This Burns My Heart

by Samuel Park

  As Min made his way out, Soo-Ja wondered if he was going back to some sul-jib, to the arms of a barmaid. Or maybe he was going to meet Miss Hong at some agreed-upon place, where she would comfort him.

  “I don’t know what time I’m going to come back,” said Min, with his back to her.

  “All right,” said Soo-Ja, fighting back her tears. “Just one thing… Do whatever you want to do, with whomever you want. But don’t get any diseases and give them to me later.”

  Min stood with his body very still, and Soo-Ja thought for a moment that he might turn around and strike her. Instead, he grabbed the front door with such fury she feared he’d yank it from the wall. He went out into the street, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Soo-Ja remained still for a moment, collecting herself, and then she went inside the alcove, where she had been keeping the luggage of the Pearl Sisters fans. Without being urged, she brought their bags out, heavy as they were, and placed them in front of the group. She did this noiselessly, without saying anything. By the time she had come out, Nami had already reached into a red envelope in her purse and pulled out a series of 100-won bills. She placed the money on the counter—it was the exact amount; they knew exactly how much they owed. Soo-Ja saw Nami put the rest of the money back in her purse, silently, while the others took the bags and headed out of the hotel. She herself stayed in the front area for a while, and waited for the time to come to close for the day.

  chapter fourteen

  “Aren’t the renditions beautiful? Almost like art,” said Gi-yong, pointing at the pictures on his walls. Gi-yong and Soo-Ja were in his office, in Myong-dong, a few miles from her hotel. Behind his desk, Gi-yong had put up two posters of the land south of the Hangang River: one set, marked “Now,” were photos of the land as it was in the present—empty, mere fields, grass dried out by the sun and the cold winds; the other set, labeled “The Future,” was an artist’s drawing showing the land in the way Gi-yong expected it to be eventually—an urban landscape, with gleaming glass surfaces, high-rises, and billboards advertising Coca-Cola. “You came in the nick of time. I don’t know how much longer I could have held your spot.”

  “Actually, I don’t have the money yet. I came to ask if I could have more time,” Soo-Ja said, clutching her purse, looking at Gi-yong from across his desk.

  “Mrs. Choi,” said Gi-yong sternly. “You know I have other investors interested in the land, with cash on hand to pay me. I’m waiting for you as a favor. I could sell the last lot tomorrow if I wanted to. Do you want to give up? Should I just go ahead and sell it to someone else?”

  “No. I still have two weeks left,” said Soo-Ja. “And you gave me your word. I’ll get the money. I’ll have it for you by the time we agreed upon.”

  “I don’t doubt that. I have a feeling you’re the kind of woman who always gets what she wants,” said Gi-yong.

  “Actually, I hardly ever do, but I can feel my luck changing,” she said, faking a smile.

  “Yes. It must be frustrating for you to have to work in that hotel. A woman with your beauty needs a man to take care of her.”

  Soo-Ja did not blink. “Great. I’ll tell my husband that.”

  Gi-yong laughed. “You must think I’m a pig, don’t you? I’m not, I’m just direct. Look at your hands. They’re beautiful. They’re not meant to scrub things. They should simply rest on top of beautiful, very expensive marble countertops. The kind I happen to have in my house.”

  Soo-Ja shook her head. “Mr. Im, I’m not interested in being a rich man’s wife. I don’t care about marble, or onyx, or any of that. That’s not why I want the land.”

  “Really? Then what do you want?” asked Gi-yong, leaning forward.

  Soo-Ja thought for a moment. “For one thing, I would like my daughter to have her own room, in our own house, far away from all the men who stay as guests in the hotel.”

  Gi-yong nodded slightly. He dropped his leer and gazed at her the way he might a sister or a mother. “I get a feeling, Mrs. Choi, that you’ll get that—and more—very soon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Im.”

  After a brief silence, both of them rose from their seats, and Gi-yong and Soo-Ja shook hands. “Two weeks?” he asked.

  “Two weeks,” she replied.

  It seemed petty to pray for won, when others might be praying for food, or health, or love even, thought Soo-Ja. But every night that week she prayed, asking God to help her, and it may or may not have been a coincidence when, on the third day, she received a phone call from her old friend Jae-Hwa, asking if she could visit her at the hotel. Soo-Ja had not seen Jae-Hwa in three years, though she often thought of the night she had helped her leave her husband. Jae-Hwa had married again—miraculously, to the owner of the electric fan factory where she worked. Soo-Ja had not gone to their wedding—she did not have days off at the hotel—but Jae-Hwa forgave her, and often sent letters talking about how Soo-Ja had saved her, and that if she had a good life now, it was only because of Soo-Ja.

