* — March 8, 2018
Aram Kim — A Better Way To Be

When her great granddaughter was born, Big G was old and named her Twilight. No parents for you, she cooed. Might as well, she shrugged.

At three, Twilight heard a beeping when she peed. Why no parents for Twilight? she asked.
A sick love story, said Big G.
Love? Twilight asked.
Big G gagged like seasick with ocean sounds. Something fishy, she said.
When Twilight was ready for school, Big G kept her home, said, No school for girlies who hear beeping when they pee.
School is for learning, said Twilight. Learning is for me!
You are gifted, don’t you see idiot? said Big G, drying tea leaves over sea blue tarps. I will teach you a trade. Hold on to your pigtails.
Twilight held on.
Big G was in pig trade. She fed pigs green tea and branded them well-being. No neighborhood pigs, only those that ate human shit. These the tastiest kind she had shipped over in big boats from Cheju Island. Taste plus longevity. She upped the value per kilo. The feet, the testicles, the lips to be pickled and served as hors d’oeuvres with tofu. She had a kind of know-how, the great grandmother.
It was Twilight and Big G in the big farmhouse with stones on the roof to keep it from flying away. For breakfast, Big G ate a thick slice of Swiss cheese and drank a cup of black coffee with an egg yolk dropped inside. From the pocket sewn inside her underwear, she took out the tiny vial and poured a pinch of MSG over coffee and cheese. For Twilight, she fried a ball of rice and stuck anchovies around it. Head first so the idiot won’t get scared, she said with a smile.
The beeping, Twilight learned, could be foretold. Like the evenings when Big G got naked and told Twilight to scrub her bird-nest back. Like when Big G scratched between the legs with dried corn-on-the-cob.

 
One morning, she awoke to find Dammit the farm dog missing. When she found his head in the freezer, the beeping lasted a whole month. Twilight held in her pee. She sat very, very still, except to shift her tongue inside her bone-dry mouth.

Once or twice every twelve days, Twilight chanced on seeing someone besides Big G. Things like foodstuffs and letters and all were delivered on a cart pulled by a mule driven by a barefoot man. Lady! Lady! he yelled week after week, kicking up clouds of dirty hearts. He called Twilight Cheeky; got cheekbones that kiss the sky, he said. She giggled in her shirt. But Big G dragged her away by a pigtail.
Men, she said, are fistfuls of ugly.
What where how? asked Twilight.
Big G slapped Twilight. Get it together, she said. You wear your panties in your teeth?
Twilight threw herself onto a heap of hay, sweaty with dreams. In her room, she fingered a hole through the paper door and peeked at the barefoot man. There were the bare arms. There was the straw hat. There was the chest as broad as a pig’s behind. She didn’t want to dodge men’s ugly like Big G said to. Because his voice, she could hear, went down like cream.
On Twilight’s twelfth birthday, she let go her pigtails.
Big G fed her rice cakes with sweet bean paste. She gave her cape, top hat, black and white wand. Go at it, she said, returning to her pigs with a lean forward like there was nothing better to do.
Twilight yelled out, What am I to do Grandma? and held out the supplies before her.
It is your trade, she said. The trade of magicianship!
Twilight marveled. Rubbed her cheek against the soft, black-blue satin. One day I’ll grow up and be a beautiful magician, she told Big G.
Big G turned around, her body no heftier than a broom. But today, you’re only a child, she said.
In her room, Twilight opened up the book called Own Magic. She began with the Banana Buster. She used a straight pin to slice up the banana without disturbing the peel. She looked around for an audience. She walked around the farmhouse reciting, I have a magic trick for you, pay very close attention, and guess how it is done!
Big G was napping standing up.
In front of the pigs, Twilight chanted, Alaka penta Abraka magic, and peeled the banana to reveal its chopped pieces. She bowed, almost graceful like a mule’s trot.

