Pachinko



She left in the morning. It was like Phoebe to make a clean exit. Solomon took her to the airport by train, and even though they were pleasant, she had changed literally overnight. She didn’t seem sad or angry; she was cordial. If anything, she seemed stronger than before. She let him hug her good-bye, but they agreed not to talk for a long time.

“It would be better,” she said, and Solomon felt powerless against her decision.

Solomon took the train to Yokohama.



His father’s modest office was lined with gray metal shelves, and stacks of files rested on the credenzas along the walls. Three safes holding papers and the day’s receipts were located below the high windows. Mozasu sat behind the same battered oak table that he’d used as a desk for over thirty years. Noa had studied for his Waseda exams at this table, and when he moved to Tokyo, he’d left it for Mozasu.

“Papa.”

“Solomon,” Mozasu exclaimed. “Is everything okay?”

“Phoebe went back.”

Saying it to his father made it real. Solomon sat down on the empty chair.

“What? Why? Because you lost your job?”

“No. I can’t marry her. And I told her that I’d rather live in Japan. Work in pachinko.”

“What? Pachinko? No, no.” Mozasu shook his head. “You’ll get another job in banking. That’s why you went to Columbia, nee?”

Mozasu touched his brow, genuinely confused by this announcement.

“She’s a nice girl. I thought you’d get married.”

Mozasu walked around from his desk and handed his son a packet of tissues.

“Pachinko? Honto?”

“Yeah, why not?” Solomon blew his nose.

“You don’t want to do this. You don’t know what people say.”

“None of that stuff is true. You’re an honest business person. I know you pay your taxes and get all your licenses, and—”

“Yes, yes, I do. But people will always say things. They will always say terrible things, no matter what. It’s normal for me. I’m nobody. There’s no need for you to do this work. I wasn’t smart at school like my brother. I was good at running around and fixing things. I was good at making money. I’ve always kept my business clean and stayed away from the bad things. Goro-san taught me that it’s not worth it to get involved with the bad guys. But Solomon, this business is not easy, nee? It’s not just tinkering with machines and ordering new ones and hiring people to work on the floor. There are so many things that can go wrong. We know lots of people who went belly-up, nee?”

“Why don’t you want me to do this?”

“I sent you to those American schools so that no one would—” Mozasu paused. “No one is going to look down at my son.”

“Papa, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, nee?” Solomon had never seen his father like this before.

“I worked and made money because I thought it would make me a man. I thought people would respect me if I was rich.”

Solomon looked at him and nodded. His father rarely spent on himself, but he had paid for weddings and funerals for employees and sent tuition for their children.

Mozasu’s face brightened suddenly.

“You can change your mind, Solomon. You can call Phoebe when she gets home and say you’re sorry. Your mother was a lot like Phoebe—strong-willed and smart.”

“I want to live here,” Solomon said. “She will not.”

“Soo nee.”

Solomon picked up the ledger from his father’s table.

“Explain this to me, Papa.”

Mozasu paused, then he opened the book.



It was the first of the month, and Sunja had woken up upset. She had dreamed of Hansu again. Lately, he had been appearing in her dreams, looking the way he did when she was a girl, wearing his white linen suit and white leather shoes. He always said the same thing: “You are my girl; you are my dear girl.” Sunja would wake and feel ashamed. She should have forgotten him by now.

After breakfast, she would go the cemetery to clean Isak’s grave. As usual, Kyunghee offered to come with her, but Sunja said it was okay.

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