Page 2 of Perfect Happiness

When Jiyoo reached the landing, her feet refused to move any further.

Now that she was halfway down the stairs, things had gotten so dark that she couldn’t see any farther down the stairs.

It felt like a deep ravine was lurking beneath her next step.

The air was cold, and Jiyoo could hear the whirring of a machine coming from deep in the darkness.

Jiyoo looked back up the stairs at the faint blue light shining out of the wide-open door she had just sprinted out of.

Should I go back to my room? Should I be a good girl and lie in bed until Mother calls me?

Shaking violently in the darkness, Jiyoo tried to figure out what was happening downstairs.

The kitchen was directly at the base of the stairs.

Because it didn’t have any windows, the kitchen turned pitch black if you turned off the lights, even during the day.

The fact that the lights were off told Jiyoo that Mother was not in the kitchen.

It also meant that the door between the kitchen and the living room would be locked.

The whirring sound was probably the sound of the overhead fan.

Mother always turned on the overhead fan when boiling meat.

She and Father must be in the living room.

All Jiyoo needed to do was check. All she needed to do was make sure her dream wasn’t real.

Jiyoo descended the stairs feeling the edges of each step with her toes.

As expected, the gas stove was on. Jiyoo could make out the faint image of two pots placed atop blue flames.

She walked toward the door to the living room, which was also shut, as she thought it would be.

It was exactly ten steps from the bottom of the stairs.

The countryside cabin was a house of twos. Two stories, two bedrooms and bathrooms split between the first and second floors, and two doors in and out of the house, one next to the bathroom, and one near the kitchen.

The layout of the house was a bit different from most. Coming in through the front door, you were immediately met with a long and narrow island-turned-dining table, in front of which was the kitchen.

Across from that was the door to the living room.

In the living room was the door to the bedroom, which was placed directly opposite the door from the kitchen.

Inside the bedroom, again placed directly opposite the door, was a large window.

Seen from this perspective, the house was like a tunnel, running through the center of which was a series of three doors and one window.

Most days, Mother left both interior doors open. Jiyoo would sit on the kitchen-side of the table, where she would stare directly at the window in the bedroom. She liked looking into the kitchen from outside the bedroom window. From there, she could spy on what Mother was doing without her knowing.

On the other hand, when all the doors were shut, Jiyoo felt uneasy.

She felt both sad and ashamed, like Mother had locked her out.

Sometimes, Jiyoo would hover in front of the living room door, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong.

Right now, as she stood outside the living room, was one of those times.

All she could do was dither in front of that closed door.

I could knock or call out to Mother or open the door slightly. But wouldn’t that anger her?

Jiyoo brought her ear close to the door.

She could hear the whirring coming from the other side.

It was like the overhead fan, but louder and harsher.

Perhaps a vacuum cleaner? If it was, it had to mean Mother was cleaning.

And that would mean she and Father were both awake.

But this didn’t necessarily mean it was okay for Jiyoo to go in.

There were many rules to follow when Jiyoo was with Mother.

It was against the rules to open a closed door without permission.

That was true whether Father was around or not.

But despite knowing this, Jiyoo still wanted to open the door.

She wanted to know that last night’s dream was over.

She wanted to see with her own eyes that nothing was wrong, that nothing had changed from yesterday.

Jiyoo first tried knocking. When there was no answer, she opened the door slightly and put her eye up to the crack.

Her heart dropped suddenly. The living room was pitch black.

The whirring seemed to be coming from the direction of the sofa.

But Jiyoo couldn’t hear anyone. She whispered into the dark.

“Mother?”

Jiyoo’s voice was swallowed up by the loud whirring. She couldn’t even hear her own voice. It felt like she was only moving her lips. She called out again, this time in a louder voice.

“May I come in?”

Jiyoo thought she heard someone say, “Come in,” but it could have been her imagination. She placed one foot in the living room, then called out again.

“Should I turn on the light?”

Again, she thought she heard a yes, but she couldn’t be sure.

The whirring continued. Jiyoo flipped the switch on the wall.

The lights came on and showered the room in white light.

