The Boy Who Clung onto My Jacket

The Boy Who Clung onto My Jacket

My head hurts. It’s as if someone is hammering nails on my head. Chemistry isn’t my favorite subject. I turn to my brother and ask him if he’s doing ok but he ignores me so I just stare at him. He is no longer a boy, though not a full adult yet. His arms and legs are now thick and hard like a tree. His back is always full of sweat, which radiates damp and unpleasant odor. He still has his same old hair, and has his same old eyes which look smaller now because of his big face. He grumbles all the time, about the shirt my mother made him wear, about what he doesn’t want to eat and what he wants to eat. He wasn’t always this way.

1993, October 22nd my brother was born. I had the greatest desire to hold the warm blanket in my arms, but unfortunately this beautiful newborn was not as healthy as I was when I first breathed this world’s air a year and half before. Also my hands were too small to become a secure basket for him.

Eventually a day came when this tiny baby was nine. He was the shortest, thinnest, and weakest in his class of 40 other kids. Illness often visited him, thus his light skinned body was inevitably bony but I could hug, push and hit my brother. At least it won’t kill him. His eyes were the prettiest in the world, even my mom’s or dad’s eyes cannot compare to his. No eyes are shinier, clearer, or prettier. When my brother smiled the big round eyes became a thin moon. When he cried his eyes would drown till my mother calmed him down. He always clung onto me or my parents, and his dependence made me proud and happy to be his sister. Oh, yes. I used to love his dependence so much.

My brother and all the boys rested for a moment in the humid taekwondo doguan. Punching, panting and sweating. As we girls practiced kicks and patterns, my instinct indicated that the clock was almost hitting four o’clock, that the class was almost over. My body, however, couldn’t stand the pain that was poking me everywhere. My lungs burned for water. My head ached from lack of air and my legs were numb from all the kicking. The overflowing energy in me from before class was nowhere to be found. All the older girls seemed to have limitless power. My eyes blurred with moist but I knew he was there. I couldn’t show a weak face to my dearest younger brother. I wanted to be strong and dependable, to keep my brother’s trust. So I went on and did my best. Luckily, the class didn’t go on forever.

I remember that there was only one changing room in the tae kwon do doguan. After the class was over guys changed in the doguan and girls changed in the changing room. When I faced the open door with my brother by my side, I was greeted with cold breeze of wind. My brother shivered, despite the jacket he was wearing. His hand wondered to the road and his tiny hands grabbed on the sleeves of my jacket. I held the bony hand in mine and started towards home. In the middle hungry growls stopped my feet. My tongue remembered the taste of the spicy rice cake called “Toppokki” and ask my brother without turning my face in order to hide my desire. “Hey, Joe. Do you want to eat Toppokki?” It was a simple question and a simple answer. With his short but strong approval I bought a small cup. It was 500 won and worth every single won. First I gave my brother a bite, and then I put one into my own mouth. It was perfect. I saw my brother’s cheek and ears warm up to a rose red. I recall the kind lady who let me keep a warm memory inside me, but I also notice that I didn’t remember much about her. My brother seemed more important at the moment.

Next stop was the palace of entertainments, a store of magic. This day too, like many others, the glass door, which was no longer transparent because of all the toys hanging on it, was pushed open. Immediately sugary fruit flavored candies and gums took hold of my nostrils that my stomach grumbled in desire despite “Toppokki” was still being digested. “Hey, Linda,” Behind the counter appeared two familiar faces which smiled warmly at my brother and me. I bowed deep down with a short greeting to show respect, like we are taught to do so in the school. My brother followed my example while I turned quickly to find the pleasures of the day. How I miss the pleasures the shop provided! Not long later we had few things in our hands which we shared equally. My brother and I were very into similar things, though now we never agree on anything.

I could still smell the strawberry sugary candies, and the smooth chocolate ones which were placed side by side.

I remember how we used to share everything, how we cared about each other’s presence so much then I zoom back out to now. Is this the baby I wished to hold in my arms, the boy whom I desperately struggled to keep my leading image to? Yes, he was. How it happened was all a mystery, but what came to my mind at the end of his daydream was that I wouldn’t have been me if he wasn’t with me. My brother was part of my life, part of me. I realized once again that because of these memories, no one can ever replace my precious little brother.