Diary of a Murderer Page 12

  Yunseok called his supervisor. “We found Seongmin. Yes, yes, thank you. It’s thanks to all your support. But I should stay home for the time being. The daily log is in the drawer, yes, I think I’ll have to stay the night with him. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

  Just the thought of the three of them sleeping together in the tiny room left Yunseok at a loss. Seongmin insisted on sleeping in a T-shirt and jeans. As soon as Mira finished splashing around the bathroom and came out in her nightgown, she ran into Seongmin and screamed.

  Yunseok said, “It’s okay, it’s Seongmin, Seongmin,” but Mira was so frightened that she fled and crouched in the corner. Seongmin flushed with shame. No matter how many times Yunseok urged her to come to bed, she refused. She looked as if she would flee the house in just her nightgown.

  Mira said in a low voice, “Who on earth is that?”

  He said, “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s Seongmin?”

  He gave up trying to persuade her and pulled her forcefully into bed.

  “We’ve got to get your hairpins out if you want to sleep.”

  At Yunseok’s nagging, Mira pouted.

  Yunseok turned off the light and lay down. He couldn’t fall asleep thanks to his night shifts, and in the new environment, neither could Seongmin. Only Mira slept curled up in a ball as usual.

  Yunseok opened his eyes around dawn. Seongmin was tossing and turning beside him. Definitely awake.

  He said, “Seongmin.”

  Seongmin stopped moving.

  “Did you have your own room, over there?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can just say ‘yeah.’ Was it big?”

  “What?”

  “The room, was it big?”

  Seongmin merely nodded.

  “Did you have a bed?”

  Again he only nodded.

  “Also a desk?”

  “Yes.”

  Yunseok thought about the kidnapper, the woman who had taken her own life and escaped without punishment. A woman who stole someone else’s child and provided him with his own room, bed, and chair. Was chronic depression the cause of the kidnapping? Or the consequence?

  Seongmin suddenly spoke up without prodding. “I also had a computer, but the police took it.”

  “I see.”

  “Could you find it for me?”

  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  From then on, Seongmin was silent, even when asked a question. Each time Yunseok thought he might be asleep, he heard Seongmin rustling beside him.

  Yunseok said, “Let’s look for a new place to live. But with your mother the way she is, I’m not sure if anyone will rent to us.”

  Yunseok tried to fall asleep, but he couldn’t. Instead, he spent the night listening to his son’s heavy sighs.

  * * *

  Seongmin had arrived on Friday, and he spent Saturday and Sunday in the same state. It was making Yunseok crazy; he was suffocated by the feeling that he had trapped a wild animal. He had no idea what to ask him or how to talk to him. Officially, he had always been “Seongmin’s father,” but he had actually never played the role.

  At the local mini-mart, Yunseok said to the owner, “I feel like I’ve become a child abductor.”

  The owner had been in prison eight times and was a former gang member. He said, “It’s ’cause it’s a new environment for him. First-timers in the slammer act the same way. Shit, you don’t know a soul, you’re freaking scared. That’s why he’s like that—he’s scared, freaking scared.”

  “What do you do in the slammer, to a newbie?”

  “They make his life hell till he loses his mind. They roll him up in a blanket and stomp on him, slap him around, shove his head in a bucket,” he said enthusiastically, then stopped. “I’m not saying do that to Seongmin. Hell, I got no idea. Anyway, congratulations on getting your son back.”

  The market owner tucked a sausage snack into Yunseok’s bag and said, “For your son.”

  As he left the store, Yunseok saw his hilly neighborhood anew. It was a neighborhood of multi-unit buildings packed together in cramped alleyways. The cheap houses built by developers had slowly been converted to command high rents. Each house now had two or three separate entrances, and as many as nine people in a single unit. Yunseok’s unit wasn’t converted only because it was constructed illegally near a public road, so the landowner had trouble changing the zoning. That was why Yunseok and Mira continued living there. But the housing redevelopment board had all but confirmed the neighborhood’s demolition, and if that happened, Yunseok’s family would be forced to move, since the little compensation left them with few choices. They were pushed out of Seoul, and now they would have to move even farther out.

  Money was an issue, but an even bigger problem was finding a landlord who would accept Mira. If he so much as hinted that his wife wasn’t quite right in the head, landlords refused them; they believed that a schizophrenic would murder someone or set fire to the house. It didn’t matter how many times Yunseok assured them that she was harmless. The real estate agent showing him houses told him to lie, saying, “You can send your wife to a mental ward for a little bit, then bring her back once you move in.”

  Yunseok became furious because the advice tempted him. He was afraid that he would do just that, despite himself, so he unleashed his anger at the agent instead. If he put Mira in a mental ward, he would leave her there forever. What was more, the superstitions that had sustained him would collapse. He had tricked himself into believing that Seongmin would never return if he sent Mira to the ward, just as he had believed that Mira would fully recover upon Seongmin’s return.

