CEL 62

“Why didn’t you say that Jaeha had talent in painting?”

“…Jaeha?”

“Yes! Even I, a layman, saw that it was unusual, so I showed it to Director Lee. Ah, you know Director Lee, right? He runs a gallery in Cheongdam.”

“Yes, I know him.”

“Director Lee said that if he gets proper teaching, he could become great.” Mother looked at Father, who suddenly came by and babbled with a wide grin, as if she saw a ghost.

“Our Jaeha had talent in art. Right? One artist will come out from our family.” His face shone with joy as though a problem that troubled him for a long time had washed away. Jaeha bowed his head without answering. That was better than being caught with hollow laughter bursting again and again.

“If he is going to get tutoring from now, it will be better to leave the house here as it is. I will look right away for famous teachers, and you only take care of Jaeha’s condition. All right? Understood?”

“…You want us to live here continuously?”

“Of course. Our Jaeha has to learn art, where else could we go?” After the storm-like meeting ended, Mother hugged his back in the house where only the two remained. In the past, such a thing would have made him thrilled with joy, yet it was not wholly joyful now.

“Jaeha, this is our last chance.”

“…….”

“Let’s do well, all right? This time, no mistakes.”

He bit the soft flesh inside his mouth while he looked at the woman who rubbed her eyes on his shoulder, not knowing when she had become so small.

The words, “Do you still like Father that much?” rose up to his throat, but he did not let them out. If that question brought him to face those hollow eyes again… this time, the one who would lose his mind would be himself.

Director Lee’s words, whether empty or not, seemed true, because every teacher who came afterward praised his drawings. He could not yet fully understand words about his lines or his way of expression, yet from their astonished eyes he knew that he drew better than others his age.

Tutoring went on without a single day missed. And every step of that process was always with Mother. Though she had no interest in art and knew little, she always listened to the teacher’s words with those brightly glowing eyes. Sometimes the teachers, feeling burdened by those eyes, brought up words in a roundabout way, but none of it worked.

Jaeha learned the reason behind that behavior during a meal gathering after a long time.

“Painter Kim said that Jaeha has something special in expressing detail.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. He said his sense of composition and use of light and shade remind him of painters of the Renaissance era. Anyway, he even flatters well, even though he is still a child.”

“No, no. Painter Kim is not someone who caters to please others.” A strange light lit in Father’s eyes. While Heo Juyeop and his wife looked bewildered, not knowing what this meant, his gaze remained fixed on Jaeha and Mother.

His hand, which had been lifting the spoon silently, stopped. The well-cooked grains of rice suddenly felt like grains of sand. A piece of well-braised galbi landed on his spoon, while Jaeha was confused and could not attach a name to the emotion.

“Painter Han, you have to eat plenty and keep up your strength. That way, right? You can even revive your father’s spirit through painting.”

Unable to find words to answer, he only opened and closed his mouth, and on top of the already piled dishes came another piece of white kimchi.

“My dear, how could you only give him meat, he is still at an age where he has to grow.” They looked like a kind couple. The moment Jaeha turned his head, his eyes met Heo Juyeop’s.

He closed his mouth when he saw his sullen gaze. At least at that moment, he felt the same as he did.

When the uncomfortable meal ended and the three families left, Mother’s smile disappeared from her face.

Whenever they had to move separately with a time gap because we could not go together, a peculiar coldness hovered on her face.

Was she only then realizing her own situation? In truth, whether together or not, they were always outsiders to each other, but only Mother seemed not to know that fact.

“…Why don’t we just go to Paju?”

Mother only rolled her eyes to look at him. Because theu sat facing the same direction…

It looked like a bizarre scene from a horror film.

“Jaeha, the lines in the drawing you did yesterday were a mess.”

“…….”

“And when you colored, it would have been better if you had handled the borders more neatly.” Words flowed without a single pause between sentences. Jaeha’s gaze turned blurred as he watched that sight.

“Mother, do you like living like this?”

“I looked it up, and they said bright colors were in trend these days.”

Did she really like living like this, hiding and watching others’ moods?

“You need to put a story into paintings. If you only draw well mechanically….” He closed his eyes in that situation where nothing connected. Even so, muttering kept leaking into one ear.

As the string of sentences felt like it was squeezing his brain, he thought m that it would be better to block his ear canal with chopsticks. The chance thought, the more he turned it over, the more it felt not bad.

If he stabbed his ear with this….

While he stared ahead with dim eyes, Mother stood up at some point and looked at him strangely. Only then did Jaeha come to his senses and turn his head with a face drained white.

What had he just thought?

His chest thumped. Even so, it still felt like one chopstick floated around in his head.

