When they did find out about them, she covered them up, saying, “I had one yesterday, but now I’m fine!” Once, she was sitting up in the middle of the night, and when you made a noise her face turned stone cold and she asked, “Why did you stay with me all these years?” Still, she continued to make sauces and pick wild Japanese plums to make plum juice. On Sundays, she rode on the back of your motorcycle to go to church, and sometimes she suggested going out to eat, saying she wanted to eat food someone else had cooked, at a place that served a lot of panchan. The family discussed consolidating all of the many ancestral rites into one day, but she said that she would do so when the time came for Hyong-chol’s wife to take over the rites. Since she’d done the rites her whole life, she would continue to do them individually while she was alive. Unlike before, however, your wife would forget something for the ancestral-rite table and have to go to town four or five times. You just assumed that this was something that could happen to anyone.
The phone rings at dawn. At this hour? Filled with hope, you quickly pick up the phone.
“Father?”
It’s your elder daughter.
“Father?”
“Yes.”
“What took you so long to answer? Why didn’t you answer your cell?”
“What’s going on?”
“I was shocked when I called Hyong-chol’s house yesterday… Why did you go home? You should have told me. You can’t leave like that and not pick up the phone.”
Your daughter must have just found out that you came home.
“I was sleeping.”
“Sleeping? The whole time?”
“I guess so.”
“What are you going to do there by yourself?”
“Just in case she comes here.”
Your daughter is quiet. You swallow, your throat dry.
“Should I come down?”
Of all the children, Chi-hon is the most energetic in looking for your wife. It’s probably partly because she’s single. The Yokchon-dong pharmacist was the last person to call to say he’d seen someone like your wife. Your son placed more newspaper ads, but there have been no more leads. Even the police said they’d done everything they could, and could only wait for someone to call, but your daughter went from emergency room to emergency room each night, checking on every patient without family.
“No… Just call if you hear anything.”
“If you’d rather not be alone, come right back up, Father. Or ask Aunt to come stay with you.”
Your daughter’s voice sounds strange. As if she has been drinking. It sounds as if she’s slurring her words.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Just a couple of drinks.” She’s about to hang up.
Drinking until these morning hours? You call her name urgently. She answers, her voice low. Your hand holding the phone grows damp. Your legs give way. “That day, your mom wasn’t well enough to go to Seoul. We shouldn’t have gone to Seoul… The day before, she had a headache and rested her head in a basin filled with ice. She couldn’t hear anyone calling her. At night, I found her with her head in the freezer. She was in a lot of pain. Even though she forgot to make breakfast, she said we had to go to Seoul-you were all waiting for us. But I should have said no. I think my judgment is getting worse because I’m old. One part of me thought, this time in Seoul, we would force her to go to the hospital… And with someone like that, I should have held on to her… I didn’t treat her like a sick person, and as soon as we got to Seoul I just walked ahead… My old habit just took over. That’s how it happened.” The words you couldn’t say to your children spill out of your mouth.
“Father…”
You listen.
“I think everyone’s forgotten about Mom. Nobody’s calling. Do you know why Mom had such a headache that day? It’s because I was a bitch. She said so.” Your daughter’s voice slurs.
“Your mom did?”
“Yes… I didn’t think I could come to the birthday party, so I called from China and asked what she was doing, and she said she was pouring liquor into a bottle. For the youngest. You know he likes to drink. I don’t know. It wasn’t even worth it, but I got so angry. He really has to quit drinking… Mom was bringing it because it’s something her baby likes. So I said to Mom, Don’t take that heavy thing; if he drinks it and makes a scene, it’s going to be your fault, so please be smart about it. Mom said, weakly, You’re right, and said she would go into town and get some rice cakes-she always brings rice cakes for your birthday. So I said, Don’t, nobody eats those rice cakes anyway, and we just take them home and put them in the freezer. I told her not to act like a country bumpkin, she should just go to Seoul without bringing anything. She asked me if I really stuck all the rice cakes in the freezer, so I said, Yes, I even have some that are three years old. And she cried. I asked, Mom, are you crying? and she said, You’re a bitch… I told her all that so things would be easier for her. When she called me a bitch, I think I went a little crazy. It was really hot in Beijing that day. I was so angry that I yelled, Fine, I hope you’re happy that you have a bitch for a daughter! Okay, I’m a bitch! and hung up on her.”
You’re silent.
“Mom hates it when we yell… and we always yell at her. I was going to call and apologize, but I forgot, because I was doing a million things at once-eating and sightseeing and talking to people. If I had called and apologized, she wouldn’t have had such a bad headache… and then she would have been able to follow you around.”
Your daughter is crying.
“Chi-hon!”
She is quiet.
“Your mom was very proud of you.”
“What?”
“If you were in the newspaper, she folded it and put it in her bag and took it out and looked at it again and again-if she saw someone in town she took it out and bragged about you.”
She’s silent.
“If someone asked what her daughter did… she said you wrote words. Your mom asked a woman at the Hope House orphanage in Namsan-dong to read her your book. Your mom knew what you wrote. When that woman read to her, Mom’s face brightened and she smiled. So, whatever happens, you have to keep writing well. There’s always the right time to say something… I lived my life without talking to your mom. Or I missed the chance, or I assumed she would know. Now I feel like I could say anything and everything but there’s nobody to listen to me. Chi-hon?”
“Yes?”
“Please… please look after your mom.”
You press the phone closer to your ear, listening to your daughter’s forlorn cries. Her tears seem to trickle down the cord of your phone. Your face becomes marred with tears. Even if everyone in the world forgets, your daughter will remember. That your wife truly loved the world, and that you loved her.
4 Another Woman
THERE ARE SO MANY pine trees here.
How can there be a neighborhood like this in this city? It’s hidden away so well. Did it snow a few days ago? There’s snow on the trees. Let me see, there are three pine trees in front of your house. It’s almost like that man planted them here for me to sit on. Oh, I can’t believe I’m talking about him. I’m going to visit with you first and then go see him. I’ll do that. I think I should do that.
The apartments and studios that your siblings live in all look the same to me. It’s confusing which house is whose. How can everything be exactly the same? How do they all live in identical spaces like that? I think it would be nice if they lived in different-looking houses. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a shed and an attic? Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a house where the children have places to hide? You used to hide in the attic, away from your brothers, who wanted to send you on all sorts of errands. Now even in the countryside apartment buildings that look the same have sprouted up. Have you gone up on the roof of our house recently? You can see all the high-rise apartments in town from there. When you were growing up, our village didn’t even have a bus route. It has to be worse in this busy city if it’s like that even in the country. I just wish they didn’t all look the same. They all look so identical that I can’t figure out where to go. I can’t find your brothers’ homes or your sister’s studio. That’s my problem. In my eyes, all the entrances and doors look the same, but everyone manages to find their way home, even in the middle of the night. Even children.