Swimming Through the Dawn

by R. P. Rioux

  31

  Grace

  The seven members of Made in Heaven were in the dance studio practicing choreography for "Feel the Heat." They'd been at it for hours. Danya walked back and forth, monitoring their performance while frequently identifying mistakes. "Erin, you're late." "Sun-hee, too soon." "Mindy, you held your position too long. Heather has to be there." Occasionally, she'd stop the music altogether. "Stop! Stop!" The girls were sweating. Several were bent over, breathing heavily.

  "Heather did it wrong," said Grace.

  "Is that what you think?" Six girls nodded. "Incorrect. Heather's the only one who did it right." Danya's explanation met with protests, but she tolerated none of it. "Heather, show them." The last few steps were repeated without music until Danya told her to stop.

  "Do you see that?" Their choreographer repeated the gesture with her right hand above her right temple. "Pretty lines, ladies. That's what I want to see. Pretty lines. It's subtle but makes a difference. The rest of you make it look like a rain-soaked hat, while hers is a glorious feather. Again."

  They ran through the dance three more times. Danya stopped their third attempt to correct another error. "Not on the downbeat; on the upbeat. Listen. To. The. Music." She emphasized her intent by clapping in time with the beat. "Once more."

  "We're exhausted," protested Grace.

  "You're exhausted? I have no idea why. I count one of you who looks like she practiced before today." The girls stood with slumped shoulders and sad eyes as she continued her harangue. "Why are you wasting my time?" She was practically shouting but articulated each word to emphasize their importance. "Listen to me. You have one week to pull your shit together. If I return next Tuesday and you're still learning the steps, I'm walking straight out of here, and you won't ever see me again. Do you understand?"

  A couple of meek acknowledgments.

  "What? I didn't hear that." Danya placed a hand against her ear. "I'll ask again. Do you understand?"

  "Yes!" the seven of them shouted in unison.

  "These sessions are for refinement. Remember, dance is an illusion. You're to make the difficult look easy. You should be long past the point where you're learning the moves. Vanessa, you need to step it up, big time. They expect guidance." Vanessa nodded in shame. "You should know this backwards and forwards. By next week, make sure they do too. If y'all ain't taking this seriously, why should I?"

  Danya collected her belongings and left the room without saying goodbye. Though she was gone, the girls stood in place for a moment, fearful of doing or saying anything that would draw more wrath. Grace called for another run-through. Nobody complained. They continued for another 90 minutes until they had given it their all.

  During the break, as group members reclined on the hardwood floor regaining energy, Grace whispered to Heather. "Okay, I want an answer on this dialect thing." They had previously discussed the peculiar way June spoke at times. Because of their relative unfamiliarity with the regional dialects of Korea, however, they were unable to identify hers. Grace peeked over Heather's shoulder to observe June sitting on the dance floor near her backpack.

  "Hey June, inside my bag there beside you, I have some caramels." She spoke in Korean using the borrowed term for the candy kae-reo-mel. "Could you distribute those to whoever wants some?"

  "I do," said Erin, raising her hand.

  June fished around in the bag but appeared puzzled. After taking a second look, she extracted index cards and displayed them to Grace.

  "No. What else do you see?" asked Grace.

  June responded, also in Korean, "Some clothes, a water bottle, snack bars, and gi-reum-sa-tang."

  As expected, her description was odd. "Show me those," ordered Grace.

  June extracted a resealable baggie of caramels. Heather glanced at Grace, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  "Yeah, those. Hand those out, please." Grace returned her attention to Heather. "See what I mean?"

  "Oily candy?" questioned Heather, using the literal interpretation of gi-reum-sa-tang. "That's an odd term. Is that some sort of old-fashioned word I'm not familiar with?"

  "She has a strange vocabulary at times, but I have a theory."

  Moments later, as the members were gathered in a circle on the floor drinking water and sharing caramels, Grace took the opportunity to push her experiment. Despite June's lack of expertise, band activities were generally handled in English as it was the one language common to all members. "June, you haven't told us much about yourself. Where did you live in Korea before coming to the U.S.?"

  June froze. It took a moment, but she recovered enough to say, "Near border." Her chin trembled.

  Grace wasn't satisfied with the response. "Well, that doesn't narrow it much, does it? What city?"

  "It's small town. You not know it." She looked stressed, even beyond the demands of the rehearsal.

  "Try me," said Mindy. "I toured the entire country as an idol."

  June squirmed. Her hesitation served to focus their attention on her answers. When she realized she couldn't avoid the question any longer, she cast her eyes to the floor and shyly said, "Kimjongsuk."

  The gasps were audible, as most in the group realized what her answer meant.

  "I thought so," said Sun-hee.

  Vanessa, who was unfamiliar with the history and geography of Korea, asked, "What's wrong?"

