Subscribe
E-Paper
 |
| Cover of "Romanticism," which includes Park Hyoung-su's short story "The Tall Dwarf" / Courtesy of Munhakdongne |
Written by Park Hyoung-su
Translated by Youngjae Josephine Bae
It took a while for the dwarf to realize he was a dwarf.
The dwarf's birth came as a great shock to his parents. Shock soon turned into guilt. The karma of all the sins they had so far knowingly or unknowingly committed seemed to have robbed their son's chance to grow. Instead of resenting the life they would have to cope with, they chose to reflect on their past.
The poor child is a victim, the price we must pay for our sins.
His parents tried to atone. His father set aside his ambitions as a promising researcher and pursued well-paying projects. His mother gave up her career as a well-respected teacher to be a full-time homemaker. This allowed them to devote their time and money to raising their dwarf son. They changed all the furniture and doors around their house to smaller ones and lowered the ceiling. Some of the replaced items were well-made toys for rich kids instead of real furniture, but no one was able to tell the difference.
His parents were brave folks. They didn't fear inviting guests into such a strange house or taking their son outside in broad daylight. No, they may have been fearful, but that fear was buried so deep down in their hearts that even they themselves were unaware of it. They cheerfully invited guests over and smiled as they strolled about the neighborhood. Fortunately, the people in their neighborhood were polite and friendly.
Of course, not everything was perfect. They felt humiliated from time to time and suffered visible and invisible wounds. Such wounds can never be trivial, no matter how small they may seem. Especially when they tend to pile up over the years. Keen eyes grew dull and warm smiles disappeared. His father had to lean against telephone poles to catch his breath and his mother tore up one by one photos from when she used to be young and pretty. But those were the only moments they allowed themselves to secretly indulge their own sorrows. Once back in their daily lives as a family, his parents didn't complain about a thing. They erased all traces of uncertain emotions from the corners of their eyes, lips, and fingertips.
To a child growing up, friends are as important as family. The dwarf's mother chose her son's friends with care. She set up a very complex criteria to show her son that there are all kinds of people in the world. She brought home bubbly children who flop down anywhere and giggle, children a bit slow at learning, children too huge to be nimble, pretty children who seem to shine all over, and feeble children who get scared at practically anything. On the other hand, she didn't bring home children clever enough to instantly notice differences, children quick at discovering weaknesses, children too curious, and children who quibble over everything.
His mother was able to make such peculiar choices because she used to be a teacher, and a very excellent one too. Children who went over to play at the dwarf's house naturally learned to sing, speak a foreign language, and grow familiar with numbers. Obviously, mothers wanted their children to become friends with the dwarf. But not many ended up being granted their wish. It wasn't anybody's fault. It was only because most of their children were unnecessary to the dwarf's education and upbringing.
Under such circumstances, it was no surprise the dwarf couldn't sooner realize that he was a dwarf. There were all sorts of children in the world. Children smarter than the dwarf, children who cry more easily than the dwarf, children fatter than the dwarf, and children who are impudent, smell like rotten onions, and pick their nose. The dwarf just happened to have stubby fingers and a waddling gait.
The time came for the dwarf to go to school. The parents put their heads together. If possible, they wanted to keep their son under their wings and care for him forever. But the dwarf had to go out into the big wide world, just as the close friends he grew up with one by one stopped coming over to play. Most people out there were bound to be taller than him.
Was their son ready to accept being different?
His parents recalled the moment they first faced him. They'd expected to form an ordinary family. They'd never imagined any other life. But they suddenly became the parents of a dwarf, and since then, everything grew stubby and wobbly. Challenges and difficulties lay at every turn. Nevertheless, they'd managed to overcome them all so far.
The dwarf's mother went to school to meet her former colleagues. They stroked her cheeks with sadness.
Oh, how small you've become.
The dwarf received particular attention as a student. There was rarely a child brought up as well as the dwarf. He was gentle and caring. He wasn't particularly bright, but he tried his best at everything and got along well with his friends. Some did pick on him once in a while. But then the teachers would summon such children and scold them. It wasn't because he was the child of a former colleague. Nor was it because the child was a dwarf. It was because their duty was to care equally for each and every child.
Around puberty, something unexpected happened.
The dwarf suddenly began to grow taller, which was unusual for someone like him. He seemed to shoot up like a sprout. If you looked away and then right back at him, it was as if he'd grown taller in that split second. He ended up growing two handspans taller in six months so that when he stood straight, he didn't look like a dwarf anymore. But being a tad taller didn't change the fact that he was a dwarf. Once a dwarf, always a dwarf.
A tall dwarf.
His parents heaved a sigh.
It's as if insult's been added to injury.
His mother, who used to act like one of the most undaunted on earth, felt she was nearing her limits. It grew harder to look straight at her son who seemed even more ridiculous once he grew taller. It was painful to take the child in her arms and whisper tender words of affection. There were no more photos left to tear apart. By then, she'd already torn up all her wedding photos. Her own flesh was all that was left for her to tear. When the dwarf finally stopped growing after two years, he'd become nearly as tall as the average height of teenagers his age.
Although things turned into such a mess, it was a huge relief that the dwarf's personality didn't go awry. Contrary to his parents' concerns, he quite naturally came to accept that he was different. There was barely a hint of sadness in that gradual, cool-headed realization, like a child who becomes aware that "I'm the daughter of a carpenter" or "our family lives in an 890-square-foot rented house." That kid is good at mental math, that kid has a runny nose, that kid has a mane down the back of his neck, and I am a dwarf.
Okay, I'm a dwarf.
Around that time, the dwarf grew more cheerful. This change in his personality may or may not have had something to do with the awareness he'd developed about himself, but it was the sort of change his parents had been hoping for. They'd assumed that life as a dwarf would be terribly exhausting, so they came to believe that a mental recess would be necessary every now and then. A sense of humor was just the sort of thing that could offer such mental recesses. The humor was a bit more raucous and less refined than what his parents had in mind, but then again, there weren't that many in the world laid back enough to pull off such humor in the first place.
The dwarf kept his friends entertained. He thought of himself as quite witty. And he actually was. Whenever he spotted the chance, he would sprawl out and roll about on the ground. His tall, un-dwarflike height didn't work well with humor, so he invented a special posture that would make himself fall down a step faster. Sometimes he sprained his ankle or bruised his elbow from failing to avoid a bump in time. Just in case, he even practiced what his face was supposed to look like when howling in pain. He tried his best to be funny. He didn't have a particular reason. He just found joy in amusing others. With a natural or perhaps trained sanguinity, he cheerfully went through each day. While many born under similar circumstances plodded into darkness, he stood on a bright street, playing an accordion and pitching jokes. That comforted people around him who didn't wish to feel sorry or depressed for no reason. Everyone liked him because he provided a way to avoid the dark side of a world people would rather look away from.
