The One and Only Snowflake that Looked Like All the Others by Eun Hee-kyung Translated by Janet Hong Around noon on Christmas Day, twelve-year-old Anna met Lucia for the first time. It was in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, decorated with miniature string lights and flowers. No one was there; only the clear winter sunlight shone on Anna’s stunted shadow, the crudely made Three Wise Men, the penniless parents, and naked Jesus, looking a little cold, who lay in a manger. Anna pulled off some of the white cotton that covered the stable roof and put it in her pocket. Like the other children in the south coast town, Anna had never seen real snow before. She tried to pack the cotton into a ball inside her pocket, but the cotton sprung back instantly. She caught sight of a girl walking toward her, stepping noisily on the gravel that covered the front of the church. The afternoon sun bleached the gravel white. Dressed in a cream-colored fur hat and a red winter jacket embroidered with a snowflake pattern, the girl didn’t look a bit cold. Are you Anna? The girl spoke with a Seoul accent, a rare thing to hear in Anna’s city. Anna nodded. She couldn’t speak because she had recently gotten her tonsils removed, which was also the reason she had missed mass the previous week. I’m Lucia. The sister said I should be friends with you. They say you’re the smartest and the best dancer in the whole church. But you’re not as pretty as I thought you’d be. Lucia blinked slowly, fluttering her long, black eyelashes, and then smiled suddenly, creating a dimple only in her left cheek. Anna grinned, too. It was her first time hearing she wasn’t pretty, but to hear it from Lucia didn’t feel all that bad. Anna looked at Lucia’s boots made of synthetic leather. Her red mid-calf boots stamped with a picture of three lambs were the same ones that Anna had on. So is it true? Lucia asked. It doesn’t snow here in the winter? It’s true. Even at Christmas? Even at Christmas. Lucia’s pupils, half covered by her long lashes, darkened with disappointment. My birthday is in the winter, so I have a lot of nice clothes for when it snows. Anna wanted to make Lucia feel better. She told Lucia how people still dressed in thick winter gear, even though it didn’t snow, and stuck out her red boot to demonstrate.
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 2 That spring, Lucia started to attend the same school as Anna. Soon they had spent six Christmases together. For two of those they weren’t speaking to each other because of fights, so they sat diagonally opposite from one another as far apart as possible during the midnight mass. But for the rest of the Christmases, they went to mass hand in hand, watched the Christmas special on television alone when Lucia’s parents had gone out, and roamed the streets ringing with carols with their arms linked together. One year, they even skipped mass and stayed behind in the empty house; they listened to the songs they had recorded, read each other’s journals, and even drank some beer. That had been the previous year. The year before that, when they had been in 10th grade, they had performed a dance together at the church Christmas show. Lucia, who had the main role, danced the arabesque in the middle of the stage. It was now Lucia who was the smartest and prettiest, and the best dancer, but when people saw Lucia by herself, they all asked right away, Where’s Anna? Neither Anna nor Lucia had a boyfriend. This Christmas needs to be really special, said Lucia. When we turn twenty, there won’t be anything fun left to do. We’ll be too busy and bored. Look at all the grownups. Yeah, Anna agreed. Next year, we might even have to go to another city to do our confessions. Anna was thinking of an older girl from church named Cecilia. Every Christmas, Cecilia attended mass in another city. It was difficult for her to confess at the church to Father Stefano, whom she knew too well. So when she slept with a married man and when she had an abortion, Cecilia went to a different church in order to receive absolution from a priest she didn’t know. Because she had no plans to stop seeing the married man, her sins continued. Anna knew that Cecilia had started, from a certain point, to save up her sins, as though she were putting money away in the bank, to receive absolution for everything all at once at the Christmas penance service. Cecilia, who kept no secrets from Anna’s older sister, Anais, came over to the house often, and although she was coy, her voice was on the loud side. Lucia asked, What could we do to make our Christmas special this year? It has to snow, said Anna, who had been looking out the window until then. They were sitting side by side on a Seoul-bound train. Anna’s hair was cut short in a bob and Lucia’s hair was in braids, and under their dark student coats, they had on their high school uniform. They were going to Seoul to attend their last comprehensive review
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 3 classes at a well-reputed preparatory academy. Lucia was to stay at her aunt’s and Anna had obtained a room at a boarding house. Anna’s mother, seeing her off at the train station, had warned several times that Seoul was a dangerous place, and that she should head back to the boarding house as soon as her classes were done. But there were still two months until the university entrance exams, and Christmas was only a month away. It was the first time Anna and Lucia were on their own. For the entire train ride, they talked about the coming Christmas, the Christmas of 1976, the last Christmas they would spend in their teens. But they wished, more than anything, that it would snow that day. Should we pray? Anna said, laughing. There’s no need, Lucia said, bringing her face close to Anna’s. God is always on the side of smart, pretty girls. He’s probably wrapping up our Christmas presents right now—our boyfriends! Anna burst out laughing, just as she always did whenever Lucia joked. It was also because Lucia’s lashes tickled her cheek. Anna’s first impression of Seoul was that it was a cold place. The air was sharp and the gray streets were dry and adrift with dust. The people on the streets sped by, huddled into their coats, their collars raised and hands jabbed into pockets. A fierce gust of wind came near, as though to greet Anna, and removed her scarf from her neck and hurled it to the asphalt. Her face became red and chapped at once. Lucia clasped Anna’s cheeks with her mittened hands and snickered. What happened to you? You look like you got delivered to the North Pole by mistake. That makes two of us, Anna tried to say, but her mouth was frozen and she could not reply. Lucia did not look a bit cold. Lucia was right. It was Anna who had been delivered to the wrong place, not Lucia. Anna’s boarding house was a large, old, one-story, Western-style house. The elderly widow of a retired general lived there with her two daughters. The house was particularly drafty, perhaps because it was situated on top of a hill, but the widow who opened the front door also gave off a chilly draft. We’re not normally the kind of place that rents out rooms. That was the first thing she said to Anna. Anna, carrying her suitcase and school bag, carefully followed the widow up the stone steps. A large garden that hadn’t been tended for a long time came into view. The dead leaves from autumn tumbled over the yellow grass and every last one of the ragged trees appeared to be dead. A plaster statue
