Don't Come Again

The fruit-laden blue-green tree glowed warmly now in the moonlight that filtered through. I carefully leaned the bicycle against the wall of Eui-joo's house and pushed the gate open with my shoulder. I had meant only to hand over the side dishes, take the letter Eui-joo had supposedly written, complete the exchange, and leave—yet the moment I saw the long shadow stretched out on the wooden porch, my resolve went hazy. Looking at that indolent figure who seemed unlikely ever to pull anything from the fridge even if I left it there, I changed my mind.

It was not as if I had brought the food without some pity for him living alone in the empty house, but at this rate Mother's side dishes would be left to rot into a fly graveyard in no time. Ignoring the man who pretended not to know me, I climbed onto the porch and spread out the meal tray. As if unaware of everything happening right at his feet, the man lay with his legs crossed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Reluctant to set the side dishes out still in their containers, I went to the kitchen. I knew where Eui-joo kept the chopsticks and spoons he had washed. Yet the cupboard held only three rice bowls, and without a utensil holder the drawer sat completely empty. The culprit had to be the man. I was annoyed that he had arbitrarily cleared away Eui-joo's things, but he was blood—what could an outsider do about his decisions?

"Excuse me."

The man, who had been idly swinging one foot and enjoying the muggy breeze, turned his eyes. My cheeks flushed from bustling alone in the kitchen, I hesitantly pointed toward it.

"Where are the pot and the bowls and the chopsticks and everything?"

I had seen on the news yesterday or the day before that this year would be hotter than last. Perhaps because of that, the man looked languid as he rolled over, answering as if cutting off all interest.

"I'm hungry."

"No, you need chopsticks to eat. Are you going to scoop it up with your fingers?"

Without meaning to I snapped at him, and the man lifted his chin. Under the brazen gaze of a man freeloading a meal so shamelessly, my shoulders gradually hunched. Then he rolled once more into a prone position and gave a sloppy smile.

"There are chopsticks. The ones from the jjajangmyeon place."

It turned out he had not been glaring at me but deep in thought. With looks that cold, he must have been misunderstood often until now. Not even daring to ask whether there were small plates, I had no choice but to hand him the side dishes still in their containers.

Once the rice and side dishes were set out, the man sat up and took the seat across from me. A man who had a high-schooler deliver side dishes for him. Just as I was about to demand Eui-joo's letter, he gripped the chopsticks in his fist.

Once again that acrobatic chopsticks technique—he showed the worst table manners, head down, simply devouring the side dishes. The food being kidnapped by the fistful in his chopsticks began to look pitiful. Especially the stir-fried zucchini; it must have suited his taste, for half of it was already gone.

Unable simply to watch, I tightly seized the man's wrist as it happened to pass in front of me. As if he had never imagined being interrupted mid-bite, he froze with his cheeks puffed full.

"Ah, come on."

"……"

"Eat slowly. And your chopsticks grip…"

I was more curious how he even managed to pick anything up with that never-before-seen fist technique. Thinking I would take the chance to look at his hands, I tore open a fresh pair of wooden chopsticks and showed him.

"One finger here. Hold it here with the other. See?"

The man quietly put rice in his mouth, only stealing glances with his eyes. Nothing major changed, yet I could feel his subtle concentration. His chewing had slowed compared to before, and about a third of his rice remained. Concluding that teaching him today was a lost cause, I shook my head.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Do you go to university?"

If the man was twenty, was that not just the age to have entered university? Muttering that the soy-braised beef was good as he finished it off, he next swept up the stir-fried zucchini.

"I told you I dropped out of high school. I did it in first year."

So middle-school graduation was his highest education. Just as I concluded to myself that he was more of a thug than I had thought, the man's bored voice continued.

"My father sold his kid instead of paying the debt. I work there."

I had been imagining a thug who needed a motorcycle, roaming the city in a pack, and I flinched, my hand trembling. The place he worked would not be some ordinary office looking at documents. I felt ashamed of the past when I had scolded him for not coming to see Eui-joo. Deliberately shifting from my comfortable seated posture to an uncomfortable one, I met his gaze. Having eaten enough, the man set down his chopsticks and poured barley tea into a water glass.

"I've paid for the meal. No more questions, right?"

"Uh… so you're saying you answered because I gave you food."

"Yeah. Don't come next time."

Adding a sigh to the sweltering weather, the man stood, picked up the meal tray, and went to the kitchen. Suddenly feeling as if I had prepared a meal only to get slapped in the face, I just blinked. In the meantime he quickly cleared the tray and came back to plop down on the edge of the porch. His back as he looked at the old gate no one would come through suited the stubborn summer weather.

