ATTEW – Chapter 3

The only place Eunho had to go when kicked out of the single room was the shop, so every time, she guarded it alone. She took ten thousand won from the men going in to fuck her mother and sold them two condoms, then slipped the money into the cash tin beneath the counter. That compartment was only for ten-thousand-won bills.

Listening to her mother’s nasal, breath-muddled moans, the men’s curses and ragged breathing, Eunho read whatever magazines or newspapers they left behind. When a man finished getting his release and left the shop, it was Eunho’s job to carry a basin of warm water into the back room.

Having grown up like that all this time, Eunho didn’t blush at most things. But this incident was a bit different. It was because she could vividly picture the kind of chaos Hwajin would cause at the supermarket, insisting on confronting them even though Eun-ho was the one in the wrong.

Even though she usually called the shop owner “Myeongok Unnie,” she got along fine, smiled sweetly, and joked that when her kid ran errands, they should toss in a free piece of rock candy.

“Don’t go. Bumps go down after a while. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

Hwajin brushed off Eunho’s hand and opened the door to the tiny back room. Slipping her feet into pink slippers with little flowers, she stood and buttoned her coat, her eyes sharp.

She crossed the dark shop—lights off—in three strides and roughly shoved open the locked brown aluminum-framed glass door. The way she stomped down the narrow slope was ferocious.

Eunho followed behind with a sigh. It didn’t occur to her to regret stealing the bread. She’d been too hungry for that.

Soon, Hwajin reached the small shop at the mouth of the alley—[Night Pass Super]—and kicked the glass door open with her slippered foot. Then she started shouting right away in a piercing voice.

“Hey! Who do you think you are, hitting my son!”

At Hwajin’s yell, the three women playing go-stop on the platform behind the counter frowned. Myeongok, the shop owner, chewing on dried filefish, muttered, “Ha, that bitch again…” and stood up at the same time.

In her forties, Myeongok was much older than Hwajin. Of course, she found it outrageous—Hwajin barging in, spewing banmal, and causing a scene.

Besides, Hwajin would act all friendly with Myeongok most days, then erupt like this every now and then, throwing a full-blown tantrum. It had been quiet for a while, just long enough to let her guard down—’so today’s that day again,’ she thought, a curse slipping out.

“Hitting? She ran into something on her own!”

“She dodged because she didn’t want to get hit! Why were you trying to hit her in the first place!”

“If a rat bastard’s stealing, you’re supposed to just let it go?”

“Rat bastard? Rat bastard? Who’s a rat bastard! Why’s my son a rat bastard!”

“If he’s so precious, then raise him right! Don’t let him wander around starving and stealing!”

“Did you see it? Did you see my kid steal anything!”

“I saw it—that’s why I caught her! Clutching bread like a rat, looking around, then shoving it into her clothes!”

“Who says she stole! I’ll pay for it! How much can that scrap of bread be—did you have to lay hands on a kid?”

“Fine. Bring the money.”

“If I pay for the bread, what about my kid’s head? Do you know how big the bump is? Are you paying the medical bills?”

“What?”

As Myeongok scowled, Hwajin’s eyes flashed, seizing the moment.

“You’re caught red-handed. That’s child abuse.”

“I’ve let a lot slide, but what the hell are you saying now?”

“Shameless bitch. You had nothing better to do than lay hands on a little kid? My baby came home hurt—do you think I’ll let this go?”

“So what are you gonna do!”

“I’m calling the cops!”

“Hah? I catch a thief stealing bread, and now the thief’s mom’s calling the cops? That’s a first.”

“Theft’s over if you pay! What about my kid’s bump! I’m taking her to the hospital right now—so you’d better be ready. I’ll bring receipts for treatment, transit, meds, emotional damages—the whole lot!”

Maybe it sounded plausible, because Myeongok’s face flushed red. As the mood grew ugly, people began to stand—though they didn’t go far. They gathered outside to watch the fight.

