An Ordinary Morning, Until It Wasn't
The house in the morning was a portrait of stillness. Aside from the occasional creak of a window stirred by the wind, silence ruled every room.
I lay quietly in bed, staring at the ceiling.
......Will she call today, too?
I counted the seconds in my head.
One.
Maybe she won't call today.
Two.
And if she does, what am I going to say this time?
Three.
Right. figures. This call's lasted longer than usual, for once.
Four.
No point staying in bed for this. Should've slept in.
Just as I let out a sigh—
―Rrrring!
The landline next to my bed rang out, deafening in the quiet.
"Haaah…."
I exhaled the breath I'd been holding.
She called today, too.
After the sigh, I dragged a hand down my face. What annoyed me most was the flicker of relief I'd felt, just for an instant.
I picked up the receiver, sharp with irritation.
"Hello."
"Yu Yeong, it's Mom. It's almost time for school— are you all ready?"
The tenderness laced into the voice on the other end struck me as cheap. I didn't bother hiding my sneer as I answered.
"I'll take care of myself. I already told you not to keep checking up on me like this."
"I can't help worrying. Living out there all alone with no adult around—it's not something most people could manage, you know."
After that came the same tired routine it always did. The nagging about how long I intended to stay there by myself.
"It's already been three years since Grandma passed. How long are you planning to stay in that house?"
"This is my home. Where else would I go?"
"You could just come live with me. Your room is right here, waiting. All you'd have to do is show up."
"Ha."
The absurdity of it wrung a hollow laugh out of me before I could stop it.
"How am I supposed to show up there? There's your husband, for one. And the kid would hate having me around."
"Honestly—don't call him 'your husband.' He's your stepfather. And she's your little sister, so what's to be uncomfortable about? She'll be thrilled to finally have a big brother."
Half a drop of shared blood, and suddenly she was my sister?
I wanted to snap back at her, but I swallowed it. I didn't feel like fighting first thing in the morning.
"Forget it. I'm comfortable here. I don't need anything. And stop calling me— no, don't make me repeat myself."
I'd been about to tell her she didn't have to call at all anymore, and swerved at the last second. Because she really might have taken me at my word.
If it was her, she'd forget me without a second thought. I was sure of it.
"So bristly, first thing in the morning. Fine. Have a good day today. I'll call tomorrow, okay?"
Should I apologize for being short with her? Tell her to have a good day too?
In the instant I hesitated, she hung up first.
―Beep. Beep.
I listened to the dead tone for a moment before slowly setting the receiver back in its cradle.
The house settled back into silence. Warm morning light spilled in through the window.
Nice weather today….
I was staring blankly at the sunbeam when a faint sound began to reach my ears.
―Tip-tap. Tip-tap.
A whisper-fine patter, like sand sifting down on a beach. The soft click of pointed claws touching the floor drew closer and closer.
Pfft. A breath of laughter escaped through my nose.
Honestly.
Like being swallowed by a great wave, the gloom that had weighed on me all morning vanished in a single sweep. That tiny sound, far too small for the massive body that made it, circled around me.
I turned toward the door, my face already breaking into a grin.
"Shin. Quit hovering in the doorway and get over here."
―Woof!
At my word, Shin came bounding out of the next room and straight onto the bed.
"Where'd you disappear to this early? Enjoy your little solo walk without me?"
―Woof!
"Well, look at you. Mr. Confident."
He'd apparently gone off on his own tour of the village—his paws were damp with dirt. The blanket was filthy now, but I couldn't bring myself to care. When I scratched under his chin with a finger, Shin grinned, his pink tongue lolling out.
"You really are cute."
―Huff. Huff.
In Shin's black eyes, there was nothing but me. It was the kind of gaze that made your chest swell just to be on the receiving end of it—enough to make me feel guilty for having thought, briefly, that I was lonely.
"You're hungry, aren't you. Let's get breakfast."
―Woof!
"Since it's a special day, I'll mix in some chicken."
Whether he understood me or not, Shin's tail wagged all the harder. On the way to the kitchen, he kept throwing his whole body against my legs.
"Just hold on a second. You'll get it. I said you'll get it!"
That big body barreling into me at full speed nearly knocked me off my feet.
―Woof!
"I said one second."
―Woof! Woof!
"Wow. You have zero patience, you know that?"
Who in the world did he take after?
With Shin thumping my leg from below and hurrying me along, I could barely think straight. The moment his bowl hit the floor, he was too busy wolfing down his food to bother me.
I used the reprieve to prepare his lunch, then changed into my school uniform. Then I glanced at the clock on the wall.
Oh no.
"……I'm going to have to run."
I was minutes away from being late. I jammed my feet into my sneakers and hurried out into the yard.
"Shin, don't eat your lunch early. Be good while I'm gone. Big brother's off to school."
―Woof!
"Play with the others if you get bored. You know the drill, right?"
After rubbing his forehead a few times, I stepped outside. Halfway down the road toward school, I turned back—and there was Shin, watching me go in exactly the same pose I'd left him.
His stubborn, unwavering silhouette wrung a chuckle out of me.
Dumb, adorable mutt.
Mom had said it this morning, hadn't she? That living alone wasn't something a person could easily manage.
She was wrong.
Because I wasn't living alone.
I'd met Shin three years ago, not long after Grandma passed away.
Mom had had me the moment she turned twenty, and the instant I was born she handed me off to Grandma and left for Seoul. She came back to see me once a month.
Grandma's place was rural, sure, but it had everything a place needed. There were kids my age around, and the handful of us grew up close-knit, bound tighter for being so few.
