I noticed different things this time around. Soldiers stood in groups on the corner on the campus of Yonsei University. They wore black fatigues and had semiautomatic rifles slung over their shoulders as casually as book bags. The chauffeur explained to me in Korean when I asked about them that men in Korea have to serve three years in the military. The men looked like recent high school grads, like me, young and oblivious. And smoking. Like the college students walking around them, they had cigarettes between their fingers. Nearly everyone college age smoked. I saw students being stopped and their bags pawed through by police. I thought I saw you in that crowd even though I knew I’d left you back at the buses.
The next day I went shopping with my aunt. All day I worried you had tried to reach me at my aunt’s house. I counted the hours until I would see you again. If we weren’t home when you came by, then how would I reach you? My aunt insisted on stopping at a restaurant to introduce me to her friends. My aunt’s three friends talked and talked as if they hadn’t seen each other in years when in fact they’d visited just days earlier. Finally, we were back in the car, headed to her house. I couldn’t tell her about you. There would be so many questions. “Are you catching a cold?” she asked in Korean. I denied it.
“I’m fine,” I told her.
“I’ve got so much planned for us. We’ll meet your uncle in Busan this weekend—”
Panic scattered through my bones. “Auntie, I traveled so much on this tour that I’d just like to stay here in Seoul,” I said in as firm a voice as I could.
She looked startled. “But how will he see you otherwise? This job has him spending half the week—”
The chauffeur turned suddenly at an intersection, forcing me to lean left into my aunt’s shoulder and interrupting her words. Behind us I saw a cloud of dust and people running our way. The chauffeur apologized, making yet another sudden turn. More people ran. There were loud explosions and shouting. We sped up, squeezing between other cars on that street. A few young men in all-black clothes ran alongside us, banging on the roof and side of our car. They had white paste under their eyes and noses. I asked what they had on their faces, and the chauffeur said it was toothpaste, to cut the sting of the tear gas. “Hurry,” my aunt urged him.
The chauffeur said under his breath, “Usually they give them a way out of these political demonstrations.”
My aunt told him, “Concentrate. Get us out of here.”
“Third one this week,” the chauffeur said when we were in the clear. My aunt was incredulous. But she called my parents and made the mistake of telling them about the demonstration. “I’ll keep her safe,” she promised. “What can happen? We won’t go to that part of the city again. And Busan by the weekend. Oh, I didn’t hear that. Yes, Busan is having demonstrations too? We’ll stay here . . .” I was relieved. Maybe the demonstrations would work in my favor, and she would not insist on going south.
But then the demonstration we had driven into appeared on the American evening news, and the phone rang the next morning. My parents had moved up my flight. I begged to stay at least the week, but they said they’d already changed my ticket to the next day. I had no way of reaching you. And now it was the third day since I’d seen you. Maybe you’d lost my aunt’s address.
“Tomorrow or next week, honestly what danger are you in? I don’t know why your mother married such a stubborn man,” my aunt said. “Why aren’t you eating anything?”
“I’ve been inside all day,” I said. “Need to go out. Would that be okay?”
She put down her napkin. “Of course. Your uncle is going to be so sorry he missed seeing you, but these business trips. And . . .”
The maid came in to say my uncle was on the phone. As the maid brought the phone to the table for my aunt, I stood up and headed for the door. I had to convince my parents and my aunt that I couldn’t leave. Not now, not without you knowing. I told myself I’d see you in the States in the fall. You’d told me you’d be a sophomore at Cornell. That was probably only a handful of hours from my school in Pennsylvania. We’d see each other. But the panic wouldn’t dissipate. I had to breathe fresh air. Or maybe it was something else, something I knew. Everything inside me told me to go outside.
My flight was leaving the next morning. In my head was a rising refrain: “You’ll never see him again. You’re leaving, and he doesn’t know, and you’ll never see him again.” I knew it was unreasonable. We’d both be back in the States by the fall. But I couldn’t picture you and me together there, and I didn’t know why.
My aunt’s house had a wall around it. There was a doorbell at the gate. I walked to it and opened it, looking down the quiet street to my left and then to my right. And walking toward me in a black shirt and jeans was you, walking with your head down. I couldn’t believe it could be you, at just that moment, with me at the gate. I ran to you, and you caught me in your arms, and we kissed. And I remember thinking, Of course, this was always going to happen. Why did I doubt you?
“Where’ve you been?” I said into your neck.
“Remember the cook from the tour, Tongsu Cho? He’s here. I ran into him at a meeting.”
“What meeting? I don’t understand. I waited for you.”
You took my hands and held them between us and looked at me. “You won’t believe what’s going on, Yoona. Things are going to change. They’re organizing at every level. It’s a real revolution. Unbelievable, but it’s real, and it’s going to change. All of it, this country, Yoona. I’ve got to show you—you won’t believe it.”
“My parents changed my flight to tomorrow,” I said.
You dropped my hands at once and started pacing around me. “But you said two weeks.”
“I know, but my dad . . .” I held out my hands, but you waved them off.
Then you stopped suddenly, put your arm around me, and started walking down the street. “I’ll show you right now, then. Tongsu said it could get out of hand, but so what? Each one of us counts, right? There are people with everything to lose showing up to demonstrate. We’ve got nothing, right? We’ll do it, go together, okay?” you said and squeezed me closer to you.
I had no idea what you meant, not really. “Okay, yes,” I replied, thinking I was going to a meeting, going to hear a speech.
Your arm around me, I walked with you. I pulled away once to look back at my aunt’s gate. I didn’t want her to worry, but I reasoned I’d be right back. I’d walk with you a bit, and then I’d bring you to the house to meet her, and everything would be fine. I hugged you closer to me.