Beyond the Veil

Korean funerals have changed a lot over the years.

Not like that trend has mattered to me, working like a dog in the cutthroat hell that Seoul is. You grow numb to outside influence working in Seoul. Everyday is the same monotonous j*b, no matter where you work. Restaurant, office worker, or even celebrity, everyday is the same for everyone.

Today’s victim is my uncle. Not someone I remember very clearly. A person who says they changed my diapers and tell me this like I’m supposed to remember something from the beginning of my life. Maybe that’s insensitive.

But then again, funerals have a way of making people pretend they were closer than they really were.

The funeral hall smells faintly of incense, flowers, and instant coffee. A combination you’d usually find elsewhere, not somewhere that smells like…death and despair. I see people coming in in black, bowing in front of the portrait, whispering prayers, and leaving afterwards as if this was a trial run.

It’s always the same lines. “I’m sorry for your loss” “It must’ve been difficult” “Please be strong during these times” It’s like everyone memorized the same script.

My parents are greeting relatives and friends that I’ve forgotten about for decades. They’re smiling but if you look closer, they have bags, my mom’s cheekbones have gone in, and my dad’s beard has seen better days.

I volunteered to sit down and pour drinks. Water or soda for kids. Soju for adults.

I heard a familiar set of footsteps behind me.

“You’ve been hiding here for thirty minutes”

I look up. Chaeyoung holds up her fluffy hanbok before sitting down. I help her fluff it out. Y’know so that she’s not sitting in it. She looks pretty but I would be lying if she didn’t everyday. Even without trying, she stands out without trying. I guess that’s just a side effect of being a person half of Korea recognizes.

“You found me.”

“You’re not particularly hard to find,” she says as she nudges my shoulders. “I checked three corners and bam. There you were.”

I let out something between a snort and a laugh.

She just looks at me. “Are you okay?”

I think about giving the usual answer. The “Yeah I’m fine” or some equivalent. But instead I tell her, “I don’t know”

“I barely knew him,” I admit. “I feel guilty because I don’t feel…sad enough.”

She doesn’t say anything but she does lean into me. We don’t talk much. She rubs my hand and I rub her back. She notices my untouched cup of soju.

“You should drink that.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I mean, it kinda feels unnecessary.”

“Taste a little bit of life’s bitterness. You know? What the adults always say what coffee is.”

I just look at her. “That was…oddly profound.”

“Gee thanks boyfriend, it’s like I write lyrics and sing for a living.”

“Sorry girlfriend, I forgot what your j*b was”

“Traitor”

“Ah but I’m yourr traitor”

“Damn right you are”

I laugh a little more this time and I kiss her forehead, letting her put her head on my legs. And for the first time all day, the heaviness in my chest eases just a little.

Maybe this is enough. Maybe not every relationship has to be profound. Sometimes, someone exists mostly on the edges of your life until one day they’re gone and what you mourn isn’t the person you knew, but the realization that there won’t be another chance to get to know them.

A little later, my mother starts waving people toward the food table. Chaeyoung stirs from her sleep and stands up. I tell her it’s fine but she walks over anyway.

“Eomeonni, do you need some help?” she asks.

My mom looks up startled, but her expression softens instantly. “Oh, Chaeyoung-ah. you don’t have to-”

“It’s okay,” Chaeyoung says, already putting on some gloves and a mask. “I can help put stuff on tables.”

And she does. Quite well, might I add. She helps arrange side dishes, taking out more paper cups, and carrying bowls of japchae for my other family members. My mother tells her it’s okay, but Chaeyoung smiles and says that it’s fine and that she’s already here and that she might as well be useful.

My mom likes her. Actually scratch that, she loves her. Genuinely. If I had a 1000 won every time she asked me to be more like Chaeyoung, I’d be able to retire, have kids, and even support my grandchildren with that money. She liked Chaeyoung since the first time I brought Chaeyoung home.

Chaeyoung had always dreaded me introducing her to my parents. She always claimed she had the “upper-class mother-in-law rejection face”, something she told me with complete seriousness. According to her, her features appeared too sharp or too chic. The kind that made future mothers-in-law think she was too bold or likely to refused traditional expectations. She added it was the type of face mothers saw and thought, “Did this girl really seduce my son for fun?”. I had laughed so hard she threatened to banish me to the couch.

In reality, none of what she worried about happened. Why? Because she bowed properly, spoke eloquently, and thanked her for such a wonderful meal that my mom asked if she was eating well and before Chaeyoung answered, got up take out side dish containers for her to take home.

Now, here at the funeral, Chaeyoung is doing the same thing. Maybe even better.

After serving some more, she comes to sit down, this time, straight on my lap. My arms instinctively reach for her back, cradling her like she’s a baby.

She looks at me again, eyes curiously every part of my face from my tired eyes to a stubble I forgot to shave this morning.

“You should eat,” she says, offering me a piece of jeon.

“I thought that this was my line”

“Not right now. Right now, you’re a boyfriend who has to listen to his girlfriend. Because that’s what good boyfriends do.”

“Well, I can’t be labeled a bad boyfriend now can I?”

“Exactly.”

I take the food from her. It’s small but it tastes better than the coffee from the vending machine. While chewing, I look at her and think how strange it is that she can make a room feel less heavy by being with me. How she worries about her own face that my mother loves so much. Maybe that’s the real thing about people. The face they think they have isn’t the only everyone else always sees.

“What are you thinking about again?”

I snap back to reality, jolting a little bit. “Nothing”