It was what it was.

Her name was Sang-sook. I don’t know her last name.

I first heard her name when I was in the third year of middle school. The adults whispered, “Sang-sook did this,” and my aunts said, “That woman, Sang-sook,” in angry voices. I guess that’s why her name stuck in my head. Strangely enough, I can’t remember the names of the boys I dated before getting married—but I can never forget the name of my father’s mistress.
I still can’t believe myself.

That day, my overly emotional aunts dragged my mom and pushed me along with them to a small apartment complex. When I looked up at the tall, dark gray apartment building, it felt like I was facing a huge, scary monster. My feet wouldn’t move. I wanted to run away and hide. That’s when I noticed a few blue moving trucks parked on the right side of the hill. Why did I even notice those moving trucks?

Since none of my aunts knew the apartment number, they told me to start ringing doorbells from the first floor, starting on the right side.
“You have to take care of your sick mom. You lead the way. Go ring the bells until we find her,” they ordered. Then they started hitting my back, pushing me forward.

I still clearly remember the moment when my short aunt grabbed Sang-sook’s hair, and the older one rushed in like a beast and started hitting her. But I’ll leave the rest to the readers’ imagination.

“Stop it! You’re going to kill her! Can’t you stop?”
My mom shouted weakly, trying to stop them. Then she turned to Sang-sook.

“You have a sad life too. Come live with me. I’m too sick to take care of my kids. Please help me.”

Suddenly, a thought hit me—like the fight would only end if a blue moving truck came.

“Mom, I saw some moving trucks nearby. Should I go ask one of the drivers to help us move her things to our house?”

Mom didn’t say anything, but her face seemed to agree—that this was the only way.

I ran to the moving truck rental place. I came back with a truck and a driver, and we packed her things quickly. I sat in the passenger seat and guided them to our house. That day was the end of my quiet childhood.

Sang-sook lived with us for a while. She was tall, very thin, and kind. She used to slip some money into my lunch pouch in the mornings and send me off to school with a sad smile. She got along well with my warm-hearted mom. But not everyone in the family was happy about her staying with us.

In the end, understanding my mom’s situation, Sang-sook chose to leave.
I heard later that my mom got her a rental apartment in Sangdo-dong and sent her money every month. That was the last I heard of her.

Just like people learned life lessons and survived hard times during COVID-19, that event didn’t leave a scar on me. Instead, every time I got hurt after that, I learned how to fly in a better direction.