Harbin

cannot shake the thought of Stefan from my mind. When I think of him, I feel sorry about one thing.

“I feel a little guilty about Stefan.”

As I say so, Eura looks at my face reassuringly, “You’re talking about how you couldn’t tip him more that night. How many times have you mentioned this story? You can only tip him once or twice a night, but not every time.”

“But his face seemed to tell me he wanted it.”

I could not reward his smile with a tip because I had already been to the washroom many times that evening and had run out of change. I would not be able to argue against the accusation that it was stingy of me not to readily give him a bill because a bill wouldn’t have been too much or unnecessary for his gentle manner. I was surely saving my bills. I could only falteringly step back from him shamefully after looking for change I did not have. The more I think about it, the sorrier I feel.

“It would also be nice to give him a fat bill, but where in the world could that generous customer be?”

Eura seems to try hard to console me. However, the story she tells me about Stefan’s circumstances rather all the more touches my heart.

“In fact, he’s been saving up penny by penny like that for his traveling expenses to go back to his country. Even a penny is of immediate importance to him.”

“To his country.”

“He wants and needs to get back to the Soviet Union.”

“Well, you mean that every penny he earns at the restroom translates to fare covering for each mile of the few long, thousand miles.”

“So, he cannot help but smile, no matter how subserviently, to fulfill his one and only wish in life.”

“That makes me feel sorrier.”

“Stefan’s dreams lie far beyond. He has nothing in front of him.”

What about your dreams? I think about asking her, but I just shut my mouth and look out to the river. The yellowish muddy stream is endlessly wide and full of boats—some sailing by, others anchored.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I wonder, Could Stefan be Eura’s father by any chance? I’m needlessly surprised by my own desultory thought and, turning my head, look at her.

Eura, who was also looking at the river, turns her head and looks at me as if noticing my movements. I have no way to read her complicated mind only by her gaze.

Looking towards the river again for lack of a spot to fix her wary gaze, she says, “When I look at the river, I…” I can barely make out her faint voice.

“I always think I just want to die.”

“D…die…”

I unwittingly raise my voice and look yet again at her wrists as thin as stork legs.

“Why harbor such a dangerous thought…”

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