Come teenage years, the bleeding started. With it sprouted breasts like rice sacks. Twilight leaned and held on to her back.
Big G flicked Twilight’s tender peach nipples. Dirty, she said. Stop thinking dirty. It’s all the dirty in your head. Big G shredded a pillowcase and bandaged up the bounce.
Ow, moaned Twilight.
I’m only thinking of you great granddaughter, said Big G.
With the breasts went missing the beeping. In its place came dreams in Twilight’s sleep. On board a boat, she was spearing big-finned basses when Big G rose from under the water. She clawed to climb up the side. But Twilight beat her head with the dull end of the spear until Big G floated face down, off to the horizon.
Twilight rose with a smile from these dreams to brew tea to pour into baby bottles for the pigs to suck. Early afternoons, she studied schoolbooks, so you could count stars and write your address, said Big G. Late afternoons, she practiced tricks or poked pink flesh with a piece of bark until the sun set and Big G called Twilight! to come and sing to her until she fell asleep.
The well-being pig craze lasted one and three quarter decades before the delicacy, a newspaper wrote, caused cancer of the small intestines. The pig buyers marched to the farmhouse with the article taped to their foreheads. When she heard them coming, Big G hopped about toadlike, hid emeralds and rubies in her hair and pinned money notes to her brassiere, socks, and underpants. Then crawled up on Twilight’s back and pointed west.
Twilight ran the country highways to escape far far away. Big G pulled on Twilight’s hair when she slowed down. But I’m hungry, said Twilight, and Big G dug inside her hidden pocket and fed her pine nuts. When her great grandmother dozed, Twilight for the first time waltzed with the willows, the oaks, fire leaves like a million red robins. Though soon Big G awoke, yelled, Come on slow po! and kicked Twilight hard. That river, said Twilight, our Han River I will throw you into! But she couldn’t win, oh her clever, lucky grandmother. Idiot, said Big G, look there; and there was the sign: ‘No Bodies Overboard: Must Prevent Contamination of the Han.’ What was there to do but swallow her itchy tongue and gallop west, Twilight up down mountains until the balloon of neon haze was close enough to blow on.

 
They moved in next to the city. A green building with yellow trimming off the highway. AVAILABLE it said on a banner tied to trashcans shaped like mushrooms. On second look, Twilight saw the pools of gray that rose from the bottom like gray waves. You can call them molds, said a man leaning against a tin mushroom. No biggie, he said. Big G shook her head until an emerald dropped out and she handed it to the man who handed them a key with a pig keychain. Big G eyed the pig for a while. Are you crying? asked Twilight.

Not long after the move, Big G slipped.
What is this? she asked.
Stairs, said Twilight.
Twilight stood at the top of the staircase, Big G at the bottom.
Come get me, said Big G.
Twilight held up the cage of bunnies. I have this, she said. There’re only six, come on up.
Ungrateful idiot, said Big G. Face down, she got down on fours and started the climb.
Twilight set down the cage, adjusted her cape.
With one stair to go, Big G’s knee fell short. She tumbled back to the bottom, head first. Twilight noticed long after, her mind on bunny matters. She went to her great grandmother and sat her upright. Picked up the pine nuts one by one and the MSG vial that had fallen out. She hoisted Big G up and knocked on a neighbor’s door.
A good thing I study science, said the neighbor wearing foggy goggles.
Twilight leaned in for a peek. There were beakers and colored liquids bubbling.
Big G was unconscious but breathing.
She’s old, said the neighbor and pressed a thumb into the blue bump on Big G’s forehead. Really old, I can tell you. Take her home and she will be gone by the morning.
That night, Big G woke Twilight. She came feathered and tickled Twilight’s feet. What’re you doing Grandma? asked laughing Twilight. Big G grinned a baby grin and danced a feathery dance with arms aloft. The next morning, Big G bound her own feet with Twilight’s pantyhose.
 
