Soon, everyone who had gathered dispersed, and we began to share trivial stories.
Kangsoo said he graduated from a vocational school and is now working as a fitness trainer. At some point, he suddenly developed an interest in exercise. He also mentioned having a girlfriend, and from the photo, she seemed quite beautiful. It was a relief to know he seemed to be doing well.
Chaerin said she became a social worker. She works at some social welfare foundation, and she said she learned about it thanks to this meeting. She also mentioned a boyfriend who is older than her and promised to marry him; considering she was only 26, it was quite impressive. Just a little while ago, she was a child trailing behind me.
I wondered if I had anything more to say about my own story, but I shared a few bits. I told them I had become a novelist, published a book, and transitioned into being a woman. They both had partners, and I felt a slight illusion of lagging behind, being the only one without anything. Of course, in such circumstances, it was impossible to create anything.
Interestingly, both said they had read my book. I had never felt such emotions when showing my writing to others, but hearing it from someone who came from the same orphanage made me oddly embarrassed. I mumbled my thanks.
“…It feels strangely nostalgic.”
Chaerin said.
“Indeed.”
Kangsoo replied.
“Things have changed a lot, though.”
I spoke.
“Hyung, you’ve changed too much.”
Kangsoo said.
“You haven’t changed much either.”
I replied.
“Heh.”
Chaerin chuckled.
The three of us exchanged phone numbers. It would probably soon become an old, dusty data set, but for now, it held significance.
“Kangsoo, have you already met the director?”
“…Yes.”
“How was it?”
“She didn’t seem to be in pain.”
“Really….”
“We had a normal conversation. We exchanged ordinary greetings.”
I wondered if I would end up having such conversations. While my initial confusion and embarrassment during the discussions calmed down a bit, my melancholy lingered.
And I realized that I wasn’t as sad as I thought I should be. No, I was definitely sad. I was in pain, and I felt sorry. However, it wasn’t a sorrow that would crush me. It wasn’t a misery that would drive me insane, and it wasn’t more painful than the agony I felt just a few days ago. I wasn’t even sure who I was apologizing to.
We talked frequently on the phone. Although I didn’t visit, I donated a lot.
And yet, it had been ten years. Could I truly say that my brief phone conversations maintained our connection? I knew the answer when asked why I hadn’t visited. Simply because I didn’t want to.
The director was an incredibly kind person, but I never liked the “House of Love.” I had been a discarded existence there. Just being in that orphanage made me realize I was a discarded being. I hated that sensation so much that I had never once visited it.
I was still too immature to love that place.
That immaturity piled upon itself, creating my current numbness.
And I knew best that those words were not excuses.
Because he was not my father.
Because I was not his son.
~
The director woke up. It was visiting hour. A few people who had arrived before me went in first, and I was the last. I opened the hospital door with trembling hands.
“…You came?”
There was a weakness in the voice I heard. What had his voice been like before? I couldn’t remember, as it was when he was drunk. Fortunately, there was no pain mixed in his voice. I saw an elderly man lying on the bed. Too much had changed since the last time I remembered seeing him.
“…Director.”
“Oh my, that’s a voice I’m hearing for the first time. You’re the last one, aren’t you?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Pancreatic cancer doesn’t cause dementia. Of course, even in the hospital, I hear all the news. Come over here.”
I slowly moved my steps. The director turned his eyes slightly to look at me.
“You’ve changed so much that I can’t recognize you. If you told me it was hidden camera footage, I’d believe it. Who is this pretty lady?”
“You’re joking too much.”
“Alright, I apologize. Could you hold my hand?”
I took the director’s hand. It was not firm. I felt the wrinkles. It was warm. He tried to hold my hand back, but I didn’t feel any strength.
“What do you want to talk about? Should we share some pleasant stories?”
“…Why did you hide it?”
“Well…”
“I won’t ask that kind of question again.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“It feels sudden, too sudden. I have no idea how to organize my thoughts right now.”
“We still have plenty of time.”
“No, it’s too little. So I just… want to say something.”
I’m sorry.
“Thank you. Thank you. I grew up without learning love. The only love I know is the small love you shared with me. When I was younger, I complained about that love being small, but now I understand how big it truly is. I grew up not knowing the concept of a father. I have no idea what my biological father was like, nor do I have any memories of him. So, I can’t call you ‘father.’ Because there is no such being for me. You weren’t my father, but I was your son.”
I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry for not being able to repay that love properly.”
