Legend [YEONBIN] ✓

sixty-five ; soobin

I served food to the mourners. It was polite for them to eat some before they left—rice, soup, and banchan. I carried around a tray to collect the empty dishes. It was all I could think to do. Even Beomgyu, who served alongside me, didn’t protest my help.

Beside Yeonjun, his mother wore a traditional mourning hanbok, with white hemp tying back her hair. Her pale face was drawn. She greeted all of the visitors while standing beside Yeonjun, whose eyes were aimed straight ahead, not looking at his mother and not truly focusing on any of the guests. A boy with nothing left he wanted to see.

It was enough to bring tears, but I held them back. This was no place for my grief.

After everyone left, I sat awhile, watching Yeonjun and his mother in the receiving room, unmoving statues. Yeonjun looked like a supplicant in a church, head bowed, so I could see only the dark crown of his head.

“You can go now,” Yeonjun said.

His mother didn’t respond, her expression calm.

“I said you can go.” Yeonjun’s voice echoed in the empty room.

His mother didn’t reply.

Yeonjun finally looked up. “Are you not listening to me?”

“She was my mother.” It came out quiet, but firm.

“Since when do you act like a dutiful daughter?” Yeonjun asked. “Were you acknowledging your mother when you let her work her joints raw to take care of me? Or were you being a filial daughter when you left her to rot in the hospital?”

“Yeonjun-ah.” I grabbed his arm. “Stop it.”

He shook me off.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me when you cared about her.”

Yeonjunn’s mother finally faced him, her expression cool as a still lake. “My mother and I had a relationship long before you were born. You do not know how I have held her in my heart.”

“You speak of her as if she died months ago. She didn’t. She’s been alive this whole time. She still could be if you—” Yeonjun’s words cut off, his breathing heavy. I laid a hand on his arm.

“I’d like to speak to my mother alone,” Yeonjun said, his face deceptively calm.

I need to respect his wants warred with my desire to comfort him. In the end, I stepped out of the room. I hoped I was doing the right thing.