It was by way of apology that he had arranged this meal with Gon and me at the pizzeria, ordering its most expensive dish. Professor Yun, with his arms stretched, each hand on his knees, said the same thing over and over out loud. As if he wanted Gon to hear it to the core, his voice trembling, his eyes hardly meeting mine.
“I am very sorry to have caused you this. It’s all my fault . . .”
I sipped my Coke from a straw, little by little. It didn’t seem like he was going to finish talking anytime soon. The longer he talked, the harder Gon’s face became. My stomach was growling, and the pizza on the table was getting cold and stale.
“You can stop now. I’m not here for your apology. It’s Gon’s job to apologize, so maybe you should leave us alone for him to do so.”
Professor Yun’s eyes widened as if he was surprised. Gon raised his eyes too.
Professor Yun hesitated. “If I take a walk around the corner, are you going to be okay?”
“Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”
Hmf. Gon smirked.
Professor Yun let out a couple of dry coughs and slowly stood up to leave. “I’m sure Leesu feels sorry, Yunjae.”
“I’m sure he can speak for himself.”
“Very well. Please enjoy the meal. Do call me if something happens.”
“I will.”
Professor Yun put his hand firmly on Gon’s shoulder before leaving the restaurant. Gon didn’t react at the moment, but as soon as his father left, he dusted off his shoulder.
35
The Coke bubbled. Gon was blowing into it with his straw, his face turned toward the windowsill. There was nothing much about the view outside, just cars passing by. Then I saw a silver metal pepper shaker in front of the window frame. Its round shape reflected the surroundings like a wide-angle lens. And there I was, in the center. Covered in welts and bruises, my face looked like a boxer who’d just lost a match. Gon was staring at my reflection in the pepper shaker. There, our eyes met.
“You look like shit,” he said.
“Thanks to you.”
“Do you really think I’d apologize?”
“I don’t care.”
“Then why did you ask him to leave us alone?”
“Your father talks too much. I just wanted some silence.”
Gon snorted as if he were trying to cover his laugh with coughs.
“So, your father beat you?” I didn’t have much to say, so I blurted out what had been on my mind. It must’ve been an inappropriate ice breaker, because Gon’s eyes flashed.
“Who told you that?”
“Your father said it himself.”
“Shut up, son of a bitch. I don’t have a father.”
“You can’t change the fact that he’s your father.”
“You want more trouble? I said, shut the fuck up.” Gon snatched the pepper shaker. He gripped it so tightly that his fingertips turned white.
“Why, you want to go another round?” I asked.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“No, I just wanted to ask. Let me know so I can prepare.”
Gon seemed to give in, pulling his glass of Coke closer to him. He blew more bubbles into his Coke. I copied him, blowing bubbles into mine. Gon took a bite of pizza, chewed it four times, and swallowed. Then he let out a short, raspy cough. I copied that, too. Chewing on pizza four times, and a cough.
Gon glared at me. He finally noticed me copying him.
“Asshole,” he muttered.
“Asshole,” I followed.
Gon twitched his lips left and right and saw me do the same. He made a weird face and spat out words like “pizza,” “poop,” “toilet,” “go to hell.” I followed him exactly like a clown or parrot. I even matched the number of breaths he took.
As our weird mirror play went on, Gon seemed to be worn out. He stopped laughing, and it took longer for him to come up with difficult expressions or motions. I didn’t care and kept copying him, down to the pfpfpf sound he made and his subtle eyebrow twitches. My steadfast mimicking seemed to get in the way of his “creative” ideas.
“That’s enough.”
But I didn’t stop. I repeated after him, “That’s enough.”
“I said, quit it, you asshole.”
“I said, quit it, you asshole.”
“You think this is funny, bitch?”
“You think this is funny, bitch?”
Gon stopped and started drumming his fingers on the table. When I followed suit, he stopped immediately. Silence, followed by a scowl. Ten. Twenty seconds. A minute. Then he straightened up, and I did too.