“This job wasn’t what I had in mind exactly, but it’s at least consistent. And my boss pays better than most. He said he was very impressed by how quickly I fixed his brakes, and we talked a little about what I had studied in university,” HanChol said in bed. His right arm was wrapped around Jade, whose head with its cropped, wavy hair was resting snugly on his shoulder.
“See? He recognizes your talent. Before long, he will give you more important tasks and promote you. And then you’ll be set.” Jade beamed at him. Although she refrained from even thinking this directly in her head, she had a growing anticipation regarding their future, and she thought that HanChol would bring it up once he felt stabilized. While he was studying, he used to say from time to time that he wouldn’t let her down and that he would make her happy. More than a few times, he had said he wished that they could be together forever. Hearing these words in his arms had given her a feeling of pure luminescence, like a firefly that stores up the sun’s rays by day and fluoresces by night—humble yet miraculously alive. It was that awareness of having tasted life, of being kissed by life. But her happiness was dependent on him and thus easily broken.
HanChol had stopped saying that he wished they could be together forever. Since when exactly, Jade could not know.
Instead of those tender words, he mindlessly squeezed her shoulder and said, “Yes, I hope I’ll move up in this job. I mean to show him what I can do. He is rather absent-minded, and the business is run very badly by an associate . . .”
What she had wanted to hear was that once he was established, he would tell his mother about her and that arrangements would be made. With disappointment Jade sensed that he spoke rather more about himself than about her or them together. So she clung to him all the more affectionately. “Kiss me,” she whispered, guiding his narrow hips over her. She fell into the familiar pleasure as he kissed her breasts and plunged himself into her with the same longing and urgency. Her face lit up when she became certain that he still desired her just as much as at the beginning. A man’s eyes revealed everything while making love. But after finishing, he no longer kissed her or broke into that unconscious smile.
All afternoon, Jade mindlessly went through her scenes, preoccupied by HanChol. When the filming wrapped in the early evening, her costar asked, “Aren’t you in the mood for something hot after all this? Would you like to come with me to get some udon?”
He had a wonderful, anxious twinkle in his attractive eyes. His elegant wool suit was impeccably cut and pressed, and she had once laughed to herself imagining that it could stand up on its own without a wearer. But he really was a very nice man.
“Oh, thank you but I can’t today,” Jade replied, blushing. “I have plans already. Some other day, perhaps.” She pulled on her pale blue coat with a rabbit fur collar, noticing how her costar was trying to hide his disappointment and feeling both pity and elation. She bowed to him and got into a cab, which took her to Lotus’s villa.
“It’s been such a long time. Oh, you look cold! Hurry up and come inside.” Lotus greeted her at the front gates herself, placing a hand on her friend’s back. They rarely spent time together, and several months had passed since Lotus had last come to Dani’s house. But Lotus had called her, asking her to visit, and she’d accepted. They both felt a little disingenuous in each other’s presence but tried sincerely, as old friends do, to conceal that artificiality.
“Where’s Sunmi? How is the little darling?” Jade asked, looking around for Lotus’s daughter, who had turned three. Sunmi had gone for a walk with her maid, and her mother had the happy look of a parent relieved of a toddler.
“You are so lucky you don’t have a child, Jade,” Lotus said in her old familiar tone, once they were settled in her room. “Not that I don’t love her, because of course I would do anything for my daughter, but . . . I miss my old life. The stage, the performances . . .”
“You can surely go back? They still play your record at all the cafés, you know.” Before Sunmi was born, Lotus had recorded some songs that had turned her into a household name. It had given her a small fortune, and President Ma a larger one.
“Do they really? I’m hardly the one to know—I haven’t gone out at night in ages.” Lotus sighed. “Sometimes I just really miss the old days, don’t you, Jade? When everything wonderful seemed possible? Now I’m not so sure. I just try to—” She faltered. “I just try to keep my head up.”
“I do miss the old days. We were all so innocent.” Jade fought the tears in her eyes. She was thinking of Lotus and HanChol and every other person she had once loved with absolute certainty and purity, without fear of getting hurt. Even JungHo had quietly slipped away from her side, and she regretted not being a better friend to him. Lotus reached over and patted her arm, and she laughed. The hotness of tears was somehow very healing.
“I have an idea,” Jade said between sniffles. “Why don’t we go out this evening? To be honest, I could really use a drink.”
Lotus resisted the suggestion for only a moment; she was actually thrilled to have an outing. Humming softly, she sat down in front of her vanity with its powders and rouges. Although she was never beautiful, she still looked young. Her new hairstyle was similar to Jade’s, cut to shoulder length and curled with tongs, and it suited her features.
The maid and Sunmi returned as she was choosing her outfit. Jade noticed that Lotus’s daughter was not a pretty child, felt guilty for having this thought, and thus acted overly awed by her. The nanny prompted Sunmi to say hello. She only put a tiny finger on her lips, staring around the room with a slow watchfulness that struck Jade as unendearing.