49. The Liar
We ate the meat Mom had bought from the grocery store and had a family meal together for the first time in ages. While the meat was grilling, I took a spoonful of the kimchi stew—it tasted just as good as always. We'd also picked up some beer, the kind that was always stocked one or two cans in the fridge, and set it on the table before cracking open the cans. When I poured a can into Mom's glass, she watched the foam bubbling up and then held it out to my sister.
"Our daughter should start drinking around now, right? Want some beer?"
"...Can I, Mom?"
"Suneung's over, so sure. Your brother was drinking by this time."
"Then... just one glass..."
She made it look as awkward as her first drink ever, getting foam on her lips. Gyeo-ul took a sip, grimaced, and forced it down her throat.
...Has she always been this good at acting? The sister I knew always showed it when she lied.
"Doesn't taste good?"
"...It's okay. Better than I thought."
"If it doesn't taste good, don't drink it. It's not good for you anyway."
"No, I wanna. The aroma seems nice."
"See? My girl's got taste. Must be 'cause she's my daughter."
"I guess I've picked up your tastes from eating your food."
"Lately you've only been eating bro's food."
"Bro's food? We've mostly been ordering out or buying stuff."
And just like that, she started throwing me under the bus.
...Okay, I get the gist of what I need to do.
"Hey, even takeout's a hassle to deal with, you know?"
"You said thanks, so we're good."
"...Seriously, if it weren't for your Suneung, I wouldn't have bothered."
"You grilled the meat all nice, so why are you two fighting? Eat another piece instead. If you don't, Mom'll eat it all."
"I'm eating. Oh, Mom. Gimme a beer too."
"Here. Pour it yourself."
"Yessir."
I poured the same beer into an identical glass, and the three of us clinked them lightly. Family booze and meat—sorry, kimchi stew, but it tasted better. Can't help it. Meat and beer.
"So, where's our girl gonna go to college?"
"Hmm... Probably Anam or wherever bro goes."
"No, no, that's obvious. I mean your major."
"Is it... obvious?"
"I've sent how many kids to college? Can't tell from your scores?"
"...Yeah."
"So, what major?"
"...Still thinking, but probably English Lit."
"Why English Lit? You like English?"
"Just... Figure it'll be useful to learn."
"It's not that learning English makes things useful—nowadays, you gotta learn English no matter what you do. Everywhere you go."
"...Yeah."
"...Son, why are you looking at Mom like that?"
No, no. Mom looked at me first. Like I wasn't studying or something.
"No, what?"
"I'm saying you should study English too. Didn't you say you'd take TOEIC after discharge?"
"I've been studying in my own way."
"You say that without changing a muscle in your face."
"How do you know it's a lie if my face didn't change?"
"Who birthed you? I'd know."
"...You might not."
"I might not know everything, but usually I do. 'Cause I'm Mom."
"Pfft."
"Didn't you not believe your grandparents when they said the same about you?"
"I've got nothing to hide."
"You look like you do."
"...I hid some vodka in the freezer."
"...Aigoo. Knew it. Too much hard liquor ruins your liver."
"You drink a lot too, Mom."
"I do it in moderation."
She took a sip of beer and shot me a confident look. I averted my eyes, and she glared again. When I dodged once more, she gave up and turned back to my sister.
"Anyway. So Gyeo-ul's going for English Lit?"
"Yeah... Even if not there, something in languages."
"Like books?"
"...That too. Wanna learn about other cultures."
"...Okay. Whatever. Job's on you. Learn what you wanna learn."
"Yeah."
"Mom made you so pretty, if it doesn't work out, you could be an actress or something and get tons of fans, right? Isn't that right, son?"
"What..."
"Why so serious? Don't make your sister feel bad."
"It's not her face— with her social skills, she couldn't be an actress. You gotta talk well for that."
"...Bro has no friends either, why pick on me?"
"I choose not to make 'em. You can't. Big difference."
"You can't either, so don't pretend."
It was ridiculous, her acting just like a real little sister—like a real sister acting like a real little sister. But honestly, her climbing all over me like that was kinda funny. It didn't suit her.
"No friends needed. Later on, you don't need 'em. Blood's thicker than water. Mom's closest to her sisters, right?"
"Me and bro aren't close."
"You've gotten closer. I can tell from the fighting."
"..."
"...Thanks so much for taking Suneung well even without me. I was so worried."
"...I didn't do much."
"Why downplay it now? I remember you taking care of Gyeo-ul when she was struggling with mocks."
"..."
"...Thanks, my babies. For growing up so well till college. For turning out straight and true. Mom's really grateful."
"...Mom, uh..."
"Why so shy with Mom, my girl?"
"'Cause you're hyping me up too much..."
"Maybe. But you're my pride and joy—can't hurt to hype you a bit."
Her voice praising us as proud and accomplished while downing the rest of her beer didn't ring quite true like usual.
I'm not an idiot. I'm a normal person who knows social norms and morals. It's not that I don't feel guilt. There's just a bigger emotion overriding it. I'm just hiding it, like any criminal who knows they did wrong.
Me and Gyeo-ul's relationship.
"...Bro, what're you thinking so hard about?"
"Can't I think?"
"No, but it doesn't suit you."
"Why? Plenty of old guys think a ton."
"Maybe outside, but at home..."
"This kid says whatever. Should I make your workout tougher later?"
"...You're trying to kill me, bro."
"Gotta push to the brink for results. You've done a week—should be adapting now."
"Panting like that? Only masochists like you enjoy it. I hate it."
"You begged me to train you. To build stamina."
The evidence wipe seemed successful. We'd gotten good at lying, enough to stay off suspicion. Act chummy most times, bicker occasionally. Lying on the sofa head-to-head, kicking each other lightly with our feet. Being normal siblings wasn't that hard.
"Aigoo, fighting again?"
"No, not really fighting."
"Looks like it."
"This ain't fighting. Mom said it—siblings fight 'cause they're close. Strangers don't bother. This is our way of showing intimacy."
"...Me and bro aren't close."
"Hey, back me up for once?"
"Getting childish with age, you two?"
Mom must be tired of watching us. She glared pitifully at our foot-fighting, grabbed her bag, and headed to the door.
"Anyway, if you're gonna fight, do it with fists or whatever. Noisy and the downstairs neighbors'll come up."
"Mom! Don't say that—bro'll actually hit me!"
"When have I ever hit you? You hit me—I never touch you."
"...Gonna lie?"
"What lie? You know I can't lie."
"...Liar."
A liar calling a liar a liar to another liar—it was so absurd no laugh even came out.
"Fight fair, text Mom who won. I'm off to meet a friend."
"Yessir."
"Eat lunch proper. Dinner too. I'll be late."
"...Yeah."
"Okay, Mom's off~ Bye-bye~"
"...Bye."
We were alone now, but her kicks at my leg didn't stop. They escalated from playful nudges to real kicks. Like sending a signal.
"...Can you stop kicking soon? It hurts."
"No."
"You've been hitting me more lately."
"Siblings do that."
"Then can I mess with you too?"
"No. I'm the little sis."
"You mess with me."
"...I'm the little sis. You're the bro."
"What's the diff?"
"Bro's stronger. Bro can't touch me."
"..."
Teasing me with that unreasonable logic...
"...Miss Kim Gyeo-ul."
"...Yeah."
"What for lunch."
"Dunno."
"In or out."
"...Out."
"...Gyeo-ul."
"Yeah."
"Grab some clothes. ...We'll head out soon."
"...Yeah."
Guess she didn't wanna stay home anymore either.