  "Kim Jong-suk was the mother of Kim Jong-il, and the grandmother of Kim Jong-un," explained Grace.

  "And?" asked Vanessa, still not getting it.

  "If she came from a town named after her, that means June is from North Korea," noted Mindy, "not the Republic of Korea like the rest of us."

  Once the truth of the matter dawned on Vanessa, she uttered, "Oh."

  The air conditioner blower clicked off, leaving the members to ponder the conclusion in utter silence.

  "Is my accent too poor? I try to lose it."

  Heather responded, "It's okay, June, but why were you afraid to tell us?"

  "You don't understand."

  "That's right, we don't. Help us."

  "When I say I'm North Korea, it's all people see. To them, I only refugee. Nothing I do changes minds. That's who I be always."

  "It's unfair," said Sun-hee.

  "How did you escape?" asked Vanessa.

  "I will tell, but please don't mention again. I want to put behind."

  "We promise," said Grace. "Do we understand that?" She stuck her hand in the center, inviting the others to join in the pledge, which they did willingly. "We won't mention it again after tonight."

  June appeared moved by the gesture, even if she remained untrusting. With enough continued encouragement from the others, she grew comfortable enough to share her story as the girls listened intently.

  "Kwan Jeong is my Korean name," June said, beginning her tale.

  At age eight, Jeong moved to Kimjongsuk to live with her uncle and aunt after her mother died from a chronic respiratory disease. Her father disappeared before she was born.

  "Government said U.S. is great enemy and Koreans in South are slaves, but my own views said not true. When I was girl, foreign music and movies common but strictly forbid. We go in danger to look at it. Yet, secretly we watch and listen to everything we get. North Korean songs cold, but South and from America songs filled our hearts. We knew not in paradise, like government say. We knew they lie, but couldn't speak against."

  She began receiving compliments on her looks as a child. As a teenager, her beauty attracted the attention of high-ranking provincial ministers. They often made direct inquiries, and Jeong's relatives grew fearful.

  Her aunt recalled an event she had witnessed when only 15 years old. One day, a group of administrators walked into her classroom unannounced, told the boys to wait outside, and lined the girls along one wall. After assessing them each individually, the most beautiful one, Hei-Ran, was taken from the school that moment and not seen again by her family or peers. It wasn't until 10 years later people learned she
had been sent to Pyongyang and forced to pleasure the Chairman of the Control Commission. Wanting to spare their niece from a similar fate, Jeong's aunt and uncle triggered an escape plan they had prepared for an emergency.

  "How is that allowed?" asked Erin.

  "Authorities there have the power to do whatever they want," Grace responded.

  "I could not refuse," June explained. "Authorities punish whole family for my crime. They scare people to force them. Sex assault is daily life. The pretty suffer most. I would too if it saved family."

  "I can't imagine being in that position," said Sun-hee.

  June explained her uncle's factory job only paid enough to make a meager living. To supplement their income, he smuggled contraband across the border from China. Though he took a risk each time, over the years, he was able to develop a reliable network of contacts. He knew which guards to bribe and what crossing points to use.

  The night they fled was less than ideal. A storm hit, which initially provided them with much-welcomed cover, but gradually conditions became hazardous. They had no choice but to carry through with the plan, for by abandoning it then, they'd reveal their intentions to the authorities. During the crossing of the Yalu River, Jeong was swept off her feet by a swift-moving current. Thankfully, her uncle managed to grab her jacket and guide her to her aunt's waiting arms on the Chinese shore. Then, tragedy struck. The branch he was holding for stability snapped. The river's current carried him away instantly.

  "Oh, my god. Was he okay?" asked Sun-hee.

  "We don't know. Too dark," explained June. "We heard splash far away. We hid in bushes to wait, but dawn come, and we leave or be caught. We want to search, but broker said too dangerous."

  "What happened to your uncle?" asked Erin.

  "We don't know. We leave area when broker warned us."

  "What did you do?" asked Heather.

  "That was start of trouble." June shared her memories of the terrible two years they spent as refugees making their way across China to safety in Southeast Asia. First, they had to make a living, despite not speaking the language. Few Chinese wanted to risk their own wellbeing to help them, while many actively exploited their vulnerable condition. They lived in constant fear of being discovered. If caught, the Chinese officials would deport them to North Korea, where they would be detained in a hard labor camp. Even if government officials didn't find them first, female refugees were often ensnared by the criminal underworld to be sold into sexual slavery, or as brides for poor farmers.

  When they received a tip that their employer had betrayed them for a price, they fled again, leaving behind what few possessions and money they had accumulated. They were homeless and at the mercy of fate, unable to trust anyone. Jeong made herself look as plain as possible to avoid unwanted attention. This wasn't hard to do, as they ate rarely and bathed less.

