The Girl Who Wrote Loneliness (12 page)

“I’m sorry I don’t quite understand,” I said. The restaurant owner tilted her head to the side, then made an earnest effort to explain.

“You see, I got a book as a present once, the only time someone ever gave me a book. It was a relative who gave it to me and I tried really hard to finish it, since it was a present. But I just couldn’t read it. I didn’t get it at all. It’s been four years since I got it and I still haven’t finished it. It must be that some books in this world are reserved only for educated, knowledgeable people. That’s why I was wondering what level you write at. I was curious if you wrote things that someone like me can read, or things that are at a higher level.”

The woman looked at me, waiting
for my answer. It seemed I should offer her a prompt answer, but I simply stammered, “Well, what can I say . . .”

When I kept repeating “Well,” the woman said, “My other question is,” and continued with the remaining of the two things she would ask. Now I was nervous. I have to be able to answer this time. I hope she asks me a simple question, one that I can answer.

“Do you decide on the title first, or just start writing first?”

I sighed in relief. “Sometimes I have the title then begin writing, and sometimes I can’t think of a title even after I am finished writing and have to agonize over it for a long time,” I told her.

The woman nodded, saying, “Can’t think of a title, is that so? Nowadays novels are so hard to follow. I just can’t understand what they’re saying. I wish writers would make them easy so that people like me can read them, too.”

Easy? Now that was a difficult order.

Yu Chae-ok. She is forewoman of the prep division and will be portrayed in my genre painting in a dynamic style, using powerful brushstrokes. One day Miss Choe on the C Line is stopped from getting to work. She is held back because she went home without working extra hours the night before. The head of production demands that Miss Choe submit her resignation. Yu Chae-ok steps up to Miss Choe’s defense, saying it is unreasonable to demand a resignation for not working extra hours. That extra hours and overtime lie outside regular work routines. Isn’t that why we get extra pay? Sometimes employees cannot work extra hours due to personal circumstances. It is nonsense that she should be made to hand in her resignation for this. Yu Chae-ok and the head of production start raising their voices over Miss Choe. The head of production hurls abusive words at Yu Chae-ok.

“What kind of ill-bred horse bone are
you? This is a production line. What happens here is under my jurisdiction. Who do you think you are, telling me to do this and that?”

Yu Chae-ok shouts at him in a similar tone. “Are we machines? Why are you mistreating us like this? Does it make any sense that you demand a resignation from Miss Choe because she went home with a nosebleed after five days of overtime?” She continues to shout, “We formed a union to protect our rights, in accordance with the labor laws. No matter how the management tries to interfere, we will go ahead with the inaugural ceremony.”

While the production head and Yu Chae-ok fight, thrusting fingers at each other, Miss Choe bursts into tears. The head of administration jumps in and yells at Yu Chae-ok, “You ungrateful bitch.”

Yu Chae-ok throws him a furious look. “I haven’t received a single favor from you!”

Miss Lee from the prep division calls Cousin and me to a corner. Miss Lee, with her not-your-usual-short but very short height, always keep her hair in a short bob. Always scurrying about in busy, mincing steps. Her busy walk always draws attention. Her busy walk always makes her appear as if she is delivering a message, which makes people stop even at a distance and follow her with their eyes. Even when she is simply heading for the bathroom in her busy walk. Miss Lee greets us with an amiable smile and pulls out a document.

“This is the union application form.”

I take the sheet of paper in my hand.

“We already have two hundred twenty-seven people who plan to join.”

I am silent.

Miss Lee continues. “The company always says they’re in the red, but this is a huge export manufacturer. We have to join hands and claim our rights and interests
. We have to secure raises and demand compensation allowance for menstruation leave. They have that under unpaid leave. But it’s our rightful leave, spelled out in the labor laws. We should get paid for working on those days. When we’re just a minute late for work, we get a late stamp on our time card, which results in an hour’s pay cut. No wonder so little ends up in our hands, after all the deductions here and there. And that’s because we let the company do whatever they want without resisting.”

When Cousin and I say nothing, Miss Lee speaks again.

“The union is for all of us. You think Yu Chae-ok is speaking up only for her own good? We need organized power. We must join the union and help Yu Chae-ok.”

While we are sitting together for a late dinner that night, Cousin tells Oldest Brother about Yu Chae-ok and Miss Lee. When Cousin is done talking, Oldest Brother lets out a groan-like sigh.

“What should we do? Join?”

