Chapter Text
Father Julian watches the couple seated opposite him begin yet another argument. The third one in the - he glances discreetly at the black and white analog clock on his table - fifteen minutes they have been in this small bare room he calls his office.
Oh God, his heart cries out. Make them stop!
It’s on days like this when Father Julian misses his days at the seminary. Terribly.
He had grand plans for his life, Father Julian. To be a theologian, he told the head of his seminary during his admission interview. To spend his life reading, thinking and writing about God. But unfortunately, his religious order had other plans, for on the day of his graduation, he received a letter informing him that he had been assigned to understudy the elderly Father Joseph at a small village church.
And so, instead of pondering the mysteries of the Trinity or trying to reconcile the existence of evil with an everloving and omnipotent God, Father Julian spends his days assisting in the administration of the sacraments, hearing confessions, doing chores around the church, and replying to congregants who have sent letters or email giving him “feedback” on his Sunday sermons.
But recently, Father Julian has come to recognise the joys of doing the Lord’s work here. The villagers are nice (well, most of them anyway), the air is fresh, and there is a great hiking trail up the hill just behind the village. In the summer, he goes fishing with the kids and in the winter, he organises a huge Christmas fete with the villagers.
Today, in a break from the mundane, Father Julian is meeting a couple who has just arrived from the city. Lee Ik Jun, the husband. Chae Song Hwa, the wife. Both lawyers, according to the letter from their parish priest. Both thirty-five years of age. Both squabbling like children from the moment they arrived.
Sighing under his breath, Father Julian steals another peek at the letter on the table.
Married for seven years.
On the brink of divorce.
A last attempt at reconciliation.
“Yes, I hear you, and I understand,” Father Julian says with his warmest smile. “But please understand that my role is not to be your counsellor. I’m only here to help you settle in and check in on you every now and then.”
“What?” Ik Jun says, loosening his tie, looking confused. “We were told that we are going to get help for our marriage.”
“Yes, yes. Of course you are,” Father Julian replies. “From God and yourselves.”
“Father,” Song Hwa says, her voice cold and her glare hostile. “Please tell me you are kidding.”
“I’m not kidding. Not at all,” Father Julian says amiably. “I will never joke about matters pertaining to the Lord’s work.”
“So you're telling me we have to be alone with each other for forty days?” Ik Jun asks.
“Yes, mostly. Although you are free to leave earlier if you like. This is not prison,” Father Julian says with a chuckle.
“How long do couples usually stay?” Song Hwa asks, crossing her arms.
“Usually two weeks. Some longer, some shorter,” Father Julian says, pushing back his glasses up his nose to read the letter again. “But Father Ignatius seems to think that both of you may need the full forty days.”
Song Hwa lets out a sigh and mumbles just loudly enough for everyone to hear, “This is such a waste of time.” Then staring daggers at Ik Jun, she says, “This is all your fault! You should have listened to me when I said we should just find another marriage counsellor in the city!”
“Yah, do you know how many counsellors we have already been to?” Ik Jun says, his voice low and terse. “Do you really think another one is going to help?”
“Yah, forty days!” Song Hwa says, tapping her fingers angrily on the table. “Do you know how much I can bill in six weeks!”
“It’s only about thirty-four working days,” Father Julian offers helpfully.
“Great,” Song Hwa says, leaning back in her chair and rolling her eyes. “I feel much better now.”
“Stop arguing with the priest,” Ik Jun whispers loudly to Song Hwa. Then turning to Father Julian, he says with a polite smile, “I’m so sorry, Father, my wife is a bit grumpy today. She has been working late nights trying to clear all her work so that we can —”
“I’m not grumpy!” Song Hwa says grumpily, crossing her arms again.
“Of course not, dear,” Ik Jun says, giving Father Julian a look as if to say look what I have to live with.
“Now, now,” Father Julian says in his most soothing voice, smiling genially at the couple.
“What has been your success rate, Father?” Ik Jun asks, changing the subject. “Father Ignatius seems to think very highly of this place.”
“Well, we have been doing this for three hundred years and there has only been one divorce,” Father Julian says proudly. Then, casting his gaze at Ik Jun then Song Hwa, he adds, “Since we have made time for this, let’s give each other a chance, shall we?”
