that late already?
Confused, I fumbled for my smartphone. I swallowed hard when I saw the time: 6:45 PM. No wonder I felt so terrible; I had been in the car all day.
Now that the reality of the situation had set in, my stomach felt like it was turning inside out. This was not good. I wondered if I’d even be able to keep a meal down…
"Drink this."
Mother held something out to me. I took it, blinking blankly at the bright, refreshing orange logo printed on the container.
"This is…"
"Orange juice."
It certainly looked like it. The "100% Juice" label was quite prominent. But why orange juice all of a sudden?
As I stared at her in confusion, Mother spoke up, answering the question I hadn't even asked—a rare move for her.
"I heard it’s good for motion sickness."
"Ah."
Had she looked that up? It was so unlike her that I found myself stealing glances at her. I had started feeling like she was a bit different since yesterday.
It was a silly thought, but it reminded me of movies or cartoons I’d seen as a kid. You know the ones—where a parent, child, lover, or friend starts acting strange, and it turns out they’re actually some other entity wearing their skin. It’s a common trope used in all sorts of stories, and for a fleeting, absurd moment, I wondered if that was the case here.
That was how different Mother seemed from her usual self.
If it had been the "usual" Mother, she wouldn't have worried about my motion sickness. She would have driven all the way home, parked the car, gone inside to change while I slept, checked on me occasionally, and then told me to go to my room and rest once I finally woke up.
It wasn't that she lacked consideration, but her way of showing it was usually quite blunt. She tried to act like a mother, but if I had to describe it, she felt more like a stoic father from Gyeongsang Province—someone I never actually had. She did say she was from that region, so I suppose it made sense.
Perhaps that was why the words slipped out of my mouth.
"Mother, about yesterday… and today. Why are you acting like this?"
Mother’s hand paused. Beneath that cold, seemingly emotionless face, a flash of flustered confusion and a faint hint of hurt flickered by.
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I realized it must have sounded like I was blaming her or telling her to stop.
"No, I didn't mean it like that. Whatever you're thinking, it's not that."
Only then did Mother look at me with doubt in her eyes. Her gaze returned to its usual unreadable silence, but I could sense a flicker of curiosity within.
"It’s just… I’m a bit surprised. You’re not acting like you usually do…"
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"How do I usually act?"
It felt like she was fishing for information, which brought back that absurd "impostor" theory. But that was impossible. No matter how dense I might be, I was her son. I wasn't the type of person who wouldn't notice if my own mother had been replaced by someone else entirely.
"Just… a bit cold? Like you aren't really interested?"
"I am not."
Her voice was firm. For a moment, I forgot what I was going to say, but I clutched my dizzy head and forced the words out.
"That’s how it seemed to me. Even now… normally, you would have just parked in the garage at home and checked on me every now and then to see if I was awake."
Mother didn't answer; she just watched me quietly. Even though her face was almost expressionless, I could sense a hint of dissatisfaction, a feeling that she was pouting.
Even that feeling was new.
Mother, pouting?
It felt like she wanted to argue that she wasn't like that, especially in response to the words of her mere son, but she lacked the words or the eloquence to do so. Even that sight was incredibly fresh. If I were a bit stupider, I might have blurted out a cliché line like, "Who are you?"
Instead, I asked a different question.
"Why are you suddenly being like this…?"
I worried that I sounded like I was interrogating her, but Mother seemed to interpret the edge in my question differently.
"I have always been like this."
"No, you haven't."
When I stood my ground, Mother stared at me intently. Reading the dissatisfaction in her expression made me even more flustered.
Was Mother always this kind of person? She felt strangely unfamiliar. It felt as if the humanity of this woman—who had always been an object of reverence and perfection—was being revealed just by flipping over a single stone.
Usually, when you flip a stone, you find it crawling with bugs and feel disgusted, but this…
This was a strange feeling. And Mother seemed to be feeling it too.
"Do you dislike it?"
Do I dislike it?
It was hard to give a definitive answer. It was certainly too awkward to say I "liked" it. Her behavior, and the fact that I couldn't tell what she wanted from this, made me feel uneasy and hesitant.
But if she was asking if I hated it, I could say no.
"No," I replied. In fact, if I had to say, I thought it might actually be a good thing. "I was just… curious why you were suddenly acting this way."
She was so different from the mother I had known until now. I had no idea why or how she had started acting like this. But I didn't think it was a bad thing; I just didn't know the reason yet.
And Mother didn't seem to have any intention of explaining it to me. Why? Was it too personal? Or did she not even know the reason herself?
I couldn't tell. After all, Mother had always been "Mother." Thorough, cold, and expressionless. Someone to be revered and respected, but hardly someone I could call "close." I had always thought of her more as a master than a family member…
But today, she looked very different. I didn't know if this was a permanent change or just temporary. It was hard to tell if this was good or bad, so I couldn't easily make up my mind.
Then again, I wasn't sure if I’d even have the chance to decide. Or if deciding would even change anything.
"You're hungry, aren't you?"
As if on cue, my stomach growled. Mother spoke as if she had read the expression on my face. She was still Mother, after all—noticing I was hungry even though I hadn't said a word.
"We happen to be right in front of a restaurant. Let's eat."
Without waiting for an answer, Mother got out of the car first.
Dressed in a sweater that clung to her body, revealing every curve, a tight mini-skirt, and a thin coat, she walked toward the restaurant, the rhythmic click-clack of her heels echoing on the pavement.
She didn't hesitate or worry that I wouldn't follow. Without looking back, she checked her smartphone and stepped inside.
I watched her blankly for a moment, then blinked as a realization struck me.
She hadn't been wearing that outfit when we left the house.
While I was asleep, she must have stopped back at home. Realizing that this wasn't just a spontaneous meal because we happened to be out, I stood up as if possessed and followed her toward the restaurant.