Story
1. Ringing in My Ears
‘It is stage three. We can see that it has spread to the lymph nodes. But with proper treatment, you can get through it. Keep up your strength during chemotherapy. I will do everything I can, too. Stay strong!’ Suddenly, I heard a high-pitched ringing. I could hear nothing else. Just that ringing. From that day on, I was troubled by tinnitus. I had been pleased to lose so much weight lately, but cancer cells had been growing inside me. How foolish I had been, happy that my waist was smaller without even knowing I was ill. I thought I was detached from life. ‘It has been a hard life; what difference does it make whether I go today or tomorrow?’ Yet faced with death, I am frightened. Worried, too... My daughter will be so sad if I die, and I am sorry. I am sorry to Suhee, too. Poor Osuhee. My name, the name people never really called me by.
2. My Name Is Osuhee
‘Su for outstanding, hee for joy.’ My name is Suhee. But people called me Bari. Oh. Ba. Ri. I hated it, but never showed it. Why? I should have said at least once that I did not like it... I am told that when I was born, my father said to throw me away. He already had five daughters in a row. When he learned that I, the sixth, was another girl, he flew into a rage, saying more daughters were useless and that I should be discarded. My mother and sisters cried and pleaded, so I was not abandoned, but for a while I had no name and was called Barinae, the discarded child. Then, at some point, people began calling me Obari. Obari, as in obaltan, a stray bullet... When I was three, a boy was finally born into our family. On the day he registered my younger brother Suchan, my father was so happy that he registered my name, too. Outstanding joy. Osuhee.
3. What If I Had Dreamed?
My father died suddenly when I was fourteen, in 1973. That year alone, five adults in our village were swept away by waves. He was one of them. After his death, my mother filled her heart with alcohol and tears, as though she had given up on life. All seven of us were frightened. At the end of that year, my eldest sister said she could no longer stand our mother. She met an American soldier, married him, and left for America. With two of the grown-ups suddenly gone, we needed someone to lead the family. Someone had to pull themselves together and keep us going, but we were all young. I had to find something I could do. That was how I came to hold wigs instead of books and pencils, in a factory instead of a classroom.
4. Together in Harmony
‘Mom! Don't get married again like that lady. Let's just live happily together like this—you, me, and Grandma!’ Not long before, a colleague had introduced me to a man, and we had met a few times. He seemed kind and capable of making a living, and above all I could see that he liked me. Just as I was thinking about a life with him, those words from my eleven-year-old daughter, watching a television drama, made me jump as though I had been caught stealing food from a feast. I had often wondered whether it was right to keep living with my husband's family when he was no longer there. But this little girl was loved by her grandmother, uncles, and aunts. Would it be right to take that away just so I could live my own life? ‘Yes. I'm sorry, my girl. Your mom must have lost her mind for a moment. Let's all live happily together like this.’
5. On the Other End of the Phone
‘Hello? Mom, what are you doing?’ ‘Hm? Oh... I'm on my way somewhere. Let's talk later. I have to go, sorry.’ ‘Wait! It's nighttime. Where are you going at this hour? Don't tell me you're going to Auntie's again. Leave her alone. Don't go. Your family is you and me, Mom! Please stop getting involved!’ ‘All right... I'm sorry... We'll talk later...’
My fifth sister, the Buddhist nun Heoyeon, would sometimes joke that an alcohol demon lived in our family. My mother, my second sister's husband, my fourth sister, my youngest brother—ever since before I married, they had all lived as though submerged in drink. I had married almost as if to escape, but I could not get out of that demon's grasp. When the phone rings at night and I hear my drunken relatives on the other end, I find myself rushing to them. It feels as though something terrible will happen if I do not go... My daughter does everything she can to stop me, but I cannot help it. They are still my family... They say they are suffering so much... I cannot simply leave them to die...
‘I'm sorry, my girl.’
6. My Poor Sister
‘Bari! Bari!’ ‘Hello? Is that you? What's wrong? Stop crying and tell me! Please?’ ‘Bari, Bari, what am I going to do? Oh, Bari...’ ‘Pull yourself together and tell me! What's wrong?’
My second sister had spent her life in a single room with our mother, her husband, and their two daughters. When her husband caused trouble or her children fell and hurt themselves, she always called me. This time, our mother had collapsed. I called 119, caught a taxi, and rushed to the hospital. My sister was crying, white with fear. After finally calming her down, I asked:
‘Why did you call me instead of calling 119 straightaway? The doctor said it could have been serious if there had been any more delay. Why?’ ‘I don't know, Bari. I'm no good at things like that, but you're good at everything. You were simply the first person I thought of.’
7. Mother's Inheritance
After about three months in hospital, my mother closed her eyes in her hospital bed one autumn day when the leaves had turned red. Relatively peacefully, in front of all of us except my eldest sister, whom we had lost touch with since she went to America, and our youngest brother Suchan... My second sister, who had lived with our mother all her life, called almost every day for a while, half frightened and half worried, saying Mother appeared in her dreams each night. My third and fourth sisters also kept apologizing for not contributing to the hospital bills whenever we met. Paying those bills was no great thing. It was fortunate that someone could. When she died, Mother revealed property none of us had known about: a small plot of land belonging to her family in Songchu, Gyeonggi Province. She said it was Suchan's. Even during all those years of poverty, she must have wanted to pass that land intact to her son, judging by how carefully she had hidden it from us... Mother left something for me, too. Holding my hand tightly—not any of my sisters' hands—she left me just a few words.
‘You worked so hard.’
Sorrow, hurt, relief, and other feelings I cannot quite name came flooding in with my tears.
8. If I Could Go Back
There are no regrets. It was my fate; there was nothing I could do. It was the best choice. Even so, I think the Suhee of those days was terribly pitiful. If I could meet her then... what could I tell her?




