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“Why do you have puppy pads at home?”
The final syllable my brother had uttered echoed in my ears.
Was he asking out of genuine curiosity, or had he already figured it out and was just trying to tease me?
What kind of answer should I give?
“That’s….”
I dragged out my words, scrambling to come up with an excuse in my head.
Let’s first define what a puppy pad is. It’s absorbent, waterproof, and a disposable item you use once and throw away. So, what is its purpose? As the name implies, it’s for catching waste. It’s primarily for pets. Naturally, the ones I bought were for pets, too.
I mean, the only reason to have puppy pads is if you have an animal, right? Well, technically I belong to the class of mammals, but I’m an animal too. But I couldn’t possibly confess that I bought them for myself. It was just that my bed got soaked more seriously than I’d expected, and it was such a hassle, so I bought them for the sake of my future. I never imagined it would come to this.
In the end, I had to say that another animal had used them. I was back to square one.
I started rolling my brain to calculate the possibilities. The pets people usually keep are dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters… do people keep lizards, too?
I had to link one of these animals to the puppy pads. I’d never kept one myself, but rabbits, lizards, and hamsters obviously don’t use puppy pads, so they were out. Do cats use them? Thinking back to the cute cat videos I’d watched, I remembered them using litter boxes. So, cats were out, too.
There was only one animal left in my head.
It had to be a dog.
But my studio apartment was strictly ‘No Pets Allowed.’ This was a villa complex in a university town. Even if my brother had lived abroad, he’d know that no matter how generous a landlord might be, they wouldn’t turn a blind eye to someone secretly keeping a pet.
…No, wait, there wasn’t even an animal in the house to use as an excuse right now.
I reached a conclusion. I proudly placed one hand over my chest.
“A, a friend asked me to look after their pet…!”
The perceived time was about one or two seconds. I thought I’d answered pretty quickly.
“A pet? Like, not a dog or a cat?”
“It, it was a dog. A puppy…!”
“What kind of puppy?”
“Uh….”
My eyes darted around frantically. I grabbed the first dog breeds that popped into my head. Jindo, Pomeranian, Maltese, Bichon, Retriever, Dachshund, Bulldog… what was the most common one?
“A Pome…!”
“I don’t think a Pomeranian would need puppy pads this big.”
“I guess I bought the wrong size. Ah, ahahaha…. It’s my first time pet-sitting….”
Even to my own ears, the laugh sounded awkward. It was blatantly obvious.
“I, I mean, it’s better to have them big and roomy than too small. It’s nice because it’s wide….”
Was I always this bad at acting? I was pretty good at Mafia games, though.
My brother finished putting on his shoes. Just leave. Please. Just go.
Before he grabbed the door handle to leave, he turned his head. His expression looked indifferent. I couldn’t tell if he was deliberately keeping a poker face or if he’d really just asked out of simple curiosity. I wasn’t a profiler, after all.
“Right, get along well with your friend, then.”
“Y, yeah.”
My brother grabbed the door handle and pushed it down.
“Well, I’m off.”
“G, goodbye….”
He closed the door and left. Through the poorly soundproofed hallway, I could hear the sound of his suitcase wheels rolling away. Was his not digging deeper a sign of his consideration? Or had he really not noticed? Either way, I was just glad I’d managed to get through the situation.
As soon as my brother left, I threw myself onto the bed. Covering my eyes with both hands, I rolled around on the mattress. Once to the left, once to the right.
Suddenly, I felt a wave of resentment toward my mom. If she’d just given me a heads-up, I could have tidied up my room a bit more. Then none of this would have happened. I couldn’t even leave my own things where I wanted in my own room. I’d just left them out to make them easier to reach. I’d forgotten about them.
“Aaaagh….”
Thinking about it again, claiming I was pet-sitting when I hadn’t even opened the package was a nonsensical excuse. There had been a hint of amusement in his face, too. Even though he hadn’t said anything directly, for some reason, it felt like he’d already figured it all out.
I kicked the blanket with my foot. It didn’t fly up like I’d expected. So, I kicked it again.
“Ughhh….”
I hadn’t even used them once; I’d just bought them to make cleanup easier later. This was all Mom’s fault for not telling me. Feeling a bit petty, I sent her a text.
“…….”
If she says she forgot, I have nothing to say. Yeah, I should have hidden them better; it was my fault. Perhaps because it had been a while since I’d contacted her, just as my brother had said, Mom sent a flurry of texts.
See my face. What kind of face did Mom want to see? My current face? Or my old face? Obviously, in context, she meant my current face, but I couldn’t reply right away. If “wanting to see my face” meant my old face, she wouldn’t need to say that to me. She could just look at the old photos in the album.
