"Geum-na, if you want to have a good life in your old age, you need to manage your friends well. You are one of the seven people I ‘manage.’"
At Oki’s words, Geum-na frowned and looked at Eun-jung with an annoyed expression. Eun-jung just shrugged her shoulders in silence. The words, "Eun-jung, you are also one of those seven," never came out of Oki’s mouth. Oki had been maintaining her circle of seven friends for a long time. Jin-ju and Kwang-hee were in it, but Eun-jung was not.
Geum-na didn't like Oki. Perhaps she caught it from her husband, but Oki went through cycles of mania and depression every three months. She only met friends during her manic phase. During her three months of depression, she never left the house. But during the three months of mania, she acted like a traveler trying to get their money's worth, rushing around to make up for lost time. Even with eyes half-closed from exhaustion, she would go on shopping sprees and give gifts to her friends.
Whenever they met, Oki talked non-stop, as if letting out all the Korean words she had kept bottled up. She would speak with her mouth full of food, which always made Geum-na lose her appetite. Whenever Geum-na tried to talk to Eun-jung, Oki would interrupt. She never gave anyone else a chance to speak. The only silver lining was that they didn't have to deal with her during her three months of depression.
After a long time, the five friends—Geum-na, Eun-jung, Oki, Jin-ju, and Kwang-hee—met at an outdoor event in Upstate New York. The scent of acacia carried on the wind reminded them of their childhood country roads. For a moment, they were all silent, enchanted by the fragrance.
Suddenly, an elderly woman who looked like a mouse joined them. She was close to Oki but disliked Eun-jung. She squinted her eyes and asked Oki, "Oki, what is your relationship with Eun-jung?"
Eun-jung answered first for some reason. "We’re friends."
But Oki’s response was cold. "No, we’re not friends."
Eun-jung’s face turned red. She put down her spoon, frozen. The nosy woman pushed further. "If you’re not friends, then what are you?"
Oki replied without a second of hesitation. "I’m friends with Eun-jung’s husband."
Eun-jung looked at Geum-na, hoping for support, but Geum-na avoided her eyes. Eun-jung stared into the empty air, feeling defeated. Oki had met Eun-jung’s husband 30 years ago when she first arrived in America. He wasn't her type back then—he had no money and no good job—but he was a reliable friend who helped her with heavy lifting and listened to her worries. When he introduced Eun-jung as his fiancé, Oki hated her instantly for no reason.
Recently, Geum-na invited the group to her quiet house near the sea while her husband was away on business.
"Let's start with this ice wine I got as a gift, then move on to beer or wine," Geum-na suggested.
"I want Somaek (soju and beer)," Eun-jung said, licking her lips.
Outside, it was raining. Inside, the fireplace crackled. It was the perfect day for drinking.
"Why are there so many depressed people lately?" Oki started, seemingly forgetting her own condition.
"People are exhausted from the long pandemic," added Kwang-hee, who was obsessed with golf. "Everyone is prickly like a cactus. I just want to get back on the golf course."
Jin-ju, the most religious of the group, spoke softly. "We should just be grateful to be alive and enjoy each day. No one else can live your life for you."
As the alcohol flowed, the tension rose. Oki grabbed Kwang-hee’s hat. "Take this off! Dust falls on my plate every time you move."
"Don't touch my hat! My hair is a mess underneath," Kwang-hee snapped. She was a "Dol-sing" (divorced single) who wore too many accessories—hats, earrings, heavy necklaces—to fill her emptiness.
"Kwang-hee, I’m saying this because I care, but you should cover your belly and hips. People are talking," Oki poked.
"Who cares? Mind your own business!" Kwang-hee shouted, her heavy chains jingling.
Finally, Geum-na slammed her glass down. "Kwang-hee is right. Stop worrying about other people's fat. Let’s just worry about our own. Want to see mine?" She stood up and lifted her shirt, revealing her stomach. "Mine is just as big as Kwang-hee's. Let’s toast to our own bellies!"
The argument shifted to Korean politics and religion, until Geum-na cut them off. "Stop talking about politics and religion! Don't you think it's a waste of time?"
By 4 PM, the drinking session that started at 11 AM was winding down. Jin-ju, who didn't drink, urged everyone to leave before it got dark.
Later, Eun-jung met Geum-na alone at a cafe. Geum-na seemed cold and distant.
"The atmosphere here is still nice," Eun-jung said, trying to break the silence. Geum-na just smirked and sipped her coffee.
Eun-jung realized that Geum-na was pushing her away, just as she had done with the others. Geum-na saw the traits she disliked in Oki, Kwang-hee, and Jin-ju reflected in Eun-jung.
Nothing in this world stays the same, Eun-jung thought. Maybe Geum-na has changed. Maybe I have, too. We aren't the young people we used to be.
Perhaps it was because they were in their early 50s, passing through the tunnel of menopause. Everyone seemed prickly. The one who was ahead was stressed about staying there; the one chasing was stressed about falling behind; the one who gave up was filled with regret.
It reminded them of the saying, Bul-ga-geun Bul-ga-won—Keep your distance: not too close, not too far. When you are too close, you hurt each other with your thorns. When you are too far, you hurt each other with neglect. As they aged, their values drifted apart, and small things became big problems. They were reaching a point where they might not want to meet at all.
Eun-jung decided to accept it calmly. I’ll just focus on my own life for now. Maybe one day, after this phase of life passes, we can meet again and admit how difficult we were being.