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 4 with a missing arm and an outdoor table lay overturned. The paint was peeling, there were cracks everywhere, and each piece of metal was covered with rust; the house looked just like an abandoned warehouse. Anna guessed that to let a house go to ruin this way, the women must be lazy, sick, poor, unhappy or too ugly, judging by the widow’s looks, to receive help from others. It was extremely dark inside. Anna squinted, but she still ended up stepping on a pair of red heels in the entrance. She hurriedly straightened them, but they had been carelessly cast off from the start. The floor creaked with each step she took. She tiptoed after the widow into the living room. Standing beside a heater that had long grown cold, she gave the widow her rent and glanced at the black-and-white family portrait that hung on the wall. The widow sat beside an aged soldier who had many medals pinned to his chest and their two daughters stood behind them. The older daughter, with long straight hair and wearing a black mini dress, and the younger daughter, dressed in a girl’s high school uniform with a white collar, were both beauties. Beside the family photo was a picture of the general by himself in the same attire, holding the same posture and expression. Given the words written in cursive beneath the picture—“November, 1970, Myeongdong Photo Shop”—Anna thought that perhaps the house was unusually chilly and still because of the memories of the deceased. Down the dim, cold hallway were doors that were firmly shut. Anna’s room was the last one. It was so small that a low desk and a spread-out blanket fit snugly. The widow told Anna that the bedroom had been renovated from a shower room, but it still looked more like a shower room than sleeping quarters. All they had done was to pull out the faucets and cover up the floor with a heating pad. The small push-up window with frosted glass was the size of a spread-open English reference book and it was located so high up that Anna had to stretch up on her toes to barely touch it. Anna touched the walls. Tiles still covered them, as though recalling the days of the shower room. They were blue mosaic tiles. The colors, having faded in places, looked like water stains or like blue, undulating waves. But when she rubbed a tile with a fingertip, it was cold, smooth, and hard. Three nails were driven side by side into a wall between the tiles and one had a hanger. Anna removed her coat and hung it on the hanger. Once she did that, she felt as though the room had become hers, and she sat on the blanket and started to unpack. Her
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 5 breath came out white every time she exhaled. That night when she lay down to sleep, she saw water bead on top of the tiles, covering the entire walls. On the first day at the academy, Lucia drew a map of Seoul on a page of recycled notebook paper. This is your neighborhood. The bus that takes you to the academy is #53, and #57 takes you to Namsan. It splits off from Seoul Station, so you’ve got to look at the numbers carefully. Anna asked, Where’s your aunt’s house? Here, across the river. I have to take the #328 bus. But from your boarding house, you first have to get to Seoul Station and then change buses. Then when you cross the river, keep looking outside to make sure you don’t miss your stop. Look at the buildings and signs to remember. But everything looks the same, Anna said. She let out a small sigh. Lucia, who had spent her childhood in Seoul and then went back to visit her aunt every holiday, was used to the city; but Anna wasn’t. How long does it take for someone to go from one end of Seoul to the other? I don’t know. You probably couldn’t do it in a day, even if you walked all day. Anna was shocked. In the south coast town, even the longest field trip didn’t take more than an hour by foot. Even if she got on a city bus to go to a movie theater or bookstore, she could relax and chat with Lucia, and when she looked out the window, sensing that it was time to get off, she was almost always right. But Seoul was different. She knew that there were eight stops to the academy, but when she forgot to count while looking out the window, she could not sense at all how far she had come. But what Anna couldn’t get used to most of all was the sheer size of things, which was completely foreign to her. Because she missed her stop, she was late for class on the very first day. Lucia easily made friends with the other students at the academy. Even though Anna used the standard Seoul dialect, she couldn’t hide her southern accent, and so she hardly opened her mouth. Neither Anna nor Lucia wore their high school uniform from back home anymore. Lucia, whose birthday was in the winter, owned several lovely winter outfits. They had been around the same height at twelve years old, but now, Lucia was taller by a hand span, and on top of that she wore black Mary Jane shoes with a bit of heel. Anna, on the other hand, always wore her black student coat and owned only one scarf. Because she was often late, the sight of Anna rushing into the classroom, out of breath, attracted attention. Lucia always sat in the very front and she always saved a seat
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 6 for Anna. Anna with her flushed face, cutting across the quiet classroom where the lesson had just started, looked cold, rather than embarrassed. Lucia told Anna the stories that went around the school. The history teacher who looked just like the male star who frequently starred in historical dramas, wearing a suit of armor and sword, was actually the celebrity’s brother. The four-story building near the school from which the police had dragged out two young men shouting slogans was the headquarters for the opposition party. Out of all the snack shops in the alley in front of the academy, the second one was the best. At that shop, Anna got her first taste of buckwheat noodles, a kind of food that people ate in cold regions. One bite was salty and the next was bland, and because of the hot mustard, she couldn’t help but tear up. Lucia found the whole thing hilarious and burst into laughter. The math tutor from when Lucia was in 11th grade took her to the bistro behind the old palace and bought her pork cutlets. Anna had also received private lessons with Lucia from the same tutor. He said his daughter goes to university in Seoul. He probably came to meet her. Then why did he want to see you? I don’t know. We