The Girl Who Wrote Loneliness (40 page)

. . . Kyungnam University student Kim, dragged away like a dog while shouting for democracy; office worker Sin, taken in while making a drunken ruckus at home only a month into his marriage; high school graduate Lee studying for his second attempt at college entrance, accused as a gang member while on an outing; labor worker Song, taken in by the police while demanding overdue wages; seventeen-year-old high school student Nam, taken in while heading out to greet his mother; Lee, a chef taken in because of a tattoo on his arm while getting off work; street vendor Bak taken in while selling his wares at the market; newspaper reporter Yi dragged in like a dog, beaten and covered in blood after being dismissed from his job; old bachelor Hwang dragged in while badgering his parents to find him a wife; sixty-year-old Kim . . .

Did the storekeeper, taken in while making ceramic figurines of Virgin Mary, make it back? I did not see him again, not even after leaving the alley.

I am wiping the floor of our lone room with a rag. While wiping Oldest Brother’s desk, I quietly open the drawer. Finally, he’s
gotten rid of it. The woman’s necklace is not there. I am now relieved.

As summer vacation approaches, Oldest Brother plans out a new schedule. Enrollment has increased at the tutoring center, so he will be able to make quite a bit of money over summer break, he says. Saying that the director has promised to give him another hour-long class over the summer, Oldest Brother seems cheery. But how will he find the time when his mornings and evenings are already full?

“The class is scheduled from six thirty to eight so I can go straight from my military service shift.”

“What about dinner?”

“My next class starts at nine, so I can eat in between.”

He says that after summer, his military service will be done and he’ll be able to get a proper job again, then we will be able to rent a bigger place.

Our wages fall into arrears.

We receive the wages for the previous month only on the next month’s payday. I miss Union Leader and Miss Lee and Seo-seon. Those faces that were always carrying out discussion over lukewarm bean sprout soup poured over rice on the stainless steel serving tray, with some soured kimchi on the side. Those faces that used to shout, about the company president, “Even if he dies, we must not cry, no one.” If only they were here, our wages would not be in arrears like this.

Suddenly all’s quiet at work. There is talk that the stereo division will be closed down, and also that the president will hand over the company to the bank. As if to prove the rumors right, the conveyor belt at Line A, the one assembly line still in production, comes to a stop. Now there is no work to be done. We clean the facilities and sit around and chat. We never have to stand in line for lunch at the cafeteria. People have left the factory one by one and those who remain are mostly from the TV division.

School is about to let out for summer vacation. I come home from school to find Oldest Brother at the desk.

“
Oppa
, how come you’re back so early?”

Instead of answering my question, Oldest Brother tells me to come sit as I head up to the attic to change.

“What’s this?”

I, eighteen years old, adjust the buttons on my uniform.

“How come you’re home by yourself?”

“. . . Well actually.”

As I stammer, Oldest Brother raises his voice at me.

“Why are you doing this? All of you going about doing whatever you want? . . . What is this, I asked!”

“Phone . . . to be a phone operator . . .” I stammer.

“When did she stop going to school?”

“About . . . a month ago.”

“At least you could have told me, don’t you think?”

“She asked me not to . . .”

“You didn’t because she asked not to? You still have no idea what’s important, do you!”

I, feeling cornered, start to weep. Cousin walks in the door, clueless, but noticing Oldest Brother’s angry eyes as she put down her schoolbag, she quickly lowers her eyes, startled. I had been swallowing Oldest Brother’s scolding but upon seeing Cousin’s face, I burst into tears.

“Stop the crying!”

I try to stop but can’t. Tears start falling from Cousin’s eyes as well. As we both weep, Oldest Brother looks on, dumbfounded.

“You’d think I’d given you a beating or something.”

We expected a huge ruckus, but Oldest Brother goes back to his desk and sits with his back to us. But his back carries an air of determination.

“If you’re not going to stay in school, you should pack up and leave.” Cousin’s tears fall more profusely. “Will you go back to school or not?”

Cousin goes on crying without an answer. Oldest Brother looks back with a cold expression. “Will you go back to school or not?”

