Annoyed, he listened as the floorboards creaked under her feet. He removed the pillow and stared into the bright light hanging above his head. He could feel pressure building between his temples. His mother was always meddling, always doing things to piss him off. Normally, he would have stayed at work until the last possible second, but the office had been unusually busy that evening, and he had wanted some privacy.
Not that there was much privacy at home, he thought bitterly. His eyes scraped along the wall across from his bed, at the single picture hanging in the center. His father smiled back at him, arms clasped around a teenage Junyoung. The two of them were mirror images of one another. Seeing it, Junyoung felt a dull pain radiating throughout his chest. He got up. Pressed his forehead against the wall. “You should have taken me with you,” he said, voice low.
The glass caught the reflection from the overhead lights, and Junyoung sighed, falling back on his bed. His father had taught him many important lessons before he left. How to drive a car. How to tie a tie. How to fix the cabinet in the kitchen when the hinges got loose. But Abeoji’s most important lesson had been about women.
Junyoung had been in middle school, and the family was living in the old apartment five blocks down from where he and his mother were currently residing. It had been one of those crisp mornings that you could feel in your lungs. Junyoung had just left for school when something caught his eye in the window of one of the first-floor apartments. He leaned in, curiosity getting the best of him, and saw a silhouette through the gap in the blinds.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw her: the downstairs neighbor, a young woman whom he had noticed many months prior. She was rosy-cheeked, with crooked frontteeth, and ears that pointed out like an elf’s. A bar girl, his father had said, voice dripping with disdain. Junyoung had no idea what that meant. What he did know was that every time they crossed paths, she bowed to Junyoung’s father, even though he pointedly ignored her.
Sometimes she would stagger out in the middle of the day to check the mail, still in her pajamas, hair and clothing in disarray. Junyoung would stand and watch as she bent over, oblivious to his presence, flashing him the lean, muscled underside of her thigh. He had carefully catalogued these memories, filed them away in his mind. But what he saw in her window that morning made his prior collection of moments seem insignificant. In that shimmering, golden light, he saw her in a state of half dress, wearing only a skirt. Her chest was bare. Her globular breasts bounced as she hopped from one foot to the other, trying to yank on her knee-high socks.
A loud honk from a passing car brought Junyoung back. He stumbled from the window, his hands raised in front of his face as though he was about to get hit. He was late for school. He turned and ran, his backpack hitting his back with each step.
Against his better judgment, he returned the next day. And the following day. And the day after that. Soon, he was at her window every single morning. Even when she was fully clothed, or lying in bed asleep, he liked to watch her. She never noticed him.
Two weeks after the first time, Junyoung made it to the window just as she emerged from her bathroom, hair dripping, wearing only a white towel. Junyoung felt a squeeze in his groin. Sucking in a breath, he thought,Let it fall. Please let it fall.
His prayers were answered. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror and dropped the towel. Instantly, Junyoung’s eyes went to her sex. Dark hair sprouted from the mound. Heground his hips into the wall, skull pressed hard against the window. She was oblivious to his presence, admiring her reflection, and then, all of a sudden, she looked up and saw him. Junyoung froze. She whirled around, a mixture of emotions passing over her face—fear, grief, and anger—and then she was shouting, spit flying from her mouth. He turned and ran.
Gasping for breath, Junyoung flew up the stairs. He made it to his floor just as the elevator doors opened, and the woman stepped out. Her chest was heaving. She had thrown on some clothes, but she had done so haphazardly, and the buttons on her shirt were mismatched, revealing part of her chest.
She was closer to his apartment than he was. Junyoung stopped. He was sweating. “Please,” he murmured. His voice came out in a squeak. “Please don’t tell my father.”
She ignored him and rang the doorbell, pushing hard with her index finger. Her lips were quivering. Junyoung’s heart was pounding so loudly that all other sounds seemed to be drowned out. She rang the doorbell again, and Junyoung could hear his father’s voice coming faintly through the wall. The door swung open. Junyoung’s father looked first at the woman and then at him. He looked back at the woman again, his jaw tightening.
“Yes? How can I help you?” he demanded.
“This is your son, right?” she asked, gesturing roughly toward Junyoung.
“Yes. Did something happen?”
The woman began to splutter. “Your son—I caught him looking into my window. I was …” She paused. “I wasnaked—” The last word came out like a sob.
There was a long silence. It was so long, in fact, that Junyoung was sure that he had died and gone to hell. Finally, his father spoke. “I see,” he said. “Well. Thank you for letting me know.”
He motioned toward Junyoung with a jerk of his wrist. Junyoung began to walk into the apartment. It felt like the hallway had grown unbearably long. The pounding of his heart, which had reduced momentarily, returned, full-fledged and painfully loud.
The woman did not move.
“Are you going to punish him?” she asked. “I want to know he’ll be punished.”
A shadow crossed over his father’s face. “It’s none of your business how I discipline my son,” he snapped.
“But he—he—” She blinked. “Violatedme,” she whispered. Tears glowed in her eyes.
Junyoung’s father reared up. “Violated you? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But—”
“Did he break into your room? Get physical with you?”
“No!”
“Then I don’t see a problem.” Turning to Junyoung, he snapped, “Go inside. Hurry up!”
Junyoung swept past the woman, shivering. He stepped over the threshold and into the apartment, silent as his father shut the door. When his father turned around to look at him, Junyoung flinched, waiting for a blow that never came.
“Aren’t you going to hit me?” Junyoung asked.