Violets by Kyung-Sook Shin

Author:Kyung-Sook Shin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Feminist Press at CUNY

When I First Saw You

The women return to the closed flower shop.

They’re dropping by because Su-ae left her wallet inside. On the bus back, Su-ae suggested they pick it up and have a nice dinner and some cold beer. Exhausted from working on the farm all day, San only wants to go back to the apartment, but she did hurt Su-ae’s feelings earlier and so decides to humor her. Su-ae goes in to get her wallet, and San waits outside the half-shuttered shop. Only when Su-ae takes longer than usual does she enter; the lights are still off, and San switches them on as Su-ae searches in the dark. The air is still humid despite being closed in all day. There’s a certain smell to it. It’s the breath of trapped plants that haven’t seen fresh air over the course of a day. The ficus trees on the farm drinking in sunlight next to a stream, their leaves rustling in the breeze—San raises the shutters, feeling sorry for the plants inside.

“You don’t have to do that, we’re leaving soon.”

“I just wanted to let the air out a bit.”

San opens the doors of the shop. Anything pooled or trapped, without exception, starts to smell. More so because things have their own smell. San sprinkles the dry floor with water. She half covers the hose’s jet with her thumb to make the water fan out, drenching the dry windows, droplets splattering all over the glass. Even when Su-ae says, “All right, let’s go,” San is refilling the water in the buckets that hold the cuttings. Giving up, Su-ae picks up a sprinkler and waters the pots and the herbs in the hanging planters.

How much time has passed?

The two women finally close the shutters on the revived shop. Where do they go now? San and Su-ae drag their feet until they stop in front of Pomodoro. Maybe because of the late hour, Pomodoro looks a bit empty tonight. Normally, there would be a long line out the door, new patrons immediately filling tables as soon as they are vacated.

“Let’s eat here.”

Su-ae doesn’t even give San a chance to hesitate, and strides into the restaurant. It’s cool inside thanks to the air-conditioning. The fragrance of garlic bread and grilled tomatoes lingers like a good mood. Just like Su-ae said, the spaghetti is delicious. The noodles are cooked al dente, and the mussels and shrimp taste fresh. Su-ae dips her garlic bread in the red sauce.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“A lot of work today, right?”

“No, it was fine. But what about tomorrow? Are we going to the farm again?”

“Just me. We can’t keep the flower shop closed two days in a row.”

Papaya palms, a cat with a face twisted from a scar, Indonesian workers, the ficus trees. It’s only been two hours since they came back from the farm but it all feels like a long time ago. After winding the last strands of spaghetti around the prongs of her fork, San puts her utensil down.

It happens when they leave Pomodoro and are walking from Gwanghwamun to Jongno.

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