Almond(33)

“By the way,” I asked, “why are you practicing here and not in the gym?”

Dora had been walking with her hands clasped behind her back when she whipped around. “That place is too exposed. It’s quiet here. Kids barely come here, you know. And I need a basic workout to run faster.”

People’s eyes light up when they talk about things they love. Dora’s were radiant.

“What’s the running for?” I wasn’t asking with any specific intention. But her eyes were extinguished at once.

“Do you know you just asked the question I hate most? I’ve had it enough with my parents asking that.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to judge you, I just wanted to know your purpose. Your purpose for running.”

Dora let out a sigh. “To me, that’s like being asked, Why do you live? Do you live for any purpose? Let’s be honest, we just live because we’re alive. When things are great we’re happy, and when things aren’t, we cry. Same with running. I’ll be happy when I win, I’ll be sad when I don’t. When I feel I haven’t got it, I’ll blame myself or regret starting this in the first place. But then I’ll still run. Just because! Like living life. That’s all!”

Dora had started out calm but by the end she was almost shouting. I nodded to calm her down.

“Are your parents persuaded by that?”

“No, they just laugh at me. They say running is useless—there’s no need for it when I become an adult, other than for rushing to cross the street before the traffic light changes. Funny, right? They tell me I’m no Usain Bolt, so why bother running.” The corners of her mouth drooped.

“What do your parents want you to do?”

“No idea. Before, they said if I wanted to be an athlete so much, I should play golf because at least it has a chance of making money. But now, not even that. They just tell me not to embarrass them. It was their choice to have me, but that doesn’t mean that I have to accomplish the missions they’ve set up. They keep threatening me that I’ll regret this, but even if I do regret it, that’s my choice to make. I think I’m just living up to my name. They named me Dora, so I guess I just have to be a dorai, a ‘freak.’”

She smiled, as if she felt good after ranting. I was heading out of the library when she asked me where my bookstore was. I gave her the address and asked why she wanted to know.

She grinned. “Just in case they stop letting me practice here.”





54


My mock exam scores were always average. Math was my strongest subject, followed by science and social studies, which were okay. The problem was Korean. There were all these hidden meanings and nuances that I couldn’t catch. Why were the authors’ motives kept hidden so well? My guesses were always wrong.

Maybe understanding a language is like understanding the expressions and emotions of other people. That’s why they say small amygdalae often mean your intellectual level is lower. Because you can’t grasp the context, your reasoning skills are poor and so is your intellect. It was hard for me to accept my Korean grades. It was the subject I wanted to be best at, but it was my worst.

Clearing out the bookstore took some time. All I needed to do was get rid of the books but it was no easy task. I took out each book and took pictures one by one. I needed to check their conditions so that I could post them on a bartering website. I had no idea we had so many books in the store. Countless thoughts, stories, and studies were piled up on every shelf. I thought of the authors I’d never had a chance to meet. Suddenly they seemed very far from me, a thought that hadn’t occurred to me before. I used to think that they were close. As close as soaps or towels, easily within reach. But, in fact, no, they were in a whole other world. Maybe forever out of my reach.

“Hey.”

I heard a voice over my shoulder. My heart froze at that one word, as if someone had just splashed cold water on me. It was Dora.

“Just swinging by. That’s cool, right?”

“Probably. Actually, it always is,” I corrected myself. “It’s rare to hear a customer asking for permission to visit, unless it’s at a popular restaurant that requires a reservation, I guess . . . which this is clearly not.”

I realized I had just ended up calling my bookstore unpopular. Dora burst out laughing for some reason. It was the kind of laugh that sounded like countless ice crystals showering down onto the ground. Dora skimmed through the books, a smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Did this shop just open? The books are all over the place.”

“Actually, I’m preparing to close it down. Though ‘preparing’ seems like an odd word to use when you’re closing down a shop.”

“Too bad. I missed my chance to become a regular.”

Dora didn’t talk much at first. She did other things instead, like puffing out her cheeks after saying something, then making a pfff sound with a long deep breath. Or tapping the ground with the toe of her sneaker three times. Then, as if she had been working up the nerve for it, she asked a question.

“Is it true that you don’t feel anything?” It was the same question Gon had asked.

“Not exactly, but according to general standards, yes, probably.”

“Interesting. I thought those kinds of people were only in charity documentaries for fund-raising. Oh, sorry . . . I shouldn’t have said it this way.”