met in front of the Hwashin Shopping Center, but he took me inside and bought me a Pilot fountain pen. Why? Who knows? He bought one, too. A shiny black one with a gold band around it. There was a white hexagon etched at the tip. To be honest, I wanted that one. It didn’t suit Old Hippo at all. Old Hippo was the tutor’s nickname. Anna tried to picture his thick hand, which covered the entire page of a notebook whenever he helped solve a math problem, gripping a slender fountain pen or a fork with which he would pierce a piece of pork cutlet. Maybe it was a present for his daughter? It’ll be Christmas soon. How should I know that? Lucia’s eyebrows gathered together in a frown. If you keep asking me things like that, I won’t tell you anything anymore. Sorry, Anna apologized right away. But she thought that if it had been her, she would never have received something like a fountain pen. This math tutor had taught many different groups of students. When Lucia and Anna would arrive for their lesson a little earlier than usual, they would run into the male students who were wrapping up their sessions. One of the boys who had been waiting in the alley followed Anna and Lucia when they finished their tutor session. And after Anna
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 7 said goodbye to Lucia, he approached and handed Anna a letter. He wanted her to give it to Lucia. This happened twice. The second boy even sent Anna a letter, asking if she could help heal the wound he had suffered from Lucia’s rejection. Every time a similar thing would happen, Lucia said, How could this place be full of such bores? This didn’t change much even after they came to Seoul. After glancing around the classroom, she whispered into Anna’s ear, How could there be not a single decent boy at this academy? Lucia’s eyelashes tickled Anna’s cheek, but she didn’t laugh this time. There was actually one decent boy. His name was John. When Lucia had seen his name while collecting the exams, she had asked him if he was Catholic, but without even glancing at her, he bluntly told her “no.” The conversation stopped there. From that point, John became someone Lucia hated for being arrogant and having no manners or a sense of humor. But not Anna. She was convinced that the moment after he had said no, he had looked toward her and smiled. It had been brief, but she was sure. That was the reason Anna’s face had turned red. Just like the times they would head home after their tutor lessons, Anna and Lucia would part at the forked road. This time, Anna was sure that the letter would be meant for her. On top of that, John looked more like the drummer boy from the Christmas card1, the one from a country in the west, than any other boy she knew. Tall with a pale face, his eyes were set on a place far away. It was always the older daughter, Jiyeong, who opened the front door for Anna when she returned from the academy. The widow was rarely home. Jiyeong was now thinner and older than she had been in the portrait that hung in the living room, but she still looked good in black. They hardly spoke to one another. All Jiyeong had ever said was that she had turned on the heater and that Anna should come out into the living room and get warm. Jiyeong, who had graduated from art school, stayed cooped up inside the back room, which also doubled as her studio. Anna had never seen any trace of paint on her black sweater, long flared skirt, or the shawl that was always wrapped around her neck. The lady who came to cook Anna’s supper said that while Jiyeong had been preparing to go study abroad, her father had fallen ill and she had abruptly decided to marry instead, 1 “Coming to a poor child, coming from a country in the west, like a lovely Christmas card, like sleet, glistening on the backs of the lambs…” (Kim Jongsam’s “The Drummer Boy”)
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 8 but had come back to her parents’ house before the year was up. The lady had only one word for the younger daughter, Minyeong, and that was “flirt.” Whenever Anna would see Minyeong, as rare as it was, she would have in her hand a bag marked with the logo from a hotel bakery, department store, or some upscale boutique. It almost seemed as though her reason for going was to receive presents. From the first moment, Anna was intimidated by her glamour, vivaciousness, and arrogance. Compared to her sister, Jiyeong was like a quiet block of ice inside a glass bowl. She may appear to be cold and hard, but she was melting slowly and might one day disappear altogether. After coming home from the academy, Anna spent most of her time alone in her room. Sitting at the low table, she studied, wrote letters, and wrote in her journal, and when her hands grew too cold, she lay down under her blanket. Her face, peeping out of the blanket, was cold, but the heating pad warmed her body. Sometimes she would fall asleep that way, sucked in by the warmth. And very rarely, she would wake up at the sound of Jiyeong’s quiet footsteps in the hallway. When she would lie still, listening to the creaking of the floor, her chest hurt, just as it would when she would hear someone cry silently. Only Anna and Jiyeong would be home in the dim, cold, empty house in the afternoons. The house was as quiet as the inside of a ship that was slowly sinking. When Anna would pass through the hallway to have dinner, she would see the light leaking out of the crack under Jiyeong’s door, but even that appeared dim. When night would come and the temperature would drop, walls of blue ice would form in Anna’s room. The moisture on top of the tiles would freeze and cover the walls with a transparent film. And then in the middle of the night, she would wake from her sleep, surrounded by the glittering mosaic tiles. She even had a dream once where she had turned into a glass bowl filled with ice. Even after opening her eyes, she had continued to lie there for a long time, her breath white like a vampire’s. Only when she couldn’t wait any longer did she get up to go to the bathroom. Her habit of holding her bladder was a habit she had acquired in Seoul. After coming back from the academy, she always ran past the front door because she had to go to the bathroom. In Seoul, it took a long time to go from one place to another. Perhaps Seoul people regularly emptied their bladders whenever they saw a bathroom, even when they didn’t need to, just as how people would eat at mealtimes even though they wouldn’t be hungry. If it were like