Calling it a shop, [Night Pass Super] was only a bit bigger than Hwajin’s Guhyeongjip. Selling snacks, ramen, bread, drinks, and alcohol, it was the neighborhood prostitutes’ hangout—just as the Guhyeongjip was for the local thugs.

“Call them! Call the cops!”

“You think I won’t?”

“Like they’ll come! Cops are busy running to real incidents all day—like hell they’ll show up over a kid’s bump!”

“And if they do, then what!”

“You filthy bitch. Now I see—you’re using the kid to shake me down for ‘medical bills.’ That’s not how you live, you hear? Keep living like that, and you’ll get stabbed to death! Keep scheming for a lucky break, and you’ll end up with your head cracked open!”

The words escalated. Sensing the fight—sparked by her—was about to drag on, Eunho squatted on the ground in front of the shop.

“Why would I die! Why would I die! And what—filthy bitch?”

“Selling your body isn’t filthy, then?”

“In this neighborhood, women who don’t sell are the rare ones!”

“I don’t.”

“You can’t—you’re not worth selling!”

“What?”

“Your husband was here again yesterday. Been sweeping in front of our shop for days, hovering around. Why don’t you take him for a spin?”

“Hey!”

When Hwajin finally crossed the line and taunted what shouldn’t be touched, Myeongok lunged. Soon, the two were yanking each other’s hair, shoving, and spewing curses.

CRASH!

The shelf collapsed; goods scattered everywhere. After screams and swearing, it was Hwajin who ended up on the floor.

“That bitch should go catch her own husband instead of going after our poor kid! Oh, my—!”

Without bothering to fix her tangled hair, Hwajin kicked her legs on the bare floor and wailed loudly—no tears coming. Whether the hem of her dress rode up to bare her pale thighs or not, she pounded the ground, crying, clutching one pink slipper.

“She called me filthy! Eunmi ya! Sister Myeongok says women who sell their bodies are filthy! Says you and me are all too filthy to live! Jeong-ran eonni, you heard? She wasn’t just insulting me!”

“Hey!”

“Am I supposed to live without resentment! I suffered so much, giving birth young and raising a kid! I clawed and scraped to make a better life in my own way! A kid can eat a piece of bread when she’s hungry! With all this bread, she can’t spare one for our Eunho? She lays hands on a kid over that—our poor Eunho! Waaaah!”

“Fuck—hey! Is this the first time your kid’s been stolen from us? You know how much we’ve let slide! Ramen, bread, snacks—last time she even stole cigarettes!”

“My kid’s dutiful, that’s why! She does it to look after her mom! I’ll pay—why hit her! Why hit my baby!”

Faced with the torrent of grievance, Myeongok pressed a hand to her forehead—sick of Hwajin’s full-blown act.

“Damn bitch. Here—take this and get out!”

She opened the cash drawer, grabbed three ten-thousand-won bills, and flung them at Hwajin, sputtering with rage. Hwajin stopped wailing, gathered the bills, and stood—then held out her hand.

“Two more.”

“Hey!”

“Look at her head—am I supposed to take the bus to the hospital? What if it’s a concussion! We need a taxi!”

“Fuck—honestly…”

‘You don’t avoid shit because it’s scary—you avoid it because it’s filthy.’ Muttering that, Myeongok pulled out two more ten-thousand-won bills. Hwajin snatched them with a snap, snorted, and turned away.

Everyone there would have seen the smile spread across her lips. Hwajin didn’t bother hiding her glee at the fifty thousand won that had fallen into her lap.

“Let’s go, my son.”

At the word, Eunho stood. But she stayed silent, head bowed, not taking a step. Whether Eunho followed or not, Hwajin walked off with the money.

“Aagh—what rotten luck, seriously!”

As soon as Hwajin left, Myeongok went into the kitchen, came back with a bucket of salt, and scattered it tap, tap against the door. Then she spotted Eunho standing there and clicked her tongue.