Mina Page 10

  Mina emerges from her room, pencil and a workbook of practice problems for the high school equivalency exam in hand. She’s wearing a T-shirt and cutoffs and her hair is gathered back in a ponytail.

  “Where’s Minho?”

  “He’s not back from school yet.”

  “Oh?”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Your place hasn’t changed at all.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Does Minho have cram school tonight?”

  “I’m not sure. What’s with the backpack?”

  “Oh, just stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Strawberries.”

  “Strawberries?”

  Crystal unzips her backpack and takes out a Ziploc bag full of strawberries.

  “Somebody gave them to my mom. She said we need to eat them before they go bad. We could maybe make jam out of them?”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Me neither.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Really. You had me worried there for a moment.”

  “Like I had something else?”

  “Workbooks, maybe?”

  “Have we ever studied together?”

  “Nope.”

  “How about some music, Mina?”

  “What do you want to hear?”

  “Something fun. How about… New Order?”

  “Don’t have anything of theirs.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Minho’s got them on his laptop.”

  Crystal sets down her backpack. Mina takes the bag of strawberries to the dining table.

  Crystal hooks Minho’s laptop up to the speakers. “Come on, Minho… where are you, Minho… when’re you going to get here, Minho, and watch a movie with us?”

  “Stop mumbling and let’s have a drink.”

  “What have you got?”

  “Vodka.”

  Mina fetches a bottle of SKYY Vodka and a bottle of cranberry juice and gives Crystal a wink.

  “Cool. But won’t you catch hell from your mom when she finds out?”

  “She won’t be home tonight.”

  “How come?”

  “She’s away on a business trip. And when has she ever said anything about you and me drinking?”

  “We get an earful if she sees us smoking.”

  “That’s just because she wants to smoke too.”

  “Let’s call Minho, tell him to get his butt home so we can all have a drink together.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s got a life of his own, you know. Besides, he’s not too crazy about hanging out with us.”

  “Liar. You can’t be serious? Really? I don’t believe you. Liar.”

  “No lie, it’s the truth.”

  “Still…even so…Mina, call him anyway. Get him over here. Come on, Mina.”

  “All right. Hold on.” Mina sends him a text. “Done.”

  “No answer? Mina, tell him to hurry it up.”

  “Bitch, it’s only been three seconds.”

  Crystal looks at Mina with a morose expression. It makes her look like a motherless puppy that people would want to go up to and pet. Mina goes over to her. Crystal continues to watch her. What’s Mina to do? She keeps telling herself Crystal isn’t a puppy. But she ends up petting her anyway.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Your hair’s all messed up.”

  “Really? Oh, then thanks.”

  The song ends and somehow it feels chilly. Standing still, the two of them wait for the next song, but it doesn’t come. Mina walks over to the laptop and hits the repeat button. She turns around and flinches—Crystal’s right behind her.

  “What’s the problem, you having a heart attack or something?”

  “I thought you were a ghost.”

  Crystal giggles. “Mina, tell me—you feeling okay? Still depressed?”

  Silence.

  “Are you having a hard time? You still feel like killing yourself?”

  Instead of answering, Mina scurries to the TV. Crystal follows her and pats her on the shoulder. “What’s wrong? You can tell me…okay, if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

  “What is it you want to hear?”

  “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  Mina smiles. “All right, at this moment, right now, I really don’t like you.”

  Crystal looks flustered. “I’m sorry if I made you angry. I wish I knew why I always make you that way…”

  “You want to.”

  “Why would I want that?”

  “You want me angry.”

  “But why?”

  “You’re asking me? How should I know!”

  “Mina, settle down. You know…”

  “What?”

  “What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What I mean…” Crystal looks at Mina. For the briefest moment Mina’s face frosts over, but Crystal misses it. “What I mean is…I wanted to say I’m sorry. I wanted to have a heart-to-heart with you but I guess it didn’t happen. Sorry.”

