“Nothing in life is easy! Did you really think pregnancy would be easy? What are you trying to do about it? Do you have any idea how little time you have left?”
“I’m looking, but—”
“If this is your attitude now, what kind of a mother do you think you’re going to be? Think about it. There’s a new life growing in your belly right this minute. A human being is being created. You have to take responsibility for an entire human being! But if you’re this nonchalant at the fetus’ development stage, what are you going to do once you give birth?”
“But that’s—”
“You seem to be complacent because you can’t actually see the baby right now, but keep this up and you’ll really see what you’re doing to the baby. If you want a normal child, you’ll do whatever it takes to find a father.”
“But I really am trying to find the baby a good father, for the sake of the child—”
“You’re running out of time!”
The top of the obstetrician’s head seemed about to pop off far above her layers of blue eyeshadow and black eyeliner— her narrowed stare so sharp that it threatened to cut anyone who met it.
Defeated, she quickly left the hospital.
It wasn’t easy going about seeing people with her protruding belly. When the man on her thirty-seventh seon date took one look at her stomach and fled the café without a word, she declared that she would no longer go on anymore seon dates. She made a big show of proclaiming that she had conceived on her own and therefore would raise the baby on her own. But she couldn’t do anything about the persistent worry and fear that tormented her, that she was somehow irreparably harming the child by having this baby without a father.
Her daily routine devolved into keeping herself comfortable in bed and listening to music and watching videos that were said to be good for expecting mothers. She ate foods high in iron because her morning sickness had been replaced by anemia. Her sense of taste didn’t change however, nor did she suddenly crave foods she normally disliked. Her days were slow and peaceful, and all of her relatives who would usually never give her a second thought were suddenly very interested in her well-being and treated her like a fragile heirloom, always making sure to ask if there was anything she might want. Aside from the times she had to go to the obstetrician for examinations, her life had settled down and she felt content.
One day, as she read fairy tales for expecting mothers while listening to music for expecting mothers, her phone buzzed. It was a text message.
Call me immediately.
She had never seen the number before. Figuring it was a wrong number, she deleted the message.
Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed again. It was the same message. She deleted it.
Fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed yet again. The same message. This time, there were exclamation marks.
Call me!! Immediately!!
Someone with an emergency must have the wrong number. She pressed dial.
“Hello?” answered an unfamiliar male voice.
“Hello? Did you send me a text just now?”
“Are you Kim Younglan?”
This surprised her. “Yes, I’m Kim Younglan. Who are you?”
She heard a rustling sound.
“Itseu my lady, oh, itseu my lobeu! Oh, datseu, I mean, dat she, she new she wuh! She seu-peak-seu yet she seseu no, I mean, nuh-ssing, wut obeu det? Huh eye diseu, dee, deesu-co-ssiseu, ahee will en-suh it, ah-im too boldeu, uh, teu, tiseu nat to me she seu-peakseu—”
（It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Here eye discourses; I will answer it, I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks—）
“Um … hello?”
The man continued, his voice slightly louder, “Too obeu duh peh, peh-uh-resteu staseu in oll duh heh-beun, heh-bing sum bee-jeu-nee-seu, do, uh, en, entreeteu huh ah-iseu, to, to teu-inkle—”
（Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle …）
“Hold on!” she shouted. The man stopped his recitation. “What on Earth are you doing?”
“It’s from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Second act, second scene, in the Capulets’ garden.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s how I feel. I knew the moment I saw your picture in the paper. You are the woman of my destiny. Oh, yu, ah, my, ro-seu, my buhning ha-teu—”
“In the paper? What paper?”
“I could really sense your womanliness from the headline: ‘Looking for a Man to Be My Child’s Father.’ Such a cut above the usual pandering for a husband! Such femininity, such literary sensitivity. My darling Younglan, we are meant to be. Through our passion for literature, too-geh-duh dee-peu luhbeu endeu un-duh-seu-ten-ding—”