  But there were other reasons why he couldn’t abandon Mira. Others believed that he was burdened with his ill wife, but in truth he depended on her. The same way he handed out flyers daily that wouldn’t change anything, he sustained himself with the minimal energy left in his marriage. To him, Mira was like a camel in a caravan. They didn’t need to share their goals and hopes. She didn’t need to speak, or smile. Just stay alive till we cross the desert. If not you, my dear, who else would endure this barren hell with me?

  * * *

  On Monday, Yunseok took Seongmin to school to have his records transferred from Daegu. Seongmin should have been in middle school, but he was still a fifth grader. His abductor had paid a fine, reported him as a newborn, and belatedly legalized his fake birth.

  Seongmin’s elementary school principal was younger and prettier than Yunseok had expected. She listened to the accompanying social worker’s explanation of Seongmin’s special circumstances, then approached the matter calmly. She was methodical and courteous, but she didn’t seem pleased about being responsible for a troubled kid. Yunseok’s working-class shabbiness also probably made her biased. The principal made her feelings clear: A low-income family’s child. The father too busy earning a living and the mother too unstable to raise him properly. On top of that, the history of abduction. Take your pick of potential problems. She added, “I’m worried whether he can adapt. If he’s going to struggle to adapt anyway, how about sending him up to middle school right away?

  “He’s the appropriate age, and though his case is unusual, many kids these days also live abroad and return, so there’s increased flexibility in the system. Kids’ brains are more malleable, so they adapt quickly. But what Seongmin wants is most important.”

  The principal looked at Seongmin and asked, “What do you want to do? Do you want to start fifth grade with kids two years younger than you, or, even if it’s challenging, go to middle school with kids your age?”

  As Seongmin hesitated, the social worker cut in. “Won’t it be too stressful for him?”

  “These days,” the principal said, “it’s common for students to go over school material at after-school classes beforehand, so most catch up with the curriculum. What do you think, Seongmin? Did you ever attend any of the after-school study programs in Daegu?”

  Seongmin nodded.

 
“I guessed as much. Most parents have their kids go these days.”

  The principal’s quick glance at Yunseok confused him. Did she want him to make the decision? The social worker and Seongmin also gazed at him. It became clear that they wanted him to decide, but he just couldn’t. It was his first time being a school parent.

  The principal asked Seongmin, “What do you want to do? That’s most important.”

  Seongmin said cautiously, “I’m not sure.”

  Yunseok had assumed that the school would administer some kind of basic skills assessment test, that Seongmin would take an authoritative-looking multiple-choice exam and an official choice would be forced on them, but no such test existed. If he made a legal case of it, Seongmin would be allowed to attend the elementary school. His palms became sweaty. The situation was foreign and frustrating. How could he know what a boy wanted with whom he’d never had a real conversation? On top of that, he had no idea whether Seongmin was exceptionally intelligent, or if he was so slow that he didn’t know how to do basic math. With no information to go on and with no real relationship with the boy, he had to make a quick decision that could determine Seongmin’s fate. He was the legal guardian, but he may as well have been the principal or the social worker.

  Yunseok awkwardly put a hand on Seongmin’s shoulder. “What do you want?”

  Seongmin looked up with disappointed eyes. In the end he said, “I want to go to middle school. Actually, the chairs and desks here are too small for me.”

  The principal looked delighted. “The decision comes after much thought by the concerned party, so we’ll have to respect it. You made a good choice. If you listen carefully in class and review the material thoroughly, you’ll quickly catch up.”

  Then the vice principal came in and whispered into the principal’s ear, and her face darkened. The principal took out her cell phone and left to make a call. She quickly returned and whispered something to the vice principal. Then she said to the others, “I have a meeting to attend, but the vice principal will discuss the details with you.”

  The vice principal’s take was different. The board of education had just told her that no matter a child’s circumstances, attending middle school without completing elementary school was nearly impossible. In other words, Seongmin had to finish fifth grade first.

  Father and son left the principal’s office.

  Yunseok asked, “Are you hungry? Do you want black bean noodles?”

  The boy cautiously asked instead, “Could we get pizza?”

  “But you used to like black bean noodles.”

  “I like noodles,” he said, “but I like pizza more.”

  Pizza was too greasy for Yunseok’s taste, so they went to the first-floor Chinese restaurant near their apartment. Pain stabbed his lower belly again. He splurged on a large plate of sweet and sour pork and two bowls of black bean noodles. He ate the pork and the noodles; the boy ate the noodles and didn’t even touch the pork.

  Yunseok asked, “Did that woman often buy you pizza?”

  The boy didn’t respond.

  “What kind of person was she? She wasn’t cruel to you?”

  The boy stared reproachfully at Yunseok before averting his eyes. “The same as any other mother, really. Sometimes she gave me a hard time.”

  “I heard she suffered from depression.”

  “What is depression?”

  “Some signs are being silent all day long, being irritable.”

  “I’m not sure. Sometimes she was like that. But I was usually at school or after-school lessons.”

  “Was there a man?”

  “A man?”

  “A man she was living with.”

  “Why are you asking me that?”

  “Why can’t I? The police said that the woman raised you on her own, but didn’t you feel that something was wrong? You didn’t have a dad, like everyone else.”

  “She said he’d died. That as soon as she had me, he died in a car accident.”

