This Burns My Heart

PART FOUR

Bamboo

Hours Later

Seoul and Los Angeles





chapter seventeen

Soo-Ja arrived back in Seoul late in the evening and found a handwritten sign on the glass door of the hotel reading “Closed.” She had some trouble with her keys and struggled to get inside. Right then, she regretted refusing her brother’s offer to come with her. She’d been wrong to think she could handle all of this by herself. But during the ride on the train, she’d managed to convince herself this was simply a misunderstanding, and Miss Hong had alarmed her for nothing. Min and Hana would be in the hotel when she came in. They’d hug her from behind, and ask her why it had taken her so long to return home.

“Hana’s mother?” Miss Hong’s disembodied voice greeted her as she came in.

“Where’s Min? Where’s Hana?” Soo-Ja asked, turning the lights on.

Miss Hong’s body came out of her room and joined her voice as she hurriedly put on her slippers and rushed forward in her hanbok, putting her hair in a bun.

“Hana’s mother, I tried to stop them, I really did! Please don’t be mad at me.”

“What happened?” Soo-Ja asked her. “Where are Hana and Min?”

“I told you on the phone! They left,” said Miss Hong, her eyes growing big.

“No, this can’t be happening,” said Soo-Ja, shaking her head. Had they lived in peace for so long that she had forgotten what her husband could be like? “Even for Min—he wouldn’t do this to me!”

Miss Hong reached for her arm and pulled her toward Soo-Ja’s own room. In there, lying on top of a sausage-shaped pillow, Soo-Ja found a sheet of paper where a sleeping head should have been. Miss Hong pointed to it, her face anxious, suddenly going mute. Soo-Ja quickly reached for the letter and began to read.

Dear Soo-Ja,

So many people want to move to America, but can’t. While we—we have family there and the money. That’s why I decided we should immigrate.

Soo-Ja put the letter down, gasping. Now she could no longer pretend that her family was still home. Miss Hong, seeing the stunned look on Soo-Ja’s face, propped her up with her right hand and offered to bring her some water. Soo-Ja shook her head and reached for the letter again.

Now that your father is dead, I suppose the money from the land can go to Hana. We will spend it on her education. I promise I won’t touch it.

I have made arrangements with Gi-yong Im to transfer the funds from the sale to our accounts. I have also left behind some cash for you to buy a ticket to join us.

I know we should have consulted you before we did this. And we would have. If you were here. Are you ever coming back? Isn’t two weeks too long to be gone? Do you not miss us at all?

Please don’t be mad at me. I was afraid that if I asked you, you would never let us go. In a way, I’m helping you, so you don’t have to make a tough decision. The decision has been made for you, and now you can look forward to a great future in a great country!

I know I am doing the right thing, and I will explain it all to you once you get here. We’ll be staying with my parents. The address is on the back. It is in English, but I think you can read it.

Hurry to your new home.

Your husband,

Min

Soo-Ja made a mad dash to Min’s desk, looking for her in-laws’ phone number. Her mind raced with thoughts. She had been gone for too long. She had given Min too much time alone to plot and plan and go back and forth in his decision, until he finally began packing their bags. This couldn’t have been a spur-of-the-moment decision—it took too long and too much work to get the tourist visas and plane tickets. Soo-Ja wondered if her absence had made him feel abandoned, and maybe she had, in fact, abandoned him, choosing her father’s memory over his live, anxious body. Still, he’d done this in the most cowardly and hurtful way possible. Not even a phone call.

But why the sudden departure? Soo-Ja knew that for years Min had yearned to reunite with his father, but she never thought he’d act on his own like this. There had to be more to his decision. And how could he take Soo-Ja’s own daughter away from her! Without consulting her! Soo-Ja asked herself how he could be so selfish. Hana must have been thrilled, of course, to go to America. She was too young to understand what her father was doing.

Soo-Ja found her in-laws’ number on the inside of the back cover of one of Min’s notebooks, scribbled in pen in his uneven handwriting. It was the longest number she’d ever had to dial, and she had to do so carefully, so shaky was her hand. Soo-Ja held the phone close to her face as it rang, breath caught in her throat. Miss Hong looked at her with anguish in her eyes, helping her sit down. When Soo-Ja heard the voice answer on the other end, she knew immediately who it was. She had not spoken to him in almost seven years, but it was the same hard voice, unsmiling and emotionless.

“Hello?”

“Father-in-law…” said Soo-Ja.

