Chapter 3: A Fleeting Presence

After that, Seo Gi-hyeon made it a point to visit whenever the opportunity arose.

He usually came after breakfast or before dinner, but occasionally he would appear around the peculiar hour of three or four in the afternoon. Given that it was similar to the time they first met, he must have snuck out while his cousin was absorbed in their studies.

[Jon. Take this upstairs and eat it together.]

[Thank you.]

Meeting once a day, and sometimes up to three times, at the front of the house, the lady of the house now treated him like a neighbor she had known for years. And at some point, he had grown close enough to Ray and Tom to greet them cheerfully, though how that happened with his limited English was the biggest mystery.

“Aren’t you going sightseeing today?”

“I am. I’ll go out a bit later.”

“Where?”

“They’re going to some aquarium. I don’t want to go.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“It’s just… the fish are pitiful. They have to stay cooped up in there.”

Yet, just two days prior, Seo Gi-hyeon had been raving about how much fun he’d had at Lincoln Park Zoo. He’d made such a fuss. Animals confined in cages versus fish trapped in an aquarium. I almost argued about what criteria he used to define ‘pitiful,’ but then I stopped myself.

I was slowly beginning to accept him, understanding that I would never fully comprehend his logic, no matter how hard I tried.

I had always preferred being alone. Even before I started studying abroad, and ever since I was a child, I enjoyed playing by myself more than socializing with others. This inclination had intensified over time, to the point where I would choose a dull, solitary experience over a fun outing with other people.

It was why, even if I were bored to death, I would opt for my own company rather than tagging along to the supermarket. That was simply my nature.

Yet, strangely, I didn’t dislike Seo Gi-hyeon’s sudden visits.

Was it because I was too bored? Or was it because it had been so long since I’d met another Korean person? Perhaps it was both. After all, I had gained a Korean friend during a rather dull vacation.

But no matter how much I thought about it, what I truly couldn’t fathom was not just that I didn’t dislike his visits, but that I didn’t mind him bothering me, acting as he pleased, or even indiscriminately encroaching upon my space. Had I ever accepted someone into my life so readily, in such a short span of time?

Even now, I didn’t mind Seo Gi-hyeon sitting on my bed, stuffing jellies into his mouth. Ray and Tom, who had lived in this house with me for two years, had never been allowed into my room with such ease.

“But you know what?”

“Hm?”

“No matter how I think about it, your English name is really strange. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you choose it?”

“The priest at my church gave it to me.”

To be more precise, the baptismal name he gave me was Yo-han. Since I was born in September, it was Yo-han. When translated into English, it became Jon. It was as simple as that.

My Korean name wasn’t particularly striking anyway, so it didn’t matter if my English name was common. I was simply grateful to have a name given by someone, so I didn’t really care whether it suited me or not.

However, Seo Gi-hyeon’s face turned pale when he heard my answer.

“…Crazy, it’s absolutely perfect. It’s the coolest name in the world. The name was born for you.”

Perhaps because he hurried to change his words, his speech was jumbled. The order of his words was chaotic.

“Right. Normal is the best. It’s short and easy to remember, and even easy to pronounce. The priest must cherish you very much.”

Seo Gi-hyeon clasped his hands in the air, apologizing to the absent priest for his short-sightedness. His actions were so bizarre and amusing that the laughter I had been holding in finally escaped.

“I told you I know it doesn’t suit me. It’s fine, so stop it.”

“No, but still…”

“Anyway, we only have an hour today, right? What do you want to do? The same as yesterday?”

“Oh, perfect.”

It was easy to persuade this simple person. As I retrieved the remote control from beneath the decorative shelf, Seo Gi-hyeon, who had been sitting on my bed, sprang to his feet. Console games, which held no talent or interest for me, were something Seo Gi-hyeon had been pestering his parents for months to get.

We sat shoulder to shoulder on the single, cramped beanbag sofa. I should have disliked being this close to someone, but I didn’t.

In just ten days, Seo Gi-hyeon’s presence had grown like a snowball.

****

Regrettably, that burgeoning presence had to quickly diminish.

