You-jeong Jeong - The Good Son

Yu-min? I let go of her hair. Her head dropped with a thud onto the floor. Why had she said Yu-min?

‘Yu-min!’ Father screamed.

My eyes flew open. Where was I? I was in my bed. I didn’t know how long I’d been sleeping, but it was no longer night. It was cloudy outside but I could tell it was daytime.

I couldn’t remember much about my dream. But Father’s voice remained vivid. It was the first time I’d heard his voice in my dreams. Until now, I hadn’t even remembered what it sounded like. I’d never thought of it or missed it. Father didn’t exist for me after the age of nine, not in my memories or emotions or anywhere else. But in my dream I’d known instantly that it was him, as if I’d been hearing and living with his voice all this time.

But how did I know it was him? Why did he say Yu-min, not Yu-jin? And why was it Father who was shouting and not Mother? I raised myself on my elbows and looked at my clock: 1.41. I looked at the sliding doors and the light streaming in. It must be 1.41 in the afternoon.

I’d glanced at the clock just before I fell asleep. I think it was 9.30 p.m. That meant I’d slept for sixteen hours straight, unsurprising as I hadn’t slept at all over the past two days. I had lain down to take a little nap before Hae-jin came home. I blinked, opened my eyes fully and got up to walk over to the sliding doors. The sky was ashy. A herring gull flew low in the misty air. There was no sun, but it was clearly the middle of the day.

The swing was empty. Mother seemed to have left for good. I didn’t know why she’d been there or why she’d gone, but I felt a strange sorrow, as though the umbilical cord was finally cut, as if I’d crossed over an inviolable border and become an orphan or something more, perhaps a monster. I’d probably left myself on the other side of the border: the me who lived with people in this world, who believed myself to be average. There was no way to return once you’d crossed a line you shouldn’t. There was nothing you could do about it other than to keep moving forward.

Now I knew why the two hours and thirty minutes during which I’d killed the first two people had been completely erased from my memory. It was as if I subconsciously knew that as soon as I remembered what had happened, I would have to leave the world I’d grown up in. The life I had been leading would be over. I wasn’t ready to leave or to end my life, and I wasn’t able to handle what I’d done. Only oblivion could deal with things that couldn’t be dealt with.

On the other hand, I remembered the majority of last night’s events. I’d spent a long time next to Auntie, loitering in the dark forest within me, flying through the fog like a newly hatched butterfly. A red light blinked beyond the fog, warning me to be mindful of danger, but I ignored it. A sweet, intense heat took me to a brighter and higher place. The stars came closer and closer.

I snapped back to reality only when my mind instructed: It’s dark, you’re freezing, Hae-jin will be home soon, you have to clean this up. I looked around at the scene I’d created, feeling dazed. I looked at Auntie, lying in a heap and illuminated by the pergola light; at myself, crouching next to her with the razor still in my hand; at the blood covering the floor. Cold, damp fog was settling over it all. The wind was weeping behind me. The stars disappeared. Only their afterglow was scattered by my feet, and even that was disappearing, twinkling like embers.

I tried to launch myself up but sat back down. My legs were cramped; I’d been crouching for too long. I suddenly realised how cold it was and how everything hurt. I was exhausted. I wanted to lie down right then and there and go to sleep. There was a large rubber bin to the right of the pergola, and I laid Auntie to rest inside, choosing a practical solution like I’d done with the girl with the earring. The roof had become my family’s grave site, with Mother in the middle and Auntie to the right. A thought popped into my head: what would go on the left?

I turned on the tap and used the hose to wash the floor. I rubbed my tired eyes. I collected the remains of Auntie’s mobile phone. By the time I took off my blood-spattered clothes and stepped into the shower, my body was so cold and stiff that I couldn’t even reach for the shampoo. I had to spend ten minutes under the hot water before I could flex my fingers. I showered, washed the razor and put it away in my desk drawer, then went downstairs to put the bloody clothes in the washer-dryer. I folded up the blanket I’d washed earlier and put it back in Mother’s linen cupboard.

Next, I put on disposable plastic gloves to deal with Auntie’s traces. I used a wet wipe to erase my fingerprints on her phone, then put it back together, and slid it into her handbag. I wrapped her padded coat around her handbag and shoes and hid it in a small suitcase in Mother’s dressing room. I tidied Mother’s bed, pulling the sheets and blankets taut. I wondered whether I should switch mattresses again. If Auntie hadn’t said anything to Hae-jin, he wouldn’t look, would he? Honestly, I didn’t even want to think about dragging the heavy mattresses up and down the stairs again.

By this point, I was able to move only because my brain was ordering me to. I was so tired that I was nearly comatose. I couldn’t really remember how I cleaned up the last bit. Did I take my clothes out of the washer-dryer? Did I lock Mother’s bedroom door? Did I put the keys back in the cabinet? It was impossible to stay up until Hae-jin came home; I was already half asleep as I climbed the stairs.

Was Hae-jin home now? He’d said he would be back last night. But how had he got into the building? I hadn’t had a chance to go through Auntie’s handbag last night, and I didn’t believe her story about following someone in. If he’d given her his entry card, as I suspected, he would have had to ring me from downstairs. I didn’t remember buzzing him in. Maybe he’d asked someone else, or called Hello’s owner. Maybe he’d come upstairs to my room because he was so pissed off at me for not taking that DVD to Yongi’s, but had seen me asleep and gone back down. Had he gone straight to bed?

I was suddenly starving. I headed downstairs to check on the things that were nagging at me. I’d also eat something. Yesterday I had felt heavy and clumsy, but today I was feeling much better. Nothing had been solved and I hadn’t decided what to do, but I felt quietly optimistic that everything would turn out the way it should. Anything was possible if I wanted it enough.

It was quiet downstairs. I could hear conversation from Hae-jin’s room; he was probably watching a film or working on some footage he’d taken yesterday. Mother’s door was locked. The keys were in their place. In the kitchen I smelled the delicious scent of bean-paste soup; Hae-jin must have made lunch. A small earthenware pot was on the stove. I went to the laundry room and opened the washer-dryer. My clothes were gone. I went back into the kitchen. Did I dry them last night? Did I take them out and bring them to my room?

‘You’re up,’ said Hae-jin, standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

I stopped next to the sink. ‘When did you get home?’

‘Maybe around ten thirty? You were already asleep.’ He went to the stove and turned it on. ‘You didn’t budge even when I came in to check on you.’

As I’d suspected. What had my room looked like? Was there anything lying around that shouldn’t have been?

‘Will you take out the side dishes?’ he asked. ‘Let’s eat. I thought I was going to die of hunger. I was waiting for you to wake up.’

‘You go ahead. I’ll eat later. I don’t feel hungry right now.’