first few years of his life: hearing his parents’ long screaming matches and knowing they didn’t love him. After each fight, his father turned to the bottle. His mother turned to her own bitterness. His early life was full of harsh words and quick slaps for anything from crying too loud to being too quiet. When he was four, his father was arrested. His mother immediately filed for divorce and moved them into the small apartment above Halmeoni’s restaurant.
Living with Halmeoni had been like finally feeling the sun after a lifetime underground. She made sure he was clean and fed. Gave him toys and clothes. But when Jihoon’s mother asked for spending money, Halmeoni handed her an apron and told her to earn it.
When Jihoon was almost five, he was sitting in the kitchen during the dinner rush. He remembered the smell of jjigae simmering on the stove, savory and salty, with just enough spice to sting his nostrils.
Halmeoni sang an old-fashioned trot song from the radio, and Jihoon followed along, butchering the lyrics. But his effort made Halmeoni laugh and it encouraged him to sing louder.
Their song joined the clatter of the kitchen and the shouts of voices in the dining room.
His mother came into the kitchen, her tray full of dirty dishes. Her hair escaped its rubber band to fall into her flushed face, sauce smeared on her sweaty cheek.
Jihoon thought she looked beautiful.
Overjoyed to see her, he jumped up and ran over.
She tripped as he clutched her knees, and the tray slipped from her hands to crash on the floor. A wayward shard of glass bounced up and cut Jihoon’s cheek.
“Jihoon-ah!” she screamed. “Why are you getting in the way? You shouldn’t be back here.” She’d grabbed him, spanking him in punishment. The pain of her palm on his bottom was numbed by his fear.
His tears fell in streams, stinging the cut on his cheek with its salt, but he didn’t make a sound. He’d learned in his short life how to cry silently or risk a harsher punishment.
“Yoori-ya,” Halmeoni chastised.
“No!” Jihoon’s mother swung toward Halmeoni. “I am sick of living like this because of him.” She directed an accusing finger toward Jihoon, who had flopped down to cry among the spilled food and broken dishes.
“If he hadn’t come around, I wouldn’t have married that man. I wouldn’t be living like this. I wasn’t born this pathetic!”
She stormed out, leaving Halmeoni to clean up the kitchen and Jihoon. A week later she met her new husband.
The memory left a sour taste in Jihoon’s mouth. It wasn’t one he took out often, but it was one he couldn’t quite erase. For a while, he’d wondered if that was when he’d lost her. Maybe if he hadn’t been so clumsy. If he hadn’t gotten in her way. Then she wouldn’t have left.
Jihoon glanced out the window. The streets became wider, the buildings taller. The bus crossed the Han River, entering the opulence and established wealth of Apgujeong.
Jihoon hated this part of town. Not because it was more developed or cleaner. Not because it flaunted its wealth so blatantly that international hit songs had been written about it. Because it was her part of town. The place she went when she’d abandoned him.
Jihoon stood in front of his mother’s front door for four minutes before he mustered the courage to ring the bell.
The eye of the camera glared at him. It made him feel like an intruder. He averted his face, afraid he’d be rejected before the door even opened.
“Who is it?” The question rang out, cheerful and bright.
“Delivery,” he mumbled.
The door beeped as it opened, a happy trio of chirps.
She wore a bright yellow dress. Her hair was pulled into a short ponytail. A ruffled pink apron decorated her waist. And she held a sleepy toddler in her arms.
“Jihoon-ah.” His mother spoke high with surprise.
He stared at the toddler, who blinked at him with curious eyes, his small hand fisted in the collar of her dress.
“Delivery,” Jihoon repeated, holding up the containers with aching arms.
She glanced between the two giant bundles, then let out a sigh as she held the door open.
“You can put them there.” She pointed at the floor of the foyer. “I’m going to put Doojoon down. It’s nap time.”
She didn’t wait for a reply and disappeared into a side room.
Jihoon stood in the entryway, refusing to step farther without being invited. The apartment was pristine, the living room larger than the small apartment Jihoon shared