Oldest Brother asks how the management is responding.

“They’re going berserk. Like they’re going to fire people the minute they join.”

Oldest Brother gazes at the union application.

“So what should we do?”

After a long time, Oldest Brother finally speaks.

“You’re going to start school and things might get complicated if the management starts thinking ill of you . . .”

The next day, we sense an unsettling air throughout the factory. We whisper to one another.

“Yu Chae-ok was called in by the company president.”

“What for?”

“According to what I heard, he said he’s got connections everywhere, the Labor Administration, City Hall, and the Central Intelligence Agency, the Labor
Supervisor’s Office, the National Security Headquarters, and that no matter how desperately we might try, it will be hard to form a union, so we should give up.”

“Then what happened?”

“When Yu Chae-ok would not give in, the president threw his ashtray at her, yelling, ‘Well, you can’t have a union without a company.’ If we go ahead with the union, he said he would close down the company.”

Scurrying, Miss Lee approaches Cousin and me.

“Have you thought about it?”

Cousin and I are unable to answer.

“Almost everyone on the A line has submitted their union applications. What about the two of you?”

“. . .”

“We notified the management of the date of the inauguration. The management acts the way it does because of workers like you. We must act in perfect unison. If we come together as one, we will have the courage to hold the inauguration ceremony right here on the company lot and put up our plaque on the main gate of the grounds.”

After Miss Lee asked us to think it over one more time and turned back, Foreman steps in in front of us.

“What did Miss Lee say?”

My heart pounds as if I have done something wrong while Cousin manages, with difficulty, to tell him that she did not say anything to us. Foreman, his arms crossed, gazes dumbfounded at Cousin as she feigns innocence, saying, Honest, she didn’t say anything.

“You two were talking with Miss Lee just now, and you say she didn’t say anything?”

Cousin gives it another try. “Just asking if we didn’t find the work too hard . . .”

“Well, if you did, what is she going to do, make it easy for you? Is she going to pay you out of her pocket?” Foreman then turns to threats. “Union? What a laugh. A union will never be permitted.
The president has already spoken to various authorities. No matter how hard Yu Chae-ok tries, running about like that, it’s no use. If the two of you don’t want the management to get the wrong idea, don’t even think about joining the union! Union members will never get a pay raise, the president said.”

When Foreman is gone, Miss Lee comes over again, and when she goes away, Foreman comes back again. After a whole morning of being hassled by the two, at lunch Cousin whispers into my ear. “I’m going to join the union. What about you?”

I gaze at Cousin. “If you join, I will, too.”

“But you’re going to school, aren’t you?”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m not going.”

I fill out the application form next to Cousin. Cousin takes our applications to Miss Lee. Then she lets out a breath:
Phew.

Several days went by as I tossed and turned, without returning to what I had been writing. My heart burned with pain, as if it had been scraped with a broken shard of porcelain. I kept doubting. Will I be able to finish this? Where are all the people now and what are they doing? Yu Chae-ok, Miss Lee, Foreman, the head of administration? The company had more than a thousand employees, so there would be people who have already departed this world because of one accident or another.

Here on the island, I have been eating only one proper meal a day. Just now, I was sitting with an order of abalone porridge at a restaurant by the sea after a walk. When I was about halfway into my meal, a shabby looking man, who looked about sixty, walked in.

The shabby man asked if the spicy meat soup on the menu was cooked with pork or with beef. When the restaurant owner answered that she used beef,
the man ordered the soup. When he was served his soup, the shabby man pulled out a bottle of
soju
from inside his coat. When the owner glanced at him, he said, I hope you don’t mind. The owner responded, We have alcohol, too, but it seems you brought your own. The shabby man replied, I thought you might not. Whoever heard of restaurants that don’t serve
soju
? The owner snubbed the shabby man.

I wonder if he’s a seaman.

Even after being snubbed by the owner, the shabby man chatted with her about boats. About the boats that used to sail the seas off Jeju Island long before modern ferries, possibly even before I was born. He talked about how on windy days like today, these shabby and dangerous boats would overturn in the middle of the sea, taking many lives. They seemed to have completely forgotten about the new ferries sailing the sea today, about the fact that they were sitting in a restaurant, so singularly focused on their conversation about the dangerous and shabby boats of the old days. They were so focused on these shabby, dangerous boats of the past that I felt as if they were sitting on a distant island that I could not get close to, even though I was sitting just a few tables away.