•••

Third year came.

As high school entrance drew near, Mother’s nerves grew sharper day by day. To be exact, the moment she realized that she could no longer draw Father’s attention with Jaeha’s paintings, it would be right to say that her mind slowly collapsed.

It was natural. Father did not truly care about art, he only felt joy that the trouble which unsettled Heo Juyeop’s heart had been solved. Talk about painting style or atmosphere, he would only listen once or twice.

To Jaeha it seemed natural, yet to Mother even that seemed new, so the time she spent biting her nails in anxiety grew longer.

“It is because you cannot draw well! More! Draw more extraordinary paintings….” He gazed vacantly at the woman who shrieked before the canvas. The skin around her eyes looked hollow, and her face looked dusky.

The beautiful woman who once captivated the head of a conglomerate family with nothing but her young looks was gone, and only a woman consumed by malice remained.

He brushed the smooth brush gently with his thumb. The more he painted, the longer he attended lessons, the more certainty he gained about his skill.

His talent was not as great as others praised. He drew well, yet he was no genius, and many people had this level of talent. If he worked himself to death, he might reach somewhere in the upper ranks, yet it was impossible from the start to reach the place Mother wanted.

“Yujin, stop it. All right? You frightened Jaeha.”

“Seungho-ssi… what should I do now….”

Jaeha entered the room while he watched the man who hugged Mother as if he no longer intended to hide anything before him.

Everything felt loathsome.

If he entered an art high school quickly, would this situation improve? If he saw himself fall short among those who surely decided their entrance after hearing stories similar to his… then would he give up this useless hope?

He leaned his back against the door and slid down to sit. Canvases of different sizes rolled across the room except for the bed. In the barren space there was nothing but art tools, to the point it was hard to think of it as a middle school boy’s room.

He felt suffocated. He no longer wanted to draw.

He buried his face in his palm when the door opened roughly. His body rolled because he leaned against it, but Mother hurried only to lift him up with rough hands.

“Why are you resting? You, draw quickly. Quickly. Draw at least three more. I will show the good ones to Father, so put effort in.”

“…I felt a little tired today.”

“Only you feel tired? I feel tired too.”

His limp body was forced into a chair, and a blank sheet of drawing paper lay before his eyes. His eyes looked disoriented because he did not know what to draw, and harsh blame came back.

“You say you will become a painter, and you cannot even think of inspiration?”

“…….”

“This time draw flowers. Roses. Do you know how often Father bought flowers when he dated me? He once gave me a hundred roses. They were so pretty….” Was Mother the only one who received flowers?

He remembered the aunt who always kept her eyes lowered in aloofness, as if she did not even want to exchange words. Whenever they came into the restaurant, Father always held the aunt’s hand in one hand and Heo Juyeop’s hand in the other.

Unlike the aunt, who never wore the same accessory twice, Mother wore only the ruby necklace that Father had given her when they dated, yet she forced herself to ignore that fact, and Jaeha pitied her.

Perhaps that was why she looked even more ridiculous. Since she thought she was never even a rival to begin with, she did not even want to pay attention. The truth was, if the aunt had decided to clear things away, it was obvious that Jaeha and Mother would have been thrown into the countryside long ago, yet she overlooked the situation. For Jaeha, that was an unhappy thing.

In the end, Mother brought the rose painting he had been forced to draw that day to the next meal. Contrary to Jaeha’s expectation that Father would ignore it as usual, Father fixed his eyes on the painting for a long time. His gaze looked as if he longed for something, and his eyes seemed to hold small admiration.

“Jaeha, you really know how to use red well. How could it look this vivid and pretty?”

Mother could not contain herself at the rare praise and smiled broadly. The powder she had thickly spread to cover her dusky face cracked apart and made ugly wrinkles.

“Red… is it pretty?”

“Yes. Among all the paintings I have seen so far, this is the best.” It would be better if he simply did not care at all, so why did he keep giving hope?

Father’s cheap benevolence, as if he did not want to be the bad person until the end, gnawed away at Jaeha. It fed on Mother’s expectations and created a formless monster.

Once again a thick piece of galbi landed on his bowl of rice. He felt like he wanted to throw his spoon.

After that day, Mother stayed quiet for a while. She did not urge him to draw quickly, and she did not suddenly open the door to scold him. Jaeha did not know what kind of change of heart she had, but since it was not something bad for him, he thought little of it.

The problem surfaced a few days later.

“Jaeha, do you want to try drawing with this today?”

He dropped his brush when he saw the clumsy bandage on her arm and the bowl filled with red. His stomach turned as he realized the nature of the liquid.

He gagged aloud and ran to the bathroom. He had no time to think.

