The moment I opened my eyes at dawn, I touched Bomi’s bed sheet first. The area by her head was damp. The saliva stains had seeped through the tightly stretched sheet and into the waterproof cover beneath it. The back of her pajamas was wet too, stuck to her back.
I picked Bomi up and sat her down on the living room mat. Without properly opening her eyes, she rested her forehead against my lap. When I took off her wet pajamas, she hunched her shoulders, as if the back of her neck felt cold.
Jiho brought a dry sheet and undershirt from the bedroom. He stripped off the wet sheet and carried it to the washing machine. While the water ran, I dressed Bomi in clean clothes. I fastened one of the buttons wrong and had to undo it.
There were short voice messages Minjeong had left during the night. I put in only one earbud and listened to the earliest recording first.
Doyoon’s voice was low and hoarse.
“She kept waking up. I was supposed to hold her first, but I must’ve fallen asleep with her for a little while. I missed the handoff.”
The baby’s crying grew louder in the background. The recording ended in a hurry.
Bomi twisted in my lap. I stopped the playback and picked her up. A few strands of wet hair clung to her forehead. After wiping her off and giving her some water, I laid her on her back in the bed with its dry sheet and slowly rubbed her chest. It took a long time for her eyelids to droop.
Jiho asked from in front of the washing machine,
“Should I set out one more sheet?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He didn’t ask what I had been listening to. I didn’t say anything either. Once Bomi fell asleep, I put in both earbuds and opened the next recording.
This time, it was Minjeong.
“Doyoon couldn’t get up, and I couldn’t wake him right away either. I kept thinking I should wake him, but Uju started crying, so I picked him up first. We were a little late getting ready in the morning. It’s not like someone broke a promise. We were just both too tired.”
Minjeong paused. As she caught her breath, I heard dishes clinking somewhere in the distance.
“Could you come by for a little while this evening? Instead of bringing back what we had before, I want to look together for something we can do in our own home right now.”
After that, the sound of a bag zipper closing mingled faintly with Doyoon’s voice. He said he couldn’t find one of Uju’s socks. Minjeong told him to look under the shoe cabinet. Someone had to go to work, and someone had to take the child to daycare. Morning was beginning with the night still tangled up in it.
I hadn’t seen that night. I didn’t know who had gotten up first each time the baby cried, or how long the arms holding her had held out. The recordings were only fragments left between crying and housework. Even so, it wasn’t a night that could be reduced to one person’s mistake.
After replying that I would stop by briefly, I listened to the last part again. When Minjeong finished speaking, the rice cooker released a long hiss of steam. Beneath it, the bathroom exhaust fan continued its low hum. At first, they sounded like one noise, but as the steam subsided, they separated into two.
I listened to that overlap one more time.
When Jiho came home that evening, I told him I’d be back within an hour. He took Bomi in his arms at the entrance and told me to come home before she fell asleep.
At the entrance to Minjeong’s home, a pair of dress shoes lay kicked off with their heels folded down. On the dining table sat an unopened daycare communication notebook and a bowl of cooled soup. A work bag hung over the back of a chair, and her employee ID had been pushed to the edge of the table without even making it into the bag.
Doyoon was sitting on the living room floor, putting Uju’s blocks into their container. He placed them inside one at a time so the sound wouldn’t get too loud if he dumped them all in at once. Uju was leaning against the sofa, watching the red block in his father’s hand.
“How was your first day?”
Minjeong smiled as she carried the bowl to the sink.
“I asked the same question one extra time in the morning. I heard it, but it didn’t really sink in. I took a quick nap in the break room at lunch.”
“You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“No. I didn’t make any major mistakes. I just wasn’t as perfectly fine as I’d imagined.”
Doyoon said this as he closed the lid on the block container.
“It all got messed up from the moment I woke up late this morning.”
Minjeong filled the empty bowl with water.
“You weren’t the only one who woke up late. I couldn’t get ready for the morning last night either.”
Neither of them argued further. When Uju pushed the block container, Doyoon placed the child’s hand on top of the lid.
