"Mark. Home-plus has just dropped off a delivery, could you bring it in?" my wife calls from the living room.
"Sure." I say, on my way to the door, happy to contribute.
I bring in the big paper bag full of groceries. On the very top is a 300g clam-shell of cherries. Now I love cherries, but I don't buy them often.
"Cherries?!?!" I yell, "What are we? Millionaires?"
"They were only 9,900 won." Eunjoo replies.
"That's what I guessed. For 300 grams."
"Kids," I yell out, "Come and get cherries before I eat them all!"
"Is that small?" Eunjoo asks, of the 300 grams.
I show it to her. She doesn't know units. I feel that in the 80's when Canadian kids were learning that metric measures measured everything but body height, body weight, and swimming pool temperatures, Korean kids must have been counting in spans, li, leagues and geum. I wonder when they got the metric system. Certainly after my wife left school.
"Half a geum." I say. "That's what 300 grams is. This is what we get for 10,000 won."
Lucy comes running in to get cherries. "That looks like about 200 won per cherry!" she quips. She was in the 37th percentile in her grade in math, but she seems pretty spot on with her arithmetic.
I take a handful of cherries to my seat to finish watching Yellowstone as Lucy lays into them.
When Yellowstone is over, I go to get more cherries, but they are gone.
"Wow, you girls killed those cherries!" I yell. And why not yell? No one listens to me anyways. But I guess Lisa did this time.
"There were cherries?" she says, tearing up.
"Yeah Lisa, that's the last thing I yelled before the yell about them being gone."
She starts ramping up for a good cry. Usually this deliberate crying just pisses me off– hardens my heart. But I know what it is like when there are cherries and you don't get any. I call that kind of heart-break a 'Kamloops special'. I cannot sit by and watch my daughter suffer a Kamloops special.
"I'm going to the market to see if they have cherries there." I yell. I go out to the market.
At the market, the first fruit lady smiles at me as I eye her wares. "Do you have cherries," I ask, seeing plain well that she doesn't.
"I would love to give you what you want." she says, "But you want cherries, and I don't have any."
"Thanks anyways," I say, moving on. Her words are weird. How she said what she said seems overly drawn out, and... and weird. I repeat her words in my head. I feel that maybe I am missing some subtlety.
I get to the second fruit lady. "Do you have any cherries?" I ask. She smiles. But it is a sad smile. A longing smile. "I would love to give you what you want." she says, "But you want cherries--"
"And you don't have any." I finish.
She wipes her brow with what looks like a giant leaf.
I come to the third fruit lady, the lushest of the bunch, the one I wanted to come to from the start. "Do you have any cherries?" I ask.
"I would love to give you what you want.' she says, clasping hands to her chest.
"But I want cherries, and..." I say.
"And I don't have any." she finishes with me. Her coy eyes grow coyer, almost to the point of disappearing into shadows.
I feel faint, and walk back home. I feel that I have failed Lisa. But there is a deeper unease. The market is not for the faint of heart.
Getting home I walk into the apartment.
Lisa meets me at the door.
"Sorry Lisa," I say, "There weren't any cherries."
My wife looks up from the couch, as I come into the main room.
"Why is you fly still open?" she asks.
"Still?" I say, looking down.
"It was open when you left." she says.
"You didn't say anything?" I say, not really asking `if', but asking `why'.
"We thought you knew, Daddy." says Lisa. She is not crying at all, she seems to be over the cherries.
I do up my fly, or I try to. It gets stuck. I pull it back down. There is something in it. I undo my button to get a better look at it, and cherries start falling out of my pants. Piles of cherries, they fall all over the floor.
"Thank you, Daddy!" says Lisa, the brightest smile on her face. "It's just what I wanted."
