The Half-Folded Table

When Suyeon reached her parents’ apartment, her older brother Yunjae had half-folded the table in their old room. Their parents were turning it into a study. They had asked both children to collect their remaining belongings that weekend.

Yunjae had put two small boxes and a large bag in the middle of the room. His things filled one box. Suyeon’s notebooks, previously on the table, stood upright in the other.

“Are you taking this table?” Before putting down her handbag, Suyeon looked at its legs. “You’ve already folded it.” “If you don’t want it, I’ll move it into the hall.” Their parents were collecting unwanted furniture there.

Suyeon opened the legs again. A black line marked the top. Yunjae had drawn it as a child, with no newspaper beneath his paper. She rubbed its end. He opened the large bag.

“I sent you photos last month. I asked what you wanted.” She remembered looking through them on her way to work. She had said their mother could clear out the old things. The table had looked smaller on her phone.

“I thought I’d choose when I saw them.” “That’s why I’m asking now.” A leg rattled as he lowered the table. She held its edge. “I’ll take it.” He asked where her car was.

They carried the folded table downstairs. Her car’s trunk held an empty box and some trainers. Even after moving those to the back seat, they could not fit the table through the opening. She tried another angle.

“We can fold the back seats down,” Yunjae said. Suyeon lived in a small studio. To fit this table, she would have to remove her desk. He reached for the car door. She lowered her end. “Let’s take it upstairs first.”

In the lift, Yunjae supported the tabletop. “You haven’t got room for it, have you?” Suyeon watched the floor numbers. “Did I say that?” “Then why are we taking it back?” Neither spoke before the doors opened.

He leaned the table against the wall. Suyeon pulled her box closer. A thin book slid into the large bag. Yunjae reached to retrieve it, but she got there first.

“You thought I was throwing this away too?” “No. It fell.” She pushed it into her box. “You always ask after you’ve done everything. Do I want it? Do I mind? Then I just choose between the options you’ve left.”

Yunjae put down the bag. “If I leave everything undecided, will you come and do it?” She had no answer. Last week, he had helped their parents move the bookcase. She had promised to come later, but never arrived.

“I know I’m late,” she said, pressing a notebook’s corner. “But I’m not only talking about the table.” He looked at it. “So you don’t want to take it?” After a while, she nodded.

He did not laugh. She let go of the box. “If I say I don’t need the things you’ve sorted, it feels like saying everything I left here was pointless.” “I thought you were putting off deciding again.”

Yunjae opened his box. It held some clothes and a shallow plastic container. She recognized their old coin box. It was empty now. “This is all I want to keep. I haven’t got room for the table either.”

Suyeon sat beside the table. “Let’s put it out. But I’ll go through my box again myself.” He glanced at his watch, then lowered his hand. “We need to finish by this evening.” “Give me an hour. Then I’ll help move yours too.”

He moved the large bag to the doorway instead of leaving it beside her. She took out her notebooks one by one. Some she briefly opened. Others she examined right into their inside pockets. He folded his clothes.

A striped sock of hers appeared between his old sports clothes. She laughed when he handed it over. She had discarded its partner years ago, believing this one lost. He laughed too, then put it beside him without asking where it should go.

Suyeon kept two notebooks and an envelope of photos. She put the rest into the large bag herself. He closed the coin box and laid it in his carton, covering it with clothing to protect it while they carried the table.

“Shall we move the table first?” She pointed to the last drawer. “Let me check that.” He went to prop open the front door. When he returned, she was running her palm around the empty drawer’s corners.

They stood on either side of the table. Suyeon folded its legs while he supported the top. The legs clicked into the catch. He walked backwards. She lifted a corner to clear the doorframe.

They set it in the hall as their mother came through the open door, keys in hand. She said they were taking more than she expected. “Just this one for me,” Suyeon said. Yunjae pointed to his box. “Same here.”

While their mother poured water in the kitchen, they returned to the room. Yunjae checked for anything left on the floor. Suyeon put the striped sock into the bag, then stood her notebooks upright so they would not bend.

Yunjae offered her the tape. Suyeon opened one notebook once more, then closed it. “Ready.” Only then did he hold down the carton’s flaps. As she taped across them, his hands stayed still on either side.