Jun's True Heart
Sister conveyed the story of Luka's parents with calm composure. It was a saddening tale.
The kind that left one feeling suffocated and trapped, trapped in silence and despair.
It was a story I wanted to turn away from all the more.
If they had been mere distant strangers to me, I would have offered them a fragile pity, praying for them, and perhaps even donating something. I would have smiled and done a little more—telling them they were fine, that things would get better, that they had suffered enough and deserved happiness ahead.
And since I might never see them again, I wouldn't need to take responsibility for the words of comfort I spoke.
I would feel only the small satisfaction of having shown kindness to a pitiful person, and that would be the end.
But their despair had been far too close to me. I had fled from them with all my strength, carrying only the child who had come with me.
"You must hate Alicia, don't you?"
"Yes."
Sister asked calmly, and I answered without a second thought. At the time, I was oblivious to shame or humiliation.
The deep sadness of others could not stand before my own discomfort.
I was nothing but a shallow human being.
I resented you for treating me the same as that woman. How could we be the same "child"? It stung even more that you didn't even treat me the same—you seemed to care for her more.
How could that be?
Because I'm Asian? Does being of the same race matter more than being someone a bit simple-minded?
I didn't ask the question that burned on my tongue—selfish, narrow, and shameful.
Sister always knew my unspoken thoughts anyway.
And she began answering the question I had never voiced.
"Only her parents would look back at the mother, not the baby, the moment a new life was born."
"..."
"The same applied when those new lives grew. The only ones who would care for a person who had become a parent were the parents' parents."
Sister lit her second cigarette.
"If I truly believe we are all children of God. Or even before that, if I truly consider Alicia to be my daughter... even when everyone points fingers at that child and blames her, and everyone worries about her children's lives."
I lowered my head. I knew what was coming even without hearing it.
"Won't I need to worry about Alicia's life too? When everyone blames Alicia and Kyle for their foolish choices, won't I need to support and comfort them?"
The cigarette smoke rose into the sky, hollow and drifting.
"When everyone feels burdened by that child's cries, and worse, finds them unbearable, only I... I alone must at least understand the sadness of her shattered world."
"..."
"Regardless of age, looking at each person's life, Luka and Reni will be fine as time passes. They will be happy someday. Children grow up to become adults."
But the sadness of a child who does not grow or change would require an adult to soothe them for a long, long time.
I knew it too. Alicia would have the deeper scars. But...
Logically, I understood Sister's words completely. Yet I was far too foolish and selfish.
I spoke my true feelings first.
"Even if you say that, I still don't want that person to be Luka's mother. I don't want to get close. It feels like a burden."
So please understand at least my own childish and selfish heart too.
The moment I said it, the natural wave of self-reproach followed. Was I truly no better than this? How could my shallow emotions never be fixed, no matter how much years passed?
Though blunt, the kind Sister gently comforted me again.
"That is only natural, so you need not carry guilt."
"...No, I might even feel truly sorry for that person."
I wished that person had simply disappeared. Some part of me truly thought so.
"That may be only natural too. You never had the chance to connect with Alicia. You never knew how beautiful that child was."
You had never seen a small child take their first steps. You had never received the wildflowers the child carefully picked and brought with tiny hands, thinking of how the child would grow.
You had never watched that child grow into a wedding dress, marry the loved one, and live a proud life with their first child.
"You haven't shared all those times together, and it's strange that you don't find that child bothersome."
I stubbed out the now-burnt cigarette and pressed my face into my hands.
Now, did I still need to understand everything and pity her? Did I need to accept her as part of Luka, as part of my own life?
"Love should never be forced upon someone. I have no intention of obligating you to accept Alicia. You must love yourself more than anyone else."
"...Then why did you call me today?"
It would have been better if I hadn't known. My heart would have been so much more at ease. I had been doing quite well lately...
"I heard from Gabriel that you have decided to adopt Luka."
"Yes."
"I thought you would need to know everything about Luka."
"..."
It was correct. I slowly nodded. I felt ashamed.
Even if I was uncomfortable and pained, I had to know all of this—for the sake of answering Luka's questions later.
But Sister's reason for calling me was not yet at an end.
"And I wanted to ask you while I was looking at you."
"About what?"
