Mouthful of Birds(20)

The first of Gruner’s tasks to become routine are washing the dishes after dinner and, in the morning, preparing the dog’s food. Then he begs again. He offers to pay with his work. To pay for something, pay for lunch. Chip in little by little with the work of living in the country. Chat every now and then with the office workers. Discover incredible talents in Gong when it comes to theories of efficiency and group work. In Gill, a lawyer of great prestige. In Cho, a capable accountant. Cry once again in front of the ticket office, and at night offer to make lunch the next day. Hunt field rabbits with Cho, and suggest, in thanks for the family’s goodwill, compensating them at least for the delicious food. Learn how this is done, and how one should do that, and also try to pay for that all-important information, that the harvest is done in the morning when the sun won’t bother you, and the midday hours are spent on housework. And every once in a while, with the hope of getting change for a ticket—a hope that is reborn only on certain days—sit on the station bench and watch another train that, at Pe’s inevitable signals, passes without stopping.

Then, bit by bit, begin to see the office workers’ happiness as false. Doubt it all: Cho’s innocent gratitude, Gong’s spirited hospitality, and Gill’s unflaggingly subservient attitude. Intuit in all their actions a secret plan that goes against the love that Pe and Fi profess for them. And then something happens. It’s a thing that he no longer expects, and it takes him by surprise. It starts with an invitation: Cho, Gong, and Gill will make Mother and Father’s bed. Gruner is invited. They go into the master bedroom and, as a team, spread out the sheets and smooth the creases. And that’s how it happens that something is revealed: Gong smiles and looks at Gill, and together, facing each other on either side of the bed, they each lift up a pillow, and before the surprised eyes of Gruner and Cho, spit onto the sheets before setting them down again.

It’s the moment they’re rebelling and Gruner knows it—so much love couldn’t have been real. So he gathers his courage. Gruner asks:

“Do any of you have change?”

All three seem surprised. Maybe it’s still too soon for the question, but then so, too, for the answer:

“Do you?”

Gruner says:

“Do you think I’d be here if I did?”

And they:

“Would we?”

During a long silence, they all seem to draw conclusions that merge, and start to formulate a plan that, though still undefined, now unites them in a newfound but sincere kinship. As if the action could hide the words they’d uttered, Gill shyly straightens the sheets on a bed that is already smooth. And that night, when the euphoric familial love is reborn, Gruner understands that it has always been part of a farce that began many years before he arrived. And now nothing keeps him from enjoying Pe’s educational advice or the tender kisses Fi plants on her men’s foreheads when they say good night and go to bed. In the morning he submits gladly to the routine, everyday activity, and at night, when doubt invades him and he starts to think maybe his bold plan is born of his own self-delusion, he realizes that the noises bothering him are really the light little taps of someone knocking at his door. Taps that, like passwords to be deciphered, invite him to get up and open the door, to find an anxious Cho standing there. Under orders from Gong, he’s come to bring Gruner to their first meeting.

The gathering is in the public bathrooms next to the ticket window. Gill, ever efficient, has covered the broken windows with cardboard so the cold doesn’t seep in, and he’s brought candles and snacks. Everything is set out on a tablecloth spread neatly over the floor in the middle of the bathroom. Sitting cross-legged, attentive like true office workers, the four of them settle around the tablecloth and pool their money in Gong’s hand. Four bills, large and crisp. It’s strange for Gruner to discover a new expression on his companions’ childlike faces, a mixture of anxiety and distrust. Maybe it’s been months, maybe years, they’ve been here; maybe they suspect that they’ve lost everything back in the capital. Wives, children, jobs, homes, everything they had before they got stranded here in this station. Gill’s eyes grow damp, and a tear falls onto the tablecloth. Cho pats Gill on the back a few times and lets him lean his head on his shoulder. Then Gong looks at Gruner; they know Gill and Cho are weak, that they’re worn-out and they no longer believe in the possibility of escape, only in the pitiful consolation of more days in the country. Gong and Gruner, who are strong, will have to fight for all four of them. An unsparing plan, thinks Gruner, and in Gong’s eyes he finds an ally who follows every one of his thoughts with attention. Gill goes on crying, and he wails:

“With all this money we could buy part of the land, we could at least live independently . . .”

“The train has to stop,” resolves Gong, with a seriousness he hasn’t shown before.

“What do you want to do?” asks Gruner. “How do you stop a train? We have to be realistic here, objectivity is the foundation of any good plan.”

“Tell us, Gruner—why do you think the train doesn’t stop?” asks Gong.

And Cho replies anxiously:

“It’s because of Pe, he signals that there are no passengers.”

“We know the signal for ‘Don’t stop.’ What we don’t know is the signal for ‘Do stop,’” says Gong.

“I see,” says Gruner. And then, illuminated: “And did you already try the negative?”