Her ankles turned rose red. When Twilight tried to undo the knotting, Big G poked her own eyes. Come days, come weeks, Twilight found teeth around the house; in the toilet, in a mug, in Big G’s hair. Mornings, Twilight cut up Swiss cubes and Big G sucked on them like caramel. No more MSG because Big G poured it over the bunnies like falling snow-rain. The bananas for Twilight’s Banana Buster Big G hid in her closet, ate them secretly when Twilight wasn’t looking.

One suppertime, the bunny cage jittered across the floor. Choo choo, sang Twilight, pouring pellets into the top opening. One by one, she lifted up the bunnies by their necks. Where is Spotts? she asked.
She searched corners, behind curtains. She found Spotts inside a basin inside the bathroom. Big G sat stooped over wet tiles, hands covered in bunny hair. Half-skinned Spotts shivered, nothing but rabbit shock in its eyes.
What’re you doing Grandma? asked Twilight.
Big G brought Spotts to her nose. I dare you, she threatened the rabbit.
Twilight began to worry. She went with an offering of pine nuts to ask her neighbor the scientist some questions.
Unlucky child, said the neighbor. You’ve got a crazy in your cave.
What do you mean? asked Twilight.
The neighbor unraveled her hair net. She’s old, said the neighbor. What do you expect? It’s what we scientists call senility.
But why? asked Twilight.
Something I have learned, said the neighbor, is that science can answer everything but the why and the why and the why and the why.

 
Big G sat in a chair throwing burnt rice at the bunnies. Her eyes colorless, the face, at least, remained a sandier kind. In a chair, in a room, taking up space. Still, there was the unphysicality of her body.

For morning magic, Twilight retrieved the frozen fly from the freezer. She opened the curtains and the sun shined thickly into the room. Big G was positioned to be her audience. Face to faceless, Twilight performed the Resurrecting Fly. She passed around the bug from one hand to the other, shaking it up a little in the sun. After five minutes of thawing, the fly awoke from its coma. When Twilight bowed, Big G asked, What are you?
I’m going to pick up some eggs, said Twilight. She stepped outside to greet the low mountains shaded old denim.
Hey you, said the man leaning against a tin mushroom. What day is today?
I don’t keep track, said Twilight.
The day is payday, said the man and put out his hands.
Twilight dug in her pockets and found only emerald dust. This is all we have. Can you spare a break? she asked.
The man hit the top of the tin mushroom. You think this is some kind of play?
My grandmother, she’s sick, said Twilight. Her pig trade, you see…
Payday is no play! said the man. A week you have. You can call me an angel.
Twilight bought two eggs and some Swiss for Big G at Buy The Way. On her way up, she knocked on the neighbor’s door.
I need some money, she said to the neighbor.
I’m not a bank, said the neighbor.
Twilight shook her head no. Where can I get a job? she asked.
The neighbor tipped up her chin. What is your trade? the neighbor asked.
Twilight gave a twirl. I have the trade of magicianship! she said.
Is that science related? asked the neighbor.
No, said Twilight.
The neighbor pointed west. They call the place Seoul, said the neighbor. Take bus number three.

 
As the bus descended the last mountain curve, the city looked glossy like the eyes of a mad cow. The first day, Twilight walked endlessly. Held down her top hat with her white-gloved hands when winds caught her from below. She bought a pair of sunglasses to shield her from the light that spilled from above, below, side and side. Children came and tugged on her cape. Dogs came and tugged on her cape. Men came and said what the fuck. Skirted women laughed.

These city slickers, they had no shadows. Even smoke was silhouetted in the country. Not that there was room, Twilight saw, on the honeycombed sidewalks. Like a hundred times her maryjanes slipped off trying to keep up with the flow. Her cape was holey from cigarette burns. She fit fingers inside and stretched them large, solo in front of a Vietnamese Pho House. The ground shook. She was an aftershock, an aftershock of an aftershock of a small wave that never even reached the shore.

