I Just Called

Nobody looked at me when I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walked into the lecture hall. The TA was calling roll at the front, everyone else was buried in their phones, and so as I sat down in the back row and opened my notebook, not a single gaze came my way.

I caught myself wondering whether a change nobody noticed was really a change at all — then realized the thought itself was still measuring me by other people's standards.

With the bangs gone, my view stayed clear even when I bowed my head.

About ten minutes in, Haram sat down beside me. She set her bag on the desk, looked forward, then glanced sideways.

She looked, turned back to the front, then came back around to me again.

"...Hey."

"Yeah."

"What is this? What's going on with you?"

Haram turned her whole body toward me.

"Did you get a haircut?"

"Yeah."

"And the glasses? When did that happen?"

"Contacts. Yesterday."

"Why?"

"It was time to cut it."

"Nobody has a 'time' to cut their hair."

"...I just did."

Haram looked me up and down. She stared so long that the girl in front turned around, and since she was turning anyway, she gave me a once-over twice.

"...Okay, but seriously. Why is nobody saying anything to you?"

Up front, the TA called the next name.

"We're in class."

"That's not the point. You look like a completely different person right now, and everyone's glued to their phones. Am I the only one who thinks this is weird?"

Her phone came out of the front pocket of her bag. Her fingers unlocked it fast.

"Hold still. I need to get pictures of this."

"Why?"

"Evidence. The others won't believe me later."

—click, click.

Before I could tell her to stop, she'd taken several, then changed angles and taken more.

"Turn your head a little this way."

"......"

"Come on."

When she finished, Haram flipped through the shots. Midway through, she stopped at one and pinched to zoom.

"Seriously, though. Why'd you cut it? Out of nowhere."

If you asked me whether I'd had a reason not to, I hadn't.

A person who only changes when there's a reason to change ends up living by reasons other people hand him. When Dogyeong landed a blind date, I cut my hair. When Yuna had an interview, I cut it. And every time, I was the one sitting beside her, picking out the photos.

"I wanted to."

The hand holding the phone sank down to the desk.

"...What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. That's all."

Haram started to answer, thought better of it, and picked the phone back up.

"Just one more."

When I stepped into the department office that afternoon, Sera was already there.

She was flipping through paperwork and lifted her head — and her hand froze above the pages.

—swish.

The page she'd been holding slid down on its own.

"Hello."

"......"

"Senior."

"Yeah. Yeah."

Sera set the papers down. A finger was still wedged between the pages where she'd left off.

"Your hair."

"Yes."

"Who told you to do it?"

When something happened, this woman never looked first for the reason. She looked first for who was behind it.

"No one. I wanted to."

Sera took two steps closer.

"This bit, in the back."

Her hand arrived first. Her fingertips ran along the ends of my hair, and with it cut that short, they slid straight down to my nape.

Her hand had never come this close before.

"It sticks up a little here."

"Does it?"

I stayed still until her hand dropped, all at once. She caught the retreating hand with her other one.

"Ah — sorry."

"It's fine."

"...I was actually going to explain."

Sera turned back toward the paperwork. She picked up what she'd put down, but the order had come undone.

"A hundred pages to scan today."

"Yes."

"......"

"It suits you."

I was on my way out of the building; Yuna was walking in. We'd been facing each other the whole time, so I should have recognized her at once — it was Yuna who was a beat slow.

When she stopped three steps away, I greeted her first.

"Hey."

"......"

"What."

Yuna opened her mouth and closed it again. Then her gaze climbed up to my forehead and came back down.

"...Nothing."

I had rarely seen her fail to get words out. Yuna talks fast and starts speaking even when she doesn't know what she's going to say. Right now, she couldn't even start.

"I'll get going."

"Oh — okay."

I stepped aside, and Yuna stepped the same way. Standing face to face, we both went the same direction one more time.

Our shoulders brushed.

"......"

"......"

I backed off first. As I did, my hand rose toward my forehead — but there were no bangs left to pull down.

Yuna stood there a moment, then belatedly pressed herself against the wall, and once there, adjusted her bag strap twice.

"Go on ahead."

"...Yeah."

About three steps in, a voice came from behind me.

"Jung Woojin."

I turned around.

"What?"

"...Never mind."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

She'd said it again — nothing. While I went down the stairs, no footsteps followed behind me.

I had never once thought about what Yuna was looking for when she looked at me. Today, Yuna looked at my face.

My hand rose to my forehead again, then fell. I finished going down the stairs.

I ran into Dogyeong at the campus cafeteria. He was carrying his tray when he saw me and stopped mid-step.

—slosh.

The soup tipped to one side.

"Hey."

"Yeah."

Dogyeong sat down in the seat in front of mine. He stared at me for a good while after sitting, forgetting to put the tray down, still holding it.

