It had been a year.
Seokjun could now take charge of a room by himself at a job site. Doors, molding, the flat surfaces of sinks, curved surfaces. His speed was about seventy percent of Uncle's, and he almost never caused defects. Hyungsik said, "Hey, your hands got faster."
Seokjun smiled. It wasn't that he had gotten faster. He had just cut out the unnecessary movements.
Uncle scolded Seokjun less. It wasn't that he scolded him fewer times. What he scolded him about had changed. Before, it had been the basics. Now, it was the details.
"Your blade angle on the edge finishing is slightly off. It'll cast a shadow when the light hits it."
That was the level they were at. Seokjun knew it was a sign of recognition. Not being scolded over the basics meant he had mastered them.
One Saturday, on a day when there was no job site, Uncle said to Seokjun,
"Give me a hand today. I've got something to do at home."
It was the balcony at Aunt and Uncle's house. Uncle was applying film to the balcony window frame. He worked at home, too. Aunt had apparently been asking him to change the color of the balcony window frame for three months.
Seokjun assisted him. As the two of them applied film to the window frame, Uncle's hands moved differently than usual. They weren't the precise, quick hands he used at a job site. They moved slowly and carefully.
"Uncle, why are you going so slowly?"
"Because it's home."
Seokjun didn't understand. Uncle continued.
"At a job site, there's a completion schedule, so you have to work fast. But home is different. My wife looks at this every day. If it has a defect in a place she sees every day, that's the most embarrassing thing of all."
Seokjun looked at Uncle's hands. Cutter scars, adhesive stains, cracked skin. They looked like Seokjun's hands. No—they showed marks far older than his.
"Uncle, how many years have you been doing this?"
"Since I was twenty-two. More than twenty years."
"What was it like when you started?"
Uncle stopped while pressing down the film.
"I didn't know anything either. I learned under someone else, not from anyone working under me. That guy was brutal. What I'm doing to you is nothing compared to him."
"He was worse?"
"He hit me. For real. He'd smack the backs of my hands with a squeegee if I applied something wrong."
Seokjun said nothing.
"But what he taught me is what puts food on my table now. I endured three years under him, and that's why I'm the boss today. If I hadn't stuck it out, I don't know where I'd be or what I'd be doing."
Uncle finished the corner of the window frame. The sound of the blade passing over the film was quiet.
"Seokjun."
"Yes."
"Your aunt tells me this all the time. She says not to be too hard on you. She asks why I scold you so much when you're my nephew."
Seokjun smiled. He knew Aunt would say that.
"But if I don't, other guys at job sites will. When I scold you, it's to teach you. When someone else scolds you, it's because they're looking down on you. You know the difference, right?"
Seokjun's throat grew hot.
"I do."
"Good. That's all that matters."
Uncle stood up. The balcony window frame had been transformed with its new color. Uncle called for Aunt.
"Honey, come look."
Aunt came out. She looked at the frame and smiled.
"Oh, it's pretty. You should've done it sooner."
"Seokjun helped me."
Aunt looked at Seokjun and took his hand. His roughened hand.
"Our Seokjun's hands are starting to look like Uncle's."
Seokjun smiled. Uncle smiled, too. The three of them stood on the balcony and looked at the new window frame.
That evening, Uncle brought out a bottle of soju. He grilled pork belly. Aunt washed the lettuce.
"Seokjun, have a drink."
Uncle pushed a shot glass toward him. Seokjun took it. Uncle poured for him, and Seokjun poured for Uncle, too.
"Uncle."
"What?"
"Thank you."
Uncle lifted his shot glass and looked at Seokjun for two or three seconds.
"No need to thank me. You were the one who stuck it out. What did I do?"
They clinked their glasses. The soju burned down Seokjun's throat. He liked the bitterness.
As Uncle flipped the pork belly, he said,
"Seokjun, by around next year, you'll be able to do this on your own."
Seokjun stopped with his chopsticks halfway to the food.
"On my own?"
"Going independent. Your own business. Get your business registration, take jobs under your own name. Your skills are good enough. Now you need to learn the business side."
Seokjun set down his shot glass. Going independent. His own business. The words felt heavy. They were words he couldn't have imagined a year ago.
"I'm still not good enough."
"You're not. But nobody leaves once they're completely ready. You go out while you're still lacking, run into things, and fill in the gaps along the way."
Uncle poured another shot of soju.
"I'm not pushing you out. You'll leave when it's time for you to go. I'm just telling you in advance. Get ready."
Seokjun nodded. He looked at his hands. Hands that had become like Uncle's.
Could he do his own work with these hands?
He still didn't know. But he hadn't known a year ago, either—whether he could apply even one door panel. He hadn't known then, but now he could.
He lifted his shot glass. And drank.