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 9 before, she would have asked Lucia. But she couldn’t. That was another change after coming to Seoul; there were more and more things she couldn’t ask Lucia. Plus, when the light of dawn would come through the small window the size of an English reference book and reflect off the blue tiles, a face would appear before her, but it was something she didn’t want to tell anyone about. That face often haunted Anna. Whenever Anna took the bus, she always looked out the window, but it wasn’t signs or buildings she was watching. Even after they had grown close, John remained relatively quiet. He didn’t seem interested in talking about the things that students easily talked about at the academy— why he had decided to study another year for the university entrance exam, which high school he had graduated from, or which university he was planning to apply to. He was always one of the top five students, so he never lost his scholarship, but he didn’t appear to study hard. The only sport he liked was baseball; the one instrument he knew how to play was the harmonica; he was the youngest son; he didn’t really like his father, who was a pastor; he liked wearing wool sweaters that had been hand-knitted; he smoked occasionally; he thought the future was bound to be dull, regardless of what he became in life; he owned several copies of the fall issue of Playboy and offered to lend them to girls without any qualms; he found it relaxing to listen to American pop songs when he was by himself because he didn’t understand the lyrics; he could rapidly twirl a pencil between his fingers; he knew how to fix bicycles; he was confident he could knock down two guys, even though he hadn’t been in many fights; he didn’t like the United States but he liked hippies; he didn’t like the army but he liked officers in the air force; he liked going for walks on his own; and he hated nagging, Olympic gold medals, guys who played the guitar well, and all team sports. These were the only things Anna knew about John. But there was far more that she wanted to know. Like if he had ever been to her south coast town; if he liked the sea, that was constantly changing; if he knew the poet Kim Jongsam; if he had ever worried about his serious, narrow-minded, and aloof personality; what colors he would wear once spring and summer came; if he had ever read as a child the fairytale of children in Northern Europe who dressed in fur hats and scarves and skated away on the frozen canal to a faraway land; if he liked the sound of the bicycle horn echoing in the alleyway at dusk; if he liked the smell of the evening rain when his mother
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 10 would send him out on an errand to buy some tofu; if he liked hot chocolate and chrysanthemum cakes just removed from the hot griddle; if he had ever stood by the window and read aloud Anton Schnack’s “Things that Make Us Sad;” if he had gone to a public bath on a fine spring day and shed the long johns he had worn all winter for his walk home and sensed that he had grown a little taller; if he had ever come back from a field trip in late autumn and been left alone in an empty house and had imagined growing old and felt sad all of a sudden; if he had had dreams recently of trying to take down someone’s phone number but the pen wasn’t working and across the way that person’s bus was about to leave but he couldn’t get close because of the crowds, and then finally he was getting ready to go meet that person but no water would come out of the tap so he couldn’t even wash his face and then on top of that a burglar came into the house but strangely enough he couldn’t stop laughing even though he was terrified, and all he could do was to keep laughing like a madman; if he’s ever had these never-ending dreams; if he’s ever liked short, thin girls; if he thinks the blouse she wore yesterday looks better or the vest she wore today; if he agrees with Lucia that putting a pin in bobbed hair looks unfashionable; what he would like to get for Christmas—a pair of gloves or a harmonica; and what he was planning to do for Christmas. But she couldn’t ask him anything. John was Lucia’s boyfriend. She believed that God had wrapped the wrong present, but that was what it was. There were many days the three of them walked from Jongno to Myeongdong after their classes at the academy. Lucia and Anna walked in front and John followed from behind. I think I need to get glasses, Anna said to Lucia, squinting straight ahead. I can’t really read the bus numbers. Faraway signs, too. Do you think I’ll look okay in glasses? No, Lucia said. Glasses look good on people with thin faces, but your face isn’t thin. You think so? Anna agreed easily, because she didn’t want John to overhear. She changed the topic. Your uncle didn’t say anything this time? Why? Because I’m going out on Sunday? Yeah. He said going to church is okay. He just worries, because he sees way too many bad people. Lucia’s uncle was a police officer who carried around handcuffs in his pocket. But rather than catching bad guys, he usually went out on patrols around shops or the
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 11 marketplace. He would sometimes come back from his patrols with money for Lucia’s aunt or things like running shoes or apples for Lucia. I think people at the market give him anything if he asks for it. Since he has handcuffs, he probably has a gun, too. To be honest, my uncle looks a little scary. Lucia looked at Anna and laughed, and then turned to look at John. At times like these, Anna could pretend to follow along and safely look at John for a long time. When the two girls would look, John would be whistling, but it wasn’t certain whether he had heard what they were talking about. Like this, they arrived at the Myeongdong bus station and it was always Anna who got on the bus first. It was always the same, whether Lucia’s #328 or John’s #84 arrived first. When Anna, after having climbed on, would look outside to wave at them, putting her face right up against the bus window, Lucia would already be telling John something with a dimple only in her left cheek. Because her bus would pull away then, she never saw John reply. It was gray outside the window and the air was dry. Christmas was a week away but it hadn’t snowed in Seoul yet. Anna and Lucia went to the Myeongdong Cathedral the first two Sundays in Seoul. On the third Sunday, Anna couldn’t recognize Lucia right away. Lucia had let out her braids and was wearing a red plaid coat, black stockings, and a beret like the main character from the movie One Hundred Men and a Girl. While putting on her headscarf, Lucia whispered to Anna, How do I look? You look like a college student. You think I could get into a bar? Anna nodded and said, Yeah, but you’re at church. I’m going to go after church. The two giggled and stood up when the first note of the Introit sounded from the microphone. Led by the altar boys, the bishop, dressed in a purple robe with his hands gathered in prayer, walked to the altar. The Lord be with you. And with your spirit. Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God. It is right and just. The choir took up the Missa Cantata. Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts. Heaven and earth are full of Your glory. Hosanna in the highest. An envelope dropped from Anna’s hymnbook. She hurriedly picked it up and put it back between the pages. What’s that? Oh, Jiyeong asked me to mail it for her.