  Silence.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

  “Crystal, don’t, please, not now.”

  Crystal’s face crumbles.

  She wants to have a serious talk with Mina. She wants Mina to throw herself open in front of her like before, sobbing about how she wants to kill herself. Then she’d surely open up to Mina and there they’d be, heart to heart. But there’s no pungent scent of pine needles now, no more giddy sunlight. Crystal has already rejected Mina, which means Mina will never open up to her again. Crystal has lost the chance to get close to Mina. She can’t turn the clock back, can’t put together what’s been broken. Well, who cares?

  “I hope you’re all right. But really, it’s not like you weren’t all right before.” Crystal lays out her new hypothesis: “We were closer then, because Chiye was gone. I was the only one who was really there for you. But it didn’t work out. I wasn’t nice to you, that’s why. I should have said it before, but I’m sorry I wasn’t nice to you. And from now on I’d like us to be closer.”

  “As for me…”

  “As for you?”

  “I’m thinking it’s too late.”

  Crystal opens her arms to Mina. “I…”

  “It’s too late.”

  “I…I…” She gesticulates, her arms flared. “I…I…I…”

  “Hey, Crystal…”

  “I…I…I…I…I…I…I…”

  “Crystal, come on…”

  “I…oh hell…” Crystal drops her arms and glares at Mina. There’s a look in her eye that Mina can’t read. “So, it’s because of that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing else to ask me? Nothing you’ve been wondering about?”

  “Ask you about what?”

  “Me screaming in the alley yesterday, me killing a kitten, what else—does there have to be something else? Don’t act like you don’t know. What’s wrong? You’re faking, aren’t you? But why? Mina…look—don’t do that. Don’t. I need your attention.” She takes Mina’s hands and shakes them, Mina’s arms jostling listlessly in turn. “Why aren’t you answering, why don’t you answer? Answer me, say something!”

  “Stop it. You’re making me dizzy.”

  “Sorry.” Crystal lets go of her.

  “You’ve always been like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Flying off the handle and screaming for no reason, out of the blue. You know that. You’ve scared me so many times, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “Liar. You’re still jumpy.”

  “Look…”

  “When have I ever done that? When?”

  “All the time. That’s why I’m so scared of you! And I don’t mean sometimes or even most of the time, I mean always.”

  “So why didn’t you say it?”

  “Say wha
t?”

  Crystal spreads her arms wide to demonstrate. “Something like this.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “An expression. I’m so scared. Something like that. An expression.” Crystal’s face is serious. But Mina giggles.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You look like a comedian.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “All right, that’s enough.”

  “Enough of what?”

  “Okay, let’s suppose I did that, I expressed myself. Then what? I say something and you’d change somehow? But you’re always the same. The same girl. You’ll never change, I know it. Always the same. You’re just a scary kid. When you told me you killed a kitten it was shocking, I’ll admit it. But I wasn’t actually all that surprised. Because you’re the sort of person who could kill a kitten. Based on the years I’ve known you I think it’s safe to say that. You’re the sort of person who could kill a kitten. It wasn’t even that hard for you, was it? No, it was easy. And there’s something else. What you say never adds up. Actually I shouldn’t say that…it does add up, but only from your point of view. You laugh when you cry. You scream your head off while you laugh. And has there ever been a time when you really, truly paid attention to me? How about when I was having nightmares?” Mina chokes up. “Or when things were so hard I thought about killing myself? What did you do? Tell me. Cheesecake. You wanted some cheesecake, remember?”

  “I’m sorry, Mina, really I am.” Sheepishly Crystal points to her belly. “I was starved, that’s why.”

  “Look at you. This is exactly what I mean.” Mina wipes her teary eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Don’t cry, Mina.” Crystal reaches out to her.

