Thirteen

Seoul Station. Photograph by Hyunwoo Sun / Creative Commons

I was first in line. A man pushed me aside and cut in front of me.

“I was here first,” I said. I’d broken my promise to Mama a long time ago.

He stared straight ahead as if he didn’t hear me. I yanked on the blanket around his shoulders and said extra clearly, “I said, I was here first.”

As he went to the back of the line, he knuckled me on the head.

“What the hell?” I shouted, not bothering to turn around.

Snickers broke out behind me.

Soybean-sprout soup, kimchi, and pickled radish. With the tray in my hands, I looked around for a place to sit, and ended up following the blanket man. I sat down next to him.

“You shouldn’t swear at your elders,” he said.

“Well, you deserved it. You shouldn’t butt in line.”

He glared at me, even while he slurped his soup. I copied him and slurped my soup, too. He reeked of booze. The people here smelled the same. They sat anywhere—on benches, the fountain ledge, or on the bare ground—and ate the same breakfast from the same trays. The road was jammed with cars already, and more and more people were rushing into the station. When the dirty trays start to pile up, a woman in a green apron will give me a carton of milk, which she’ll have saved just for me. Far away, I saw one of the Jesus ladies walk by.

Mama filled the sink in the women’s bathroom and washed my hair.

“Whatever happens, don’t say a word. I don’t care who says what, keep your mouth shut. Promise me.”

She stood me before the clock tower.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be back when the clock strikes midnight.”

I felt like I’d turned into Cinderella.

“Got that?”

Because her hand was covering my mouth, I could only nod. She said the same thing every day. I would then open my eyes wide and nod like I was hearing it for the first time.

She took hold of my hand and strode forward. In front of a huge billboard, she quickly glanced around and then lifted the corner where the paper was torn. The poster shook as she took out our blanket. I gazed up at the model in the floral-print dress, smiling her dazzling smile. Would her prince come if she lost her shoe? I clutched the blanket.

The ticket gate that had been swarming with people all day was deserted. The metal shutters came down after the last train left the station. Beside the pillar where the shutters were was an ATM, and behind that was our spot. The people here knew better than to try to steal our spot. But if some idiot happened to be lying there already, Mama started kicking. Fights often broke out over spots, but Mama always won. If things ever got physical, she flung off her shirt, and then with her big breasts swinging, she charged at the poor soul with a shriek. The real reason every one of them backed away, scared shitless, was because of her hard, black nipples. Her nipples were more terrifying than the curses her mouth spewed or the fire in her eyes. I didn’t like it when she fought. Not because of the scene she caused by flashing her big breasts, but because when she fought like that, it meant she’d been drinking. When she drank, she didn’t go anywhere the next day. Then I had to squat all day next