Chapter V

 

“Hey Uncle Fred! Where will this go?” Jiyong puts down a heavy box at the front door of a toy collection and hobby store. He took the towel off his neck and wiped the sweat on his face.

 

A group of chattering girls giggled as they saw him. He just smiled and winked at them. He lifted the box again.

 

A big, fat and bulky man in his mid-forties ran down the stairs muttering something, holding several broken toys in his hands.

 

“You could put that upstairs,” he said in a low-pitched baritone.

 

“You got it.” Jiyong hurried upstairs and settled the box on the floor. It was a wide expanse of junks there, carefully secured in rows of shelves and tables. Sunlight filtered through the small windows, one… two… three, the third window wide open that he shielded himself from the sun’s ferocious glare. Jiyong took a deep breath and sighed. He went downstairs again, heading to the counter where his uncle was looking puzzled at the broken toys.

 

“That’s the last one,” Jiyong said.

 

Uncle Fred looked at him. Jiyong looked handsome and presentable in his blue overalls despite his weary look. Uncle Fred sighed; the boy was pretty much challenged at his father’s death. He had been silently working too hard the past days. His mother had also applied for a clerk job somewhere a few blocks away. Uncle Fred remembered his younger brother…, he sure does looks a lot like his son, he whispered to himself.

 

“Come on here. I’m going to teach you somethin’.” Uncle Fred sunk easily on his chair as Jiyong leaned on the counter table in front of him. “You need to learn somewhat another accent. It’ll be fun. Besides, it would be a nice way of changing your life.”

 

Changing life? Jiyong thought for a moment and asked, “Like what?”

 

“Okay, imagine a yacht in the middle of a storm. How would you describe it?” Uncle Fred waited for his answer. Jiyong just listened. “The ol’ mosquito skippa wouldn’t j’giva the fight!” Uncle Fred said in a very loud voice.

 

A moment of silence… Uncle Fred thought it was a bad idea. Then Jiyong began laughing aloud.

 

The girls at the corner giggled with them.

 

Uncle Fred’s wide-open eyes turned Chinese in laughter as he sighed out a relief afterwards.

 

“Not bad, Uncle Fred. I think that is half Texan and half British!” Vince continued laughing. “Not bad.”

 

“Could you give us another, Uncle Fred?” asked one of the girls. Jiyong’s happy face motivated the old man.

 

“Could’ya gimme an’ther, ‘cle Fredo?” he returned in response.

 

Jiyong and the girls broke in laughter again.

 

At least his sad eyes are now glittering, Uncle Fred thought. His nephew and his wits are gonna be a very good team. They must’ve a long way to go…

 

Jiyong struggled to keep his cargo tight inside his small backpack. There are lots of things inside it; some canned goods, milk and sugar, bottles of vinegar and salt, some packets of spices, his sodas, and lots of tissues and cottons… He was all bent up walking forward back home. Streetlights began to hold a parade, stores lit up and car lamps burst to white-hot flame as the sun. He looked at his watch as he paused near a street lamp. It was past six…

 

“Hey greenhorn!” He heard a shout behind him. He turned back to see some five boys of his age, all with mean faces staring up at him.

 

“Me?” Jiyong replies, clearing his throat.

 

“Yes, you!” They had gotten near him and he had no time to escape.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Oh, nothin’…,” a tall guy who smelled fresh of liquor replies. “We just wanna welcome you in the neighborhood.” He spat on the concrete pavement.

 

“But I’ve been here for almost a month now.”

 

“No… for us, you’ve just arrived, right guys?” Everyone nodded. “We just wanna know how Asian kids were brought up.”

 

A skinny hand pushed him back. That was intrusive, he thought.

 

Jiyong felt a rush of anger. He looked at them furiously. Back home, nobody dared to do anything like this to him, not even the hip-hop boys…

 

The fatter boy wearing a rugged jean coat pushed him away until he fell back. This time, the contents of his backpack came spilling out, bottles getting broken, and cans rolling into the street. They catch up on him and pulled him up.

 

“Why don’t you show us what you’ve got?”

 

“I got nothin’ against you and I don’t wanna fight people. I do not have the reasons,” Jiyong replied calmly.

 

The fat boy grasped Jiyong’s jaw and made him look at the broken bottles and his spilling soda.

 

“There’s your reason.” The fat boy smiled. “Momma’s gonna kick your for that, boy.” His companions laughed aloud.

 

Jiyong sighed. He could no longer take all of this. “I’d be grateful enough if you apologize to me,” a line he once heard from… Dara. He was suddenly frustrated as he remembered Dee. He felt weakness creeping up his legs.