  Then, in a moment of extraordinary fortune, they encountered a U.S.-based missionary group dedicated to rescuing North Korean refugees. With the church's help, they were able to make their way into Thailand via an underground refugee network. Upon reaching safe ground, they applied for and were granted asylum in the U.S., but their struggles were not over.

  "Living here is difficult," said June in conclusion. "Everything is different, and we have little money. My Aunt works as sewer lady?" June was unsure of the correct English word and repeated it in Korean.

  "Seamstress?" volunteered Heather.

  "Yes, seamstress," said June. "I work in restaurant, but want to be model. When I be famous, I go to China to find uncle, father, and friends."

  "What friends?" asked Sun-hee.

  June grew more distressed. "I hate to remember this," she said with a deep sigh. Sun-hee put an arm around June's shoulder to comfort her until she was able to continue.

  "After I come to U.S., I contact two best friends in north. I wish not to do this now."

  "Why?" asked Grace.

  She spoke with fondness of Hae-won and Young-soon, both talented singers she knew from childhood. The three would often perform together for official functions. When they heard June's stories regarding the entertainment industry and her dreams of stardom in the West, they too desired a similar life. They attempted to make their own escape, but lacking her uncle's connections and knowhow, their plan failed.

  "I later know government watch them," said June. "Once intent become clear, my friends arrested and sent to labor camp. Their fate is my fault."

  "No, no," said Sun-hee. "You can't blame yourself."

  "What happens in these labor camps?" asked Erin.

  June was too wrecked to respond. She leaned into Sun-hee's shoulder and sobbed.

  Grace took it upon herself to answer. "Nothing good, Erin. Hard, dangerous physical labor, long hours, lack of food, no medicine, exposure to the elements, torture, abuse, you name it." Heather angrily, but silently, urged silence for June's sake. Grace complied, but not without finishing her thought by miming a throat-slitting motion to indicate death, taking care to prevent June from seeing her gesture.

  "How can fates be so different depending on where you were born?" asked Sun-hee.

  The rehearsal was over for the night. Grace offered rides home to anyone who needed them. "Remember, we have the music festival this weekend."

  32

  Heather

  It didn't sound right to her ears. Heather listened carefully to the final mix of "Feel the Heat." She wanted to be sure before objecting.

  Nope. It wasn't her imagination. Something was wrong.

  "What do you think?" Phil asked, holding his chin high as the playback ended. The two of them sat alone in the university's audio mastering suite. Steve had arranged the meeting, but an unexpected conflict prompted Phil to make the presentation alone.

  Heather stared at the mixing console, searching for a way to adequately express her dissatisfaction. "All the nuance is missing. What happened?" Phil jerked his head back momentarily. "My voice sounds small and thin," she continued. "I didn't sing it this way."

  Phil's demeanor changed abruptly. His voice thundered in the small room. "I told him it was a poor decision. Did he listen?"

  "Are you saying this was Steve's idea?"

  "It sounded good last time I heard it; he must've messed with it after I left."

  "You overused the editing tools. I was okay with the imperfections. Now I sound like a robot."

  "It was an awful idea to give him free rein."

  "Can you guys get it back? This concerns me."

  "We can do another mix. You got time?"

  Heather assured him she did. There was no way she'd allow the song to be released in its current form. After stepping outside to cancel a hair appointment and delay the band rehearsal, she returned to find Phil tweaking controls on the console.

  "Reset to zero for starters." The next playthrough was an immediate improvement. At one point, she paused the playback to emphasize her complaint. "See, I didn't sing this part flat because I'm clueless. I intended this inflection." With her guidance, they ran through the song line by line, tweaking settings until Heather was satisfied. Gone were most of the impeccable timings and the precise pitches. Some areas were enhanced to disguise the worst mistakes of the amateur members or to correct notes when they rubbed awkwardly against guitar chords, for example. The remaining changes were subtle and by necessity. The time-consuming exercise restored the spirit of the performance. She knew this level of control would have been disallowed at 37-G. Heather made sure to take advantage of it while she could.

  "I'm surprised Steve went for this," she said when the work was finished. "We discussed this days ago."

  "He doesn't understand. I'm not sure he's meant for this stuff."

  A knot developed in Heather's stomach. "What do you mean?"

  "He has good intentions, but his instincts are all wrong. Plus, he calls it quits too easily and is unreliable."

  These statements surprised Heather. She hadn't known Steve long but struggled to recall any incident
where he behaved the way Phil described. "He's your friend."

  "He is. I protect him when I can. A steady hand is needed to navigate this industry, though. You must know that. I bet you saw rough times as a trainee."

  Heather's pulse raced. Phil couldn't possibly know what happened in Korea, could he? The way he said it made her wonder. Had she let sensitive information slip? She studied his face. No. He had to be guessing. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

  "If someone made a regretful decision in the past, she'd be more inclined to compensate later. Wouldn't you agree?"