Lotus said distractedly, “She’s so quiet, so polite. She never cries in front of me. Once she fell down while the nanny was away, and she screwed up her whole face trying to keep herself from crying.” Hearing this, Jade resolved to show Sunmi genuine warmth and kissed her on top of her head. Lotus lightly raked the child’s new hair, uncut and translucent like dewy spider silk. “There, there . . . And now it’s time for bed,” she said, sending the girl and her nanny away in a hurry.
The evening was blustery and overcast. Lotus selected a maroon silk dress, a cloche, and a dark green overcoat—autumnal and rich against the grayness awaiting them outside. She was buoyed by the voluptuous pleasure of being perfectly dressed for a certain kind of weather. Jade was already putting on her shoes when Lotus stopped at her vanity to roll a cigarette. She smoked it halfway before she noticed Jade’s impatience.
“It’s mostly tobacco and a bit of opium. Just to take the edge off,” she said. “You want to try it?”
“No, I’m fine. At this rate we’ll still be here at midnight,” Jade said, and Lotus put out the cigarette carefully and left it on her ashtray.
When they finally set off, a hoarse wind was blowing away empty pails by the well and maids were skidding about, tearing off the washings from clothing lines.
There were countless cafés in Seoul, and each had its own following. The businessmen and pro-Japanese wealthy went to Café Vienna; the Nationalists went to Café Terrace; the Communists went to the Yellow Horse; the students and the artists went to Café Gitane; and the Japanese went to their own cafés, run by the Japanese. But everyone who was known in society went to Café Seahorn, which was owned by a young bourgeois poet. Somehow the fact that he was a pro-Japanese landowner’s son with the best education, but also a Leftist and an artist who believed in free love, made it possible for him to attract the most interesting people from every corner of society. Jade was acquainted with him, and this was where she was taking her friend.
“Isn’t this lovely? You can see everyone from this spot,” Jade said to Lotus as they slid into the crimson leather booth. She turned toward the pretty waitress and ordered two cups of mocha.
“Why is this so much more delicious than normal coffee?” Lotus whispered.
“It has chocolate in it—isn’t it amazing?” Jade giggled. “We start with this, then we’ll have some alcohol. You see how people are just talking now. Later on, everyone will be dancing. Oh, they’re playing ‘La Paloma’!” Jade flitted from one thought to the next. She pointed out a well-known woman painter who’d married a diplomat and traveled the world with him; but while abroad, she had an affair with her husband’s best friend, and he divorced her as soon as they returned. Now she struggled to make a living by selling paintings and doing illustrations for magazines. There was also a novelist who was sitting alone, ostensibly reading an American magazine that was stocked at the café, but was really there for one of the waitresses, who was his mistress.
“They all go for the café girls these days. More modern than the courtesans, I’ve been told,” Jade said, glancing at their waitress, whose apron emphasized her tiny waist. She looked no older than twenty. “And not as demanding as high-born Modern Girls.”
“Sometimes it feels strange to think that we started out learning classical poetry and traditional songs at that pavilion under the weeping willow. And my mother in her regal silks and jewels, and her lifelong devotion to the one man who gave her that silver ring . . . That feels like a hundred years ago.”
“Don’t you miss her? Why don’t you take Sunmi to visit her in PyongYang?”
“President Ma wouldn’t allow it,” Lotus said quietly to her cup of mocha. The music changed. A young gentleman was headed their way, and they both smiled in preparation for his arrival.
“Miss Jade, what a pleasure. Why have you been away for so long? We’ve missed you here,” said the gentleman, who was the poet-owner of the café. He was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty, of an average height and build. His shirtwaist sans jacket, the horn-rimmed glasses, and amiable mannerisms were proof of his bohemian status. He took hold of Jade’s left hand and kissed it passionately, as if to say, “this is only half in jest.” When Jade introduced her friend, he was equally overjoyed to meet the famous singer and ordered a round of American whiskey to be brought out. He had the gift of talking to two women with equal attention and flirting without implication.
“So what does the name mean? Seahorn,” Lotus asked him, awash in her first taste of whiskey.
“Oh, it’s something I made up. You know, we all have those things that we just love without rationality. Actually, if it’s rational, then it’s not really love. So the thing I love the most in the world . . .” The gentleman lingered over his words, licking the whiskey off his lips.
“It’s the sound of ships. When I was a student, I once traveled to Busan on my own. I lived in a boardinghouse near the harbor for a month, just reading and writing from morning until nightfall. After dark, I would light a candle to keep going, and it was possible to believe that there was nothing in the world except myself and my books. It felt like my room was the cabin of a ship, somewhere out in the middle of the ocean. And every afternoon between three and four P.M., there would be the sound of the ships at the dock. The big ships would go, BOO—BOOOO . . . and the smaller ones would answer, Doo—doooo . . . Those ship horns made me happier than I’d ever felt in my life. If I could bottle that sound, I would pour it little by little when I’m sad and drink it like whiskey.” He smiled. “Have you ever been to the sea, Miss Lotus?”
Neither Lotus nor Jade had ever been to the sea. Not even to InCheon, which was so close.
“That’s right, you are both Northerners . . . Of course, that’s why you two are so pretty. Not for nothing that PyongYang courtesans are the most celebrated of all. Oh, the song has just ended. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put on another record.” He bowed and turned away.