“Our son went missing thirteen years ago,” he broached it. “We did everything we could to find him but failed. We were well-off. I came back from studying abroad and became a professor at a young age. My wife had a great career too. She and I thought we had a successful life. Until we lost our son. Everything changed afterward. Our marriage was falling apart, and she fell ill. These years have been difficult for me, too. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this but . . .”
“So?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t go on for too long.
“And then recently, I got a call that they might have found our son. So I went to see him . . .” He stopped and bit his lips for a beat. “I hope my wife could meet her son before it’s too late. I mean, the son she’s been dreaming of.”
He emphasized the word “dreaming.”
“You found your son, who didn’t turn out to be what she’s dreamed of?”
“That I cannot answer. See, it’s hard to explain,” he said, his head hanging low.
“Then why me?”
“Would you look at this?” He showed me a piece of paper, a flyer for missing children. There was a photo of a boy around three or four years old, and next to it was a sketch of what he would look like now. I guessed it could be said he looked like me. Not so much that we had similar physical features, but we gave off similar vibes.
“So the son you found didn’t look like this?” I asked again because I didn’t quite understand.
“Well, he actually did look like this. That means he might look like you, too. But he is not in any condition to meet his mother. Please, I beg you. Would you do me a favor just this once? I could upgrade your mom’s room. I can pay for her caregiver, too. I can try to help you with everything I can, if you need anything else.”
Tears welled up in his eyes. And as usual, I said I’d think about it.
*
The man wasn’t lying. His job, his family, and the tragic story about his missing child were easy to find on the Internet. I remembered what Granny used to say: “It’s good to help others if there’s no harm.” When he came over the next day, I agreed to his offer.
But I would’ve made a different choice had I met Gon earlier. Because by making this decision, I unintentionally stole something from him forever.
27
The room was decorated with various flowers. Little light bulbs gave off a warm glow here and there. It was nothing like the six-patient ward Mom was in. It looked more like a hotel room from the movies than a hospital room. Mrs. Yun must’ve loved flowers. Their smell gave me a headache. Even the floral wallpaper was dizzying. I thought we weren’t allowed to bring flowers into the hospital, but apparently, there were exceptions.
Professor Yun put his hands on my arms as we walked over to the bed. Mrs. Yun lay there, surrounded by flowers like she was already inside a coffin. I took a closer look at her face. She reminded me of those terminally ill patients from the movies. Even the sunrays from the window weren’t enough to lift the gloom over her features. She stretched out her stick-thin arms toward me, her hands touching my cheeks. They felt lifeless.
“It’s you, Leesu. My son. My love. After all these years . . .”
Tears streamed down her face. I wondered how she could still manage to cry with such a frail body. As her body heaved, I kept thinking she would turn into ashes and disappear.
“I’m sorry, honey. Mommy wanted to do a lot of things with you, really. I wanted to travel with you, eat with you, and watch you grow by your side . . . Things didn’t work out as I’d hoped. But I’m still grateful to see you’ve grown up so well. Thank you, my son.”
She said “thank you” and “sorry” about a dozen more times before crying again. Then she forced a smile. Throughout the thirty minutes of this whole thing, she kept holding my hands and stroking my cheeks. She seemed to pour all her remaining strength solely onto me.
I didn’t talk much. When she stopped talking, and Professor Yun gave me a look, I just said what I had been told to say. That I was raised in a good family with not much trouble, and now I would live with Dad and study hard. So please don’t worry. And I gave her a quick smile. She seemed to have tired herself out, as her eyelids began to droop.
“Would you let me hold you for a second?”
Those were her last words to me. Her thin, branch-like arms squeezed me. I felt as if I were caught in a strong trap that I couldn’t escape. I heard her heart beating close to mine. It burned. Her arms slid off my back. She’s just asleep, said the nurse from nearby.