The Last Summer - Chapter 12 (1)

“Mom, do you hate me?” 

Yes, I hated you. I hated you because you were not Woo-jin’s child. I hated you so much I thought I would go mad. When I found out that you were his child – Agwi’s child – and when he unilaterally registered our marriage, I thought I would lose my mind. When I tried to drown myself in the sea and Grandma pulled me back, I thought I would go mad. 

I left you lying in the cold corner of the room, without even feeding you. I hated how you wouldn’t stop crying. I hated the pain in my swollen breast and the milk that kept flowing. 

“Do you hate that I was even born? Admit it—it’s always been that way.” 

Yes, I wanted to admit it. I wanted to say I hated that you were born. 

But I couldn’t. 

What could you possibly have done to deserve this pain and hatred? How could any of this be your fault? Even in my ignorance, I understood that I couldn’t blame you. Deep down I knew that none of this was your fault.

A miserable man became my husband, and that man’s child became my daughter—but you were innocent. 

And so, I had to feed you. I had to give you my milk. 

“Mom!” 

Even though I ignored you for so long, even though I was a cold and heartless mother, you kept calling me “Mom.” 

With your neatly cropped hair, eyes like blackberries with a hint of purple, and a red schoolbag slung over your shoulder, you would run to me without hesitation and throw your arms around me. 

“Mom.” 

You pressed your cheek against mine, seeking love. 

…Ji-yoon-ah. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I could only be such a good mother. I’m sorry for everything. Just the act of holding on, of not throwing myself and you into the sea, of enduring this life – I was so, so tired.

Every time longing and pain threatened to consume me, I resented the summer. I struggled between the person I could no longer meet, the person who wouldn’t let me go, and the life I was forced to live. 

But it’s not that I didn’t love you. How could a mother not love her own child? How could I only hate you when you looked at me so desperately, reaching out for my love? How could I have resented you when your very existence was the reason I had to endure all this pain?

“Mom, wake up.” 

So, Ji-yoon-ah, come back to me. 

Just once. Before this summer ends—just once, I want to see your face. 

“…Mom.” 

I opened my eyes. 

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake! You’re awake!”

Mrs. Yeoju’s voice rang out loudly. 

What was happening? The sharp, clinical smell of the hospital filled the air again—the scent I always despised. 

“I looked up the medication, and it’s for a stroke. I was so shocked…”

Her words lingering and echoing in my mind.

I also heard Yoo-jin’s voice. 

“She’s been unwell but kept it to herself, suffering alone. I was so worried something serious might happen. Isn’t that right, Si-hoo? You said we should contact her right away.” 

“That’s right.”

His calm, steady voice that sounded so much like Woo-jin.

“No matter how distant things have become, family is family. And it’s time to reconcile, Mother.” 

That kind voice… Woo-jin. The thought of her made my eyes flutter open without me even realizing it. 

“Mom, are you feeling more awake now?” 

Startled, I opened my eyes wide at the sound of Ji-yoon’s voice right next to me. 

There, standing before me, was my daughter—older, much older than I remembered. My breath caught in my chest. How had she aged so much? How many years had it been since I last saw her? 

“…Ji-yoon-ah.”

I whispered, my voice shaking. I reached for her face. My hand shook uncontrollably and my voice was dry and cracked.

“Why have you aged so much?” 

“Hah! Because so much time has passed, of course!”

Ji-yoon replied with a faint frown, her expression exactly as I remembered. 

Yes, that was her habit—slightly tensing her eyes when she spoke. Those beautiful eyes, still so much like mine. Eyes she inherited from me.

I had fought desperately to keep her away from Chungmu, to protect her from the shadow of her father. Even after Agwi died, I didn’t allow her to come back. 

But I always missed her. Always. 

I wanted to see her. 

“Ji-yoon-ah…”

Tears filled her eyes as I spoke. 

“Mom, you’ve aged so much since I last saw you.” 

Indeed. When did I grow so old? 

I waved my trembling hand and pulled my daughter into an embrace. Every moment of my life, every painful season, seemed to rush back to me, finding comfort in her arms. 

***

“How do you know my granduncle?” 

Si-hoo’s eyes widened at the mention of Han Woojin’s name. 

I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. 

“Just… I know him. That’s all…”

I thought about saying, unsure if it was the right thing to say. 

“Hmm, well, some people who attend the cathedral seem to know him too.”

Si-hoo said with a faint smile, nodding slightly. 

What did he mean by that? 

“Han Woo-jin. He’s better known as Father Michael. He became a Catholic priest a long time ago and lived in a remote part of Africa. Helping refugees, aiding the poor… He was even recognized as a saint by some. A few people know of him because of that, but not many are familiar with his birth name.” 

What? 

I was so shocked that my aged lips parted involuntarily. 

“He didn’t… go to America?”

I stammered, struggling to make sense of it. 

“America? Oh… no, he didn’t.”

Si-hoo replied, tilting his head slightly as he continued. 

“He was very ill. I heard that he participated in the democratization movement in Korea and was hospitalized for a long time due to the aftereffects of torture. He lost his memory and had trouble recognizing people. Apparently, he was incredibly intelligent, and his family had high hopes for him, but everyone was deeply concerned. It took about ten years for him to recover, and after that, he went to seminary and was ordained as a priest.”