She couldn’t help but shield her eyes. When she opened her eyes again, she almost screamed.

She was so startled that she forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Sitting on the couch was a person—a woman, naked and hunched over with long black hair draped over her face.

The whirring sound Jiyoo had heard wasn’t from a vacuum.

It was a hair dryer, which the woman held in her pale white hand and slowly swung back and forth.

Jiyoo could feel her throat finally start to open as the words she had been holding back came out.

“Mother!”

The whirring stopped. The hand holding the dryer paused.

The woman tilted her head to the side and looked out at Jiyoo through dangling locks of hair.

Jiyoo felt her stiff knees begin to loosen.

It was Mother. Jiyoo hadn’t called out “Mother” because she thought the woman was her mother.

“Mother!” was just what she screamed when she was frightened.

“Mother—”

It took some time for Jiyoo to accept this unfamiliar-looking woman as her mother.

Mother explained that she had just taken a shower and was drying her hair, but it took time for Jiyoo to accept this.

Eventually, Jiyoo realized Father was missing, as were his bag and padded jacket, which had been draped over the sofa armrest.

Jiyoo looked back at the front door. Father’s sneakers were also missing. It wasn’t the dream that had disappeared, but Father and all his stuff. It was as if he had never been here at all.

Father had left. Jiyoo turned her eyes to the patio, trying not to show disappointment. A thick blackout curtain was covering the glass sliding door.

“Why are you glancing around like that?” Mother asked.

Startled, Jiyoo turned to look at Mother. When their eyes met, Jiyoo shook her head.

“Didn’t I tell you not to speak with your head? You’re not some neanderthal.”

Mother’s voice was high and thin, like the chirping of a bird.

It was so quiet that Jiyoo almost had to lean in with her ear to catch it.

When Mother’s voice was high-pitched and shook nervously like this, Jiyoo had to be quick on her feet.

It was a sign that Jiyoo was annoying Mother. Just like she was right now.

Jiyoo went over to Mother. She brought her toes flush with the front of the sofa:

“Good morning, Mother.”

Mother brushed the left side of her hair to the side and tucked it behind her ear.

“Did you sleep well?” Mother asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

The corners of Mother’s mouth were quivering, just like her voice. Jiyoo could feel herself withering. She wouldn’t have come into the living room had she known Mother was in a bad mood.

“Because my dream didn’t disappear.”

Jiyoo felt her body tremble as she said this.

A scene from her dream was replaying itself in her head.

Why hadn’t the dream disappeared after waking up?

Jiyoo wanted to ask Mother, but she resisted the urge.

She didn’t think it would be wise to ask.

But she didn’t know why she felt this way. It was just a feeling.

“What do you remember?” Mother asked.

Jiyoo didn’t answer. She was suddenly distracted by Mother’s right hand, which was still holding the hair dryer.

Bandages were wrapped around her wrist all the way to the first joint of each finger.

And blood was staining the parts on her thumb and the edge of her hand.

No, “staining” wasn’t the right word. The bandages were completely soaked, as though droplets of blood would fall from the bandages at any moment.

Mother seemed to be unaware of this, and Jiyoo thought she should tell her immediately.

Without warning, she grabbed Mother’s hand and yelled out, “Mother! Your hand is bleeding—”

“Eek!” Mother shrieked in pain. Her shriek was so piercing and terrifying that Jiyoo went rigid, Mother’s hand still in hers.

“Go away.” Mother brandished her elbow and shoved Jiyoo aside. As she did this, the hair dryer hit Jiyoo on the chin and fell to the ground with a crash. The nozzle on the hair dryer broke off and skidded across the floor. Jiyoo stumbled back two steps but caught herself before falling.

“Why would you do that?” Mother said.

Jiyoo cupped her chin in her palm and stepped back. Her chin was throbbing from being hit with the hair dryer. And her cheeks were blushing from being scolded. Jiyoo’s vision became watery as something hot started to well up in the back of her throat.

Jiyoo dropped her head. Afraid that she might start to cry, she clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. A terrifying long silence followed. The only thing that could be heard was Mother’s irregular breathing.

“Jiyoo,” she finally said, “come here.”