  Soo-Ja had no doubt that Jae-Hwa would lend her the money. In fact, she imagined them investing together, buying adjacent acres of land, calling each other with news of each year’s favorable jump in value. Jae-Hwa would never say no to her. That, in essence, was Soo-Ja’s mind-set before she saw her friend, and it may, in the end, have been the thing that got her in trouble.

  “You look exactly the same! Not a day older than when we were in college.” Jae-Hwa gasped at Soo-Ja, her arms outstretched, coming into the hotel. Soo-Ja quickly moved out from behind the counter and embraced Jae-Hwa.

  “You look wonderful, too!” said Soo-Ja, directing her to the chairs in the waiting area, where they sat down.

  “How old are you now?” asked Jae-Hwa. “Thirty-six? Thirty-seven?”

  “Jae-Hwa, you know we’re the same age—thirty-four. But thank you. You look wonderful, too.” She did: Jae-Hwa had a well-rested look on her face, pleasantly plump, with that paleness that was in fashion at the time, one that indicated not a day spent laboring under the hot sun. Jae-Hwa wore a light pink suit-jacket with an embroidered white round collar, and a white cashmere hat.

  “No, I’m serious. I’m witnessing a miracle. Your skin does not have any lines. You are the modern woman. You work hard, you cry, you suffer, but at the end of the day, you always remember to put on Pond’s night cream over your face.”

  Soo-Ja laughed, partly because she found her funny, but partly to tell her how happy she was to be with a friend. Friends seemed like such a luxury these days, to be savored like the rare pieces of chocolate smuggled into the house during the war. “You talk about my so-called beauty more than most men I’ve known.”

  “Women always notice these things more than men. Because it affects us more, I suppose,” said Jae-Hwa, sitting close to her, her knees touching Soo-Ja’s. “You’ll never know what it’s like to be me, you’ve always been the prettiest girl in the room.” Jae-Hwa said this matter-of-factly, without resentment.

  “You have no reason to envy me. Things turned out so well for you.”

  “Only because of you, Soo-Ja. If you hadn’t dragged me out of that first marriage, out of that vile drunk’s house, I would never have met Woo-suk.”

  Soo-Ja waved her gratitude away. “Don’t credit me with that. You would have left him eventually.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have,” said Jae-Hwa, and Soo-Ja could tell she meant it. “I didn’t have the courage. Lucky for me, Woo-suk doesn’t hit me. I don’t think he has the energy.”

  “Jae-Hwa! You’re going to shock all my guests. How long are you in town for? Do you have time to go to a coffeehouse?”

  Jae-Hwa gave her the broadest of grins. “Only if the time is spent wisely. Let’s speak ill of other people!”

  “Excellent. Let me just tell Miss Hong to watch the front desk. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Jae-Hwa smiled, with her lips sucked in, as if holding her breath, then began tapping her purse with her gloved fingers while Soo-Ja went looking
for the chambermaid. Miss Hong was not in her station, or in any of the guest rooms, and Soo-Ja did not see her housekeeping cart anywhere. Soo-Ja then realized she had not seen her all morning, and some of the rooms had not been cleaned yet. She was about to walk to the second floor and look there, when she decided, out of some instinct she hoped would be proved wrong, to check her own room instead.

  When she neared the door, Soo-Ja could hear her husband’s voice. He spoke in a familiar manner, without the honorific -io at the end of each sentence, as if talking to a social inferior.

  “I do a lot more around here than people think. Just today, I went to the bank to deposit some checks. And the day before, I ran some errands for Soo-Ja. She acts like it’s all on her shoulders, but it’s just part of her martyr act. She loves playing the victim.”

  Soo-Ja abruptly slid the door open. Miss Hong was there, indeed, and looked quite startled to see her. Min sat next to her on the floor; they were playing a game of baduk. It looked like Min was winning, his black pieces surrounding Miss Hong’s white ones on the wooden board. Or was it the other way around, and Miss Hong’s white pieces were the ones actually encroaching upon the black ones? Soo-Ja could never tell, looking at the game like this, with all the pieces next to one another. Both Min and Miss Hong looked at her like small children, sheepishly.