Once I was old enough to notice such things—to realize that most families had a mom and a dad—I asked her about it. Who my father was. Where he'd gone.
Mom dodged the question with a pained look, and after that, her visits grew fewer and farther between.
I regretted ever asking.
It wasn't even that big a deal, really.
Haesu, who lived across the street, had lost his father in a childhood accident, and Jin-yeon from my school had lost her mother to illness. Not knowing who my father was wasn't actually much of a problem at all.
Because I had Grandma.
My grandmother was famed throughout the village as the most terrifying woman in it. Even my friends—infamous for never listening to a soul—went pale and obedient the moment she opened her mouth. Grandma had always guarded my side with a steadying strength.
Which is why it's fair to say the real trouble only began after Grandma was gone.
…….
"Yu Yeong, do you want to come to Seoul with Mom?"
She asked me carefully, as I stood there numb, clutching Grandma's urn in my arms. I looked at her in silence for a long moment, then shook my head.
Mom had only just remarried, and the baby was barely a few months old. I didn't want to wedge myself like a crack into her picture-perfect new family—and more than anything, I couldn't bear to leave a house that still smelled everywhere of Grandma.
And so I lost my way.
I chased off the friends who came looking for me, refused to pick up when Mom called. Even as I lived like someone who'd lost his mind, I dug in my heels—I would never go to Seoul—and maybe the sight of me like that finally wore her down.
One day, Mom showed up with a tiny puppy in tow.
"A friend of mine's dog just had a litter. You came to mind, so I brought you one. Isn't he cute?"
The puppy was so small back then he fit in one hand. I was nothing but ambivalent.
I didn't especially like dogs, and having something cling to my side without pause was more irritating than I could say.
Mom left behind a few bags of dog food and some toys, then headed back to Seoul. All the while, the dog kept pestering me relentlessly at my side, and he drove me absolutely crazy.
I'll have to tell her to take him back.
I don't want him. She should keep him herself.
When Mom came by a few months later, I told her to take the dog with her. She just laughed and waved the whole thing away.
"We have a baby at home, sweetheart. Puppies are out of the question."
"……Then what happens to him?"
"We find him a new owner, obviously. Don't worry—if you post about him on one of those café sites, people will be lining up saying they'll take him. Worst case, we send him back to my friend's house."
She answered with perfect composure. The same casual, dismissive tone you'd use for something that hardly mattered at all.
I stared blankly at her as she scrolled and searched through this and that on her phone.
That was when I felt a little body thumping against my thigh.
―Huff. Huff.
Months had passed, and he'd grown to twice the size he'd been—yet he still didn't even have a name. And though I'd never once spoken to him first, the dog trotted happily at my heels, delighted by who knows what.
"Oh, here's an adoption café. Want me to go ahead and post?"
…….
A hot, wet tongue pressed into my frozen hand.
The soft velvet of it, the damp nose pressed to my skin, even the sticky drool. Sensations I'd found nothing but unpleasant until that moment.
"No. I'll keep him."
"Huh?"
"I'm keeping him, so don't post anything."
That was the first time I ever touched the dog's forehead. He wagged his tail in a frenzy of joy, without the faintest understanding of what I was feeling as I stroked him.
Don't be happy about it.
I'm only doing this because I feel sorry for you.
Because wherever you end up, you'll be a thing no one thinks about. That's what's so pitiful about you.
……So don't look at me like that. Don't be so happy.
The fur beneath my hand was far softer than I'd expected. Somehow, that made me feel even smaller.
"If it ever gets to be too much for you, just say the word. Mom will take care of it. Got it?"
"That's never going to happen, so don't worry about it."
"Why do you get pricklier by the year? Have you not finished puberty yet?"
It was the winter of my first year of middle school that I decided to keep the dog for good.
I gave him a single-syllable name: Shin.
For the past three years, Shin hadn't left my side for a single moment, and he'd grown so much that the puppy from that first day was nowhere to be found in him anymore.
On weekends I took the bus into town to buy his food and toys, and I asked the neighbor to order a set of clippers so I could trim his coat myself.
Being a first-timer, I fumbled through all of it. I once botched a trim so badly that a bald patch bloomed on Shin's flank, and the night he suddenly started vomiting, I ran through the village in tears trying to find help.
And just like that, I became a first-year in high school this year.
And I was still with Shin.
That day, too, was nothing more than an ordinary day.
I'd barely escaped being late, goofed off with my friends through class, and bolted for home the second school let out. Shin and I got in one more walk before the sun went down, and in the alleyway we ran into his little gang of dog friends.
After washing the mud-caked mess that was Shin, I took my own shower. Then, after dinner, the two of us sprawled out on the wooden porch and watched the night sky together.
"Is it just me, or does the moon look especially bright tonight?"
―Woof!
After that bit of idle conversation with Shin, I headed to my room for bed.
It was, truly, a day no different from any other.
Which is exactly why my current situation made even less sense.
What on earth….
At first I thought I was dreaming. Things were wrong from the very start—waking up not in the bed I'd gone to sleep in, but on the cushion Shin loved best.
And the moment I tried to push myself up, I knew something was deeply, fundamentally wrong.
……What is this.
I stared blankly down at my hand—or rather, at the dog's paw sitting in my field of vision.
Then I opened my mouth, meaning to say something. Anything.
But what slipped out of it was—
―Woof?
A bark.
Not a swear word—an actual bark. The sound a dog makes. The sound a dog makes, coming out of my own mouth.
I sat there frozen for a long while, unable to believe it even with my own ears.
Only one thought crossed my mind in that moment.
☓. Well, that's that.