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 12 The people kneeled on the prie-dieu. Lucia stole a glance at Anna, who had her elbows placed on top of the pew in front, hands neatly gathered in prayer, and eyes tightly closed. After mass, as they were making their way down the sloping road in front of the cathedral, Lucia asked, What were you praying so hard about back there? Oh, to get into university. Yeah right, you’re lying. At the beginning of the year, they had already promised each other that they would not to do something as shameless as bothering God with things they should take care of on their own. Tell me the truth. What were you asking for? I was… Anna, who was going to make up an excuse, stopped walking. In front of the statue of the Virgin Mary was a tall boy, wearing a gray knitted jumper and basketball shoes. It was John. Are you surprised? Lucia, who had not taken her eyes off Anna, asked jokingly. That’s what I’d prayed for. Although she guessed that they’d already had plans to meet, Anna wasn’t bothered by Lucia’s words. It had been Anna who had prayed to see John, and the only important thing that moment was that her prayer had been answered. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing she had prayed for. Let’s go to Namsan, Lucia said as she leaned toward Anna and linked arms with her. Anna hadn’t noticed inside the church, but she caught a sweet, fragrant whiff of Lucia’s makeup. As they got closer and closer to John, Anna said something she hadn’t planned on saying. It might snow today. Myeongdong was filled with people because of Christmas, but Anna believed she could spot John easily in a crowd. It didn’t snow that day. They climbed countless steps and stood in the garden in front of a large library and gazed down at the city of Seoul. They walked through a pine grove where dry pine needles cushioned the ground, were blasted with wind, and did a lot of walking. Anna cowered from the cold, but Lucia, even though she wore a skirt, didn’t look a bit cold. Rosy-cheeked, she was full of energy as she skipped from tree to tree. At an outdoor amphitheater, Lucia, with outstretched arms, stepped down each tier in rhythm and went onto the stage and immediately assumed ballet’s first position. Then, humming one of Chopin’s nocturnes, she began to dance the arabesque. It was the same dance from the Christmas show. Lucia in red, wearing black stockings and Mary Jane shoes, her scarf
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 13 fluttering in the air as she danced. From below the stage, John silently gazed up at Lucia, his hands in his pockets. The groups of high school students at the church back home were called cells. The Christmas show was put on by cell groups from different schools. A dance senior from Anna’s school who was coaching the school cell agonized over whom to pick for the main role—Anna or Lucia. Anna was the better dancer. But it was Lucia who shone on stage and that was also important in a performance. This was apparent by simply observing John’s eyes at this moment. Anna stood a few steps behind John. Lucia cried from on top of the stage. Anna! Come up! Let’s dance together! John turned to look at Anna. Anna, who had been watching John, hurriedly looked away. She wanted to show John, but she sensed that somehow it would not go well. The same thing had happened at the Christmas show. When the spotlight shone, Lucia was able to dance elegantly, and for some reason, Anna’s movements became stiffer than Lucia’s. The senior student was relieved that she had made the right decision, but at the same time she thought it strange. Anna was pretty enough to have the lead role. But when she was in a crowd, she blended in with the others, and especially around Lucia, she lost her light. Lucia came down from the stage and went toward John, slightly out of breath. I’m hungry now. A dimple appeared in her left cheek. John grinned at Lucia whose cheeks were aglow and puffs of breath were coming out white. Anna wanted to go back home. She wished she would slowly melt and disappear somewhere. But Lucia pulled on Anna’s hand and said brightly, You said you wanted to try pork cutlets. What Lucia wanted was for Anna to see her with John, and Anna knew that as well. Anna shook her head. When did I say that? While eating vermicelli noodles at a snack shop, Lucia told John how Anna had tears in her eyes when she had tried hot mustard for the first time. Lucia cackled, but John and Anna didn’t laugh. What should we do on Christmas Eve? It’s next Friday, Lucia said, the ends of her chopsticks resting against her lips as though she were deep in thought. When John said that he wanted to see the ocean, Anna was happy, but Lucia looked aghast. Did you forget we’re from a coast town? I just thought of this now, but why don’t we go to the zoo? The zoo? Anna repeated.
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 14 Yeah. Let’s go see what elephants and hippos do when it’s cold. We’ll drop in and say hi. Especially to the hippos. Anna thought the idea was lovely, something she never would have thought up on her own. Would there be white polar bears? Even if there were, bears would probably be hibernating in the winter. But perhaps they would be awake because they didn’t to sleep through the cold season that reminded them of the weather back home. That’s what Anna thought. But when she said this, Lucia criticized her by saying it was an odd thought, and said that she had only been joking about going to the zoo. Who would go to a boring place like that on Christmas? We have to go to Myeongdong where it will be ringing with carols and go to bars bustling with people and to midnight mass as well. We’re going to stay up all night. There won’t even be a curfew. As they walked to Seoul Station to take the bus, they saw a vapor trail from an airplane. There was not a speck in the sky, like clear blue cloth had been stretched tight, and on top of that blue, the plane was passing slowly, drawing a thin, white line. The sky must have roads. Just look at the airplane go, Anna mumbled. You’re not the only one who thinks that, Lucia said coldly. Anna closed her mouth. The Lucia from before would never have said something like that to her. She would have said, Hey, I thought the same thing, too. But it wasn’t only Lucia who had changed after coming to Seoul. It was after Anna had gotten on the bus that she realized she hadn’t mailed Jiyeong’s letter. Jiyeong had asked Anna to mail it for her on her way home after mass, saying that Jungang Post Office in Myeongdong was open on Sundays. It was an international letter that could not simply be dropped into a mailbox. The widow and the younger daughter both slept in on Sundays, but it seemed that Jiyeong didn’t want to ask them. Anna took out the envelope from her hymnbook and shook it. Was it a Christmas card? It seemed like a card, but it was already too late for it to arrive in a foreign country by Christmas Day. Perhaps it was a birthday card. The country that was written on the envelope was France and the receiver was a man’s name. Anna pictured a young man, his easel positioned in front of cage at a small zoo in France, painting a polar bear. He would be a poor international student and if Anna were to go to Jiyeong and ask her if he had been her first love, she would calmly say that Anna was right. Anna was going to Myeongdong with Lucia and John on Christmas Eve and she decided to mail the envelope then. It would only be five days late.
