94. Love-Hate
“...Son, get up.”
“Ugh... yeah...”
I woke up because someone kept shaking my shoulder. My back hurt. ...Must be from sleeping on the sofa. Still groggy, I replayed yesterday's scenario in my head as I tried to sit up. Legs... under... Aaah.
“...What are you doing?”
“...Ugh...”
Because I'd fallen asleep tangled up with my sister, I ended up rolling right off the sofa trying to get up. ...Ow, my head hurts.
“Son. Did you drink?”
“...Pardon?”
“There were beer cans on the table. ...Did you two drink together?”
“Ah... yeah. ...A bit last night.”
“...I see.”
Mom looked at us with worried eyes, let out a deep sigh, and pulled the blanket away. ...Guess she's not asking more. She seemed to understand the situation we'd staged just from this.
“Daughter. Get up. How can you sleep through rolling off the sofa? How late did you stay up?”
“Mmm...”
“Get up and eat breakfast. I made bean sprout soup.”
“Yeah...”
My sister flailed her hands like she wanted the blanket back, then just buried her face in the sofa and stretched out limply. ...Is she acting, or is she really that sleepy? We didn't fall asleep until after three, so she probably was exhausted for real. At least she didn't tumble to the floor like I did.
“Mom... just one more hour...”
“Aigoo, what kind of high schooler are you? You've gotten even sleepier since starting college.”
“So sleeeepy...”
“If you're gonna sleep, go to your room. Not on the sofa.”
“...Yeah.”
Gyeo-ul, who couldn't even open her eyes while flailing, finally dragged herself up, rubbed her eyes with her hands, and staggered back to her room. ...She didn't even trip, that tired.
The door slid shut, and right away Mom unloaded double the nagging on me.
“Go to bed early. ...No drinking at dawn. Staying up late ruins your skin. And your health.”
“We weren't planning to drink... it just happened.”
“...Aigoo, let's just eat. Let Gyeo-ul sleep.”
“...Okay.”
I went to the bathroom, picked the sleepies from my eyes, and sat at the table. Steaming multigrain rice. Bean sprout soup, kimchi, scrambled eggs. Crispy grilled mackerel, leftover braised beef, plum preserves, seasoned seaweed. Way too fancy for breakfast. I picked through the fish, flaking off the flesh and popping it in my mouth. ...Delicious. Always was.
“Is the mackerel good?”
“Yeah. Well-seasoned, delicious.”
“Good. Eat it without the bones. Have some seaweed and kimchi too.”
“Yep.”
I scooped rice bit by bit with my chopsticks, chewing thoroughly and savoring the nutty barley flavor. ...Has Mom always been a great cook, or did she get good at it over time? Who did she learn to make food this tasty for?
“Mom. ...Uh... Dad's coming, right?”
“...Yeah.”
“Next month?”
“Yes. Coming to Korea early next month... probably around mid-month after quarantine.”
“...Here?”
“...You don't want that?”
No flew up my throat but got stuck, so I just shook my head instead. ...Lying's hard. Even though we do it every day, it's tough every time.
“If you really hate it... I can tell your dad to book a hotel. ...You kids come first.”
“No, it's fine. ...If you're reconciling, you should live together.”
“...Alright.”
Mom looked at me apologetically. ...Can't meet her eyes. Unable to bear that gaze, I shifted the topic to someone innocent who deserved a hit.
“...Can I ask something? What kind of person is Dad?”
“...Your dad?”
“Well... I don't know anything. Don't remember much besides when we were little...”
“Hmm... He was full of confidence. Worked hard at his job. Energetic.”
Mom answered without much thought. Confident, hardworking, energetic... sounded just like her. ...So why weren't we energetic kids born to such lively parents? Obviously because...
“...Why'd you divorce?”
“Your dad loved his work too much. More than me, probably.”
“Why marry someone like that...?”
Ah, couldn't hold back. ...Shouldn't have shown I hate him. But come on, that's too much.
“Your dad looked handsome when focused. That's why I gave birth to pretty kids like you two.”
“You fell for his face?”
“What do you take me for? ...Your dad was cool at work, not just his face. Even after marriage. He was good to you kids too... but once he got hooked on work, no bending that stubbornness.”
“...Why remarry him then?”
Handsome, cool, dedicated to his job. I get why he's popular, why she married him. But remarrying? No clue.
Why? Why that guy?
“Son, you wanna know?”
“Yeah... really don't get it.”
“Okay, I'll tell you. ...But this is a secret you keep until you hold my funeral someday?”
“Even from Gyeo-ul?”
“I'll tell Gyeo-ul myself, so don't blab. Keep it to yourself for now.”
“...What is it?”
This secret just for us. Mom set down her spoon, took a sip of water, and finally bared her true feelings to her son.
“I hate your dad so much... that's why I'm getting back together.”
“...Pardon?”
“Living together as four... making him eat jealousy rice, deny him dad treatment, let him catch some flak from you kids... I wanna punish your dad a bit, so I accepted.”
Her rarely agitated face showed fury at her husband—but more like scolding a son or little brother.
“That jerk needs to shed some tears. What's the point of sending money? No calls to his kids, and now he pretends to be sorry...”
“...Mom?”
“He needs to feel it in his bones how wrong he was, how he did unforgivable things... and reflect.”
“...You hate Dad?”
“I don't hate him. ...I resent him, but I don't hate him.”
...So she's taking him back for that reason? To make him reflect? No way. Mom would obviously... forgive him.
“Once he realizes his mistakes, he'll shape up. Grow up a bit...”
Love-hate. Hate him enough to kill, because she loved him that much—makes the betrayal sting deeper. ...But feelings linger. Our faces carry Dad's, so it'll come to mind even if she hates it.
“He's my age and still immature? Your dad needs to grow up. Over ten years abroad, then suddenly back in Korea—who'll look after him? Korea's scary. Without someone to care for a rich guy like your dad, one slip and he's scammed out on the street.”
Annoying as he is, he's family, my husband, kids' dad. ...I kinda get it. If Gyeo-ul suddenly studied abroad, I'd resent her the same. But I could never hate her. Too many memories, love too deep. Even resenting, I'd care.
“Anyway, son. Lifetime secret? Never tell?”
“...Won't tell. No one to tell anyway.”
“Good. Secret. ...Wasn't gonna say, but you two chugged beer pathetically at dawn, hating on Dad with your whole bodies—so I told you. ...Happy?”
“Wasn't pathetic. Poured proper glasses.”
“No snacks at home, just beer? That's pathetic. Stole my stock too. If you'd been loud, I'd have come out and joined.”
“...Sorry. I'll replace it later.”
“...When Dad comes, let's set a proper table for four. Get him drunk till he groans, smack his palm a few times. Hit his back for ignoring us, play dumb if marks show. Say Mom did it.”
She said it laughing, breezing past those horrific times with humor. Mom, forgiving even Dad's unforgivable wrongs, wanting family again. Admirable.
So...
“...Aren't you just the one who wants to hit him?”
“Nah, Mom's hits don't hurt much. Our strong son and daughter—born by me, good bodies—need to smack hard to leave marks and sting. I'm weaker than Gyeo-ul. You'll hit best, Ga-eul.”
Makes me hope. Maybe we can be forgiven too? Like Dad. Absolved of sins...
“Ow, that hurts so bad... aaah!”
“Don't exaggerate, what's this hurt?”
“It huuurts! For real!”
Pain stabbing my back snapped me to reality. No way. Unforgivable acts and indelible sins—gap too wide.
So Mom... please don't notice. Just pretend you don't know...