“It’s not the time to discuss this. Please don’t be a foolish woman. You’re smarter than that. It’s time to take action. The restaurant will be destroyed no different than your house will be,” he said, speaking quickly. “This building is made of wood and a few bricks. Your brother-in-law should sell his house immediately to the next idiot and get out. Or at the very least, he should take his ownership papers with him. Soon, people will be fleeing here like rats, so you have to leave now before it’s too late. The Americans will finish this stupid war. Maybe tonight, maybe in a few weeks, but they’re not going to put up with this nonsense war for very long. The Germans are losing, too.”
Sunja folded her hands together. The war had been going on for so long. Everyone was sick of it. Without the restaurant, the family would have starved even though everyone was working and earning money. Their clothes were threadbare and holey. Cloth, thread, and needles were unavailable. How were Hansu’s shoes so shiny when no one had any shoe polish? She and Kyunghee loathed the neighborhood association’s endless meetings, yet if they didn’t go, the leaders would take it out on their rations. The latest military drills had become ludicrous—on Sunday mornings, grandmothers and little children were required to practice spearing the enemy with sharpened bamboo spears. They said American soldiers raped women and girls and that it would be better to kill yourself than to surrender to such barbarians. Back in the restaurant office, there was a cache of bamboo spears for the workers and the customers in case the Americans landed. Kim kept two hunting knives in his desk drawer.
“Can I go back home? To Busan?”
“There’s nothing to eat there, and it isn’t safe for you. Women are being taken away from smaller villages in greater numbers.”
Sunja looked puzzled.
“I’ve told you this before: Never listen to anyone who tells you there’s good factory work in China or any of the other colonies. Those jobs don’t exist. Do you understand me?” His expression grew severe.
“Is my mother all right?”
“She’s not young so they won’t take her. I’ll try to find out.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Worried about her boys, Sunja hadn’t paid enough attention to her mother’s welfare. In Yangjin’s sparse letters, written for her by a harried schoolteacher, she’d say that she was fine, expressing more concern for Sunja and the boys than for herself. Sunja hadn’t seen her mother in as many years as she had not seen Hansu.
“Can you be ready to go tonight?”
“Why would my brother-in-law listen to me? How can I possibly explain—”
“Tell him that Kim told you that you must leave today. He’s talking to your sister-in-law now. Tell him that he learned this privileged information from his boss. I can send Kim to speak to him at your house.”
Sunja said nothing. She didn’t believe that anyone could convince Yoseb to leave.
“There should be no hesitation. The boys have to be protected.”
“But Sister will—”
“So what about her? Listen to me. Choose your sons over everyone else. Don’t you know this by now?”
She nodded.
“Bring everyone here at dusk. Kim will keep the restaurant open. No one should know where you’re going. You want to get out of here before everyone else tries to as well.” Hansu got up and looked at her soberly. “Leave the others if you have to.”
7
1945
On the day that Hansu told her to take the boys to the country, Yoseb got a job offer. Earlier that afternoon, a friend of a friend had stopped by Yoseb’s biscuit factory and told him of the position: A steel factory in Nagasaki needed a foreman to manage its Korean workers. There would be a housing camp for men, including room and board, but Yoseb couldn’t bring his family. The pay was almost triple his current salary. The family would be separated for a while. When Yoseb came home, excited about the offer, Kyunghee and Sunja had news of their own. Hansu’s hand was in everything, but what could Sunja say?
At dusk, Kim moved the women and boys to Tamaguchi’s farm. The next morning, Yoseb quit his job at the factory, packed one bag, and locked up the house. That afternoon, Yoseb headed to Nagasaki, recalling the time he left Pyongyang for Osaka—the last time he’d left on a journey by himself.
Short months passed before the bombings started, but once they began, the bombing continued through the summer. Hansu was wrong about the timing, but he was right that the neighborhood would turn to ashes.