Even those photos were scarce because I’d hated having my picture taken. I’d been forced to take them in elementary and middle school, but after high school, I’d strongly voiced my opinion, so I’d barely taken any.
So, what was the conclusion? I could send her a picture of my current face. But what kind of photo should I send?
I opened the gallery app. Naturally, my photos were… there were more of them than I’d thought. No, there were a lot. Enough that I had to scroll a bit to see them all.
Photos I’d taken to verify the clothes I’d bought with the money Siu gave me. Photos taken with cosplayers at subculture events. But I couldn’t just send those to Mom. The verification photos all had my face covered. She said she wanted to see my face; I couldn’t send photos where it was hidden. The photos with cosplayers were definitely out. A cosplayer in a bunny suit was clinging to me, her chest pressed against my arm—I couldn’t send that. My expression in those was weird, too.
…I hate taking pictures more than anything. But shouldn’t I show her my face?
My two selves fought in my head. I steeled myself. Let’s take one.
How on earth are you supposed to take a selfie to show someone? Taking it like an ID photo didn’t seem right. It was too awkward. If I took one, what kind of expression should I make? Should I smile? Or keep a neutral expression?
I switched the smartphone camera to the front-facing lens and observed my face. Ah, my hair was a bit messy. I put the phone down and went straight to wash my hair. No, rather than just washing my hair, I took a full shower. I had to anyway.
I dried my hair in a rush. It wasn’t because I wanted to look good before taking the photo. It was just that if I sent a photo right after waking up, she’d obviously worry about whether I was doing okay, so I had no choice.
I picked up the smartphone again and looked at my face. ‘Much better than before.’
A smile came naturally.
“Ah….”
If my thumb had moved a bit faster, I could have captured a pretty natural smile. It was a bit of a shame. I didn’t know I could make an expression like that.
I tilted it up a bit and *click*. I covered my mouth with my hand and *click*. Then I changed my pose, changed the angle, changed the location, lying down, sitting up.
*Click, click—*
By the time I’d taken several, a lot of time had passed. I chose two photos that looked decent by my standards. One felt like too few, and three felt like too many.
I sent the photos. Mom read them almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting for my text.
‘Huh…?’
Then, a call came in.
“Hello…?”
[Eunhae~]
“Why, why did you call…?”
[I didn’t think you’d actually send them. You surprised me, Mom.]
There was laughter mixed into Mom’s voice.
“I just sent them….”
[What do you mean, ‘just’? You’re pretty. Our Eunhae. Seeing the photos… it reminds me of when you were little.]
Mom paused for a moment.
[It’s even better hearing your voice. Are you eating well?]
“I’m eating well….”
[I was worried because you don’t contact me often, but seeing your face, it looks like you’re doing well, so I’m happy~]
“…….”
[Send me photos of your face often. I’m going to forget what you look like….]
“I don’t want to do that….”
[Do as you please, our Eunhae~ I love you, Eunhae.]
“…Me too.”
Mom always ends with “I love you.” I always answer with “Me too.” I wanted to add more, but I was too embarrassed, so I stopped.
The call ended. There are people who keep “I love you” on the tip of their tongue. Isn’t that just a verbal habit? It feels like it lacks sincerity and is used too freely. That’s why I try not to say those things often. If you say it less, the impact is actually greater. I think I should only say it when it’s absolutely necessary. That’s what I think. Probably.
Before going to bed, I scrolled through the friend list on my messaging app. For someone like me who doesn’t use social media, this is the only channel through which I can unilaterally know how people are doing. The fact that it’s unilateral is important. When someone changes their profile or status message, it’s marked with a red dot at the top of the friend list.
There was someone who had changed theirs today. Mom.
It used to be a close-up of a yellow flower with an unknown name. Suddenly, she’d changed her profile picture. What happened?
It was a bit small, so I couldn’t tell clearly, but it looked like a photo of someone’s face. But I felt a sense of déjà vu, like I’d seen it somewhere before. I’ve seen that photo somewhere.
I tapped on the profile. The small photo enlarged, and I began to see clearly what it was. The photo Mom had set as her new profile picture was… my face.
“……Huh?”
One of the photos I’d sent today. Wait a second. Wait, wait a second.
I immediately sent a text to Mom.
Why? Is she really asking because she doesn’t know?
…What is this? Suddenly.
Mom…?
My heart, which had been touched, turned cold again. Why is Mom suddenly acting like this?
“Huu….”
I waited a moment, and a text arrived from Mom.
That scared the life out of me. Why on earth would she set her profile picture to my face?