“Why don’t you tell your mom about it?”
“About what?”
“That you’re a high school student now, and that you’re going to school every day. She would love to hear it.”
“That’s not necessary. She can’t hear anything.”
Dr. Shim didn’t speak anymore. Of course he couldn’t, no one could object to what I had said.
26
Long streaks of rain slid down the window. It was a spring shower. Mom used to love the rain. She said she liked the smell. Now she could no longer hear or smell it. What was so special about the smell anyway? It was probably just the fishy stink of rainwater, rising from the dry asphalt ground.
I sat by Mom’s side, holding her hands. Her skin was really rough, so I put some rose-scented moisturizer on her hands and cheeks. I went out and took the elevator to the cafeteria. As it opened, I saw a man standing outside.
He was the man who later introduced me to a monster. Dragging the boy into my life.
*
A middle-aged man with silver hair, he was wearing a nice suit, but his shoulders were drooping, his bleak eyes welling up. He could’ve looked handsome if it weren’t for his gloomy expression. His face was dark and gaunt.
His eyes quivered when he saw me. I had a hunch that I would see him again soon. Well, I know “hunch” isn’t a word that really fits me. Technically, I never felt the hunch.
But on second thought, hunches aren’t usually just randomly felt. The brain subconsciously sorts your daily experiences into conditions or results and keeps a growing record of them. And when faced with a similar situation, you unconsciously guess the outcome based on that data. So a hunch is actually a causal link. Just like when you put fruit into a blender, you know you’ll get fruit juice. The way he looked at me gave me that kind of a hunch.
After that, I often bumped into him at the hospital. Whenever I felt someone’s gaze on me at the hospital cafeteria or hallway and looked around, it was always him. He looked like he wanted to say something or maybe he was just observing me. So when he stopped by my bookstore, I greeted him like I usually did.
“Hello.”
With a slight nod, he went on to carefully browse the bookshelves. His footsteps were heavy. He passed the philosophy section and lingered around the literature section for a while before taking out a book and approaching the counter.
There was a smile on his face, except he didn’t look me in the eye. Mom had told me that this meant “anxiety.” He asked the price, pushing the book toward me.
“A million won, please.”
“More expensive than I thought,” he said, skimming through the pages back and forth. “Is it worth that much? It’s not even the first edition. And it’s technically a translation, so it’s not like being the first edition would mean much.”
The book was Demian.
“It’s a million won.”
It was Mom’s book. It’d been on her bookshelf since she was in middle school. The book that had inspired her to become a writer. I wasn’t going to sell it. What a coincidence for him to pick that, of all the books.
The man took a deep breath. Judging by his stubbly chin, he must not have shaved for days.
“I should introduce myself. My name is Yun Kwonho. I teach business in college. You can search my name online. I’m not bragging, I’m just telling you that I’m a credible person.”
“I know your face. We’ve seen each other a few times at the hospital.”
“Thank you for remembering me,” he said, his expression softening. “I met your guardian, Dr. Shim, and he shared with me your tragic story. I also heard you’re a special boy. Dr. Shim suggested I meet you in person, so here I am. Actually, I’m here to ask you a favor.”
“What is it?”
He hesitated. “Where should I start . . .”
“You said you needed a favor. Just tell me what it is.”
“You sure are quite straightforward, as I was told.” He gave a light smile. “I hear your mom’s sick. My wife is sick, too. She will be leaving us soon, maybe in just a couple days . . .”
His back slowly curled like a shrimp’s. He paused for a beat and went on. “I have two things to ask. First, I would love for you to come meet my wife. Second . . .” He took another deep breath. “Can you pretend you’re our son? It shouldn’t be hard. You just need to say a couple things I ask you to.”
It was an unusual request. Unusual meant strange. When I asked him why, he stood up and walked around the bookstore. He seemed like he always needed time before saying anything.