She was crying when a man came up to her. Twilight felt a bamboo pierce her heart. He was that handsome.
How many tricks you have? he asked.
She counted in her head. She held up a two, a three, making twenty-three, looking at her feet.
You’re hired! he said.
The official title was Side Entertainer. Nightly, inside the purply lit Pho House, Twilight went from table to table and made rings and such disappear behind ears. She took a corner and waited with the top hat flipped up and diners came and dropped bills inside. At the end of the night, she kept half and gave the rest to the handsome boss who winked. She found pho delicious.
Ten tables! And most nights full too, said Twilight to Big G and the neighbor who stopped by with a beaker full of daisies. Big G was talking into an iron.

And the boss, said Twilight, has a smell.
Love, said the neighbor. A fairly decent thing.
You see, Grandma? said Twilight. Love is decent.
Big G giggled into the iron.
Once, the boss came up to Twilight in his fancy automobile as she waited at the bus stop. They went beyond Seoul to a lake surrounded by the soft outlines of the city. They got out and climbed up to the car roof.
How many moons do you see? he asked.
Twilight pointed up, said, One I see.
He shook a finger no. There are four, he said, don’t you see? One up. One there. He pointed to the reflection on the water. The last two, he said, are here, and pressed below her eyes.
When he shivered from the cold, Twilight draped her locks over his chest. You got good personality, he said. I want to see your stomach.
Twilight took him home. She made certain Big G was snoring. In her dark room, she showed him her stomach. I’m over here, she said when he stumbled around. She undid her chest bandage and the pumpkins plopped out. You’re very chesty, he said, feeling his way through. The moon swelling the sky wide, Twilight fell asleep with his face at her neck.
She awoke to the sounds of a cat dying. When she opened her eyes, she saw the handsome boss flailing, crying giant tears.

There was Big G’s head at the corner bedside.

What’re you doing Grandma? asked Twilight.

Big G wiped saliva from her mouth: the fish cake is too fat, she said with a frown.
 
When the boss returned from the hospital, he sent notice for Twilight to go work elsewhere. She set up on street corners and mourned. She changed from white to black gloves. Touched her eye to eye, looked up at the real moon. No more fourth? she asked the high schoolers who waited for her to saw them in half. Her heart went a click. A click. A click.

Twilight locked Big G in her room for a day and six hours. As punishment? Big G sat Indian-style. Around her banana peels. Around her pus-stained pantyhose. She smashed the front of her diaper balled heavy brown, leaking liquid. Twilight covered her nose, went straight to the window and opened it. She dragged kicking Big G to the bathroom. Stripped her naked and turned on the shower. On a pink plastic stool, Big G sat with her hands prim on her knees. Twilight put on rubber gloves and soaped her great grandmother. She lifted Big G’s breasts one by one to get to the stomach. She reached and scrubbed between her winter branch legs. The water swirled gray-brown down the drain. With her fingernails, on the bar of soap, Big G pressed a pretty shape she gave to Twilight who refused and brought down the showerhead over Big G’s blistered feet to make her cry.
Twilight laid Big G over a towel to dry. Left her there to roll herself blue and knocked on the neighbor’s door.
What’s the story? asked the neighbor.
She bit off his ugly, said Twilight.
The neighbor jutted out her jaw.
She’s got no teeth, said the neighbor. She’s got three left. My boss, my love, moaned Twilight.
The neighbor flicked Twilight’s forehead. In such a terrible hurry to love, mused the neighbor.
What do I do? asked Twilight.
No more questions, said the neighbor. Pray your sin out. Pray she leaves you be.

 
Twilight moved smally. She caught bus number three and set up her magician table at subway stations next to fortunetellers, florists, acrobats. Sitting on a stool, she saw linked arms, gathered heads murmuring about love and loves. Hey Lonely! she called out to her reflection. What’re you doing Lonely? What good are you Lonely? You stink of lonely! The fortunetellers, the florists, the acrobats edged away. Because of the wind, her tears swerved to the ears, hung like glass from her lobes.

