Dahye pulled away. Getting to her feet, she walked out.
“I’m sorry,” Eunhye called softly to Dahye’s retreating back. At least she sounded genuine for once, Dahye thought bitterly. Her head hurt.
From then on, Dahye observed silently. Eunhye was careful, carrying the notebook with her everywhere she went. To school. To hagwon, where she would go to study after school. Even when she was going out with her friends, she pulled it carefully from its hiding place and stowed it inside her backpack. And every time she did this, Dahye busied herself with tidying the room, watching out of the corner of her eye. She was sure that one day, Eunhye would forget.
That fateful morning, Eunhye looked even paler than she had in the weeks prior. She had been waking up with a swollen face, something their mother never failed to comment on, voice thick with concern.
“It’s nothing,” Eunhye said, brushing away their mother’s hand. “I’m tired. That’s all.” Her smile faltered. “I have to get going.” Turning, she looked at Dahye. “Are you almost ready? We’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.”
“I need a second,” Dahye said. “Do you want to go first?”
Annoyance crossed Eunhye’s features. “Alright,” she said, throwing her backpack on. “Goodbye!” she said to their parents, falsely cheerful.
Blood pounded in Dahye’s ears. In their room, her fingers trembled as she felt around underneath her sister’s bed. She wondered what terrible secrets she would learn about her sister. She kept thinking about the name she had seen:Jihoon.After amoment, she found the diary and, without hesitating, yanked it out. She sat down and began to flip through the pages.
As it turned out, Jihoon was an older boy whom Eunhye was meeting in secret. For two months, she had been slipping away with him after school when she was supposed to be studying. Taped onto one of the pages was his picture. Jihoon wore an expression of brooding intensity, eyes narrowed toward the camera. His attempt to look handsome. The edges of the photograph were curling, worn from all the times Eunhye had traced along them with her finger. She loved him. Loved! Dahye studied his face and wondered what Eunhye saw in him. If she was being perfectly honest, her sister was much better looking than he was.
She raked through the book, reading her sister’s words hungrily. In some places, the ink was smeared, trails of wispy black fading across the white. In others, Eunhye’s tears had soaked through the paper, leaving it wrinkled and warped. She flipped to the most recent entry and felt her blood run cold.
I missed my period again. I keep thinking that this nightmare will end soon, but then I wake up and I keep reliving it. Jihoon tells me that it’s my fault. He said I should have been more careful. I wish he would talk to me. I could explain to him that none of this was on purpose. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.There was a long, undecipherable scribble, and then, underneath it, hastily scrawled:I feel so alone.
Her eyes kept catching on the first line. Then her sister’s pale, moonlike face appeared in her mind. No wonder Eunhye had been looking sickly. No wonder she had been spending so much time in the bathroom. At first, a dull wave of shock overcame her. Then it gave way to excitement. Dahye clutched the notebook to her chest and flew out into the living room where her father was now sitting, empty bowls laid out in frontof him. He had just finished eating breakfast and was absentmindedly picking his teeth with a toothpick. Her mother was cleaning, her yellow dishwashing gloves stretched up to her elbows.
Dahye was too eager as she held the journal in her outstretched hand. As her father turned to look at her with a curious expression, Dahye’s enthusiasm waned. She had judged the situation poorly. Suddenly, she understood with startling clarity that this wasn’t the minor transgression she had hoped to pin on her sister. If her father read what was inside, everything would change.
Time slowed to a crawl. She watched, helpless, taking in the room. It looked different. The dingy walls, which seemed to grow dustier every time they opened the windows to let in some air. A dagger of light pierced through the curtains, spilling onto the floor. Just yesterday—was it yesterday?—Eunhye had peered out that window, looking down at the street. Dahye had watched from the kitchen as her sister had murmured to herself. Her words had been inaudible, but Dahye had been able to tell what she was saying from the shape of her mouth.Please.
What had she been asking for?
Their father took the book from her, lifted the cover. “What is this?” he asked, but Dahye, suddenly mute, shook her head. She wanted to snatch it away from him. On many instances, Eunhye had said that their apartment was a prison. This was the first time Dahye understood that. Even if she took the notebook, where would she go? Where would she hide?
At that exact moment, the door to the apartment creaked open, and Dahye looked up. Eunhye’s cheeks were red. She was breathing hard.
“I forgot my …” She stopped. Her eyes found the notebook.
“Unni—” Dahye’s mouth was suddenly dry. She wanted to explain. To apologize. But before she could say anything, Eunhye whirled around and disappeared down the corridor, the door closing behind her. All they could hear were her shoes, pounding against the floor.
+
Four days later, Eunhye’s bloated corpse washed up on the rocky banks of the Han River. Dahye found the coroner’s report hidden in the kitchen drawer. She stared at the pictures, feeling sick. Eunhye’s body was swollen. Unrecognizable. The skin on her hands and feet was wrinkled and had begun to peel. Pin-sized dots, like bruises, trailed along her neck and collarbones.Petechiae, they had written. Chunks had been torn from her thigh, and the flesh there was ragged and stringy. The rest of her body had taken on a bluish tinge.
A memory came to her. Eunhye, at the aquarium, standing in front of the jellyfish exhibit.
“Do you think they ever worry about anything?” Eunhye asked. She pressed her hand against the glass.
“It says not to touch the glass.”
Eunhye sighed. Shoved her hand in her pocket. “Fine,” she said, visibly annoyed. “Let’s go.”
They had passed the last exhibit—the sea lions—and were on their way out when Dahye finally said, “I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I don’t think they worry about anything. I don’t think they can … feel.”
Eunhye looked at her for a long time. Her voice was soft. “In that case, I wish I could trade places with them. I wish I could be a jellyfish.”
“You want to be an unfeeling, spineless blob?”