“I will.” Oldest Brother sounds so firm it stops Cousin’s tears. He sounds as if he will take her straight to the train station and buy her a ticket, telling her to leave for the country, if she answers that she will not go back to school. Wiping away her tears, Cousin goes up to the attic to take off her uniform.

We are lying down to sleep after washing our faces and feet in silence. Cousin is crouched with her face turned to the wall. From the other end of the room, Oldest Brother calls Cousin’s name. Still crouching, Cousin responds in a feeble voice.

“Is that what you want to be, a phone operator?”

“No.”

Looking confused by Cousin’s answer, Oldest Brother asks, “Then why did you start going to the training school instead?”

“I don’t want to work in a factory,
Oppa
.” There is no hesitation in her answer. Oldest Brother seems taken aback.

“Is it that bad?”

“It is.”

Oldest Brother asks again, as if he’s had a thought.

“Then what about working somewhere like the Community Service Center?”

“I’d like that!” Cousin immediately sits up.

“There’s nothing to like. If you ask me, working at a factory is better.”

“Is there an opening?”

“For someone to run errands. Take papers to the district office, answer calls, things like that.”

“That’s fine. Anything’s fine with me as long as it’s not the factory.” Cousin pleads with Oldest Brother to please get her the job at the Community Service Center. Saying that she feels even less like working at the factory nowadays. We don’t have anywhere to sit, we don’t get paid, and everyone says the company will go under soon.

My cousin, now twenty-one years old and about to leave the factory, is cheerful. Now in the morning, she takes the subway to the Yongsan Community Service Center. On the road leading to Industrial Complex No. 1, at the market entrance, on the overpass, I think of taking Cousin’s arm and feel overcome with emptiness.

For the first time, I hear the word “lockout.” Lockout? It was better when every day we had to work overtime and extra hours. When the conveyor belt churned on and on frantically. I hear someone behind me throwing a fit.

“How come every company I work for goes under! My darn luck.”

In the evening I see Cousin at school. “Did they process my severance pay yet?”

I shake my head.

“I worked for them until my bones were loose, they should at least give me my severance pay.”

“They say the company is going under.”

“What?”

“There’s going to be a lockout.”

Cousin is left speechless as well at the gravity of this word, lockout. Mi-seo sends me a note while reading Hegel. The note reads, “Any vacancies at your factory?” None. Even my position’s gone. An Hyang-suk glances at Mi-seo’s note.

“Are they having problems at Mi-seo’s factory?”

“Not sure.”

An Hyang-suk walks over to Mi-seo.

“You want to come work at our factory? They’re hiring.”

Mi-seo, who has always shown disregard for An Hyang-suk, pushes her face into her Hegel again, as if it’s a ridiculous suggestion.

“Did you see her being all snooty!” An Hyang-suk grumbles, returning to her seat. Mi-seo stays unmoved, her face buried in the book.

“Look into it for her, though. It seems you’re the only one in our class who lives in a dormitory.”

“Why, does Mi-seo need to live in a dorm? But she commutes from her sister’s place, doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t like her brother-in-law.”

“How come?”

“He and her sister fight all the time.”

“But isn’t it a treat to live outside the industrial complex? After school, whenever I see Mi-seo cross the street alone to take the bus in the opposite direction from the rest of us, I get envious. At least she gets to see other neighborhoods each morning and night.”

“You will look into it, right?”

“But why are you so worked up about it?”

“You will, won’t you?”

“All right!”

The next day when I ask how it went, An Hyang-suk shakes her head.

“They said ‘no students.’”

I received a letter from my publisher. I opened the envelope to find another one inside. The publisher must have forwarded me a letter that was sent to their address but meant for me. The envelope was thick, appearing to contain a long letter. I checked the name of the sender: Han Gyeong-sin, Faculty, Yeongdeungpo Girls’ High School, Singil-dong, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seoul.

Han Gyeong-sin? Ah! Teacher Choe Hong-i, no, Han Gyeong-sin. My heart sank. I had not been able to accept her invitation to visit her students at Yeongdeungpo Girls’ High School, and
on top of that, I had quoted her letter in my novel without her permission. There was a note written next to the postal code in neat handwriting, asking that the letter be forwarded to me. Someone with this handwriting would not reproach me, I told myself, trying to comfort my sinking heart.