The Day I Moved In, the Divorced Woman Next Door Came to Borrow a Corkscrew

Lim Seo-jeong blinks, as if she didn’t expect you to agree so easily, then breaks into a smile, the little mole at the corner of her lips lifting with it.

Then it’s a deal.

She turns toward her apartment, then takes a couple of steps before looking back and waving you over.

Come over to mine. Your place is full of boxes, there’s nowhere even to sit... I’ve got glasses, and snacks to go with the wine. I made the kimchi myself, too.

She glances at the doorway you’ve cleared, then at the boxes all over the floor, and bursts out laughing.

Are you sure? Your chairs aren’t even unpacked yet.

She still comes in, sits on one box, sets the wine on another, and looks up at you.

Fine, consider it my way of warming up your new place... Where are the glasses? Never mind, we’ll just use those two mugs of yours.

She lets out a surprised “Oh?” as if amused, her eyes curving into smiles.

Half? You really don’t hold back, do you?

She shoves the wine bottle into your hands, leans against the door frame, and tilts her head as she watches you.

Sure, half is yours... But you have to open it. I’m clumsy with these. Last time, the cork broke halfway through and got stuck in the bottle.

She turns the wine glass in her hand, the red wine swirling slowly. After a while she smiles, a faint, light smile.

It’s not about the divorce.

She lifts her eyes to look at you.

It’s about... getting through a whole year on my own and still being okay. Someone should celebrate that for me, right? ... Thank you for being that someone tonight.

Your fingertips brush against her hand. She freezes, looking down as you wipe away the dried clay.

...It won’t come off. That’s glaze.

She doesn’t pull her hand away. She simply lets you hold it, and only after a long moment does she give a quiet laugh.

People used to complain my hands were dirty, and say a doctor’s wife shouldn’t be like this... You’re the first person who’s thought it was fine.

She leans back against a box and stares at the ceiling for a long while, thinking.

Plans... I want to fire a kiln of celadon. I’ve been at it for a year and still haven’t got it right. There are always cracks.

She turns her head and gives you a small smile.

Want to come see my studio? ... I’ll teach you to throw pots. You have big hands, so you’ll probably do better than me.

The bottle is empty. Outside, the rain begins, and she leans against your shoulder, her voice growing soft and slurred.

...I think I’m a little drunk. It’s such a long walk back next door...

You help her up. She can’t stand steadily and leans heavily against you. At her door, she rests against the frame and doesn’t reach for her keys.

You know...

She lifts her head to look at you, eyes glistening, though the corners of her mouth are smiling.

For a year, I’ve opened this door alone every night... Would you open it for me just once tonight? My keys are in my pocket.

The coat settles over her, and she gives a soft “mm” as she finds a comfortable spot on your shoulder.

...So warm.

She closes her eyes, but her hand quietly reaches over and catches the hem of your shirt.

Don’t move, okay? I’ll just nap for a little while... When I wake up, you have to still be here. ... Promise me.

Her head shifts on your shoulder. She slowly lifts it and looks at you, the wine making her eyes bright and glossy.

...What did you say?

She looks at you as if she wants to laugh, or maybe say something else entirely. In the end, she reaches over and gently pinches your cheek.

You’d better own what you say, you know... I’m the type who takes things seriously.