We watched her walk to a table where a group of girls were polishing their toenails beside a tall fan. I saw her look back as you started to explain.
“I’m going to meet her cousin when we get to Seoul,” you said. “Before he goes to the States with her. But I don’t think he’s going to go. She says he’s snuck out twice, and maybe he’ll have jumped by the time we get back. She hasn’t heard from her family, but she hasn’t called. She’s afraid to hear.”
“Can’t you see how fucked up that is? She can’t call her family because she’s afraid to hear her cousin killed himself?” Lloyd said flat out.
You ignored him. “Have you stopped throwing up?” you said to me. I let you lead me away, and Lloyd trailed after us. There was no reason for me to be jealous of Aecha, was there? I wrapped my arm around you and hugged you close as we walked toward the Great Hall.
The kitchen was behind the cafeteria, next to the Great Hall. Shelves of large pots and pans and bins of bowls and plastic tubs lined the room. In the middle was a wooden table; against the wall sat a huge stove with a small pot set on a burner and large doors of what looked to be refrigerators.
A man was putting away a large colander. He turned when we entered, and you and Lloyd clasped him in high handshakes. Lloyd started talking first, but the man seemed more interested in you, because he didn’t respond until you said in Korean, “This is Yoona, she’s not feeling well.” Then the man’s vision seemed to clear, and he noticed me for the first time.
“So this is the young lady,” he said in Korean.
I held out my hand in a formal greeting, but he didn’t take it. Instead he motioned for me to sit at the table in the middle of the kitchen. “Where is it?” he mumbled in Korean and searched in a drawer until he withdrew a spoon and headed for the stove. He proceeded to stir the contents of a small pot and said over his shoulder in English to us, “Better more time, but what can you do.”
You explained that I knew Korean. “Of course,” he replied in English. “You have Korean blood—you speak Korean. One people.” He nodded at us. “One country. All the same people.”
When he placed a bowl of soupy rice in front of me, I saw that his fourth finger had been amputated above the large knuckle. “Factory accident,” you said in English, as if reading my mind.
Tongsu Cho held his hand out, fingers spread. “Many, many,” he said, still in English.
“He means there were other workers who lost their fingers just like him at the factory,” you said.
“That’s why he became a cook,” Lloyd added. “The factory didn’t have any safeguards for the workers—it was routine to lose a finger.” Tongsu nodded at me as if confirming Lloyd’s words and pointed at the bowl for me to eat.
I spooned some rice and tasted it. The warmth was soothing. “It’s delicious, thank you,” I said in Korean.
“You speak very well,” he said, still in English. And because he spoke to me in English, I figured my Korean wasn’t as good as yours or Lloyd’s. “Eat more,” he gestured. Your hand was on my shoulder, and I wanted it to stay there. I stirred the juk to cool it. Lloyd was talking in Korean.
“Mr. Cho, repeat one more time what you told me this morning.”
Tongsu Cho bent his head down, an arm around you and Lloyd in a huddle. In Korean he said, “Who benefits if Korea is two separate countries? Kim Il Sung is a strong leader for the people of Korea. He can’t be bought by the United States government, do you understand? No deal.” In English he said it again. “No deal. Tough.” Then he continued in Korean. “Kim Il Sung is so strong even the Japanese respect him. They’re supporting him. They’re smart: they know who is going to win, and this is a war—let me tell you—this is a war that will continue, but the North is where the power is, the best factories. My family is from the same area as Supreme Leader Kim Il Sung. If we organize in a smart way, we’ll succeed, I promise you.”
I ate the juk, which had a rich pork-broth base, as they talked.
“But tell Jaesung where you’re going after this,” Lloyd urged.
“This is only a two-week job,” Cho said.
“Yes, so tell us what you’re doing afterward. You know, about Seoul.” Lloyd was nodding and blinking as if hurrying Cho onward, as if his nods and blinks were hands on Cho’s back, pushing him onto a stage.
Cho took a breath and paused, looking at each of us to see if we were paying attention before he began. “I know a man who knows a man who is Supreme Leader Kim Il Sung’s second in command.”
“So?” you said.
“So there’s going to be a big protest,” Lloyd burst out. “Tell him, Mr. Cho, tell him.”
“Oh, that,” you said, seeming dejected. “You already told me about that.”
Lloyd leaned forward. “But this one, this one’s different. He just told me this today. Tell him,” he implored Cho.
Cho shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s different, but there are leaders who need our help. One in particular who can unify our country.”
You were suddenly alert. “Kim Dae Jung?”
Cho inspected my bowl. “Don’t like?” he said in English.
I replied in Korean, “I do. It’s good, thank you. You gave me a lot, that’s all.”
“Come tomorrow, I’ll give you more. It’ll be better next time,” he said in Korean and smiled at me. I felt his approval.
“Will you be meeting with Kim Dae Jung, Mr. Cho? Is that the secret in Seoul? Are you planning something with him?” you said.
Lloyd was nodding again. “I told you, Jaesung. Forget the martyrs. There’s work to do.”
“We’ll meet you in Seoul, wherever you say,” you said to Cho, who was wiping down the stove with a sponge.
“They’ll be checking your cabins. You should go,” Cho replied without looking up from his work.
“Tomorrow. Will you tell us tomorrow?” you said.
“If you’re interested,” he said, his head still down.
“How come you never told us before, Mr. Cho?” you asked.
“You never asked before,” he said. “Carry this cabbage to the back room?” He pointed to a large box on the floor. You and Lloyd bent down to lift it and left me in the kitchen alone with Cho, who lost no time in signaling for me to come closer to him. I thought he had a task for me like the one he had for you and Lloyd, but he didn’t. He looked at the doorway through which you’d carried that box with Lloyd and said, “Jaesung is too idealistic.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, because he was speaking now in Korean.
“I’m only a cook,” he continued. “Before that I operated a machine that made tin boxes. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Did you lie just now?” I asked in Korean. “Were you lying about knowing Kim Dae Jung? Did Lloyd ask you to lie?”
He looked me in the eye. “We have to protect our friends.”
We heard footsteps nearing. You were on your way back already.
“I have advice for you,” he continued in Korean. “A woman between two men is not good for anyone, especially the woman.”