“Hana’s mother,” he said, like a reprimand.

“Is Hana there? I want to speak to her.”

“She’s outside. In the pool. It is still morning here.”

“Tell her to come to the phone,” said Soo-Ja, gripping the phone cord with her fingers. “And Hana’s father, too. I want to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you. He’s afraid you might yell at him. Or that you’ll talk him into coming back,” said Father-in-law.

“Are you saying you won’t let me talk to my daughter, or my husband?”

Father-in-law sighed, as if Soo-Ja were simply too unintelligent to understand the situation. “I’m going to raise your daughter for you. The school district here is very good. Of course, once she finishes high school, she’ll have to pay me back, but she can work in my warehouse for a few years and earn back the money I spent on her.”

“She’s not staying there, she’s coming back home with me,” said Soo-Ja, steel in her voice.

Father-in-law did not say anything, but he did not hang up, either. Silence followed him, and Soo-Ja assumed he’d gone to fetch his son. Although, knowing her father-in-law, she figured he’d probably just leave the receiver facedown on the counter, until someone inquired about it.

Soo-Ja felt suspended in time, each second an eternity. Finally, Soo-Ja heard Min’s voice on the line. “Soo-Ja?”

“Considering all the things you’ve done to me, I still never imagined you’d take my daughter away from me,” said Soo-Ja, practically yelling on the phone.

“We’re going to start fresh here, Soo-Ja,” said Min, also skipping any pleasantries. “We’re going to start over again.”

“How could you do this? Without even asking me?”

“I have every right to, according to the law. It is within my rights as a father.”

“You’re coming back here with Hana,” said Soo-Ja, boiling with anger. “Right now, do you hear me?”

“This is our chance, Soo-Ja,” said Min, his voice rising to match her intensity. “A lot of things didn’t go right for us in Korea, but America will give us a new beginning. We’ll get it right this time.”

“No, America won’t make any difference,” snapped Soo-Ja, interrupting him. “You are still going to be you, and I’m still going to be me. Can’t you see that?”

“It’s not just being in America. It’s being away from Korea. It’s being away from…” Min trailed off, stopping short of saying his nemesis’s name.

So he’s trying to separate Yul and me, thought Soo-Ja.

“It is our only hope, Soo-Ja. It is the only way our marriage can survive.”

You’re wrong, thought Soo-Ja. Yul is not the reason our marriage is the way it is.

“How many times do I need to tell you, Yul and I are not together,” said Soo-Ja.

This did not seem to convince Min. “Hana and I are waiting for you here. We’ve left you money for a plane ticket. I don’t know how long it’ll take you to get a visa. Maybe a week, maybe a month,” said Min, irritation in his voice.

“Put Hana on the phone,” said Soo-Ja.

“No. You’re going to try to—”

“Put her on the phone!”

“No. I can’t. It’s for her own good.”

Soo-Ja felt the night grab at her, and she closed her eyes, to make herself blind. She hung up the phone and slammed it on the floor. The sound of a busy signal punctured the air.

“What do you think is going to happen when you get there?” asked Yul, looking somber. He was driving Soo-Ja to the airport in his gray Kia Brisa, making his way toward the departure lanes. He had not spoken to Soo-Ja since the Lunar New Year’s Eve celebrations.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead,” said Soo-Ja, looking out the window, her energy completely drained. A light drizzle had begun, and drops of rain hit noisily against the glass pane.

“What did they say when you called them?”

“I don’t want to go over it again,” said Soo-Ja. “But clearly Min thinks it’s up to the husband to decide where to raise the children.”

“He wants to stay there?”

“Does it matter? He won’t get to.”

“So you’re bringing them both back?” asked Yul, skeptical.

“Of course,” said Soo-Ja testily.

“What if Hana doesn’t want to return? Are you going to stay in the U.S.?”

“A child can’t dictate where her mother will live,” said Soo-Ja.

“Well, if she’s anything like her mother…” Yul smiled kindly at Soo-Ja, but she could not muster a smile back. Yul slowed toward the curb and parked the car. He looked at the rain, the clouds, and the bad visibility. It wasn’t a good day to fly. “Will you call me when you get there?”

“Your wife is not going to like it.”

Yul glanced at the planes landing in the distance.

Soo-Ja looked at him, noticed his reticence—he wanted to tell her something, but he was holding back. “What?” asked Soo-Ja, placing her hand on the door handle.