  “Then what did she do for a living? She had a job, didn’t she?”

  “My mom is . . . never mind.” As if he’d made a mistake, the boy stayed quiet and weighed Yunseok’s reaction.

  “It’s okay. Tell me.”

  “She was a nurse, at a university hospital.”

  A nurse.

  “Sir . . .” Seongmin still wouldn’t call him “Father.”

  “What is it?”

  “To be honest, I still don’t believe what the policewoman said.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Was I really kidnapped?”

  Yunseok stopped gazing at the ceiling and turned back to Seongmin.

  “They’ve made a mistake,” the boy said. “She’s not that kind of person, I’m sure of it.” He chewed on his lip and held back his tears.

  Yunseok ignored this and said, “It’s true. The police did say they did a DNA test, and that your DNA matches the DNA record we had for you. You know what DNA is, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t. How would I know? Do you know?”

  I don’t know either. I’ve never seen it or touched it. Before, I wasn’t interested in this thing inside me that’s innate to all human beings, like the soul that Christians talk about. I started considering genes only after we lost you, after I’d crawled on all fours searching for strands of your hair. I believed that it would help us find you. And because of the test results, you’re sitting in front of me right now. But you’re a real stranger to me, just like I must be a stranger to you. If the DNA from the hair I finally found on your baby clothes matches the cells scraped from the inside of your mouth, it means that you’re the same person, and we have to believe it, we must believe it, we’ve got no choice but to believe it, but why can’t we see it with our own eyes?

  * * *

  Yunseok’s boss called him. He said he sympathized, but he couldn’t keep the night-shift position vacant any longer.

  Yunseok sat Seongmin down and told him, “Your dad needs to work nights, so you’ll have to take care of your mom.”

  Seongmin glanced over to where Mira was napping.

  “Sometimes she leaves the house,” Yunseok said, “but the neighbors will tell you where she went if you ask them. She can’t take the bus because she doesn’t have a pass. Usually she just walks around, so you’ll quickly find her.”

  “Shouldn’t she be in a mental hospital?”

  “Your mother is fine.”

  Seongmin looked confused. His expression said it all: You call that fine?

  “It’s because of you she’s like that, because of the shock of losing you, so she’ll recover soon now that you’re here, now that our Seongmin is here. Everything’s going to be all right, so just keep studying hard.”

  “I can’t study without a computer.”

  “Things are a little tight right now, but I’ll buy you one later.”

  “I want to go to a cybercafé.”

  “Then what about your mom?”

  “What did you do when I wasn’t here?”

  “Sometimes I’d lock her in.”

  “So can I lock the house up, then leave?”

  “No. What if your mom’s alone when a fire starts?”

  “You said that’s what you did before.”

  “We’re family, and families have to help each other.”

  “I told you, I need to use the computer.”

  Yunseok lost his temper and shouted, “Stop talking about the stupid computer!”

  His yelling woke Mira up from her nap. She looked around her. “It’s too noisy,” she said, and stared at Seongmin.

  She said, “Why isn’t the kid going back to his house?”

  Yunseok said, “It’s Seongmin. I’m telling you, it’s our Seongmin!”

  Mira didn’t seem to believe him. Yunseok couldn’t delay going to work any longer, and once again, as he left, he asked Seongmin to look after his mother.

  While Mira continued moving frantically from room to room, S
eongmin cautiously tried speaking to her. “Mrs. . . .”

  Mira paid no attention to him and continued pacing.

  This time, Seongmin said, “Mom.”

  Mira froze, as if a familiar voice had triggered something inside her brain. She collapsed onto the floor and pulled out flyers from underneath the wardrobe, then looked at them with a long face.

  Seongmin gathered up courage and said, “Could you give me some money?”

  She stared at him. He became a little bolder and said, “Mom, could you give me some money?”

  She backed away from him as he approached.

  “You rotten son of a bitch,” she cursed. “You lowborn son of a pig, son of a bitch.”

  She kept cursing at him for no reason, then finally spit at him. She sprang up and opened the fridge. Seongmin watched her shove food into her mouth, then he fled the house. He wandered from alley to alley late into the night. Rumors about a crazy kid who carried a brick in his hand spread throughout his school. That he spoke funny, that he had some kind of southern accent.

  * * *

  Yunseok had to visit the police station three times in less than three months. The last time, Seongmin had fractured a kid’s skull with a brick.

  “You could have killed him, you crazy kid!” Yunseok screamed at Seongmin, who was sitting blank-faced in a holding cell. Once they returned home, the little communication they’d had came to an end. Mira’s schizophrenia only worsened, with no sign of improvement. Yunseok began thinking daily about suicide. He had long before lost anything resembling a goal in life, and he felt that the possibility of finding meaning had never existed in the first place.

  “What would happen if I die?” Yunseok asked Mira.

  She was watching TV, and said, “You’re being noisy,” as she always did.

  He even searched for something to hang himself with during his night shift. A construction site was the ideal place to do it. Electrical wire and steel beams were widely available, and there was no one around to stop him. Everything would end once he tied the wire to the beam and let go.