  “Please don’t keep Miss Hong away from her duties. She has better things to do than to entertain you,” Soo-Ja said to Min, coolly, before turning to Miss Hong and telling her to watch the front desk in her absence.

  When Soo-Ja turned the corner, into the hallway, her mask of confidence slipped, and she felt her anger rise to the surface. It was one thing to know in her head, and something else entirely to catch them together like that. She took a deep breath and fought back her tears.

  So they really were sleeping together.

  Soo-Ja felt humiliated. Had Min done this to get back at her? And to get back at her for what, exactly? Soo-Ja wondered. She supported him financially, gave him money for alcohol and cigarettes. She knew they didn’t make love very often—Soo-Ja was terrified of getting pregnant—but if he were to have an affair, did he have to choose someone so close at hand?

  As Soo-Ja walked back to the front desk, she tried to put on her best smile and pretend nothing had happened. She wanted to be fun and light, and entertain Jae-Hwa on her only day with her in years. And she didn’t want Jae-Hwa to lend her the money because she felt sorry for her.

  But when Soo-Ja got back to the front desk, she could feel her face drop with disappointment, and an ominous feeling came over her. Jae-Hwa was talking in an animated manner with, of all people, Eun-Mee. They were holding each other’s hands like old friends, though she knew they must have just met, and their heads were thrown back in raucous laughter. When they saw Soo-Ja, they looked almost sorry to be interrupted.

  “Soo-Ja, I didn’t know you had such charming friends here in Seoul! The wife of a doctor!” Jae-Hwa exclaimed, impressed.

  “And you, the wife of a manufacturer!” echoed back Eun-Mee, the two of them establishing an instant sorority.

  “And I, the wife of—” Soo-Ja trailed off, smiling sardonically.

  Jae-Hwa looked at her, a little embarrassed, while Eun-Mee seemed to be not at all sorry. Soo-Ja reached for her coat and her purse. “Are you ready, Jae-Hwa?”

  “Yes. And oh, by the way, do you mind if Eun-Mee comes with us? She said she loves coffeehouses!” said Jae-Hwa.

  Soo-Ja was amazed that the two could strike up a friendship so quickly; once again, she had underestimated Eun-Mee’s charm. She was like a mugger with a gun, but instead of your wallet, she wanted your affection, and she could get you to drop it in front of her in seconds.

  “Eun-Mee, could I please speak to you in private for a moment?” asked Soo-Ja.

  Eun-Mee made buggy eyes at Jae-Hwa, to signal her puzzlement, before following Soo-Ja into her office. Once in there, Eun-Mee smiled at Soo-Ja coquettishly, like a bad student trying to avoid her teacher’s dressing-down.

  “This is not just a friendly outing. I have things to discuss with Jae-Hwa,” said Soo-Ja, hoping to reason with her.

  Eun-Mee nodded slightly. “Does this have anything to do with the rumor that you’re trying to buy land from Gi-yong Im?” asked Eun-Mee innocently.

  Soo-Ja tried to hide her surprise. How did Eun-Mee know about that? Had she listened in on one of her phone calls?

  “Your friend doesn’t seem like the kind who likes risky investments, though,” Eun-Mee continued.

  “How did you hear about—”

  “Oh, I don’t care. I’m just bored, and desperate for social activity,” Eun-Mee interrupted. “I promise to take long powder-room breaks at the coffeehouse, in order to give you ample time to bore Jae-Hwa with your plans.”

  “Eun-Mee!” called out Soo-Ja behind her, trying to stop her. But it was useless. Eun-Mee had already sauntered out of the office and rejoined Jae-Hwa in the lobby.

  Jae-Hwa rushed toward them. “Are we ready? I’m feeling left out! And you’re all right with Eun-Mee coming, of course?”

  Soo-Ja could tell from Jae-Hwa’s eager eyes that she could not refuse, and if she tried to, Jae-Hwa would bring Eun-Mee anyway.