  “No!” screams Mina. “Don’t touch me!” She jumps to her feet. “You don’t treat me as an equal. You don’t treat anyone as your equal. You line us all up and keep us under your thumb. I’ve always known, from the very beginning. I could see it from the look in your eyes. One look at you and anyone could tell. We just don’t say it to your face. Why should we bother? Who needs the annoyance? And it’s not like you’d care. Anyway, I’ve always known. But I kept hanging out with you. Because you’re fun. You’re a fun person and fun to hang out with. And because you had fun hanging out with me. But the point is, none of that matters. To be honest, I’ll never understand the way you think—this person’s worthy, that person’s unworthy. I don’t get it, but I’ve lost interest trying to. I don’t care if you line up people or build them into a pyramid. It’s draining. But just because I don’t want to be bothered anymore doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about you. I do, to an extent. You’re capable of killing a kitten just because it didn’t obey you and you got mad. I can tell. You’re like a kid, so, like a kid, you can be unpredictable. You scare me. Everybody’s like you, or else they want to be. That why I’m scared. Scared to death. In fact, I probably died. I died already. I’m sick of this life. It’s not normal. Cram school, home, school, test, school, cram school, homework, tutor, cram school, home, tutor, cram school, home, school, back to cram school, back to tutor, back for a test back to homework back to school back to school back to school. Home. Cram school. How can anyone think this is normal? It’s crazy. Everyone’s crazy. I can’t stand it. Not anymore! I can’t stand this life. This is hell. It’s hell. Hell Chosŏn! Our society is hell! That’s why Chiye killed herself. I get it. But you don’t, do you? I can understand it, and that’s the difference between you and me. It’s because of people like you that Chiye killed herself. You’re a killer. But you don’t know it. Never will. Not in your lifetime. I know what kids like you are like. I didn’t before but I do now. To me it’s like you’re not even a living thing, it’s like you’re inanimate. You’re more like that sofa than you are like me. But how is that possible? I’ll never understand it. I’ll never truly understand you. I know—I know what you think of me. You look down on me. But do I care? All that stuff is meaningless. Just keep your eyes straight ahead, I tell myself, and as long as I do that I’ll be all right, no matter what anybody else does. But honestly, you treat me like an idiot and every now and then I get mad. And I’m sick of it. I hate it. But that’s over now. I’m over all that.”

  “So I guess you don’t like me.”

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Sure, but first I need a recap. What you’re saying is that you’re better than me, that I treat you like shit but I’m wrong. You’re saying that you’re the one who’s better, you’re the one who looks down on me. Did I get that right?”

  “What the hell has short-circuited in your brain? How in hell can you put those twisted words in my mouth? It’s amazing. How many times do I have to say it? I told you, I don’t have the slightest interest in your who’s-better, who’s-worse thinking! I’m not concerned whether you look up, down, or sideways at people! But that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything! The point is, I just don’t want to be bothered. That’s what I said. Got it?”

  “Hey, but let’s be honest. You can afford not to be interested, right? That’s you. You have a wonderful life. Nothing missing, everything peaceful and easy.”

  “What about you? Why are you so needy; what’s stopping you from having a wonderful life? You’re smarter than me. Better off. Better-looking. You’re a better person than I am, much better. And I know how intelligent you are.”

  “No, you’re smarter. You read Freud and Jung and listen to more music than I do.”

  “Nope, you’re still smarter. I checked out those books as a joke. To be honest, I didn’t understand a word of it, really. Maybe I was just trying to look cool. You know that I like to try and be cool, don’t you?”

  “Come on, cut the shit, Mina. You’re smart. Smarter than me. I know that. You just don’t try. You poured yourself into Jung,” Crystal says with outstretched arms, “but not your schoolwork.”

  “I didn’t get to page thirty of Jung.”

  “Oh? Well, um… The others, then, let’s see. Who were the other authors you were reading? That guy who tutored us, you knew all the books he mentioned. I didn’t but you did. You knew Deleuze, you knew Derrida…who else? Oh yeah, Marx. You knew all of them.”

  “You know Marx.”

