Sahan - Chapter 11

 

 

Even a quick trip to the supermarket meant attracting stares and attention, so Heegeon’s mom often left him at our house. Because of that, the image of little Heegeon in my memory was always the same: bundled under a hat with animal ears, pouting and sulking in his mother’s arms.

 

 

‘Hi, Sahan. Can you play with Heegeon for a bit? In return, I’ll make you that apple pie that you like.’

 

 

To keep him quiet—or rather, to reduce my own workload—I would spread out a pile of blankets in the guest room on the first floor and put him there. Then, we’d play “whoever moves first loses.” Heegeon loved that game. He’d pretend to be reluctant at first, but eventually he’d flop onto the soft blankets, fold his tiny hands over his mouth, and giggle softly. It was a time before digital cameras were common, and we didn’t own a film camera at home, so that face existed only in my memory.

 

So many strangers would come up and pinch his baby cheeks or try to kiss him with unwashed hands that his mother ended up walking around with the stroller canopy fully lowered. Even so, once word spread around the neighborhood about a beautiful baby, some people went as far as to suddenly throw open the stroller without permission just to peek inside. A talent scout from a baby modeling agency even camped out, waiting. And a kid his age—jealous because all the adults’ attention had been stolen—once pinched Heegeon out of spite as he passed by.