“Don’t say such things.”
You smiled slightly.
“Even so, you speak so well for a writer. Our thoughts are similar. I couldn’t be your father. I couldn’t even be a proper father to my child. You know that, right? I have a son too, though our relationship is the worst. I don’t know if he will come to my funeral. I must have had so little love that I couldn’t give it properly to that child. So I had no qualifications to be a father.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Still, you all have always been my children. I was a person who couldn’t be a father. This thought might have been my greed. Nonetheless, I want to pass this story on to everyone. I wanted to leave quietly on my own, but as the end approaches, I felt scared. So, I couldn’t help but reach out. I’ve done wrong by you all.”
“That’s not true.”
“I did speak a lot before I leave. I had a good life; it was a life too good for a lacking person like me.”
“I…”
“Seol-guk. I have so many things to apologize for. I was unable to help you when you were having a hard time because I was sick, and that weighs heavily on me. It was hard to believe, but when I watched you on TV, I recognized you.”
“The director helped me enough. Thanks to you, I am here.”
“That’s comforting. The world is so indifferent. It keeps making you go through sad things.”
“However, I’ve met you.”
“It would have been better not to meet me.”
It was as if the director made a playful joke, laughing with a weak cough.
“I read your book.”
“‘The Womb of a Boy’?”
“I thought a lot about it.”
“…That’s embarrassing.”
“I thought about how you are still in so much pain.”
“That might be the case.”
“I felt sorry for that. If I had had more, you wouldn’t have had to suffer like that.”
“You’ve already given me a lot.”
“Yet, you’re still suffering.”
“No.”
“Hm, the image you’re showing now doesn’t quite fit your lies, does it?”
“…”
“I’m sorry for you. So, can I add one more apology while I’m at it?”
“Of course.”
“Forgive your mother.”
I didn’t feel anger at the director’s words. I just couldn’t speak. If someone else had said such words, I would have spat at them, but I couldn’t do that to the director. He was the only one who could say such things to me.
I simply remained silent. I couldn’t do anything else.
Seeing my lack of response, the director continued.
“I’m not saying this for your mother. I’m saying this for you. Not forgiving and harboring hatred means keeping her in your heart. It wounds you and spreads like a tumor that won’t disappear.”
Just like me.
“I can’t laugh at that joke.”
“I’ve gotten old enough that I can’t even make a proper joke. So, forgiveness is ultimately like chemotherapy. It’s not for the other person, but for yourself. Don’t hate her. Forgive her on your own terms, and forget her freely. Erase her from your life.”
“That’s…”
“It’s not an easy task, is it? Right? Actually, even I might not be entirely sure if this is the right way. So, don’t feel bound by my words. Just remember one thing. Choose the path where you can be happiest. A path where you won’t have to suffer.”
“…I will remember that.”
“Right, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your pretty face.”
At some point, tears began to fall little by little. Not much. Just a little.
“I’m not pretty.”
“You have always been a beautiful child to me. Everyone thought so. You were all lovely children.”
Was that so? I hope it was.
“If you really can’t forgive your mother, stop by the orphanage once. I’m not sure if it would help, but it’s better than not knowing.”
“…Okay.”
“If… you can’t forgive your mother, at least forgive yourself.”
“Okay.”
“You’ve shrunk so much. Even more than the last time I saw you. You’re bigger than the first time I met you though.”
“To me, you are still very big, Director.”
“That’s a relief. Thank you.”
You smiled a bit. You cried a little.
“You’ve spoken a lot, considering it’s the last time. It’s a bit exhausting…”
“…Should I call a nurse?”
“Yeah… I’d appreciate it if you did. I need to rest a bit…”
I pressed the bell. Soon, a nurse came, and my visiting hour was over. The director closed his eyes.
While my steps didn’t come easily, the director’s weak hand slipped away all too easily.
I instinctively realized this was the end. I would lose something small inside me forever.
It wasn’t about losing. It was about leaving. And there, I wouldn’t be able to return.
Perhaps we should have exchanged trivial and ordinary farewells instead of such important words.
In a sacrilegious way, I was thinking of his final request and words before the farewell.
Forgiveness.
It was a word that didn’t suit me.
I’m sorry.
For not being able to follow your last request,
For not being able to mature like you,
For not being such a strong human,
I cannot follow those words.
Yet, I will not forget.
So, for my sake, I will try to forgive a little.
Though I don’t know what it is I’m guilty of.