Only yellow stomach acid poured out from his empty stomach, yet the pit of his chest kept tightening. A fishy smell seemed to linger at the tip of his nose.

“We have no time for this.”

When her hand shook his arm as she sat beside him, he brushed away the warmthto. Hit on the hand, he opened his eyes wide, and Mother tilted her head.

“Blood clots too quickly. So, will you draw or will you vomit?”

“…What are you saying? Mother, are you insane?”

Mother’s pale face bit at her lips in agitation, showing how much blood she had lost. Through the rough bandage, red kept seeping through in patches. It was a horrific sight.

“I said we have no time!”

Her frail arm dragged him across the bathroom floor. He wanted to shake off her hand immediately, yet her body looked as if a slight wrong touch would make her collapse, so he could not recklessly push her away.

Forced into his seat, he took up his brush. His trembling hand slipped again and again, yet her bony fingers clutched over his.

“So, what will you draw this time? If it is not enough, I will give you more, so draw as much as you want.” He gasped for air and turned his head. The servants acted as if they saw none of it and did their duties, while Uncle Seungho sighed as he watched that scene.

“Un-Uncle. Please… stop Mother. Please, this….”

The expressionless face leaned closer. He placed his hand on Jaeha’s left shoulder and tapped twice, and Jaeha lifted his head with a flicker of hope.

“Why don’t you just draw?”

“…What?”

“Yujin wants it. Just draw.”

Jaeha gaped as he looked back and forth at the two adults standing on either side. The trembling that began at his fingertips spread through his body, yet the two fixed their eyes not on him but on the blank sheet before him.

Bitter liquid rose in his throat. He wanted to escape the place and vomit, yet as if black snares had bound his body, he could not move even a finger.

Cold sweat slid down his forehead. Mother grimaced at the sight of the blood that hardened quickly, and a whisper like a sigh reached him.

“Jaeha, I did not even want to give birth to you.”

“…….”

“So let us give and take at least one thing each that we both do not want.” For the first time, Mother’s blade turned toward him.

Even though he expected it, his body flinched at the sudden cut.

He already knew that Mother disliked him. She only brushed his hair or straightened his clothes when she met Father, so he could not have been unaware.

Not everything became clear only when spoken aloud. Sometimes in her hollow eyes. In the fleeting moments when moisture filled them and dried instantly. In the chest that filled and deflated. From those signs Jaeha read her loathing.

So he thought that even if such a day came, he would never be hurt. Hearing once more in words the fact he already knew would mean nothing at all. That was what he thought… yet….

“When I think about how I broke down after giving birth to you, my teeth still grind. They say when parents see their child’s sleeping face they find it lovable, but for me it only brings resentment.”

The sound of his heart pounding grew loud. He wanted to block his ears, yet his hands had been taken away, so he could do nothing.

“When I see you who resemble me, not Jaehyeon-ssi, do you know what I feel? I feel like you stole him from me.”

“…….”

“So, even if you cannot give him back, do not take more. If you are human, don’t do that.”

He slowly raised his hand. Drawing seemed easier than thinking.

With his head empty, he dragged lines at random. The lines carved on the canvas felt like they tightened around his throat.

The painting was finished quickly. Or was it quickly? Honestly, he did not even know if time had passed. It felt like he had only blinked a few times, yet his vision was red.

The first painting he made carrying Mother’s wish was not as horrific as he thought. Compared to the two pairs of eyes that stared at his fingertips, it was nothing.

Father, who must have heard from Uncle Seungho what the material was, did not like the painting much. Instead, he reduced the frequency of visits, and the less he came, the more Mother lost her mind.

It was around then that Mother began to bring in shamans. In his house, now that he was in high school, shamans came and went more often than teachers. One threw red beans at him and said an evil spirit clung to him. Another said he had been born with great energy and would become someone great. They were all frauds.

Most of the money Father provided ended up in the shamans’ pockets. Around that time, Mother often fainted from frequent anemia, and he grew accustomed to the metallic, bloody stench that made him feel like he would vomit.

“Don’t you also think Yang Jaeha is better than Han Jaeha?”

Ploc ploc. He heard the fluid drop from the IV and looked at Uncle Seungho. His face showed clear unease.

Even so, since he screamed that while he could share his body with her, he would never share the family register, Seungho had no solution either.

“Try persuading her. At least she will listen to her son. If it goes on like this, it will not be good for you either. Do you know how frightening Madam is?” Why should he do that?

Outside he put on the act of a good-natured man to cater to Mother, and at home he had to suffer through this routine. Jaeha honestly thought no situation could be worse.

“Do not regret it later, all right?” At least until he heard the news of Mother’s accident, he thought so.