From Wonso Pond by Kang Kyong-ae

Author:Kang Kyong-ae
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Feminist Press at CUNY

59

Sinch’ol finally went through the gate, against his better judgment. Well, as long as I don’t make any foolish mistakes, he said to himself, everything will be fine! Inside Okchom’s room, there were books piled here and there on her desk, and the floor was littered with apple peels. Judging from the rolled-up futon that had been shoved into the corner, it seemed as though she’d come over to his house right after climbing out of bed. Okchom went around the room picking up the apple peels and found a cushion for Sinch’ol to sit on.

“It’s awfully messy in here, isn’t it?” she laughed nervously.

If only she’d known Sinch’ol would be coming over, she would have made a point of cleaning up the place—this sense of regret, and the fear that Sinch’ol would think her lazy, both struck her at the same time. There was nothing that she could do about it now. Her face felt hot just thinking about it.

Sinch’ol pulled over the cushion, took a seat, and watched Okchom as she tidied the room. He noticed the whitish dust that had collected on the rim of the electric lamp, the cosmetics carelessly left around the room, and the socks that had been pushed into the corners.

“Would you like to read this letter?”

Okchom picked up a blue envelope from the stationary chest on her desk and handed it to Sinch’ol, with the purpose of diverting his attention from everything else he might see in the room. Sinch’ol pulled the letter from the envelope, and after reading it through a couple times handed it back to Okchom. She was sittting right in front of him, in the middle of peeling a pear. He knew at first glance that she must have paid at least four or five chon for it. Her pointy fingers seemed somewhat pinkish in contrast to the pear she was peeling. Just then, he suddenly remembered that ugly hand, that hand that he’d seen disappear behind the reed fence, holding a summer squash! Whose hand had that been? he wondered again. Okchom cut the pear in pieces, stabbed one slice of it with the end of her knife, and handed it to Sinch’ol. She also took out a box of chocolates from her desk drawer and placed it down in front of him.

“Have some of these, too . . . Can I get you anything else to eat? I can wake up the owner and send him out for something.”

She cocked her head and stared at Sinch’ol with eyes that seemed to overflow with affection for him.

“No, this is great. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“But . . . maybe you’d prefer something warm . . .”

“Oh, please stop. I’m very happy with this.”

“Well, shall I have the brazier brought in? It’s awfully cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry about me, Okchom. I’m fine.”

Sinch’ol ate his slice of pear and then unwrapped a piece of chocolate. Okchom crunched away on her pear, staring at him bright-eyed.

“You know, your mother is such a nice person.

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