Chapter 18: The July Curse and Three Short Lines

“School.”

“Is it that difficult to reply and say you’ll be late?”

Her voice, hitting an especially high pitch today, grated on my ears. I ground my teeth together and looked at her.

“I didn’t realize we were on ‘cozy text-exchanging’ terms.”

I moved toward the stairs to the second floor, but she threw the book she was holding onto the sofa with a loud thud. She was always holding something open—whether she was actually reading it or just pretending to was a mystery. For someone who usually maintained an elegant poise even when putting a book down, this was a clear display of temper.

“Keeping your guard up like this only hurts you. Does acting out change anything?”

It was laughable. Exactly—nothing changes, so why do you keep doing this? Did someone slap you today or something?

As I turned away again, she strode over and blocked my path. Simultaneously, a thin, narrow slip of paper was thrust in front of my face. When I didn’t take it, she tucked it into the breast pocket of my school shirt. Wearing a satisfied smile, she finally offered an explanation.

“It’s a plane ticket for the family trip at the end of the month. Your sister’s family and the Chairman are coming along. The Chairman specifically asked for you to be there, so keep your temper in check.”

The sh*tty event I’d been anticipating was being finalized even sooner than expected. The moment I pulled the ticket from my pocket and checked the date, I shoved it back into her arms. The schedule was set exactly on my mother’s birthday.

“Go with Father. Just the two of you.”

“It’s a family trip—”

“Exactly. That’s why. Because it’s a family trip.”

The faint smile she’d been maintaining stiffened. I watched as the corners of her mouth slowly dragged downward.

It was right after a brief knock sounded.

“The two of them are having dinner at the Chairman’s house today. Come down and eat, Hyun Uk. I grilled some sirloin.”

It was the housekeeper. I sat up from the bed where I’d been lying.

“I have to head home now, so just leave the dishes in the sink—”

“I’ll do them.”

There was a moment of silence outside the door, as if she hadn’t expected a response. My head felt heavy from lying down for so long. When I opened the door, her startled face broke into a delayed smile.

“Do you come in on Sundays now, too?”

“The Madam mentioned she wasn’t feeling well this week.”

Ha. A small, dry laugh escaped me. What could possibly be ‘hard’ for someone who doesn’t even get a drop of water on her hands? Their routine usually involved eating out on weekends or having the housekeeper prepare meals before she left on Friday.

Startled by my laugh, the housekeeper hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron.

“I should get going to my own housework now, goodness. I set the table a bit early, so take your time and enjoy. Alright? The meat will get cold, so go down quickly.”

“…Thank you.”

“It’s July now. Once the rainy season hits and midsummer starts, you’ll lose your energy. You have to eat well.”

“…Yes.”

Her wrinkled face held a warm smile. I nodded at her and grabbed my phone from the room, not following her immediately as she headed downstairs.

I’d been cooped up in my room all weekend. I’d turn on the air conditioning, study with the window open when it felt too stuffy, chew on a cigarette, and often just space out. The date on the plane ticket flashed in my mind. July 22nd. Exactly my mother’s birthday, and only about three weeks away.

The woman threw these kinds of tantrums every year. She’d throw a party or organize a trip right around my mother’s birthday. She made a point of dragging me and my father along every single time. At first, I hadn’t noticed the malice, but by the time I was sixteen and growing up, it became glaringly obvious.

‘Honey, don’t make any plans for the end of the month. I was thinking we could go on a trip. Break is starting soon, and it would be good for Hyun Uk to get some fresh air.’

‘Oh, sounds great. Why don’t you pick the place? You’ve been wanting a trip.’

‘Somewhere far. Around the 20th. How does that sound?’

‘I didn’t realize you liked summer trips so much. I think we went to see your sister around then last year, too.’

Whether he truly didn’t know or was just pretending, my father always missed the point.

‘It’s better to go before it gets too hot,’ the woman would reply, playing along while looking at him with mock appreciation.

‘But does break start around the 20th? I heard it’s later this year. When do you finish, Hyun Uk?’

‘…The 25th.’

‘We can just call the school and list it as a family experiential learning day, so don’t worry. That’s fine with you, right, Hyun Uk?’