  “Your family is richer than mine, too.”

  Mina looks at her. Whatever she was going to say next is lost.

  “Cat got your tongue, Mina?”

  “Hey—who are you? Who are you anyway? What are you? What kind of person are you? I’ve always known you had a weird side. Very weird. But now I see you’re weird to the bone.”

  “And you’re rich to the bone. You’re from such a rich family. Not me. You have everything. Not me.”

  “What more do I have than you?”

  “Listen to Little Miss Innocent! You’re not making sense, Mina. Everybody knows your family’s better off than mine. Why are you playing dumb? It’s preposterous! Look around you, this is where you live. La-di-da!”

  “Fuck! All right, let’s suppose this place is bigger than yours, and we have more money than you…”

  “Suppose? Those aren’t suppositions, they’re facts.”

  “All right, facts. Fuck it! All right, so we’re filthy rich! Are you happy now? Why are we talking about this? Why am I talking about this? You are really fucking annoying. All right, suppose we’re rich. Shit…what am I trying to say? Okay. Okay, here’s the thing. Why do you have this victim’s mentality? Yeah, that’s it. Or is it? Look…. Oh hell… You made me forget what I was going to say. You and your… Fuck!… Okay, I got it. Now I remember. Okay…. You’re smarter than me. Your family may not be as rich as mine, but—the fact is, we’re not rich. We’re so far in debt it’s not funny. I really feel sorry for my mom. Fuck—why am I telling you any of this? This is so annoying and it’s all your fault. Would you please stop making that face, I hate you when you do that. So guess what? We’re the only ones in this building that don’t have foreign cars. We got rich suddenly, right? So people talk a
bout us behind our backs, though they would never say anything directly to us. Have I told you how we used to live? Not dirt poor, but poor. Every month we worried about getting by. We still worry. When I was a kid I used to buy clothes at the street market. One time I was at the market with my mom and I wanted some kimchi dumplings so fucking bad but my mom didn’t have any money and she wouldn’t buy them for me and I started bawling and I got a fucking beating. Anything like that ever happen to you? No, of course not. When you get right down to it, your family has a better life than mine—all things being equal. Ask yourself: ‘Is there anything I can’t do because I can’t afford it?’ The answer’s no, correct? Anyway, you’re an only child, so Mom and Dad give you everything. But me, I have to split things with Minho, and he gets twice as much as I do, because he’s the only son of an only son. As if that makes him precious. Isn’t that preposterous? It’s not like he’s the only son of an only son of an only son. But that’s not an issue for you. And you get good grades. And you’re good at scoring boyfriends. So what’s your problem? I know what you think of me, I can see it in your eyes. You feel so sorry for yourself every day. You don’t want to invite me over to your place. Instead you come here and drool over that ugly-ass chandelier, the park, the fountain, the parking lot full of fancy foreign cars. What’s the matter with you? Aren’t there plenty of foreign cars in the parking lot of your building? I totally don’t get it. I’m no match for you grades-wise. But you’re always sneaking looks at my grades anyway. You read my writing assignments but never let me read yours…”

  “I’m sorry, but I think the chandelier is pretty.”

  “Look, this conversation is not about ‘Let’s make Crystal feel bad.’ You don’t have to apologize for anything. It’s just that I’ll never understand you. Why do you get so anxious, why so pissed off? Why so scared? Why are you always so jumpy, as if you’re standing on needles? Why do you look at me with your eyes full of poison? Crystal, you give me the creeps. Sometimes I watch you and wonder why you’re always trying to get on top of everyone else; it’s like people are walking all over you and you need to get even—I just don’t get it. Are you the brave little elevator, or what? And the kitten. Why’d you kill it? You really did kill a kitten, right? And so? Don’t bother saying anything…I think I’ve got a pretty good idea. You’ll say you killed it because you were afraid. Does that make sense? You were scared so you killed it? You think you’re so special that fear gives you the power of life or death over anyone and anything?”