Home stunk of Big G’s oldness. When Big G smiled a gum smile, Twilight pulled on her dead skin. What’s there to smile about old woman! said Twilight. Big G snuck into her room and sucked on a hidden banana. Day and night she folded refolded laundry, clean dirty, she sat tiny on the floor and folded. Let’s go! she yelled whenever Twilight passed by. Shut up! said Twilight, who waved her black and white wand to make Big G disappear.

The bow-legged man hollered long after the bunny reappeared in the top hat and the crowd dispersed north, south, east, west of the busy intersection called Jongno. He whoop-whooped and clapped. The enthusiasm was too spectacular. Twilight ran away with the rabbit in the hat and the cape ballooning behind her. Magician! Magician! he called with outstretched arms, I am no criminal! Twilight ran herself into an alley end. She dropped her rabbit in the hat and brought over her head the cape, covering her high cheekbones she guessed stirred things in men.

He waited with parenthetical legs until she brought down the cape. He was not good-looking. His face full of sounds, a noisy belly like a hill of beans. Excuse me, he said, I skipped dinner. His hair was long and gummy. I enjoy your show very much, he said. I don’t wear glasses but I find you by the crowds you attract. The rabbit hopped a circle around them. Twilight clucked and it leapt back into the hat. The rabbits! he laughingly said. They are a hoot.

Who are you? asked Twilight.

If there ever was a fan, I am one—of your showmanship, he said. Internationally, I am Bienvenido of the Philippines. I’m in a band.

It was nice meeting you Bienvenido, said Twilight and inched away with the rabbit in the hat at her side.

Wait Magician! said Bienvenido. I have a confession.

Twilight looked at him this and that way. He wasn’t easily pleasant. But she saw how you could train your eyes to prefer what he was, the unlikely tilt of his bulk.
 
Like a mobster looking for lobster, I’ve come from Manila to find you poofing exceptionally. You feel like a bedtime story. So come and make my mouth watery.

Bienvenido was a persistent Filipino rapper who stored rhymes in his belly. Night after night he waited with a rhyme scheme to share with Twilight.
What is the point? Twilight asked the neighbor. There is the old lady to consider.
Get married if it’s a good idea, said the neighbor, taking off her latex gloves. But no man’s going to stick so long’s the crazy’s around.
I wish she was make-believe, said Twilight.
Do up your hair something special, said the neighbor. The time has come for you to choose.
Big G more and more lingered in a corner triangle bundling socks or sleeping. Twilight held up a mirror over the nose to see if she was still breathing. To wake her, Twilight shook her with a foot. She left dollops of porridge or pudding by Big G’s face so she didn’t have to change diapers as often. Sometimes, Twilight watched sleeping Big G and recalled memories: Big G thigh-high in the pigpen; dozing Big G while Twilight showed off her tricks; lonely, wailing Twilight massaging Big G’s walnut-shelled soles; Twilight choking with well-being equipment; falling Twilight with Big G thrashing on her back.

 
Bienvenido wore a shimmying orange number to do a number in the small cruiser that rode the Han thrice a day. Your turn to watch, he said. Twilight laid down hat and bunny in the next seat and snacked on a bag of dried squid.

Bienvenido and his band swayed. They thrust their hips to make their way across the small stage. The strobe lights landed on their considerable jaws.
After the show, Bienvenido came sweating to Twilight, the band members following behind in single file. A man’s heart flutters greatly, he panted. Only a woman can make it so.
Twilight looked at him as though he spread roses between them.

Thank you for the pretty lines, she said. Are you my missing chord?

You bet, he said. Let’s go home.
Twilight and Bienvenido stood outside her green building with yellow trimming.
Who’s this? asked the man leaning against a tin mushroom, pointing at Bienvenido.
Bienvenido leaned on the man’s leaning. Guess, he said.
What detective I have to be! said the man and spit on the ground. Hey girlie! he said, turning to Twilight. A great stink from your trash. Wrap up tight those diapers.
I have something to show you, said Twilight to Bienvenido.
Big G lay folded in her corner triangle.
What is this? asked Bienvenido.
She’s not make-believe, said Twilight.
I know, said Bienvenido.
I knew you knew but I wanted to make sure, she said.
Bienvenido heaved over and rested his head on his knees. Time passed before he rose back up.
A throw-away, he said and nudged Big G’s shoulder. A genuine throw-away. He said, You’re a wonderful woman, I think. But I cannot love you in spite of this.
I think she has a special meaning to me, said Twilight.
Who believes all that? asked Bienvenido.
Big G curved a lunar moon.
Yes, who does, said Twilight.