‘…Yes…’

‘Let’s welcome August abroad. It’ll be fun.’

It was a repeat every year.

How many years has it been now? The repertoire never changes. How dull.

When I went down to the empty first floor and headed to the dining table, I saw the neatly prepared meal. She must have found it quite offensive that I returned the ticket two days ago, because she hadn’t come up to the second floor all weekend. Usually, she’d come up to talk to me when my father was watching, putting on her “mother” act, but this time she was quiet. I hadn’t responded when the housekeeper called me for meals either. I’d either eat half of the tray left in front of my door hours later or just sleep through it. This was the first time I was actually sitting at the table in two days.

Could this even be called a home? It was quiet, which was better, but never comfortable.

I forced food into my mouth and checked the time. It was just past 5 PM. If they were having dinner at the Chairman’s, they wouldn’t be back until at least 9 PM. I was glad for the extended alone time, but it was also pathetic.

What kind of “family” was this?

I could picture them—people who could never be a family—wearing masks and laughing together. Is this what my father wanted? I was curious sometimes, but I never asked. Are you okay, Father? Do you not remember Mom? How can you be so normal? Perhaps I didn’t ask because I already knew the answer. Then again, what can you expect from a man who introduced his mistress to his son while his wife was on her deathbed?

A low sigh escaped me.

As I rinsed my mouth with a sip of water, the phone on the table vibrated. An unknown number appeared on the screen.

[You don’t have to apply the ointment tomorrow]

It was Song Yun Jae.

While I was debating whether to reply and what to say, the phone buzzed again.

[Let’s eat at the snack bar for lunch instead]

Before I could finish reading the short sentence, another speech bubble popped up.

[Sleep well]

A snicker broke out. Sleep well? It wasn’t even 6 PM yet. Does he think I’m an old man?

I chewed over the three short lines of text.

Song Yun Jae had asked for my number at the cafe two days ago.

‘I don’t have a mother.’

‘…What?’

‘My father has a legal wife, but that woman is just… a mistress.’

Song Yun Jae had been staring at me with a clear face, his lips slightly parted as if he forgot to close them.

‘My mom passed away before I started middle school.’

‘…Ah.’

‘I don’t need to say more for you to realize what a mess my house is, right?’

‘…You can stop.’

I looked at him, realizing that for once, there was no pity in his eyes as he carefully stopped speaking for my sake.

‘I don’t have anyone to protect like you do.’

‘…….’

‘No one I’d take a beating for.’

Meeting that blank face was comfortable now. Perhaps that was why the words I’d blurted out impulsively didn’t stop easily.

‘That’s why it didn’t make sense to me when you showed up with bruises.’

‘…….’

‘Though, my own situation makes even less sense.’

‘…….’

‘…But I guess the sh*tiness is pretty much the same.’

I didn’t even know what I was saying or what point I was trying to make. I felt a wave of self-loathing as the words poured out. Sh*t, what am I saying? As I swallowed a curse of regret, Song Yun Jae held out his glass of strawberry latte.

‘Drink some.’

‘Are you kidding me?’

‘Thanks for telling me.’

It felt awkward for some reason. I hadn’t spoken because I wanted something. It was just an impulse triggered by the irritation of my vibrating phone. Yet, Song Yun Jae said he was thankful.

‘If you don’t want to drink, can I have your number?’

‘What does a strawberry latte have to do with my number?’

‘They’re both things I need?’

‘…Ha.’

I wondered what he’d say if I asked why he needed it, but I felt like I shouldn’t hear the answer. While I hesitated without a comeback, Song Yun Jae ignored my silence, took back his glass, and held out his phone. Seeing his fingertips, stained slightly red from fiddling with the glass, I gave in and typed the eleven digits. My ears felt hot.

Thinking about it again, it was ridiculous.

Cha Hyun Uk, you’re acting interesting.

Sleep well.

I scanned his text again. I felt like I could hear Song Yun Jae’s voice in those clean spaces between the words. His soft, melodic tone came to mind. My heart gave a heavy thump against my chest.

“Crazy.”

It felt itchy, somehow.