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 15 The weather was murky on Friday. People poured out onto the streets, and the general mood at the academy was so charged with anticipation that the students could not concentrate. It was Lucia’s idea to go home first and then meet in Myeongdong again in the evening; otherwise there would be too much time to kill. Anna knew that Lucia wanted to go back home so that she could change into something more festive. She would let out her braids and put on some lip-gloss. Anna also knew that Lucia had bought John a present. She had saved up her allowance for two whole weeks without spending any money and she had prepared many excuses for not going back to her aunt’s that night and she might have even packed some lotion and a fresh pair of socks in her bag like the times they went on short trips. Lucia had said on the train ride to Seoul, This Christmas needs to be really special. And like she had mentioned, it was the last Christmas they would spend in their teens, and after that, the busy, boring lives of grownups would be awaiting them. And because Lucia had a boyfriend this Christmas, this year—their sixth together—was definitely different from all the other Christmases. Anna never imagined that Lucia might not show up. John and Anna waited for two hours. John didn’t budge from the spot they had agreed upon, while Anna stood in line at the payphone for a long time to call the aunt’s house; every time it was her turn again, she called Lucia, but no one picked up. It was cold and dark. As the day grew darker, the Myeongdong streets became frenzied with people, bright neon signs, Christmas carols. At the entrance of the cathedral was a gigantic arch decorated with countless light bulbs and a television station van was parked below it to set up the stage. It was difficult to stand in one spot because of the people pushing and bumping into them. They all looked excited and nearly shouted when they spoke. What should we do? Anna asked John, also in a loud voice. John said something in response, but because she couldn’t hear, she had to lean towards him. John suggested that they eat dinner first and then figure out what they were going to do. In every restaurant, teahouse, and bar, there was no room to even set foot. In the end, they managed to find a dumpling restaurant with a corner table. They ate and came back out onto the streets. The homemade dumplings were too salty, and Anna drank two glasses of water. The people multiplied as the night went on. Because she had never seen so many people in one place, Anna’s ears rang and her head pounded. John didn’t suggest going back home and neither did he suggest going somewhere else. Anna thought they
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 16 were going around the same block three times, but she walked with him without saying anything. Finally, John opened his mouth. Found it. It was a music listening café. But there were no seats and the line of people waiting went all the way to the door. This isn’t going to work, muttered John. There was nothing else to do except go home. Just then, Anna remembered. That’s right, I have to mail something at Jungang Post Office. John led the way and she followed. John waited for Anna every time she fell behind because of the crowds, but strangely enough, even if she lagged one step behind, he somehow knew right way and stopped walking. The post office was also bustling with people. There was a long line of people sending late Christmas cards or New Year’s cards, and those holding presents. John discovered a window with a sign that said “International mail” and told Anna. The two of them lined up there. Anna vacantly watched the employees who looked tired and disgruntled toss the mail carelessly. You know, John said. Is Anna your Christian name? How did you know? When we went to Namsan, I heard Junhui call you Anna. What’s Junhui’s Christian name? Lucia. Lucia, John repeated. She suddenly said, My Christian name isn’t Anna. It’s actually Johanna. Anna is short for Johanna. So Junhui’s Christian name is Lucia, and your Christian name is Johanna, but Anna is short for Johanna, right? Anna looked at John. She suddenly felt frustrated. That’s not important. But she didn’t speak these words. John had no idea why Anna pursed her lips together right then and gazed anxiously back at him. It was customary to call John’s bride Johanna. Anna wished John knew that. If she wanted to tell him, this was her only chance. But she couldn’t when Lucia wasn’t there. After they stepped out of the post office, they saw the cars and buses at a complete standstill on the congested roads. John suggested that they walk to Seoul Station and then take the bus from there, and so they started walking. After a few steps, everything before Anna swayed all of a sudden and she blinked. Should she have gotten glasses? Something white flew through the air; there was more and more of it drifting. A cold wetness clung to the bridge of her nose and lips. All of a sudden, the streets swayed, just like when you have your eye on the viewfinder and take a few steps to take a picture.
