Excerpt
A Twist of Fate
Chapter 1Can I reset my life? Can I hit delete and start over from a perfect clean slate?
These are the only thoughts drilling into my mind as I sit on a train that’s picking up speed and leaving the station. On this foggy Sunday morning, my compartment’s thankfully empty but for me. No breathing bodies nearby. Not a single soul apart from myself.
Earlier, shivering all over, I’d taken shelter in a dark corner of the station and waited for the first train to arrive, and when it finally did, my knees almost buckled from the surge of relief. No, I can’t think about the price I had to pay for this escape route yet. Later, much later, when I’m alone and feel more like myself. When all this has blown over and I have cleared my head.
I’m leaning back in my chair, with my legs outstretched in front of me, when the door to the car flings open. My heart drops to my stomach. I quickly duck under the backrest of the seat in front and steal a cautious peek from behind it.
A woman has just walked in. A young mother, hair tied up in a bun and a baby in her arms. The large bag on her shoulder seems to be dragging her down with its weight. As she saunters her way through the aisle and closer to my seat, the young mother finds me and beams, eyes lighting up. What a twist of fate—finding a woman my age in an empty car this early in the morning.
The young mother seems unmistakably relieved at the sight of a fellow female passenger her age, despite my obvious discomfort. She stops at her seat just across the aisle and struggles to stash her bag into the small overhead compartment. I want to keep as low a profile as possible, but I cannot bear the sight of her fumbling around alone. I spring to my feet and help her tuck the bag overhead.
She returns a grateful smile. “How kind of you! My arms were about to fall off. You won’t believe how heavy this little baby can be!”
But her smile evaporates faster than it appears. I feel the woman’s eyes on my arm and scramble to pull my sleeve down. The sleeve hiked up when I lifted the luggage, showing the bruises on my wrist that had already begun to turn a horrible purple. I hurry back to my seat after exchanging an awkward, silent smile.
A quick glance tells me her baby is fast asleep and won’t be crying loudly during my trip. I still have no idea where my destination will be or how far I’ll be going, so that’s one less thing to worry about.
There’s no turning back now. The hard part’s over, so no need to fret over a complete stranger who happened to spot some bruises on my wrist. Let’s not act suspicious and let’s just go back to avoiding eye contact, hiding behind the backrest and acting like a typical unfriendly passenger.
But the young mother, who now seems more relaxed and completely unaware of my wish, retrieves a formula bottle from a pocket in her luggage and says to me, “I had to hurry out today, but the formula cooled down just right.”
She drizzles droplets of milk on the inside of her wrist to check the temperature and nods with satisfaction. What’s with all this unguarded cheeriness and friendliness? I’m actually starting to worry that she won’t leave me alone, acting all bubbly and nosey.
“Oh, you should see how this chubby one eats,” she continues. “I always have to feed him on time, otherwise he becomes a little wailing devil.”
The woman carefully holds the bottle to her baby’s lips, feeling for the temperature again, but he’s lost to the world. He’s cute, with pinkish new skin, cherubic cheeks, and doe-like eyelashes.
I ask, out of politeness more than anything, “How old is he?”
Even before the words leave my mouth, I have a feeling I might get myself into trouble, but I can’t help myself. What if she starts to chat and pry?
“He’s three months now. He was born on December 12, so it’s easy to remember.”
There’s something disarming about the woman’s smile, and I’m smiling back despite myself. Without a trace of makeup, her face betrays the fatigue of a young mother looking after her infant child day and night, but she is a beautiful woman. She’s fair-skinned with luxuriant hair and big dark eyes that turn light brown in the sun. She’s about the same height and weight as me, but our similarity ends there. She is the kind of person who lights up everyone around her with her contagious smile. Had I walked a different path, made different decisions in the past, could I have become someone like her? Maybe I could have been a bubbly young mother, too.
“We’ve been running around since dawn to catch the first train, so this little prince is just not having it. I give up.”
Shaking her head, the young mother wraps the bottle back up and puts it away.
“Spring must be coming late this year. It’s still so chilly in the morning,” says the woman, wrapping her baby tighter in a blanket. I get the feeling she’s not going to leave me alone. But getting up out of nowhere just to move to another compartment, where there might be other nosy passengers, seems too much of a risk. Better stay here and engage halfheartedly. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be my alibi. Unless she’s going to be a witness? What should I do? As all these thoughts run through my mind, the woman asks, “How far are you going? Seoul?”
“No, um, I don’t think so.”
“I’m going to Juyoung-si, you know, the new city near Seoul?”
Juyoung-si? I haven’t considered it an option. “What is it like?”
“My in-laws live there.” The woman lowers her head with a hint of hesitation and smiles lightly.
I can’t think of anything else to say, but it’s unnecessary as she continues without pause. “Actually, we’ve never met before, but I’m just betting on the proverb that blood’s thicker than water. I have no plan whatsoever.”
“Oh, could you mean . . . ?”
“Yeah, they haven’t even seen the kid yet, because I—we—got married even though they didn’t approve.”
For the first time, I make out a sign of agony on her face.
“Can I ask what happened with the baby’s dad?”
She hangs her head and strokes the baby’s right foot, which is sticking out of the swaddle. “He ran off with another woman. I thought he got into an accident when I couldn’t get hold of him, but it turns out, he just wanted to move in with his mistress. I wish him dead, you know.”
I cannot find words to respond, as my chest is getting tight. My breath catches in my throat. I force air in, out, in, out, nervous sweats making my arms slick. I can’t lose my cool over mere words, can I? I’ve still got a long way to go.
The young mother in front of me is in her late twenties at most, and can’t be far from my age. But she has already married a man whose family didn’t accept her, started a family of her own, and even gotten dumped by her husband. There are people of all stripes and from all walks of life, for sure, and everyone comes with a fair share of trouble. You never know what someone passing you on the street, or on the train, is going through. I was probably too quick to judge her by her seemingly bright smile.
“I was all about how the only thing that counts is that we’re together, but now that things have turned out the way they have, I have no one to turn to. My parents died when I was little, and I don’t have any family or relatives. I’ve thought about raising a child on my own, but I don’t know how.”
The woman lets out a deep sigh.
“I don’t know what my in-laws will say if I just show up out of nowhere. Maybe they’ll just take my son away. I mean, my husband comes from money. You know, the kind of rich people so conservative and judgmental that they pay you to keep your mouth shut just because they don’t want to hear your voice? My husband is the eldest son, too.”
“So you’ve never met his parents before?”
“Yeah, they probably don’t even know what my name is or what I look like. My husband was already living away from home when he met me, and he said he hadn’t spoken to his family in a while, so I figured there was no way they’d approve of us getting married. You know how these people are—heartless, never cutting you any slack.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine how you could just cut off your son! I can’t ever stay away from my son, and I’ll forgive him no matter what, no matter whom he chooses to marry. But I guess not all parents are the same.”
This morning, when I’d fled my house at dusk and hidden myself at the train station, I surely didn’t imagine an encounter like this waiting ahead. But here I am, lending this woman an ear as she vents about her secrets.
“I know I’m such a coward—I didn’t pay his parents any mind when I was so in love with my husband, but now I’m crawling back for scraps when I have my back against the wall. But I can’t raise my son as a single mom. Not in this economy.”