"What's wrong with you?"

That made the fourth identical reaction today alone.

Haram asked why I'd cut it. Sera asked who told me to. Yuna couldn't ask. Dogyeong asked what was wrong.

The first three stopped at the hair. Dogyeong asked about me.

"Like what?"

"You've been weird for weeks now. And now the hair, too."

"......"

"Did something happen? At home?"

"No."

"...Hey. People are saying you've got a girlfriend. A kid from the student council asked me — what's up with Jung Woojin?"

"There's nothing, I told you."

"...Then why'd you change if there's nothing?"

I looked at Dogyeong, spoon still in hand.

"Asking that is the weirdest part of all."

Same hair since high school, same seat, there whenever he called. Not changing had probably been convenient for him.

"...It does suit you, though."

"Thanks."

"But it's kind of strange. Unfamiliar."

Unfamiliar was exactly the right word. The face that kid knew had eyes half-hidden behind a fringe, and he'd known me a long, long time through that face.

While he ate, he looked at me twice more — but only when I wasn't looking. The way he looked wasn't checking on anything; it was aligning, trying to fit the new image over the old.

Dogyeong had an afternoon class and left first.

Walking out of the cafeteria alone, a stranger greeted me.

"Hi."

"...Hello."

Even after she passed, I couldn't place her. Wondering if we shared a class, I ran through my timetable — nothing matched.

Two more people stared as I went down the stairs. I had almost reached the bottom and turned the corner when I heard voices behind me.

"Who's that?"

"No idea. Same department, though."

"Was there anyone like him in our department?"

My step slowed for a moment, then went on.

Cutting your hair doesn't change what a person looks like. Same face, same height, clothes I'd always worn.

And yet I was the only one who didn't know why they were staring.

When I opened the door, Rainy was waiting in the entryway.

I kicked off my shoes and went in to sit down, and she started to climb into my lap — then stopped, staring up at my face.

—sniff.

Only after sniffing me did she climb up.

"You too, huh?"

She curled herself into a ball on my knees.

With Rainy in my arms, I sat at the desk and opened two windows on the screen.

The left one was the manuscript; the right one, the list I'd made two days ago. The manuscript was still stuck at the same paragraph.

The list had gone to sleep at two lines; I'd woken in the small hours and written eight more. Writing one line, the next refused to come — but lying there in the dark, they surfaced one by one.

Only the first line had a circle. The rest carried no mark at all yet.

Between the second and the third sat one more line, unnumbered.

Dating.

Two lines had been drawn through it, but the words were still legible underneath. It wasn't erased — just marked.

Four more lines waited below that, things I still couldn't do.

The contacts weren't on the list. I'd gone out and bought them yesterday, something that wasn't on it — and that hadn't been my idea either.

4. Make dessert

The fourth line was the last thing I'd written that night.

I could cook meals. I had never once made dessert. Meals get made because you can't do without them; a person who makes things you don't need is a person who has time to spare.

6. Try asking for help

I had almost left the sixth line unnumbered.

Asking for help was something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that came to me, never something I said. I didn't even know how it was supposed to start.

I typed that far and deleted it. It wasn't something to apologize for, yet the apology came out first.

Calls home happened only when there was a reason, and even then Mom usually dialed first. When I picked up, it ran in the same order: eaten yet, doing okay, need money. Say no to all three, and it was time to hang up. Three minutes, done. It was the same last month, and the month before.

I didn't know what you were supposed to say without a reason.

2. Hair

I put a circle at the end of the second line.

It had taken two days to draw a single circle. It seemed like nothing at all — and it had taken eleven years to get here.

I'd given the same answer to everyone who asked today. I cut it because I wanted to. Nobody believed me.

I moved the cursor down to the third line. This one, I could do today. It cost nothing, required going nowhere — all I had to do was press call.

And yet I sat there holding the phone for a long time. Rainy, dozing in my lap, lifted her head and nudged her nose against the back of my hand. The top of my call log was last month — and Mom had made that call too.

Two rings, then she picked up.

The call lasted one minute and forty seconds.

One syllable had come out and then stopped. I knew what came after it, but it wouldn't leave my mouth — no, that wasn't quite it. I had never once made the sound, so I didn't know how.

Something that took less than two minutes — I hadn't done it. I'd never even thought it would be hard. I'd never thought about it at all.

The phone buzzed. From Dad.

It wasn't suspicion. That sentence had always stood open, and I had never once walked through it.

I drew a circle at the end of the third line too. This time, I didn't hesitate before doing it.

The phone buzzed again. This time it was Haram's name.

I wondered whether anyone in the world bothered to photoshop that kind of thing.

I was about to put the phone down when one more came in.

I laughed, short. At the sound, Rainy lifted her head.