With a charming smile, Ik Jun nods his agreement while Song Hwa stares straight ahead, giving no answer. Father Julian continues, “Do you have any questions before I bring you to the cottage?”
“I hope your wifi signals are strong,” Song Hwa says, getting up from her seat. “If we are going to be stuck here, I can at least catch up on my work.”
“Oh yes, I completely forgot,” Father Julian says, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand before opening the bottom drawer of his table and taking out a wicker basket. “There’s no wifi here and —”
“No wifi?” the couple shouts in unison, their eyes wide open in shock. Song Hwa sinks back down in her seat.
“No wifi,” Father Julian says cheerfully. “And no television either.”
“Look what you’ve done, Lee Ik Jun!” Song Hwa says, turning to her husband with a scowl.
“You’ll be fine,” Father Julian says with a chuckle. Then, pushing the wicker basket across the table to the couple, he says, “Please place your handphones, laptops —”
“I cannot leave my phones here,” Song Hwa says, glowering at Father Julian and her husband. “I need to be contactable at all times! My office —”
Pointing to a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the basket, Father Julian says, “This is the phone number of the church office. Please let them know they can call you at this number if there is an emergency.”
“What? This is unacceptable! I can’t —”
“No problem, Father,” Ik Jun says, grinning at Father Julian while taking his two handphones out from his suit pocket and placing them in the basket. Then he walks over to his luggage to retrieve his laptop.
“Yah! Lee Ik Jun! You —”
“My dear wife, you do realise that no amount of arguing will change anything?” Ik Jun says, giving Song Hwa a wary sidelong look before placing his laptop in the basket. “We just need to get these forty days over with, okay? Then we will know we have tried our best and we can each get on with the rest of our lives.”
What Father Julian calls a “cottage” is no bigger than Song Hwa’s bedroom back home.
From the outside, it looks a lot like the houses Song Hwa used to draw when she was a child. An olive green wooden door in the middle, with windows on either side of the door. Moments before entering the cottage, Song Hwa imagines a cosy space, with a fireplace, a bright kitchen, and a comfortable bedroom.
The reality is markedly different, and Song Hwa’s (soon-to-be-ex) husband must be taken aback too for he has suddenly become very quiet.
Father Julian begins with a tour of the cottage. He points out the single wooden chair, a table so small it can only hold at most two plates and two cups, a single bed with one pillow and one blanket, and the tiniest bathroom Song Hwa has ever seen. He appears particularly proud of the low bookshelf which he claims he built, which is holding some worn out looking books, a few old magazines and a deck of cards. In the kitchen is a small refrigerator, a stove with only one burner, and a toaster oven.
Song Hwa is looking through the titles of the books when she hears Ik Jun call out to Father Julian.
“Where are the rest of the utensils, Father?” Ik Jun asks, standing in front of an opened drawer next to the sink. Curious, Song Hwa walks over to join him.
“Ah yes,” Father Julian says, pushing back his glasses up his nose. “That’s all the utensils you have.”
“What?” Ik Jun says, his eyes wide with surprise. “You can’t be serious, Father. These aren’t enough for the two of us!”
Song Hwa peers over Ik Jun’s shoulders and sees a single white coffee mug, a pastel pink plate, a spoon, a fork, a steak knife, and a pot big enough to cook a single serving of instant noodles.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure things out,” Father Julian replies with a cheery smile. “To help you get settled in, we have provided a week’s supply of food - you can find them in the refrigerator and in the cabinet above it.”
“Alright then,” Father Julian says, taking a look around the cottage before making his way to the door. “I’ll leave you two to settle —”
“Wait, Father,” Song Hwa says. “Where is the microwave oven? And the washing machine?”
“Ah, we don’t have those either,” Father Julian says, flashing another smile. Then, leading them out of the cottage, he points out a metal tub no bigger than the wheel of Song Hwa’s SUV, leaning against the wall. “If you need to do the laundry, you can use this. The washing powder is in the cabinet under the sink.”
“The clothes line is in the backyard,” Father Julian continues, bringing them to the back of the cottage. “Oh, and you have been given only one bedsheet and one pillowcase. So I’d suggest that you wash them on a sunny day.”
Leading the couple back to the entrance of the cottage, Father Julian says, “If you have no further questions, I’ll take my leave now. I should be back in a couple of days to see how you are doing.”
Then with a warm smile, he adds, “May the Lord be with you.”