The Impossible Fairy Tale Read online

  20

  Mia and Inju head home. On a yellow Friday in April outside the school gate, the children scatter into three groups, each following one of the three paths that split off the road. I wonder who did it, says Inju. Was it you? Mia asks, peering at Inju mischievously. Inju jumps in protest. How can you say that? Inju, who can’t help reacting this way, suddenly remembers the pearl brooch that is hidden in her desk drawer and Princess Diana’s picture. Inju’s face turns red. I was just joking, why are you so scared? asks Mia. Mia and Inju walk past the corner bookshop. Should we have some spicy rice cakes before we go home? asks Mia. Inju nods. They walk into the snack shop where children their age have gathered. A plate of spicy rice cakes is placed between the two children, who sit across from each other. Give me your hand, says Mia. Why? But before Mia even answers, Inju extends her hand toward Mia. Make a fist. Inju’s fingernails dig into her palm. The fleshy part of her palm sticks out. Mia presses the base of Inju’s palm. Two small bumps bulge out on the border between Inju’s wrist and palm. What are you doing? Inju asks. They say if two bumps stick out like this, you’ll have two kids when you grow up, says Mia. Really? Inju asks, somewhat skeptically. It’s true. Mia nods, looking serious. Now you make a fist, says Inju, starting to reach for Mia’s hand. No. Mia shakes her head and laughs. Hey, that’s not fair! Come on, give me your hand! Steam is rising from the rice cakes. A few boys walk into the snack shop. Mia gets up, pours two cups of water, and brings them over. Inju looks at Mia’s hand that is holding the cup. Five fingers. They are neither long nor short. They are neither pale nor dark. Mia’s pinky catches Inju’s eye. Mia grew just her pinky nail long. Mia, sitting back down in her seat, grips her fork and says, I tried, but I didn’t get any bumps. She lets go of the fork and takes a sip of water. Really? Inju asks. Yeah, I didn’t get any. But who knows if it’s real anyway?

  Mia and Inju say good-bye at the intersection in front of the hospital. Mia has to be home early that day. Mia’s father is coming. But which father? Mia had told Inju only that her dad was going to buy her something delicious for dinner. That night Mia’s dinner table will become one of many bridges. The two children wave at each other and turn away. As Mia turns, her hair that had been in a ponytail sways. On the way home, no butterflies can be found. This scene where no butterflies can be found, however, doesn’t grow darker. It’s already dark. Mia’s green hair tie bounces with every step. A hard knot. With every step she takes, the physical world surrounding her changes in perfect order. A world for Mia, Mia’s world. She has never looked back without thinking. She has never been suspicious of anything. Mia’s world is perfect. There is no end to what she is given. Yet her world doesn’t become bloated, because there is no end to what she loses or forgets. There is no lack. There is only forgetfulness. There is no lack of substitutes. But there is no time. No. There is time. There is still time. If there is still enough time, Mia could grow up and receive about forty desperate missed calls on her cellular phone while she’s asleep, someone could climb into her window while she’s out, she could temporarily ruin someone’s life this way without realizing it. Because after all, Mia is quite pretty, and she could unwittingly use her innocent, dazed expression as a kind of device. And finally, no, tentatively, she could even settle for someone who would guarantee her safety. But none of this has happened yet. No one knows what will happen to Mia or the other children. Mia passes the hardware store, the wallpaper and linoleum store, the flower bed in front of the after-school academy, and the bicycle shop. She doesn’t want to go to an after-school academy and she wants a bicycle. The outcome will hinge on how much she begs. Mia has two fathers, and one of them doesn’t know what to do when Mia cries. As she walks past the supermarket, she doesn’t bump into anyone. Her head is filled with thoughts of a bicycle. She no longer wants to ride a child’s bicycle. She wants to ride a bicycle to school like a middle school student, or perhaps a high school student. In a brown uniform, in Adidas running shoes. Her mother might forbid her to ride a bicycle in a skirt. Anyhow, all of this will be given to her someday; time will provide. When the time comes. Mia has completely forgotten the previous night’s incident. The new bicycle that she will gain exhibits great power, even though its existence isn’t yet a reality. She doesn’t know the name of the child she bumped into last night. Everything that exists has a name. Such is the case with the bicycle. Mia’s bicycle. She may get a new one this month. She may even give it a name. This bicycle is entirely Mia’s. She may grow tired of it in less than two months. But she won’t forget something like its name. But she doesn’t know the Child’s name. And so, Mia doesn’t remember the Child. The Child is blacked out. No. Perhaps to Mia, the Child has never existed.