 

“What?!” An angry face met his, the smell of liquor and cigarette smoke. And all of a sudden, a clenched fist broke his nose.

 

And the kick could’ve broken his teeth. He felt blood oozing out of his nose and gums. Several punches landed on his face again. Then he felt his arms were being hoisted on the wall.

 

His mind wanted to fight back, but his body remained limp. He was surprised at his own passiveness. He could fight back but his body remained disobedient. His head bumped on the concrete sidewalk again, it was all too painful. Their laughter filled his ears and their mean faces filled his eyes. A lot more punches and kicks before they ran away… Drunken kids or maybe they had drugs, Jiyong dizzily thought. As to why his mom decided to move to New York is beyond him. They were perfectly fine in Korea but his mom said they had to move to the house his Dad invested here and his Uncle is also here. His Dad… Why did he give up so easily? He could have stayed alive longer. He could’ve been here to see me graduate himself.

 

He tried to sit down but his body won’t move. His heart seemed to race all the way to heaven. What was obvious was that his body was too numb. He couldn’t feel anything. Is this death? He asked himself.

 

He stared away. A familiar impossible phantom appeared across the street. Dara.

 

“Help… Dee. It’s me… Dee… it’s me,” until he knew no more.

 

The world was made this way… Boys are meant to be boys. Gentlemen are few. Rascals are many. He was born neither of the two. He was born a shadow that nobody would ever see… or would even mind. He was a living paradox of invisible life science. He was born in this world with a name, but without a chance. He is human after all…

 

He misses his father. That was real. But he was gone. Gone without a trace. He misses his friend. The girl. But she must be gone. She might have already forgotten everything about him too. He too was gone without a trace.

 

Jiyong’s steady gaze at the horizon proved them serious. Lights filled the harbor and the moon was a crescent incandescent lamp. Nobody could tell what he is thinking.

 

Uncle Fred met Mrs. Kwon’s puzzled looks.

 

“In who’s name under hell did this to him?” Uncle Fred had just arrived.

 

“He won’t speak,” Mrs. Kwon replied.

 

“Your gentlemen cab driver, Rico, saw him at the streets.”

 

Gentleman? There was a gentleman…

 

“Some rascals had him dyin’, I should have driven him home,” Uncle Fred spoke. “Where is Rico?”

 

Rascals…

 

“I already thanked him.”

 

Jiyong weakly sat on the chair, eyes heavily bruised, red and violet spots filled his cheeks and forehead. A bandage from his mom went from his chin up to his head. A band-aid lay across his nose. He looked awfully lot like an Egyptian mummy.

 

“I’m gonna go back and - ”

 

“Don’t Uncle Fred, don’t,” Jiyong cut him short.

 

Mrs. Kwon worried and her sorry face blocked Jiyong’s gaze at the coastline. She gave him a very small smile.

 

“You know son, you are like your father. You are both strong and unselfish, both kind and  hardworking - ”

 

“Stop comparing me to dad!” Jiyong’s eyebrows met in a mean expression. “I’m not like him; neither like him. He gave up easily, mom. He is not to be imitated by anybody.”

 

Uncle Fred’s ears couldn’t believe the revelation. Sometimes, it ain’t really what you think it is. Mrs. Kwon was shocked. She gave a frustrated look at her son and went quickly to the kitchen.

 

“Sorry Uncle Fred, dad failed me.”

 

“Is this about your father?”

 

“This bruises, no. But this kind of life, yes.” Spoken to provoke, merciless, unforgiving.

 

Uncle Fred sat down beside Jiyong and stared at the direction of the boy’s gaze.

 

“But the old man did everything for you, buddy,” Uncle Fred said.

 

“Yes, he did. He still deserves my respect. I owe him much.”

 

“You owe him, yes. He wanted you to finish school.”

 

Jiyong looked at Uncle Fred. He had decided to stop studying. But yes, he remembered his father’s last request. His mother hadn’t known about it…

 

“But I can’t Uncle Fred…”

 

“What would you like to be when you grow up?” Uncle Fred asked.

 

Jiyong gave a weak smile and looked at his crisscrossing fingers. He sighed. “Am I still a young boy?”

 

“It’s serious question.”

 

“Okay, I wanna be a soldier.”

 

“You’re kidding.” Uncle Fred smiled at the boy.

 

“I just want to defend something with a very good cause, Uncle Fred, not just my own life.” Jiyong said.

 

Sometimes, the world was really made in several ways. Gentlemen, rascals, and of course… soldiers in the shadows. How about that? It fits him right. Jiyong stared at the coastline. Life will begin…