Cursed Bunny(10)
“What the hell is this bastard saying!” The old man shouted so loudly that the sunglassed men stepped up to them again.
The middle-aged man didn’t back down. “Bastard? Who are you calling bastard? If you know what’s good for you, hand over the money while I’m feeling generous. Then I’ll be on my way.”
The old man looked at her and the middle-aged man and went, “Huh!” and stood up, whacking his cane on the floor. The sunglassed men hurried to support him.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The middle-aged man grabbed the old man by the collar. “Do you think this is some—oof!”
One of the sunglassed men had swiftly punched the middle-aged man in the stomach. He rolled about on the floor as the goons turned to leave with the old man.
“You fucking bastards, you hit me!” He leaped at the three departing men, and the four of them ended up on the floor in a tangled heap of bodies. One of the sunglassed men quickly began to help the old man up while the other mercilessly beat up the middle-aged man. The café customers screamed. A hotel worker frantically called someone on the phone.
Carefully avoiding the fighting, she slipped out on her own.
Her heart felt many times heavier than her belly as she walked to the bus stop. She felt stupid, yet also couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation just now.
The bus arrived. She tried not to fall flat on her face as she made her way up the steps. The bus driver watched with annoyance and started driving before she had made it completely up. She almost fell but grabbed the bus card scanner just in time.
Although the bus wasn’t that crowded, there were no empty seats. She wanted to go to the back as she had a long way to go, but it was hard to keep her balance in the shaky bus; she grabbed a pole near the driver’s seat and hung on for dear life.
“Young lady, sit here,” said the middle-aged woman sitting near her.
“Oh, I’m all right, thank you.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re all right at all!” The woman smiled warmly as she pretended to admonish her. “Your stomach is as big as Namsan Mountain, how could it be all right to stay standing on a shaking bus? You’re making me all nervous! Sit down this minute.”
“Thank you so much.” She gave an embarrassed smile as she gingerly sat down with the help of the older woman.
Just as she settled down, the middle-aged woman looked closely at her face and blurted out, “Hey, aren’t you the girl from the newspaper?”
“Excuse me?” But she knew what was coming and her heart was sinking to her stomach.
“You know, the one who’s looking for a father for her child?”
“Uh …” She was still in shock from what had happened in the café, and the very mention of the ad made her want to cry. She bitterly regretted not having cancelled the ad sooner.
“The real father must’ve run away after you got pregnant, am I right?” The older woman was already weaving her own story about her. “You poor thing. How could he leave such a young and pretty girl?”
The middle-aged woman patted her back like she was her real mother. It was infuriating and she was indignant, but at the same time, the woman’s warm hand did feel like it was gently patting away the hurt.
“I mean, that’s life,” the older woman went on to say. “And life goes on. Think of the child in your belly. Live only for the child. It’s not easy raising a kid alone these days, but you’ve got to be strong and keep living your life! Children grow up so fast. Mark my words, today will seem like a distant memory soon enough …”
The woman’s voice trailed off as she gazed into the distance.
Screech. The bus came to a stop. The older woman quickly came to her senses. “Oh, my goodness, where am I?” She quickly pressed the stop buzzer and frantically looked out the window. “Look, you’ve got to make it through this! And I’m sure the child’s father will come back someday.” The older woman got off at the next stop.
She, too, eventually got off the bus and walked the rest of the way home lost in thought. Calling up the newspaper, she demanded they stop running the ad. Then, she turned off her phone and tossed it into a drawer.
The fetus in her womb, despite having reached peak weight, would occasionally tremble or squirm, but it never kicked or gave her the impression of really being alive. Her anemia worsened. She could see the fetus’ movement on the ultrasound but not feel it herself. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with her otherwise. Aside from telling her to hurry up with finding a father, the obstetrician had nothing much to report. She became so large that even other pregnant woman felt uncomfortable in her presence. But what did it mean for the baby to not grow “properly”? She thought of the hostile glare of the obstetrician with the thick makeup. If she needed a father for the baby for its proper growth, what could explain the size of her stomach now? Hadn’t she simply been scared by a few words of a doctor—some young woman with a nasty personality? Had she been so focused on finding a father for the baby that she hadn’t thought enough about what the baby really needed? Regardless of its growth, whether it had a father or not, the baby was hers and hers alone, in the truest sense. “Live only for the child.” Those words didn’t completely cleanse her of her worries and anxiety, but she could at long last feel herself calming down as she repeated them.