"Geum-na, if you want to have a good life in your old age, you need to manage your friends well. You are one of the seven people I ‘manage.’"
At Oki’s words, Geum-na frowned and looked at Eun-jung with an annoyed expression. Eun-jung just shrugged her shoulders in silence. The words, "Eun-jung, you are also one of those seven," never came out of Oki’s mouth. Oki had been maintaining her circle of seven friends for a long time. Jin-ju and Kwang-hee were in it, but Eun-jung was not.
Geum-na didn't like Oki. Perhaps she caught it from her husband, but Oki went through cycles of mania and depression every three months. She only met friends during her manic phase. During her three months of depression, she never left the house. But during the three months of mania, she acted like a traveler trying to get their money's worth, rushing around to make up for lost time. Even with eyes half-closed from exhaustion, she would go on shopping sprees and give gifts to her friends.
Whenever they met, Oki talked non-stop, as if letting out all the Korean words she had kept bottled up. She would speak with her mouth full of food, which always made Geum-na lose her appetite. Whenever Geum-na tried to talk to Eun-jung, Oki would interrupt. She never gave anyone else a chance to speak. The only silver lining was that they didn't have to deal with her during her three months of depression.
After a long time, the five friends—Geum-na, Eun-jung, Oki, Jin-ju, and Kwang-hee—met at an outdoor event in Upstate New York. The scent of acacia carried on the wind reminded them of their childhood country roads. For a moment, they were all silent, enchanted by the fragrance.
Suddenly, an elderly woman who looked like a mouse joined them. She was close to Oki but disliked Eun-jung. She squinted her eyes and asked Oki, "Oki, what is your relationship with Eun-jung?"
Eun-jung answered first for some reason. "We’re friends."
But Oki’s response was cold. "No, we’re not friends."
Eun-jung’s face turned red. She put down her spoon, frozen. The nosy woman pushed further. "If you’re not friends, then what are you?"
Oki replied without a second of hesitation. "I’m friends with Eun-jung’s husband."
Eun-jung looked at Geum-na, hoping for support, but Geum-na avoided her eyes. Eun-jung stared into the empty air, feeling defeated. Oki had met Eun-jung’s husband 30 years ago when she first arrived in America. He wasn't her type back then—he had no money and no good job—but he was a reliable friend who helped her with heavy lifting and listened to her worries. When he introduced Eun-jung as his fiancé, Oki hated her instantly for no reason.
Recently, Geum-na invited the group to her quiet house near the sea while her husband was away on business.
"Let's start with this ice wine I got as a gift, then move on to beer or wine," Geum-na suggested.
"I want Somaek (soju and beer)," Eun-jung said, licking her lips.
Outside, it was raining. Inside, the fireplace crackled. It was the perfect day for drinking.
"Why are there so many depressed people lately?" Oki started, seemingly forgetting her own condition.
"People are exhausted from the long pandemic," added Kwang-hee, who was obsessed with golf. "Everyone is prickly like a cactus. I just want to get back on the golf course."
Jin-ju, the most religious of the group, spoke softly. "We should just be grateful to be alive and enjoy each day. No one else can live your life for you."
As the alcohol flowed, the tension rose. Oki grabbed Kwang-hee’s hat. "Take this off! Dust falls on my plate every time you move."
"Don't touch my hat! My hair is a mess underneath," Kwang-hee snapped. She was a "Dol-sing" (divorced single) who wore too many accessories—hats, earrings, heavy necklaces—to fill her emptiness.
"Kwang-hee, I’m saying this because I care, but you should cover your belly and hips. People are talking," Oki poked.
"Who cares? Mind your own business!" Kwang-hee shouted, her heavy chains jingling.
Finally, Geum-na slammed her glass down. "Kwang-hee is right. Stop worrying about other people's fat. Let’s just worry about our own. Want to see mine?" She stood up and lifted her shirt, revealing her stomach. "Mine is just as big as Kwang-hee's. Let’s toast to our own bellies!"
The argument shifted to Korean politics and religion, until Geum-na cut them off. "Stop talking about politics and religion! Don't you think it's a waste of time?"
By 4 PM, the drinking session that started at 11 AM was winding down. Jin-ju, who didn't drink, urged everyone to leave before it got dark.
Later, Eun-jung met Geum-na alone at a cafe. Geum-na seemed cold and distant.
"The atmosphere here is still nice," Eun-jung said, trying to break the silence. Geum-na just smirked and sipped her coffee.
Eun-jung realized that Geum-na was pushing her away, just as she had done with the others. Geum-na saw the traits she disliked in Oki, Kwang-hee, and Jin-ju reflected in Eun-jung.
Nothing in this world stays the same, Eun-jung thought. Maybe Geum-na has changed. Maybe I have, too. We aren't the young people we used to be.
Perhaps it was because they were in their early 50s, passing through the tunnel of menopause. Everyone seemed prickly. The one who was ahead was stressed about staying there; the one chasing was stressed about falling behind; the one who gave up was filled with regret.
It reminded them of the saying, Bul-ga-geun Bul-ga-won—Keep your distance: not too close, not too far. When you are too close, you hurt each other with your thorns. When you are too far, you hurt each other with neglect. As they aged, their values drifted apart, and small things became big problems. They were reaching a point where they might not want to meet at all.
Eun-jung decided to accept it calmly. I’ll just focus on my own life for now. Maybe one day, after this phase of life passes, we can meet again and admit how difficult we were being.
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