Just Like Any Other Weekend
I woke up a bit later than usual, but surprisingly, I felt pretty numb about it all. Things tend to feel better after a good night's sleep, no matter what.
Stumbling out of my room, I opened the box of leftover chicken from last night. It was tough for the two of us to finish two whole birds. We'd eaten dinner not long before, too. Biting into a cold, dry piece of chicken breast nearly choked me, but it wasn't tasteless, so I forced down the rest.
Before Mom got home, I knocked out all the dishes and cleaning. My head was a mess whether I overthought it or tried to shove it aside—I just needed something to occupy myself to feel at ease. Opening the windows to air out the place, I could really feel that winter had arrived. As I vacuumed the living room, my sister woke up.
"Morning."
"Yeah, good morning, Oppa."
"It's not morning anymore—it's lunchtime."
"Ten-thirty's still morning."
"Fine, call it brunch. Hurry up and eat. Aren't you hungry?"
"...If you make it for me."
"Soy sauce egg fried rice okay?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Hang on a sec."
We greeted each other like always. Joked around like always. Chatted like always. Ate like always. Yeah, just your typical weekend.
Holed up in my room studying English, my phone rang. It was that friend who'd enlisted. Do they let you have your phone that soon these days? That punk... Well, it'd been almost two months since he shipped out, so maybe it was about time. I felt disgusted with myself for turning into such a hardass, then remembered I was a civilian now. Right, civilians can think like that.
I picked up cheerfully.
"Yes, this is civilian Kim Ga-eul. What's Private Dipshit doing calling on a weekend afternoon?"
"You asshole, why didn't you send a letter?"
"What? You didn't send me one when I enlisted."
"Last time we were drinking, you said you'd write one."
"Did I?"
"You're so wasted you can't even remember?"
"Want me to send one now?"
"Fuck off."
He hadn't changed a bit despite being in the army now. Me... I'd circled back to the same old me, too.
"When's your leave?"
"Dunno, soon I think."
"What? Already?"
"No, asshole—even basic training leave got cut, so they gotta let us out once."
"What's 'graduation leave,' you otaku fuck?"
"It's an Air Force thing."
"Air Force welfare, you mean."
"That's why I can't talk to you ground pounders."
"Yeah, I'm a civilian~"
Sticking his neck into a fight he could never win no matter how hard he tried—it made me think he was a stubbornly loyal friend. Why bother picking fights like that?
"Anyway, once my leave schedule's set, I'll let you know. Round up the guys and grab some drinks."
"Lemme check my calendar."
"What, gotta meet your girlfriend again, fuck?"
"I keep telling you I don't have one. Oh yeah, haven't you gotten dumped yet?"
"Still good."
"Then spend your leave with her instead of bugging your friends."
During my leave, I'd prioritized family over friends, too. No delivery food—we ate home-cooked meals, held hands as a family for outings, took my sister to an amusement park on weekends... or did we? Memories fuzzy. Sure, I drank with the guys sometimes.
"Thinking five nights, six days—plenty of time."
"Who takes rookie leave that long?"
"Stop judging by army standards?"
"Makes sense for a patriot volunteering for three extra months."
"You fuck, see you when I get out."
"I don't get why vets hassle active duty. Tongue not tired?"
"...You're gonna get divine punishment. Praying hard you break up with your girl."
"...We broke up, asshole."
"What?"
"Got dumped 'cause I'm a fucking idiot."
"...Knew it."
"Drinks when you're out."
"Yeah."
"Praying you wear your sneakers backwards till then."
"Fuck off. Hanging up."
As I fervently hoped he'd never learn manners, the call ended. All that dumb shit straightened out my brain wrinkles. Forgot everything I'd been studying. ...Whatever. Back to square one. I headed to the kitchen for coffee. Might as well make one for Gyeo-ul too—a milky one. Knocked on her door.
"Kim Gyeo-ul, coffee."
"Oh, yeah."