A week before September, Seo Gi-hyeon came to say goodbye.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

His tone was solemn, as if he were revealing a crucial fact I didn’t know, yet my response was utterly dry.

“Goodbye.”

Moreover, as I uttered those words, I was turned away, busy taking out the game console.

“Wow… why such a reaction?”

“What?”

“I said I’m leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes. So, goodbye.”

Seo Gi-hyeon immediately frowned.

“You’re really heartless.”

“Isn’t that usually something a middle schooler wouldn’t say?”

His expression grew stern again.

“My mom said so. She said you shouldn’t be too heartless.”

“So, it was your mother’s saying.”

“What I’m trying to say is… I’m leaving, so be a little sad.”

Of course, if someone I had grown fond of was leaving, it would naturally be a moment for regret. But goodbyes only felt dramatic if they were sudden. From the moment we met, Seo Gi-hyeon had been counting down the days. ‘A week left, six days left, five days left, four days left…’ Over the last three days, I must have heard him say he was leaving at least fifty times.

‘I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.’

Yesterday, too, he had grumbled for me to be sad, speaking in the same solemn tone as today.

“I’m sad.”

When I reluctantly said this, a suspicious gaze followed. Even I felt my words lacked genuine sincerity.

This seemed like the moment to press further, but his lips remained tightly sealed. I scrutinized his expression, wondering if he was truly sulking, but he didn’t appear to be. Instead, he seemed lost in thought, and after a brief silence, Seo Gi-hyeon asked,

“But how long will you stay here?”

“How long? What do you mean?”

“You’re studying abroad, right? So couldn’t the situation change?”

“Well, for now, I’ll probably be in this house until I graduate high school. I don’t think I’ll change schools midway.”

Although I felt I had given a clear answer, Seo Gi-hyeon still looked puzzled.

“So, there’s no chance you’ll quit studying abroad?”

…Ah.

I belatedly realized there was one more scenario. When he said things could change, I naturally thought of schools or host families, but the most common situation to consider would be quitting my studies abroad.

Quit?

Could I really do that?

“No. That won’t happen.”

Such a thing would only be possible when I could live independently, without my parents’ help.

“Hmm, is that so.”

Seo Gi-hyeon, whom I expected to ask why, simply nodded without much reaction. Then, as if he’d never been serious, he grabbed the game console with an excited expression.

I didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but Seo Gi-hyeon would say nothing at the very moment he should have probed further.

[Oh dear, what a shame.]

[I’ll come visit again if I come to America later.]

[Yes. Please do.]

The lady of the house, who seemed even fonder of him than I was, saw Seo Gi-hyeon off with a look of profound regret. Seo Gi-hyeon, too, looked disappointed as he said his goodbyes in broken English, piecing together the words he knew.

“Go now. You’re late.”

“Okay. Got it.”

I had intended to walk him to his uncle’s house, even though it was his last day, but Seo Gi-hyeon vehemently dissuaded me, so I, too, bade him farewell from the front door.

“Travel safely.”

“You too. Take care.”

Seo Gi-hyeon, who had been sharing a tearful farewell with the lady of the house just seconds before, showed no hint of sadness when he said goodbye to me. After all his badgering for me to be sad, he now smiled innocently, like a person without a care in the world.

“See you again.”

Again?

When would that be? Even for relatives, coming overseas every vacation would be difficult, so it was uncertain when we would meet again. If something happened to each of us in the meantime, we might never see each other again, yet we hadn’t even exchanged contact information.

Seo Gi-hyeon hadn’t asked, and neither had I.

Seo Gi-hyeon, who had offered his final farewell as if saying, ‘See you tomorrow,’ turned his back without a trace of lingering regret. Our first meeting had been intense, so I’d expected the parting to be equally poignant, but strangely, I wasn’t sad at all, even at the very end.

On the last weekend of August, Seo Gi-hyeon, whom I had met on a sweltering day, departed on another sweltering day. He was a sparkling, unforgettable event in my otherwise mundane routine.

However, the event I thought had merely sparkled and ended was not over.

“Oh, you’ve been well?”

The bright face I had almost forgotten reappeared before my eyes. It was a brutally cold winter day.