“You didn’t even know how cars work, and now look at you. This repair shop, so many employees all working under you. I could never have figured out something so complicated.”
“Cars are not that hard to understand if you take the time to study each part. That’s why I like them—their simplicity. Arithmetics, accounting, these are all simple matters. It’s dealing with people that gets complicated.” He wore a weary smile that reminded her of those early years when he’d had nothing.
“You haven’t changed at all. You still look the same,” Jade said. In truth, HanChol had aged. Subtle lines were forked along his forehead; the peaks and valleys of his face had become sharper, setting his handsome features into high relief. He had acquired a more distinguished appearance through aging, as often happens to men between the prime of their youth and a true middle age. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and the loosened collar revealed the top of his strong chest.
“You haven’t either,” HanChol replied. “But why have you come today? Is it because you need food or money? Because if that’s the case, I will do everything I can to help . . .”
“No, that’s not why I’m here,” Jade protested, thinking she would rather starve to death than ask HanChol for food. It devastated her to hear him say that out loud.
“I’m here because my aunt Dani is very sick. She is dying.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” HanChol exhaled, shaking his head. “I know she raised you up.”
“Before it’s too late, she wants to see someone who meant a lot to her in the past. Kim SungSoo sunsengnim . . .”
When the news of HanChol’s thriving businesses had first reached Jade, she had learned that Kim SungSoo was his first employer and benefactor. After turning the publishing house around as its business manager, HanChol had then opened the garage with an initial investment from SungSoo. When Dani told her about SungSoo, Jade finally realized that HanChol’s mentor was one of Dani’s great loves.
“I’ve already sent him a letter dictated by Aunt Dani. And he wrote back saying that if it’s money she needs, he’ll try to help, but that he isn’t up to seeing her face-to-face.”
“That’s unfortunate. He is not a bad person, you know . . .”
“I understand. He probably doesn’t know how much peace he would bring her, how much it would mean to a dying woman. That’s why I’ve come to you. You are so close to him—would you speak to him about this?”
HanChol’s first impulse was to say no, but Jade’s expression of luminous sorrow gave him pause. Her face had thinned and her ivory skin, glittering with sweat, was pulled closer to her bones. There was a new haggardness to her appearance, and when she proudly held her chin up, he could see the subtle horizontal lines skating across her sensitive throat. If he had to describe how she looked, he would have said: like a song your mother used to sing. Or an unopened letter from someone you loved a long time ago, found in the back of a drawer. Or an old tree that suddenly comes to life one spring, its black branches aflame with flowers, as if saying I, I, I. But what moved him wasn’t just the remnants of the past. What was he seeing now that he hadn’t seen before? It was something mysterious and close to her true self. He couldn’t deny that he still found her alluring, even intoxicating. Her bare lips were the color of young girls’ nails tinted with touch-me-not petals.
“I can’t promise anything. He has his own mind about things and it’s not really my position to tell him what to do,” he said. “But I will try my best.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She sighed in relief. “Well, I won’t keep you away from work any longer.”
“Let me walk you out.”
Without speaking, they made their way through the garage and out the entrance. HanChol was intending to walk with her just a little and then go back inside, but the brilliant twilight forced him to stay. The bloodred sky and the long purple shadows made it difficult to say goodbye.
“How are you getting home? It’s far from here.”
“It’s not that bad . . . And this weather is good. It’s not so hot and humid anymore.”
“I want to see you get in safely,” he said, protectively grazing his hand on her upper back for a moment. Jade was relieved to discover that something familiar had returned to the crepuscular air between them. Did he still love her? She dared not say. Did she still love him? She had never stopped. The answer was Always.
They started walking south along the ChangGyeong Palace, the green-black branches of zelkova trees leaning over the walls.
“This reminds me of when I was young. My friend JungHo took me to see Giant the elephant. We climbed on top of a tree to see him for free, then got chased away by a guard.” Jade smiled. “Have you ever been?”
HanChol had not.
“They have so many animals—lions, a hippopotamus and her baby in a swimming pool, camels, zebras, and elephants. Korean animals too. The crescent moon bears and the tigers.”
“I’ve never seen any of those except in photographs. Not even the Korean ones. There are not so many bears or tigers left in the wild now.”
“I know. And I heard they have almost nothing to feed the animals at the zoo since the war. Poor things—not knowing anything that’s going on, waiting in their cages, wondering if anyone will come help,” she said, turning to face him. “Why won’t anyone help them?”
“Someone will, Jade. The zookeepers . . . they’ll find some food for the animals. You just focus on taking care of yourself and Aunt Dani.” HanChol nudged her waist gently, recognizing the curve under the muslin blouse. As soon as they were facing each other, they could no longer pretend at indifference. He wrapped her in his arms and squeezed the bony frame as hard as he could. A familiar happiness coursed through them, and suddenly the world seemed less terrifying.
“If I die, will you please remember me?” Jade asked, her cheek pressed against his chest.