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 17 Anna stretched out her arms with her palms raised to the heavens, like the Three Wise Men worshipping the baby Jesus. Snow, she muttered. This is the first time I’ve seen snow. John asked her if it was true. Without answering, Anna opened her mouth and stared up at the sky. I wanted to tell you before, John said, touching her arm lightly. You know where I saw you for the first time? I saw you from inside a bus. John, after changing buses at Seoul Station, had spotted Anna who was in the corner and had her eyes fixed outside the entire time. Short bobbed hair and a black student coat, looking anxious. He was sure she was one of the students from the country, who had started attending the academy around that time. He watched Anna until he got off. Even when they came to the bus stop where there were many academies, Anna didn’t get up from her seat but kept holding onto the handle and looking out the window. So when Anna, with a reddened face, ran into the classroom after the lesson had started, John knew why she was late. There were several instrument shops around the bus stop where she had gotten off. She didn’t get off at the wrong stop only on the first day. When she would realize that she had made yet another mistake, she would heave a sigh and then start back slowly. She would listen to the music flowing out of the speakers, stop in front of the display windows, and gaze at the instruments for a long time. Ever since she had started thinking that she wanted to give John a harmonica as a present, she would linger a little longer, but she never went inside the shop. Actually I saw you at Seoul Station again after that, while waiting for the bus. You sometimes took the wrong bus, right? Anna sometimes got on the #57, which went to Namsan, instead of the #53, which went to the academy; but she would only realize once the bus pulled out of Seoul Station. John grinned. A few times, I waved at you. I wanted to tell you to get off. But you didn’t see me and you’d just go. Why were you always so lost in thought? What were you thinking about? The snow was falling heavily. Muffled by the snow, John’s voice sounded as though it were coming from far away. But he wasn’t far away. He was beside Anna. Nineteen-year old Johanna was walking along the snow-covered street with John on a white Christmas Eve. They still needed to walk for a while to get to Seoul Station. The way may be dark and sinister, but if they were to meet hoodlums along the way, John would be able to knock down two of them easily enough, and meanwhile, just as a
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 18 girlfriend should, Anna would stand by his side and watch; there were many things Anna wanted to know about John, and if he were to answer all of her questions, she would walk with him until morning. They would stop in front of a small church and perhaps John would confess to Anna that he no longer liked to walk alone. That night Jesus would be born wherever they would go and miniature string lights would sparkle and carols would echo. And the white snow would cover up the whole thing. Like sleet, glistening on the backs of the lambs. In a moment like this, just as the sound of the tambourine would travel wide and far, the snow would also be falling on Jupiter, Mars, and even Pluto. You didn’t go to the midnight mass? Jiyeong said, as she opened the front door. Anna, holding the front flaps of her coat closed together, stepped through the door with her head down. Your friend called. Three times. You didn’t meet her? No. Jiyeong noticed that Anna’s voice lacked energy, but she didn’t ask why. As they stepped into the living room, Anna said in a small voice, The letter. I mailed it today. Jiyeong’s expression asked, Why now?, but this time, too, she didn’t say anything. As Anna walked down the hall, the floor moaned under her feet. Once she stepped into her room, Anna took off her heavy coat and collapsed on top of her blanket. The blue tiled walls came into view. They no longer looked like undulating waves or walls of glistening ice. Instead, she saw two lovers lying down with hands clasped together, being swept away somewhere, while blue curtains whipped in the storm. Anna had opened Jiyeong’s letter. She had seen the Christmas card that Jiyeong was returning and the picture on the card. Anna didn’t think she would ever forget the picture. The bride, sheathed in a blue wind, was serenely asleep, while the man who held the woman was awake with eyes filled with sadness and anxiety. Anna saw his sad eyes. And the light that shone on the storm, the crashing waves, the moon, lightening, and the sea—she saw the blue light that was inside everything. It was fierce and confusing, like the color of the sea that Anna saw from when she was young, and it contained a kind of sadness you would not be able to escape from in the end, if you became swept up by it. That night, Anna cried a long time for the first time since arriving in Seoul. How much time passed? The front door was thrown open and Minyeong’s drunken shouts were heard, followed by
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 19 Jiyeong’s quiet murmurs. Soon there was the sound of crying. It was hard to believe that the sad crying belonged to either Jiyeong or Minyeong. Anna kept quiet and listened. Lucia had ended up going to the police station in handcuffs. For fun, she had slipped her hands into the handcuffs and they had somehow locked and even though she had rummaged through her uncle’s pockets many times, she couldn’t find the key. She wrapped a scarf around her wrists many times to hide the handcuffs, like the Little Princess’s fur muff, and went to her uncle’s police station on Christmas Eve. Her uncle was out on patrol, and an officer who ranked higher than her uncle kept cracking jokes as he unlocked the handcuffs. All those who were there gathered around and had themselves a good laugh. A pretty girl in a red coat, wearing lip-gloss, with long hair that went past her shoulders and a dimple that formed only in her left cheek, had never come to the station in handcuffs before. Didn’t you think that I would call your boarding house? No. I kept calling you. What’s the use of calling me when no one’s home? Who would be home on Christmas Eve anyway? Jiyeong was home. You mean that pathetic divorcee who never goes out? Lucia knew it wasn’t Anna’s fault but she was angry all the same. They didn’t say anything while they walked to the bus stop after their classes at the academy. Lucia didn’t stop at the bus stop but kept walking, so Anna followed. It seemed that she was going to walk to Myeongdong even without John. But Lucia didn’t stop even at the Myeongdong bus stop. Where Lucia was heading was to the cathedral. Anna followed and stopped in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, who was decorated with flowers. They stood side by side with their mouths shut, looking down at their shoes for a long time. Anna’s shoes were plain student loafers and Lucia was wearing new dress shoes adorned with ribbons. Anna didn’t realize while they had been walking, but the wind was fierce; she shivered. She thought of their coastal town. Even at Christmas, the white gravel in front of the church would be warm. Hey, Anna finally said. You remember our boots? Lucia glanced at her without saying anything. We had the same boots and there were three lambs stamped on the boots, you remember? Yeah, Lucia said. So what?