  Soo-Ja was not much of a coffee drinker, nor was she a great fan of tea, though she drank yulmucha, boricha, and ginseng tea sometimes. She liked yulmucha for its thickness—it reminded her of soup, and when she drank it, she enjoyed its warmth tickling her throat. Boricha looked a bit like dirty water, which she sometimes suspected it was—it barely tasted like anything. But if she couldn’t sleep, it was what she turned to. She drank a cup and almost dropped to the ground, so fast was its effect on her. She liked ginseng tea the most, and loved stirring the teacup, watching the thin white layers of circles appear and disappear, as if they wanted to hypnotize her.

  The three women were sitting in the middle of the coffeehouse, Soo-Ja drinking tea and both Eun-Mee and Jae-Hwa drinking espressos. The coffeehouse, which had an English name, “Room and Rumours,” was fairly crowded, either because of all the shoppers from the adjacent shopping mall, or because, like Soo-Ja, all of these men and women had small residences and preferred to meet guests in teahouses or coffee shops. They came for the convenience of a second home, and the establishment in fact looked like your average abode, with long-leaved Chinese happy plants in the corners, wooden-boarded walls, and practical fluorescent lights above. The only differences were the small oak chairs and tables (they did not sit on the floor there), and the sound of trot singers crooning their sad ballads from the jukebox.

  “I wonder if they have American music in the jukebox,” said Jae-Hwa. “I just got back from New York last month, and I love what they play on their radio stations.” Jae-Hwa had taken her white hat and gloves off, and Soo-Ja could see she had an emerald ring on her finger. Sitting next to Jae-Hwa, Eun-Mee looked elegant in a form-fitting burgundy dress with a high, upturned collar and sleeveless arms. Soo-Ja found it too formal, but Eun-Mee did not look out of place there—people often stopped in for a drink of coffee before heading to the theater or a party. Now used to seeing her every day, Soo-Ja knew of Eun-Mee’s habit of dressing up for no reason. She suspected Eun-Mee’s motto might be Look the part, and you’ll win the part. Soo-Ja wondered if she herself came across as the other two women’s maid, in her simple zebra-striped housedress, and her long dark hair held back only by her ears. She could tell it bothered Eun-Mee, though, that as men walked by, it was Soo-Ja’s eyes that they tried to catch the attention of.

  “I love America!” proclaimed Eun-Mee. “But I don’t like Americans. I love shopping in Manhattan and on Rodeo Drive. This purse is from a store there”—she pointed to her Fiorucci bag—“but the people! Especially in California. They have such pink faces, and the men look like the women, and vice versa—long hair and long eyelashes and lazy grins! I hate them!”

  “Don’t be shocking now. What if there was a serviceman sitting right behind you?” asked J
ae-Hwa.

  “I’d tell him to go home already! And to stop staring at my neck!” Eun-Mee replied.

  Jae-Hwa laughed.

  “I’m sure they would love to go home,” Soo-Ja interjected, “but they’re here to protect us. We should be thankful to them.”

  “They’re not really here for that reason,” said Eun-Mee, rolling her eyes. “Why do you think they chose to be stationed in Korea? They have an eye for us Oriental ladies! Yes. That’s why they come here, and stay here. I would not be caught dead near an army base. I wouldn’t be safe. They would drag me in and caress me, and tear my clothes off, and ravage me, a room full of them, taking turns at me. Those men, they haven’t seen a woman—a real woman, not a prostitute—for ages. They have stored up all this passion, all this hunger—they would tug at my breasts like wolves, those blond-haired boys, mouths still wet from suckling mother’s milk.”

  Jae-Hwa smiled at Eun-Mee. “I’m tempted now to kidnap you and leave you by the border, just to see what they’d do with you.”

  Eun-Mee lightly slapped Jae-Hwa’s wrist, and Jae-Hwa turned her palm up and playfully squeezed Eun-Mee’s hand. “Don’t joke like that. I’m just explaining how I feel about the Americans, who are so different from the Europeans. Have you been to Switzerland?” Eun-Mee asked Jae-Hwa. Jae-Hwa nodded, and Eun-Mee continued. “It’s like being home—all those mountains! When the snow covers up all the signs and the streets, I do not know where I am anymore. And I love that first night after the first flurry, when the sky is white and clear, and you can almost read outside. Have you been to Switzerland?” Eun-Mee asked Soo-Ja, as if remembering her presence suddenly.

  “No, I’ve never been.”

  “Have you never been to Europe? No London, no Paris, no Istanbul?”

  “No,” Soo-Ja said, smiling.

  “What about America? New York? Los Angeles? Boston?”