“Bring her in,” he said with a sigh.
A moment later, the door opened again and his heart started pounding as he recognized her familiar form. Her hair pulled back into a bun was a slate gray, and her narrow forehead was deeply creased. Her lips, which had once been so ripe and voluptuous, were now thin and shriveled. But her eyes still looked the same with their peculiar brightness, and her silhouette with its unusually erect posture was as graceful as he remembered. He found it hard to breathe.
“Jade,” he called out softly. Not knowing what else to do, he walked over and held her hands in his own. She was quietly processing him in turn. His arms, shoulders, and chest had leaned out while his stomach had become round and soft. His hairline had receded an inch, and his skin had the muddy bronze tint of old men. But what she had most liked about him, his smile, had remained the same.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.” Her voice trembled.
“How in the world did you find me?”
“The phone book.” She let his hands drop and cast her chin down, as though ashamed.
“Hey, hey—I’m so glad you came. Please sit down,” HanChol said to her, then ordered his chief of staff to bring coffee. They talked softly about the weather and the coldness of this winter until the aide reappeared with two cups of hot coffee and a plate of cream roll cake.
“So, how have you been all this time?” HanChol asked.
“I’ve been well, in my own way. Since independence I’ve been teaching at Koryo Arts School for Girls. It’s been good—although every year, fewer girls choose to specialize in traditional dance. But I’m grateful to have the job.”
“And what about marriage—family?”
Jade shook her head in embarrassment. This was a particular humiliation that she hadn’t foreseen. “I don’t mind that I never got married. But I wish I could’ve had children,” she said simply and honestly.
HanChol felt sorry for her and didn’t know what he could say that wouldn’t sound obnoxious. He replied, “Yes, I understand.”
“And you? I read about you all the time in newspapers and magazines. I even saw you on TV once! It seems everything has gone for you in the best way possible.”
“I’ve had ups and downs like everyone else, but it turned out okay for me.”
“And what about kids?”
“I have three boys, two girls. The oldest is a third year in college, and the youngest is just twelve.”
Jade smiled. “How can anyone not be envious of your life? I always said you will be the most successful man in Seoul, and you’ve surpassed my prediction.”
“Jade—” HanChol took a small sip of his coffee. “You know, I owe a lot to you.”
It was Jade’s turn to sip on her coffee, which was really to hide how her eyes had suddenly filled with tears. “Yes, I know,” she croaked unevenly behind her cup.
HanChol reached over and touched her arm gently. She put her cup down on the saucer and sponged the corners of her eyes with a finger, carefully avoiding her eye makeup.
“I’m so sorry about how I hurt you,” he said.
“That night when you came over for the last time,” Jade began shakily. “Aunt Dani passed away. I almost died of guilt, but then it was the war, so maybe I was just dying of hunger. How I survived that, I don’t know exactly.”
HanChol withdrew his hand from her and looked down at his lap in silence.
“I’m truly, truly sorry,” he said at last. “I wish that there was something I could do to beg your forgiveness . . .” Without looking up, he sensed she was now crying openly by the sound of her sharp breathing.
“There is something you can do for me,” she managed to say between hiccups.
“I’ll do anything.”
“Do you remember Mr. Nam JungHo? He helped me with a lot of things when we were young. If I needed anything, he was always there,” Jade said. HanChol remembered the man—short, wiry, a bit savage and uncouth. There was an incident during the war when JungHo rudely offered him free food in front of all his cronies, just to show who had the upper hand. But HanChol didn’t hate or even scorn him, having never given him too much thought.
“Before Aunt Dani died, JungHo used to come by with sacks of rice when no one had anything to eat, and he helped me find Lotus after she went missing. He’s been arrested,” Jade continued.
“On what charges?” HanChol asked, though he more or less already guessed at the answer.
“Espionage, Communist activity. He was a member of the Communist Party a long time ago, but I doubt that he’s a spy for the North. You know it’s not about what he actually believes or commits . . . This is just an excuse to get rid of any opposition. I know JungHo is innocent. I’ve never met any other man with such a good heart. You have connections to the regime—couldn’t you put in a word?”
“What you’re asking—it’s very difficult. Even if I speak on his behalf, there’s no guarantee that it will work. President Park has his own way of doing things. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I know it will be difficult. All I’m asking is that you try,” Jade said.
“Okay, I promise I’ll put in a word.”
When Jade got up to leave, HanChol rose with her. “Don’t leave—stay with me,” he wanted to say; the words were almost caught up in his throat.
“I hope I’ll see you again,” he said instead. “I once told you I wouldn’t feel for anyone else the way I did for you . . . It turned out to be true.”
“Ah, HanChol, me too.” She reached over and squeezed his hand one last time. A hot tear rolled off and landed with a splash on his wrist. “Me too, a thousand times.”