“Nothing, I’ll tell you when you get back.”

“How’s Eun-Mee?”

“I’ll tell you when you get back,” Yul repeated, like a mantra. He turned off the windshield wiper and the engine. The glass pane soon became covered with rain, drops coming from all directions.

Soo-Ja kept her hand on the door handle, without opening it. “Did she leave you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Soo-Ja sighed. “This is a wakeup call for me. To stop indulging in fantasies. Min is helping me. That’s what he’s doing.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whatever is happening between you and me has to end. Min could use it against me in a divorce. The judge would never let me keep Hana if he learned I’ve been unfaithful.”

“You’re missing an important detail. You have not been unfaithful.”

“Yes, but I can’t take the risk, can I? Hana is more important to me than anything else in my life, including you.”

“So… I should drive away knowing not to keep my hopes up,” said Yul weakly.

“I’m sorry, Yul.”

“This is the end, then?”

“Yes. This is the end,” said Soo-Ja, swallowing. She felt a tear run down her left cheek, and she wiped it off with the back of her hand. She kept her face away from Yul—if she did not have to look at him, she could do this.

Color drained from Yul’s face, and he nodded slightly. “I wondered why you asked me to drive you here. This is why, isn’t it? You wanted a chance to tell me this?”

“That’s not why I asked you, but now that I think about it, I guess I owe you that, don’t I? After all that we went through together.”

“Do you really think the decision is yours alone to make?”

“I’m sorry, Yul.”

“Well, I have something to tell you, too,” said Yul. Soo-Ja could see his face rearranging itself, lines forming in odd places. He looked like a dam about to explode.

“I don’t want to—”

“I can’t just remain on hold forever,” said Yul, speaking over her. “I’m not an object that you can keep on a shelf and pick up only when you feel like it. You’ve said no to me many times, and this is one time too many. So think about this before you leave the car: I cannot wait for you anymore. So when you say this is the end, make sure that you know what the end means.” Yul stopped and waited for Soo-Ja’s reaction. “What do you have to say to that?”

Soo-Ja shook her head slightly and looked away, reaching again for the door handle. The rain hit the windshield hard, and Soo-Ja felt that it lashed her own face. “Good-bye, Yul.”

“She left with her father,” said Yul, and for a moment his voice sounded like that of a stranger speaking to another stranger on the street. “Have you considered that maybe—you might have to accept that you’re not getting her back this time?”

Soo-Ja turned back around and glanced at him, taking a deep breath. “Of course I have.”

“Can’t you see it? Either way you lose someone—me or your daughter. Or maybe both—maybe you’ll manage to lose everyone. Amazing how much you lose when you play for high stakes, isn’t it? Your high-mindedness and your virtue sure paid off—look at all the dead bodies on the road behind you.”

“Yul! Stop!” Soo-Ja yelled, unable to stand the weight of his words.

“I’m beginning to wonder if maybe Min was right all along,” said Yul rapidly. He looked as if he would regret his words, but he did not seem able to contain himself. “Maybe I’ve been in love with the wrong person and not known it.”

“That’s not fair,” said Soo-Ja.

“What’s not fair is that I spent the last ten years of my life pining for a woman who never intended to be mine!”

“That’s not true,” cried out Soo-Ja.

“Get out. Get out of my car. I don’t want to see you again.”

Soo-Ja felt the words push her out of the car, and she walked toward the terminal with her suitcase, the sliding glass doors beckoning her. She let the rain drench her clothes. It fell into her ears, her mouth, the spaces between her fingers. From the corner of her eye, she watched as the back-and-forth of the windshield wiper sliced Yul’s face into slivers. His car pulled from the curb and slowly drove away, the tires skidding on the road, water splashing. In a matter of seconds, he was gone.

That meant Soo-Ja could stop walking, and finally let her pain show. Bending her knees, Soo-Ja rested her arms over her suitcase and let out the cry that had been bursting inside her heart. She freed a noise savage and broken, gasping madly for air, and let the raindrops pelt her body. Yul had been right. She had lost everything she could lose, an entire constellation. She watched the automated sliding doors a few yards away, smoothly opening and closing. Those glass doors led to the future, and to America.

So this is how it ends, thought Soo-Ja. Min wins, Father-in-law wins; Yul loses, Soo-Ja loses. She had thought there was nothing more they could take from her, until she found herself with no bones, no skin to cover her. They had taken away everything—even the air inside her lungs.