Yom Sang-seop - Three Generations

Sang-hun was utterly demoralized. He didn’t feel like drinking any more.

Gyeong-ae quickly reappeared after having changed into a Western suit. The men couldn’t wrest their eyes from her; she had on a warm overcoat and a black hat perched on her head at an alluring angle, her face flushed from drink.

“Okay, let’s go.” Gyeong-ae hurried the men.

“Come back soon,” the proprietor said. “And don’t drink too much. What’s gotten into you recently, going out all the time like this?” Since the proprietor didn’t try to deter Gyeong-ae from going out, Sang-hun assumed that she was not a regular employee.

Sang-hun and Byeong-hwa had to watch Gyeong-ae walk out on the heels of the drinkers. The two men were like dogs that had just lost a chicken after a hot pursuit.

After the group left, the bar felt deserted, as though a corner of the room had been suddenly scooped out and emptied.

“Who were they?” Byeong-hwa asked the proprietor.

“They work at the bank around the corner. Certainly are an entertaining group of boys, aren’t they?”

“She must be very friendly with them.”

“No, not really. She’s been acting up for some reason today. I bet she’ll be back soon.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Byeong-hwa said, but he was both hurt and disappointed that he had been ignored.

“Is it your policy to turn a blind eye when customers decide to take out an employee when they please? They can’t do that in a café, can they?” Sang-hun sounded as if he were a policeman investigating an infraction.

The woman peered at the stranger and replied stonily, “What’s the difference? She’s not an employee of mine. She’s a friend.”

Sang-hun and Byeong-hwa didn’t want to stay any longer. Both felt snubbed, having taken pains to come all this way only to be ignored. They stood up to leave.

“Why are you leaving so soon? It’s not because our heartthrob has left, I hope?” The proprietor laughed mockingly, which they found far from amusing.

The two men went to the café next door for more drinks. To Byeong-hwa’s shock and dismay, Sang-hun began fondling the hostess right in front of him and then made a fool of himself by peppering his dialogue with halting Japanese. Stronger than his feeling of disgust, though, was Byeong-hwa’s desire to tease the man, for he knew that Sang-hun would no doubt go to church the following day and say his prayers. But Sang-hun was his friend’s father, so Byeong-hwa bit his tongue. He kept a smile on his face.

It wasn’t until after eleven that they managed to tear themselves away from the café. Once in the street, Sang-hun, who seemed to have completely forgotten everything about Gyeong-ae, suggested that they return to Bacchus.

“Let’s go back in again. Don’t you feel offended that the bitch treated you so rudely?” Sang-hun’s voice was somewhat slurred, but his steps were steady.

“Sure, let’s go. But don’t take it so seriously. You won’t be able to fall asleep if you go home without getting the chance to hold her hand, will you?” Byeong-hwa teased Sang-hun as he led him into Bacchus.

“That bitch! There are other women in the world, you know. By the way, she’s Korean, right?”

“She sure is. She knows your son pretty well, but you don’t seem to have a chance with her.” Byeong-hwa joked with Sang-hun to test the waters.

“Huh? What?” Sang-hun snorted.

“Aren’t you disappointed?” Byeong-hwa jeered.

“Why would I be disappointed? I’d be happy to marry her off to you.” The smart remarks rolled out of Sang-hun until he noticed that Gyeong-ae was not there.

The proprietor brought out some alcohol and then locked the door, since midnight was approaching.

“Why would a woman like her even look at a penniless man like me?” asked Byeong-hwa.

“Weren’t you paying attention? She seems to be one of those who don’t care about money, so I wouldn’t worry about that. You heard her going on.”

“Do you think she really meant it? Well, in that case, I hope you’ll pull a few strings for me.” Byeong-hwa brayed with laughter.

When the sun sets over the desert sands and night falls. oh, my love. A popular song was being sung at late-night volumes outside, when a tuneless shriek broke through the other voices. The proprietor, who was serving drinks beside Byeong-hwa and Sang-hun, recognized the bellowers. She frowned and went to the door to open it. “Are those boozers back again? What do they think they’re doing out there in the middle of the street?”

The drunkards outside abruptly stopped singing and began knocking on her door, making quite a fuss. She opened the door but blocked it, saying, “We’re closed now. Come back tomorrow.”

Gyeong-ae slipped into the bar, humming something called “Arabian Song,” but when she saw Byoeng-hwa and Sang-hun, both drunk, sitting plaintively in a flood of light, tears welled in her eyes. Hoping to hide her tears, as far gone as she was, her song grew louder and she began to dance between the tables. After making a circle around the room, she darted over to Byeong-hwa, grabbed the unsuspecting young man by the arm, and pulled him out of his seat. Before he knew it, his disheveled mess of hair was pressed up against Gyeong-ae’s chest. Dragging his oversized body across the floor, she whirled around the tables.

“Snap out of it, will you? Are you made of tofu?” Stifling her tears, Gyeong-ae knocked his head with her small gloved fist, laughed, and then kept swirling around the room singing the same tune with different lyrics.

“Gazing at the waning moon above you. Will you stay up until dawn, afraid it will never come again, once the sun pushes it away? Go on and gaze until your eyes sting because it will be gone when the sun rises.” Like a shaman chanting, Gyeong-ae made up the words as she went along. Glancing over at Sang-hun, she told him, “What a pathetic sight you make, sitting there with your chin in your hands.” Then she pushed Byeong-hwa away and stopped, but when the drunken man seemed about to stumble, she scrambled over to hold him up.

“My poor little baby. Tell me, who did this to my big boy?” She patted him on the shoulder, as a mother would her child, then she smothered him with noisy kisses.

Sang-hun watched her every move but then averted his eyes.

Just then, the drunkards, who had been making a nuisance of themselves outside, barged into the bar past the proprietor, who had been pressing against the closed door. One of them was the young man who had offered Gyeong-ae the ten-won note.

The two Japanese men came into the center of the room, but when they spotted Gyeong-ae and Byeong-hwa embracing, they erupted. “You guys are putting on quite a show,” one of them said. “No wonder you wanted to send us on our way.”

“You’ve got yourselves a side business here!” said the other. “This is clearly a violation of business regulations. Let’s just see who wins this one.”

Gyeong-ae ignored them. She grabbed Byeong-hwa, who was dangling off her, and pretended to dance with him, first pushing him into a narrow corner and then yanking him out again as she stepped backward. Then she whipped around and asked, “Why the hell are you guys making so much noise? Following me around like leeches, trying to suck something out of me. Go on home to bed!”

“What? And you’re going to hang on to him?”

“What’s it to you? Do you think I’m your wife? Go on home. Who knows whose arms your wife is in while you’re here. Are you practicing with me what to say to her? Shall we demonstrate some more tricks?”

Gyeong-ae bungled her performance and actually kissed Byeong-hwa. His reaction was conflicted, but he uttered no complaint.