 
When the band members came, they came disguised in dark masks, exciting Big G into a cackle.

What they did was roll her up in a summer blanket. Twilight watched, petting a bunny. Bienvenido was brushing his hair nearby. Big G looked down at her sausaged body like it was a good idea.
They lifted her up horizontal. In the meantime, Twilight said, I think of life without you and it is a good one. Big G bit down on her lower lip. Twilight reached inside the blanket and held the old woman’s hands moist enough for rice to sprout. Good bye, said Twilight and Big G wiggled what she could before the band members took her down the stairs that made her useless in the first place. Let’s go! she yelled.
Twilight closed the door behind them. She looked around. She felt ugly like stacked pig heads.
Bienvenido whistled her over. All mine, he said and opened his arms wide like he was a big deal.
Twilight went over to the neighbor’s. She’s gone, she said.
The neighbor gave Twilight a high-five. No more tragedy! yelled the neighbor.
Now I am to be sober, said Twilight.

 
Who eats these for breakfast Wifey? asked Bienvenido at the plate of Swiss cubes.

What are the bananas doing in the closet Wifey? asked Bienvenido, holding a bundle in each hand.
Why am I wearing this Wifey? asked Bienvenido, pointing at the diaper he had on.
Twilight moved around dazed. She shifted about with a raised eyebrow like a suspect spy.
Night after night, she awoke to wake up snoring Bienvenido.
On a cruiser to Manila? asked Twilight.
In the closet of the pool hall across the street? asked Twilight.
Chopped, churned, down the drain? asked Twilight.
She cried when sleepy Bienvenido said No! No! No! What matters now when it is all done with?

 
Set up near the fussy station Shinchon, Twilight forgot to abracadabra and the bunny sat explicable in the hat. Boo, cried her audience who wobbled away.

She was gathering her supplies when she caught a glimpse. Surely it was Big G’s hunched back! But it faded behind the crowds. Still, Twilight ran after, the bunny hopping over clusters of shoes.
Twilight shouldered and elbowed. Every whichaway she looked, beneath vendor tables, inside photo booths. She smashed down unmarked doors. She lunged into huddled bodies. When a big-bodied man dumped her to a curb, she landed on the wide-eyed bunny.
Some subway stations later, Twilight found her, crouched and selling gum under a rainbow awning.
Twilight scooped up the figure in her arms. Do-over! Do-over! she yelled. I vote for a do-over, what do you say?
The old woman thrashed. Who the hell are you?
Yes, a do-over, said Twilight and heaved the figure over her shoulder.
Help! Help! cried the old woman who battered with bunched fists and fairy feet.
We’ve picked a hard world to be, said Twilight.
You crazy! screamed the old woman. I’ve got my own sorrow!
Oh my old honey girl! said Twilight and squeezed her tight. With the old woman bouncing at her side, Twilight began the trot back east. Back up mountains shimmering first-time glow. Back down mountains giving speed like the sweetest of downfalls.

 
 

Originally published in No Tokens Issue No. 3. View full issue & more.
*

Aram Kim’s fiction has appeared in the Los Angeles Review, No Tokens, DIAGRAM, Cosmonauts Avenue and elsewhere. She received the Los Angeles Review Short Fiction Award, Diagram’s Innovative Fiction Award, Inkwell’s Short Story Prize, and shortlisted for the Bridport Prize. A graduate of Columbia University’s MFA program, she splits her time between Seoul, Korea and San Jose, CA.