The Soft Part
by John Oliver Hodges

On a hill in Hongdae Subi cut pork strips with scissors while Insook, whom she had not seen in thirteen years, spoke of leaving her husband three days prior. The breakup had been void of hitch: no shouts, no protests, no vacillation of desire; no trying to work things out, just nothing. “I packed my bag while he watched TV,” Insook said. “I didn’t say goodbye.”

Subi flipped the meat strips with chopsticks, saying “ung” and “nae” as Insook marveled over the lack of passion in the thing. She said, “It would have been nice to see him cry. Had he hit me, that would have been better than what he didn’t do. He didn’t get out of the couch.” Insook laughed like a snorting pig. The laughter took Subi back to their days growing up in Yeongdeok, to the summer of the rains, the summer they swore to be friends forever.

That summer was known as the busiest rainy season in Korea’s history. The rains ran down crazily from the mountains to flood the cities, and the windy fangs of the rains sunk into and mangled umbrellas by the thousand so that a shortage of working umbrellas caused residents of their village to stay inside. Through windows and open doorways people eyed the empty streets pounded by falling walls of splashing silver, and the brave ones called forth by necessity to acquire cookie packs, rice, coffee and, in Subi and Insook’s neighborhood, candles due to the electrical shutdown.

That summer Subi was nine, Insook ten. Each day, before the monsoon started, the girls had climbed the mountain to a secret cave. The cave was halfway up a steep hill overlooking a field of bright green clovers with purple spots on their leaves. The small trees growing sideways out of the hill were sturdy, and partially covered the cave’s oblong entrance. The cave was difficult to spot if you happened to be wandering by. It took several hours to get there, so each time they went, they brought supplies, old blankets and baskets and bottles of water. They made a home of the cave, played house. Insook was the husband. She bundled her hair up and wore a hat, and always changed out of her dress into boy clothes once they were in the cave. As Insook’s wife, Subi made small fires on the lip of the cave and fried strips of meat. Sometimes she knelt before her onni and caressed her feet as she had often seen her mother do for her dad. This was their happy play place away from home. They suffered many beatings for staying out beyond their curfews. The fun was worth getting in trouble.

So when the rains did not let up, Subi and Insook missed their time high on the mountain in their cave. One day at Insook’s they snuck a bottle of soju from her father’s liquor box. He would miss it, come looking for Insook, but the rains were so oppressive and conducive to boredom that her dad’s wrath might even be welcome. Up in the dusty attic they finished the bottle and, drunk, decided to travel through the mud and greenery and rain to the cave. Upon their arrival, soaking wet, they found a man.

He was handsome, dressed in American sneakers and pinstriped trousers. He was just lying there. The girls squatted on the lip of the cave in the rain, staring down upon him. They knew something was wrong. “Hey!” Insook finally said. The man remained motionless. In Spurts the girls closed the space between them. They scolded him for invading their space, then tossed pebbles onto his face. Subi reached her foot out and pressed it against his arm. She felt that he was not warm.

They could drag him to the lip and toss him over, but if anybody saw him later, their cave would be spotted, their good times over. He would smell if they did that, they knew. They should drag him somewhere to bury. In the pounding rain the earth would be soft. They could dig a hole for him with their hands

“No, we should report it,” Subi said.

“Do you want to die?”

“But his family?”

“He is a criminal. You want his family to know?”

Insook switched out of her dress into pants and a shirt, put on her hat. 

The rain whipped leaves off the trees growing out of the rock. Branches were torn from the trunks of the larger trees below. The low sky thick with clouds the color of dark soup was course yet puffy. The cave darkened quicker than expected. They lit candles. Light flickered over the dead man’s face. His looks were above average. He was pretty.

Insook was the man of the mountain. She gave the final on decisions. She grabbed an arm. She motioned for Subi to help. With difficulty they tugged him to the lip. His hands reached out into the rain. They were going to push him over. Subi watched the rain splashing in his palms. The rain turned a darker color. Then stones smacked his hands, causing his fingers to wiggle. Next they heard a loud rumble. The mountain shook. Debris fell over the mouth of the cave.

The friends hunkered back. They held each other in the back of the cave until the turmoil ceased. It was darker. They crawled to the lip, peered over, saw that the field of clovers below them had vanished. They now looked down vertically upon the rearranged forest.

The dead man stayed in the cave all night, his hands out in the rain like a sleeping beggar’s. In the morning they saw that his hands had changed color. Didn’t seem right leaving him that way, so they pulled him back onto the hump of rock and dirt where it was dry. The rain showed no signs of slowing. They finished their snacks. They slept. They drank water from clay jars, and days passed, and Insook nibbled at his ears. She tried sawing his hand off with their fruit knife. The body had swollen up and the man’s face was now bloated. His lips and eyes perhaps. They unlatched his belt, pulled the pinstriped trousers down to his knees. Subi held it firmly as Insook sawed through from below. She tugged. It came free in her hands. Insook cut it into smaller pieces, scallops and strips. Subi built a fire with the dry wood they had stored.

The meat saved their lives. They did not eat it all at once, but slowly over the next few days. They were going to have to again cut away at him, but a piece of the mountain above gave way to another slide. The mountain trembled. The mouth of the cave turned dark with a speeding mass of green shrubbery and rocks and stones that spilled into the cave. The cave’s opening closed, then opened a little, and closed again. When the earth stopped moving, there was a small opening. The dead man was buried. They climbed into the earth, wiggling forward like frogs, their legs behind kicking the mud and debris. Subi’s onni poked her head through first, and by the sound she made, Subi knew. The mud had provided them with a path to safety. They were sickly, covered in mud and frail. They slipped down the mountain to their families.

“I thought he would understand,” Insook said. She set her chopsticks down and covered her face with both hands.

“Onni,” Subi said. The meat on the grill was getting too crispy so she flicked it along to the side. Though they had just started eating, and Subi was very hungry, she couldn’t look at her samgyopsal now.  

“It’s been hard,” Insook said. Her hands still covered her face. Subi felt bad for her old friend, but she’d told herself not to relinquish the resentment she’d felt for all these years. Wasn’t it Insook, the man of their family, who’d insisted that they never see each other? Seeing each other could only remind them of their time on the mountain. Their crime. Subi had been so heartbroken back then, but seeing her friend like this now, the bad feelings vanished. As they had finished their beer, Subi raised her hand for the waiter. “Yogiyo!” she called out. She ordered another Cass. It gave Insook the excuse to stop sniffling, and in a few minutes they were eating the meat again. Insook looked like a big lobster holding the tongs in one hand and the large meat scissors in the other.

Taking a chance, Subi said, “It’s really too bad we didn’t have those scissors up on the mountain.” Insook tried stifling the laugh that wanted to break free. In doing so a bit of snot burst from her nose. Then came the loud piggy laughter Subi loved so. It seemed like only yesterday that they’d been in the cave up high on the mountain. When they left the restaurant, the entire wait staff shouted, “Thank you for eating here! Come visit us again!” A light rain had started, but only Subi had an umbrella. She opened it and the two women, in heels, made their way down the hill.