"Child. If Luka has the same borderline intellectual disability as his mother, will you be able to handle that child's life?"
"..."
She was asking whether I could understand, care for, and protect that broken, ruined child's life, its sadness and resentment, in the same way you are now.
Whether I could take responsibility for that child's future as their parent.
"...Luka is very intelligent."
I answered without deeply examining my own heart. Our Luka would never be like that. There was no way.
But how could I be so certain?
"Yes. This seems more affected by environmental factors than genetics."
"Yes, Luka is... Luka is..."
"Reni, who is now four, is also very intelligent. But Luka is not even twelve months old, so it might still be difficult to tell."
"..."
"You should think it over one more time before adopting a child."
"..."
"Child."
Sister called me with a voice I had never heard before. Deep concern filled her face.
"I am sorry for making you think this way and making this choice. I did not expect you and Luka to become close so quickly. At the time, I only thought you would take care of the child for a short time because no one was like you. So, child."
"Yes."
"You are still too young, and you should be living your own happy life. So do not carry any guilt. Think it over once more..."
"I am already Luka's father."
"...Then."
"Yes."
The day I first met Luka. The decision to take the abandoned child home, made on impulse, had been because I wished the child would never become like me.
Because I feared the child would turn gray like me.
But no matter how I added sincerity, pity, or any kind word, I knew deep in my heart that my feelings at that time had been hypocritical.
Because I had never truly sacrificed myself for you.
Wasn't that only natural? For someone I had never met before, why? Knowing I would raise a child and suffer for them, why did I do it?
I had clearly brought you home for my own selfish satisfaction.
Since I couldn't give what I didn't want to give, I had no choice even if my heart was hypocritical.
The ones who had cared for the orphanage children younger than me back then had done so in that same context. I had not truly loved them or cared for them with all my heart.
As an orphan, how could I care for orphans?
Orphans instinctively had to care for themselves first. Since my parents had abandoned me, I had to care for myself.
And even as I grew into an adult, the once-abandoned child inside me never left. To erase that emptiness, I had brought you home.
I repeat: as an orphan, how could I care for orphans? I could barely maintain myself, barely surviving, breathing only to survive.
That wretched daily life had been all I had strength for.
Still.
I had given the parents' love I had longed for to you.
I had cared for you, imitating the love of the parents I knew.
So that you would not feel the loneliness of being parentless.
So that when you grew up, even if I turned out to be a parent who did not match your heart, you would still feel I was a solid foundation.
So that no matter what life you lived, there would be a parent who would support you, love you, believe in you.
Moreover, by giving you everything I had longed for...
I had wanted to make the people who had abandoned me ashamed.
I had wanted to say 'I am different from you.'
Everything I gave you had been based on that heart.
But.
Since I couldn't refuse to give something I didn't want to give.
At some point, I had forgotten my past self and looked at you.
At some point, I had forgotten the boundary between my body heat and yours.
At some point, the entire world had brightened with your laughter, and I had sought God in your pain.
Even though I had not believed in God for quite some time.
"Sister."
"Yes."
"Even now, when I was young I always wondered why God did not watch over everyone and keep them happy. And I searched for an answer for a long time but failed. From that time on, I think I stopped believing in God."
"Yes. It is understandable that you could not understand."
"... "
That was all she had to say.
I waited a moment, but it truly was all. There was no sermon, no more.
Sister, whose profession was nun, should have spoken at least one more word, shouldn't she?
But from her attitude, I gained the courage to ask the nun who was a nun a surprisingly foolish question.
"Do you believe in God, Sister?"
"If the house of this God is needed, there is the God I believe in right here."
"I don't understand what that means."
"I believe in the God who gives me the power to do what I want to do."
I smiled faintly.
"So does that mean the Sister has God sometimes and doesn't sometimes?"
"... "
Sister laughed softly. Even in this moment, that slightly frightening smile remained.
Sister took out her third cigarette and spoke.
"Though a bit of advice from an old priest, I at least think God exists only when you can believe in him."
"Why?"
"He is the one who gives you the power to do what you believe is right. If you have no faith in my actions, it is as if there is no God for me."
"...I see."
Did I not see God in my life because I had no faith? Did I only appeal to God with my own pain and ultimately fail to find him?
But now.
* * *