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 20 Anna looked right at Lucia. I can’t remember if there was snow falling in the logo or not. There was no snow. Lucia fluttered her long lashes slowly and leaned a little toward Anna. You’re thinking about that picture on the Christmas card you like so much. Like sleet, glistening on the backs of the lambs. You memorized it? Anna grinned. Yeah, I wanted to know everything you like. Why? I don’t know, Lucia said, her voice rising a little. How am I supposed to explain something like that? A young woman came near. Anna thought that she looked like Cecilia. When they saw her take out her headscarf and rosary to pray, they moved out of the way. As soon as the woman kneeled down, she started to cry. Anna and Lucia exchanged looks and left soon after that. Immediately following Christmas was the school break. From that point, the academy became chaotic and there was a large turnover of students. There was no sign of John after Christmas. Neither Anna nor Lucia talked about that. They studied hard for the entire month of January. Lucia visited Anna’s boarding house once. As always, only Jiyeong was home. When Lucia asked Jiyeong, without any reservation, if they could see her studio, Anna was a little surprised. Although she had lived at the house for over a month, Anna had never been able to ask anything like that. To her surprise, Jiyeong calmly let Lucia and Anna into the room. As Anna followed Lucia inside, Anna believed Jiyeong would have said yes even if Anna had been the one to ask. It was brighter inside than she had imagined. Countless canvases stood stacked together and there were also many on the easels that were not yet finished. They were mostly blue in tone. And like the picture on the card, the lovers were entwined as they drifted down the water, but their expressions were much more tormented. Lucia was impressed. Wow, they’re amazing. Really? Jiyeong said serenely. While Lucia fluttered her long lashes, wearing a mock-serious expression with her right hand on her cheek, Anna gazed at a small painting on a wall. It was of a lovely house filled with blooming flowers. It looked like late spring. The green grass in the garden was just starting to sprout and the cherry tree branches that had drawn up water deep from the ground had light green leaves and beyond the cherry blossoms that have
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 21 just begun to scatter, purple lilac, white plum flowers, and red squash flowers were in full bloom. Royal azalea and bridal wreaths covered the ground. And in the midst of the blooms the hair of a female nude sculpture flapped in the air, as though she were going to fly straight up into the sky. And on top of a garden table, which was painted delicately and neatly like white lace, was a rectangular tray, holding a glass bottle and glasses reflecting the spring light. There were four glasses in all, each with a differing amount of red juice in them. One had gulped it down at once, one had sipped slowly, one a little more slowly, and one had not even touched it. The mark of a moment in spring that has long past, where four different people had gathered together in one place. For some reason, that made Anna sad. One spring thirty-two years later, in a museum in Europe, Anna saw the picture she had seen in Jiyeong’s card. It was Oskar Kokoschka’s The Bride of the Wind. Although she had seen it only once and so very long ago, she was certain that she was right. She hadn’t forgotten the words that had been written on the card either. My dream is to send you a birthday card when you’re seventy years old. And I wish to die in my wife’s embrace at ninety-four. Someone had sent the card to Jiyeong. Perhaps that someone had written and sent those words, wanting to retaliate for the love he had lost by living a tough, enduring life, just as Kokoschka had done, having failed to win Alma Mahler. And Jiyeong had sent it back, because she ultimately couldn’t accept the message. After she saw the painting, she bought a Kokoschka art book at the gift shop and went into the museum café. While drinking coffee, she flipped through the book until her eyes stopped on a phrase. If our love cannot be fulfilled on this earth, even if we should wander the stormy night sky, let us be united for eternity. It was what Kokoschka had attached to The Bride of the Wind. Anna thought that if that someone had written these words instead, perhaps Jiyeong would not have returned the card. People always misunderstood lonely people. They were not strong or brittle and neither did they enjoy being alone. And even if people may not be alone, they always carry a sense of loneliness. Just like the sleepless lover in Kokoschka’s painting, we—while in embrace—are each drifting down the rainstorm of blue waves. In May of that year, the same year she returned from her trip to Europe, Anna saw in the newspaper the pictures that NASA Mars Exploration Rover had taken. After
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 22 landing on the Martian Arctic Circle, the rover had transmitted the pictures to Earth at the speed of light. It really was snowing on Mars. According to the caption, the snow does not actually touch the surface; it would disappear before landing. When Anna recalled the Christmas of 1976, the only memory she had was of how she had wandered the streets that night in desperate search of a bathroom. She had wanted to keep walking until morning. But from a certain point, she could not walk properly. She bit her lips so hard that her chin shook. Inside her coat pockets, her hands clasped her distended lower belly that was stretched as taut as it could be and because she was straining the muscles below her navel, she couldn’t breathe properly. At one point, a few drops of urine fell on her shoe. When she felt a stream of warmth trail down one of her legs, Anna started to run. Her name was cried repeatedly from behind, but she couldn’t answer or turn. She sobbed while running. When she saw an open door in a building, she rushed inside without thinking and started to climb the dark stairs with all her might. She knocked on every door between floors, but all the bathrooms were locked. Anna’s panting grew louder and strength left her with every step. When she had climbed up to the fifth floor, Anna pulled down her skirt and squatted at the landing. Hot urine slowly pooled between her legs like thick, murky liquid. Everything was dark and deadly quiet. Only the neon lights of the motel in the alleyway flashed, alternately illuminating and hiding the dark puddle at Anna’s feet. After she stood and pulled up her clothes, she sluggishly made her way down the stairs, practically hanging onto the railings. In the world at that moment, every door was closed and not a single person was waiting for Anna. Was it still snowing? In the next instant, Anna was so terrified that she began to run. A glistening stream of dark liquid was oozing down the steps, following Anna. If the fetus that Cecilia had given birth to in secret and abandoned had had a shape and form, this would be it. Filled with secrets and filthy happiness, sin and shame and the complete loneliness of the one who had not been chosen, it was flowing down the steps after Anna. Running down the stairs in desperation, Anna muttered to herself, No, I didn’t pray for that. All I did was pray for snow. That was true. Anna had a dream once. She had simply dreamed was that it was also snowing on Jupiter, Mars, and Pluto, like the Christmas card from a country in the west.
Eun (trans. Hong) / The One and Only Snowflake / 23 Nothing happened on Christmas of 1976. Perhaps it had never even snowed. Pluto disappeared from the celestial bodies and the snow falling on Mars, the one and only snowflake that looked all the others, would never touch the surface.