"Drink up and study hard."
"...Okay."
Handed it over quick and retreated to my room. Was that okay? So far, yeah. Jamming caffeine into my brain, I grabbed my pen again when a KakaoTalk from Noona popped up. Generic "hang in there" stuff, "chicken good?"—flowery words, but encouraging me. ...Appreciate it, but would she still if she knew the last part was bullshit too? Replied vaguely and flopped onto my bed. Frustrating. For real.
Just as I closed my eyes to sleep, Mom came home and smacked my back for still sleeping with the sun high—woke me right up. Told her I'd cleaned everything; she praised me and promised something tasty, so no anger.
It was past midnight, but my eyes were wide awake. Weird. Felt like I'd studied all day. Too much coffee? Sleep wouldn't come. Good thing tomorrow—wait, date changed, so today was Sunday. Can't drive drowsy after sleeping in.
Mood sour, I shuffled to the convenience store in one slipper. Grabbed a big orange juice and some cheddar cheese for snacks. Back home, tossed them on the table, pulled a bottle from the freezer. Clear, sparkling elixir of life. Popped the cold cap, poured into a drink glass. Filled the rest with juice, stirred vigorously with a rice spoon—perfect orange soju.
Sipping slowly while munching cheese, my mind eased. That's the stuff. Bullshit saying life's bitter so soju's sweet. After tasting real bitterness, you sweeten your booze. And soju's sweet and nauseating beyond the bite. Propped the tablet for a movie, savoring my third glass when—
"...Son, not asleep?"
"Ah... Mom."
Mom emerged into the kitchen.
"What're you doing this late?"
"...Watching a movie."
"Movie with orange juice?"
"Craving hit."
She shuffled over, bleary-eyed, spotted the vodka bottle, and quipped—
"...Drinking?"
"...Maybe."
"Something bad happen?"
"Nope."
"Then why slum it here? Drink in your room."
"...Yeah."
Yeah, what a sad sack. Downed the rest in one gulp; Mom sat across, face worried.
"Breakup?"
"...You know I don't have a girlfriend."
"Confessed and got rejected?"
"..."
I shook my head. But she kept going, somehow getting it.
"Who'd reject our handsome boy? Her loss—can't spot a good one."
"...Not that."
"...You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Hungry? Ramen?"
"No, full."
"Tell Mom. What's up?"
...Can't. Especially not Mom. Silence might let it slide as nothing. A stranger? I could've screamed it into the bamboo grove. I tried stabbing your heart, Mom.
"...Just... liked someone. But too many mismatches..."
"They don't like you back?"
"Not that... Mutual feelings don't make it work."
"These days? Everything goes."
"Didn't. ...Complicated circumstances."
"...I see."
"So we're staying friends. Get along great..."
"...Son crying?"
"Huh? No."
"Grown man crying over that... Oh, you really are."
No, seriously not. Unfair. Just the mood making my eyes misty. I don't cry over this shit. Was feeling good from the sweet booze moments ago. Defamation.
"Chin up, son. World full of girls who'd love you."
"Eh, not really."
"Mom loves you, sister does, cousins and aunts too."
"...That's different."
"Loved by family? Plenty outside will too."
"...Nah. Gonna live single."
"Marriage your call, but meet people. Who knows?"
Knows? I think I do. Even now chatting with Mom, this should-comfort moment—
"Ah, whatever. I'll live with you and Gyeo-ul."
"Drunk already? Bedtime."
"Not drunk. Takes more than this."
"Sober kid bawling in front of Mom?"
"Goddamn it, I didn't cry!"
"Sheesh, army vet acting all pitiful."
"...Wiping up and bed. You work tomorrow—go sleep."
"Yeah. I'm off—stop drinking and crash."
"Sure."
Mom downed a glass of water and headed back. Once her door shut, I stashed the bottle in the freezer, crammed the cheese in the fridge.
...Tough. So tough. No one to confide in—it's killing me.