I asked if I could record just the sounds that were always present in their home. Minjeong nodded first, and Doyoon agreed as well. I said I wouldn’t use voices that had already disappeared or songs no one remembered.
“It doesn’t have to sound like us.”
Minjeong said it quietly.
The rice cooker finished cooking and released its steam. The initial burst pierced my ears, then softened as it went on. I trimmed away the beginning and kept only the part where the steam escaped in a long breath. When I opened the bathroom door a little, the exhaust fan hummed low. The thin vibration made by the shaking door was irritating, but the steady underlying sound blended well with their voices.
Minjeong walked beside the table with Uju in her arms. She patted his back three times, rested for a moment, then tapped twice. The dull sound of her palm settled over the exhaust fan.
“Talk like you normally do.”
Minjeong said it while cupping the back of the baby’s head.
“Mommy’s right here.”
Doyoon came in front of the sofa and took Uju from her. The baby grabbed the collar of his T-shirt.
“Daddy’s holding you.”
Uju reached toward the phone I was holding. I stopped the recording and pulled the device behind me. When the baby arched his back and made a sound, Minjeong took him again and set him down on the floor. Instead of the phone, Uju began drumming on the empty block container with both hands. We waited until the sound died down.
Their voices were low, but they weren’t swallowed up by the sounds of the house. I laid down the rice cooker’s breath in short bursts, then placed the exhaust fan’s hum and the patting over it. Minjeong’s words came first, followed by Doyoon’s one breath later. I softened the sharp edges and kept their voices close.
The finished sound was a little over twenty seconds long. It wasn’t a song, nor was it a sound that resembled someone’s absence. It was made of the sounds that appeared and disappeared every day while they cooked, bathed the baby, and took turns holding him.
Minjeong and Doyoon sat side by side at the table and listened once. Uju was tugging on the strap of his bib on the floor. Neither of them tried to bring him over to see how he would react.
Doyoon spoke first.
“It’s not a song.”
Minjeong listened all the way through again, then nodded.
“It sounds more like our home than a song would.”
After she said that, the rice cooker released another short hiss of steam. It was similar to the sound we had just made, but different. I didn’t fix it. It didn’t have to be exactly the same every day.
Doyoon said he would hold Uju first tonight and wake Minjeong if it got too hard. Minjeong told him to shake her awake if she didn’t hear him. They were smaller, more concrete words than last night’s promise.
When I packed my bag, Minjeong followed me to the entrance.
“Don’t stay to see the results. We’ll try it ourselves tonight.”
“If it’s too much, stop right away.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know briefly tomorrow.”
Even after the door closed, the exhaust fan’s sound faintly leaked into the hallway. As I waited for the elevator, I listened only until the sound stopped.
The next morning, Bomi was sitting on the entryway mat with one of her shoes in her lap. I was about to snatch it away before she could put the sole in her mouth and put it on her foot when a voice message arrived from Minjeong.
Doyoon spoke first. The sound of blankets shifting came from behind his voice.
“When she woke up for the second time, I held her and played it. She didn’t fall asleep right away, but she stopped arching her body for a little while. She calmed down some in my arms. Minjeong slept for about an hour during that time.”
Uju fussed briefly nearby. Doyoon’s words paused, then continued more quietly.
“She woke up again after that. We got up a few more times, and toward dawn, we both woke up. It wasn’t an easy night.”
I didn’t go any further than that. I couldn’t know what had calmed the baby, or whether things would have been the same without that brief sound. The night hadn’t gotten better, either. It was just that one handoff had continued, and one person had been able to lie down for a little while.
Bomi pulled one foot free and grabbed my arm. I paused the message and put her shoe back on. When I resumed playback, I heard Minjeong’s voice. It was more worn than the day before, but her words were clear.
“I still can’t remember the lullaby I used to sing.”
After a short breath, I heard dishes being set down.
“But I’m not going to give up more memory just to find it. I’m going to cancel Night Sleep Exchange.”