  In front of Mia’s home, or to be exact, in front of the lobby where the elevator that will go up to Mia’s apartment is located, Mia sees her two fathers. Father 1 is grabbing Father 2 by the collar. Father 2 is glaring at Father 1. Mia’s mother is absent from this scene. At this moment. Mia drops her shoe bag. But her two fathers don’t hear the bag hit the sidewalk. They swing their fists at each other, but because they keep each other at a distance, their punches beat the air. The security guard stands near them, beside himself with worry. Mia never anticipated an incident like this. This is to be expected, because Mia has never anticipated any incident. The two fathers are not aware of Mia, who is watching them with a dazed expression. They are too busy attending to their own needs. The security guard who had been trying to separate the two fathers ends up backing away instead. The week before, two middle school students plunged into a flower bed in this apartment complex. This incident has frayed the nerves of all the security guards. Friday. 4:00 p.m. It is a leisurely time, if one doesn’t count the women going to the bank or market and the children returning from school. A woman who has come outside to take her dog for a walk watches from afar. Even a real estate agent and someone who appears to be his client, even a person skating by on Rollerblades, even the women carrying plastic bags with purses squeezed at their sides, watch from afar. Laundry hangs from several balconies. People reveal every intimate detail about their families by carelessly hanging out their laundry. Mismatched socks. An apron still faintly stained with blood. A shirt with its breast pocket betraying the outline of a balled-up receipt, which hadn’t been removed prior to washing. During the scuffle, Father 1 takes off his jacket and hurls it to the ground. The moment the jacket falls, their dignity also falls away. They have never met one another. Until now. But it’s not clear how they have come to put their pride on the line to engage in such a fight, the way it’s demanded of male creatures, right in front of Mia’s home, claiming some kind of ownership over Mia and her mother. If they hadn’t met this day, they would have had to meet someday. Even in this case, people often use the expression “a matter of time.” Mia is watching her fathers with a dumbfounded look on her face. Every last thought of the bicycle has disappeared from her head. Will Mia get a bicycle? But when? Look at Mia on a bicycle. Look at how she pedals, in her backpack and the sweater with the deer, look how she races away, her ponytail swaying from side to side! Will this scene ever exist? But when? Building 110, Suite 904. Mia looks up toward the ninth floor. No laundry hangs from the balcony of Mia’s home. Not even a sock or scrap of underwear. There isn’t even a small household item on the balcony, like a potted plant. Mia’s mother can be seen dimly through the bedroom window that looks out onto the balcony. Half-hidden by the curtain, she is merely watching the spectacle unfold below. As a complete bystander, she watches Father 1 and Father 2. There is no way of knowing whether or not she is aware of Mia. From where Mia stands, she can’t see the expression on her mother’s face. In the end, all things are a matter of seeing and being seen. Father 1 has never seen Father 2. In his world, he was able to swallow his rage while Father 2 was absent. But through some coincidence, or perhaps some necessity, Father 2 appeared before him. The opposite case is possible. Father 2 has also never seen Father 1. Until Father 1 appeared before hi
m in the flesh, he was also able to swallow his rage or some emotion similar to rage. But they have run across each other. In front of Mia’s home, in a spot where they could look up at Suite 904 of Building 110. The two cannot enter Mia’s home at the same time. Only one can put his hand on Mia’s shoulder and confidently stride through the lobby doors. One must back off. One must leave. And he must never again appear before the other three people. But neither of the men makes a move to flee. Father 2 also takes off his jacket and hurls it to the ground. The security guard, exhausted from trying to break up the fight, picks up the two jackets and brushes off debris. A piece of dry laundry from an unidentifiable source hangs over the guard’s left arm. Mia tries to anticipate her mother’s wavering expression behind her window. Mia’s mother gazes down at the scene below, wearing an expression that Mia cannot name. The two fathers continue to beat the air in vain. The first person to land a blow will suffer a defeat. The two men, who have just entered their forties, know this all too well. They know that the person who takes a punch and drops to the ground will have a better chance of possessing everything. The amiable-looking security guard steps in between them. But the guard is much shorter than the men. The two men continue exchanging punches that keep missing the target as though they don’t care if the security guard is there or not. One father ends up striking the security guard’s face with his elbow. It’s most likely an accident. The guard screams and clasps his face. The two jackets that had been slung over his arm fall again to the ground. At the same time, the dignity of all three men also falls away. No. They no longer possess any dignity to let fall to the ground. Mia, who had been watching in stunned shock until now, shouts. Dad!