49th Translation Awards Fiction Commendation Award - The Other Side

Below is an excerpt of the winning translations. ― ED.

Written by Kim Ae-ran

Translated by Sean Lin Halbert

“Let's go to Noryangjin Fish Market this Christmas,” said Isu as he folded towels.

“Noryangjin?”

Tohwa was cutting some seomcho spinach in the kitchen when she turned her head to speak. Even though the kitchen ― if one could even call it that ― was only a few steps from the living room, you had to raise your voice a little when speaking to someone on the other side.

“Yeah, where the National Fisheries is.”

Making an expression of dread, Tohwa immersed the spinach in cold water. The plant ― which had grown while enduring the snowy winds of midwinter ― received the city's tap water and swelled like a flower.

“We'll only get swindled going on a busy day like that.”

Tohwa's hands were lush with green as they pulled the spinach from the water. Isu was sitting on the living room floor and chuckling to himself as he watched a comedy program. Without taking his eyes off the TV, Isu continued to slowly fold towels ― according to Tohwa's method: horizontally three times, and vertically once. 'We always rolled the towels in my house…' he thought to himself each time he placed another towel from his hand atop the stack. But after all, this was Tohwa's place. He couldn't deny that fact, even though he did contribute a bit of money.

“Yeah, I know a guy there. He's been telling me since forever to drop by his store so he can give me a good deal.”

That day, the two of them slept more soundly than usual, thanks to the vegetables they had eaten for dinner. Overnight Tohwa felt the energy of green coals slowly burning in her gut. As the plant energy, flickering with low intensity, illuminated the dark recesses of her body with sea-green light, Tohwa had the feeling that her soul was extending its arms out in that direction to warm itself. Several times in her sleep, Tohwa sensed her stomach was content as she changed positions.

“I wonder if it's because the food was in season.”

Tohwa commented how relaxing the previous night had been, and Isu, turning his body towards her, agreed. Tohwa, however, thought that word suddenly sounded strange; to Tohwa ― who was by trade sensitive to things such as the chance of rain, the wind speed, and the amount of snowfall ― it appeared as though recently 'in season' had all but disappeared. Even today, the day before Christmas, the weather was uncharacteristically warm. According to the national weather agency, the high and low temperatures were both well above freezing. In Japan, cherry blossoms were blooming in one city, and in New York the midday temperature exceeded 18 degrees Celsius. In many ways, this winter was not like winter. Spring was leaking from the future, like water leaking from a pipe.

“You're taking tomorrow off?”

Rolling the blanket between his legs, Isu tried to read Tohwa's face. It was still dark out, so consciousness was only faintly flickering on her slumber-stained eyelids. “Hmm,” answered Tohwa as she looked at Isu through the reflection in the vanity mirror. Through the mess of bedhead, she could see that the number of premature grey hairs on his head had stubbornly multiplied.

“But I have to go out the day after that.”

Tohwa tilted her head from side to side to make sure there wasn't foundation stuck in the wrinkles beneath her eyes. In that moment, she could tangibly feel that the best years of her life had already come and gone. 'Well, now that the prime of my life has passed, I guess I should like the taste of vegetables and water. Who would have guessed I would grow to appreciate the taste of water?' Her superiors at work often said that 'The time of your mid-thirties―when health, experience, and finances are all in harmony ― is the best time of your life,' but Tohwa knew better. She, and Isu, were now facing the stage in life when 'eating plants' made their stomachs content, and 'eating birthday cake' only meant that they would lose more hair.

“I'm off.”

Tohwa stared vacantly at Isu's feet, which were sticking out from the sheets. In the past, Tohwa had often kissed Isu's feet as she left the house. She would wrap one hand tightly around his foot, stroke his hairy toes, and then put it back under the blanket. Tohwa stared at those feet, the feet of the boyfriend with whom she had gone so many places. Finally, having done nothing in the end, she turned to leave. Tohwa carefully opened the opaque sliding door separating the bedroom and the kitchen, but then Isu lifted his head from the pillow and shouted out loudly.