As he pulled out a cigarette pack as if bored just sitting there, I ended up giving him a piece of my mind.

"Don't smoke that right after eating. You smoked earlier too."

For the first time the man frowned and turned his head. The rebellious way he put the cigarette in his mouth did not look as if he would refrain.

"At least smoke after I leave. I'll just get the letter and go."

"Letter?"

"You said Eui-joo wrote one for me."

Then the man gave a bitter smile and blatantly looked me up and down.

"There's no way something like that exists. Besides, I'm illiterate, so I can't read."

"What?"

"Idiot."

Having said whatever he pleased, the man lay down, yet he did not light the cigarette with the lighter. The man who was simply letting time pass in the same state as before eating was the real idiot.

I was shocked that the man who kept messing with me was illiterate, and angry that he had lied. To avoid taking more of his inexplicable spite, I had to leave now.

"Yang Ji-eon."

The man I had thought would simply send me off without seeing me out spoke quietly.

"Eui-joo and I only share half our blood. Only our dad is the same."

"…And?"

"I'm someone even less related to you than Eui-joo is. Since I'm just a half-blood older brother, don't take an interest in me."

Walking straight ahead and opening the gate, I turned back with wide eyes. His hair, bowed under the fan's breeze, fluttered.

"Your mom seems to be raising you carefully. Living life, I've found that the things people tell you not to do, the people they tell you not to get close to—there's always a reason."

So he was roundaboutly, with difficulty, telling me not to come again from now on. Snorting that I would not come again even without being told, as I left, his next words stuck in the back of my head.

"The side dishes were good."

Bang—the sound of the gate closing buried the man's last words. Probably something like, who knew there would be an idiot who would actually bring them if told to. In the process of standing the bicycle leaning against the wall, mounting it, and pedaling, heat rose all the way to the top of my head.

Even under the heavy weight of various stories—being a half-blood brother, high-school dropout, the man who went to work in place of his father's debt—I gave him minus points because of those eyes that looked at me as if to say, what a sucker.

Even if he asked me to come again, I would never go. There was no resemblance to the mild, milk-like Eui-joo; just a man who only told lies.

Back home, I brushed my teeth until they bled. The man's messy chopsticks technique flickered before my eyes like water stains on the mirror, but I shook my head vigorously, trying hard to erase it. On top of that, the word "illiterate" I could only erase after midnight.

My peaceful daily life had been shaken once by Eui-joo's death, and shaken twice more by the appearance of that older brother. But no matter what waves crashed, for me who had built the fortress of exam life, they were episodes I could quickly forget.

"Ji-eon."

"Huh?"

On the third day of vacation, friends who were taking winter-break supplementary classes called the house to meet up in town. We timed it to eat the ice-cream cake from the TV commercial, and were browsing the thousand-won store with our remaining allowance. Entering the household-goods section and looking at the display of two-thousand-won bowls, my hand and gaze stopped together. The training chopsticks hanging there alone without any brand looked as if even an adult could use them.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah, just looking."

"We've been looking for you forever. We're going to check out now."

Friends who had been looking at gloves on special sale found me in the wrong section. My foolish hand fiddled with the packaging as if about to buy the chopsticks.

"Hurry up and pay so we can go to karaoke."

"Okay."

In less than two days the man had become Chowa-ri's number-one person to avoid. A thug who just smoked cigarettes on the street, Eui-joo's blood relative rumored to be an orphan, likewise an orphan. Rumors that he had gone under a loan shark to collect daily interest loans, rumors that he was mixed up with gangsters spanning the province and city—anyway it narrowed down to the conclusion that one should avoid the man. Even when the village happened to slaughter a pig or a cow or pound rice cakes, none went to the man. It was a different kind of ostracism from Eui-joo's time. At least as a student, Eui-joo had received rice cakes and pig heart. Rumors that he had dropped out of high school after a gang fight circulated on the evening of the second day, and the man's personal details became public property in the neighborhood.

"Don't come."

I felt a bit sorry for the man who did not even know he had been adopted as the regular topic at the Chowa-ri community center. Was the dead Eui-joo urging me to look after his pitiful older brother?

"He says don't come, so why would I go?"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

I hurriedly pulled my hand away from the chopsticks packaging and shook it off. Whether the man was ostracized in the village or not, I would stay indifferent. Knowing he was someone who would not last and would leave anyway, I firmly cut the string of pity. No more meddling. Linking arms with my friend heading to the checkout, I forced a smile.

It was a day when the bright summer weather seemed to be strangling my throat.