The Revisionists (29 page)

It all seemed so bizarre. Was this how newcomers became Americans, by betraying others?

She couldn’t figure Leo out. She’d never known an American, so maybe this was how they acted. That kiss at the grocery store, delivered stiffly and quickly, not so much a formality as something stolen. He’d left the store immediately, as if worried the shoplifter alarm would go off. The next time they’d met, in the parking lot of that destroyed school, she wondered if he would try for another one.

She wanted him to. He was nothing at all like the boys she’d spent time with—schoolboys in Jakarta and coworkers in Seoul, jokers who tried to impress her with their silliness, by acting as if they didn’t care whether they impressed her or not, which fooled no one. She had never imagined herself with a white man—at least, not until the past few days.

Her own motivations were confusing to her. She wanted out of this house, yes, absolutely, but she hadn’t been sure it was truly possible. So when she’d called him that first time, all she’d dared hope for was someone to talk to. That kiss in the grocery store, as hurried and surprising as it had been, had been the best gift she’d received since coming to America. She craved another kiss, a real one this time. Not stolen but given, freely and slowly.

But when they met at the parking lot, instead of getting a caress, she’d gotten an assignment—a potentially dangerous one. All day and night she did other people’s bidding, and now she had to add another layer to that. But he was offering her an escape, and
this
was exactly what she’d wanted, what she’d been too afraid to even hope for. Wasn’t it? Maybe she was confusing the need to touch someone with the need to be released. They could be so similar.

First she would have to find the information he needed. The devices had to be hidden somewhere; Sang Hee seldom entered Sari’s room, but how could Sari be sure she wouldn’t decide to? She left Leo’s electronics in the garage at first, stuffed in the bottom of a box of gardening tools. Late that night, after the twins’ feeding, she snuck out to retrieve them and stashed them in her closet. At least they were small.

Maybe she never should have called him. What had she been hoping for, that they would fall in love and he’d carry her away to some perfect American existence? She was ridiculous.

Then again, wasn’t that exactly what he was offering? This handsome American, living in their capital, surely with an important job—he was taking a risk by helping her like this. Why? Maybe her hopes weren’t so ridiculous. Maybe he did want to carry her away. Or maybe they were both ridiculous. Which made them either perfect for each other or a dangerous pair indeed.

Sari altered the timing of her chores, dusting or tidying the living room when Sang Hee was typing on her computer on the off chance the mistress would receive an interesting call. If one of the Shims were in their bedroom with the door open, she would clean Hana’s adjoining room, lingering by the doorway. But Hyun Ki received few calls, and Sang Hee almost none. She was oddly reclusive. Before her injury she ventured out occasionally, and she still managed to go out for lunch now and then, but Sari noticed that she never made plans with anyone by phone. Either she went to lunch alone or she communicated with her lunch dates through other means. Maybe Sari should mention that to Leo.

Hyun Ki rarely took calls at home, in part because he was seldom there. If the phone rang at night, he would take it upstairs. Sari was usually busy with the twins then, but even if she hadn’t been, picking up the downstairs line to eavesdrop was too frightening.

The couple didn’t even seem to talk to each other much. There was precious little to overhear. Surely they spoke at night, in their bedroom—but even so, it must have been done in whispers, because Sari never even caught any mumbling. She didn’t think they really loved each other. She seldom saw them kiss or embrace; Hyun Ki administered the occasional peck on the cheek with ambassadorial formality. The more she forced herself to watch them, the odder they seemed. The only conversations she overheard were trivial—a doctor’s appointment for Hana, a restaurant recommendation he’d received from a colleague.

Very late one night, Sari walked out of the twins’ room after consoling them and noticed that the kitchen light was on. Hyun Ki was talking on the phone.

“She’s making things difficult,” he said. “I’m not sure what to do.”

Sari made it as far as her bedroom doorway and then stood there, leaning against the wall. Hyun Ki was not a loud talker even in the daytime. His voice seemed sad, or frustrated, and given the hour, she assumed he was talking to someone in Korea.

“She wasn’t like this before. I knew she had a short temper, but still… It’s different now.”

Sari could see the kitchen from there but not the table at which he was sitting.

“No, it’s not Washington. If she’s lived in North Korea, she can live anywhere. That’s not it—it’s the twins. They’ve changed her.”

The kitchen floor creaked, and the sound frightened her into her room. Had he heard her in the hallway, or was he just standing to get a glass of water? She crept back into her bed, lay down, and pulled the covers up. She couldn’t hear him from here, not even any mumbling. Eventually she fell asleep.

And the next evening, after tucking Hana in, she entered the hallway and heard the Shims talking in their bedroom. They’d been out for dinner and must have returned while Sari was reading Hana stories. The diplomat was scolding his wife.

“You need to stop hitting the servant. I know you don’t like her, but it doesn’t look good for us.”

Sari was stunned, never having expected Hyun Ki to defend her. It was true that he’d never raised a hand against her like his wife had, but he’d never treated her with respect either.

“She’s lazy and stupid and she keeps ruining our things,” Sang Hee said. “And one of the twins still isn’t growing as fast as the other.”

“Then we can fire her and get someone else.”

Sari hadn’t thought of this possibility. Being fired implied a more normal work arrangement than what she currently had. Could she really get herself fired? That would be perfect! But how? What could she do wrong that would merit firing, not just more abuse?

“My point,” Hyun Ki said, “is that it will not do for a servant of mine to be seen, in the city, or by guests, with bruises. How do you think we look if our servant has a bruise?”

“Who cares how we look? And who knows she’s ours?”

“I care how I look. I am paid to care how I look.”

“The cast comes off next week, so we won’t have to send her to the store anymore. I’ll be able to get around for myself.”

“Good. But we’ll need groceries before then. Figure out how to order them online if you can’t keep from hitting the girl until then, all right?”

Their conversation turned to other complaints, and Sari felt she’d been standing there long enough, so she lightly stepped down the stairs.

An hour later, after the babies woke again and she rocked them back to sleep, she went into the kitchen to get some water. Hyun Ki was doing the same. She lowered her eyes as he turned to face her.

“They’re still waking a lot, aren’t they?”

She could smell alcohol on his breath. “Yes.” She dared to lie. “I think it’s getting better.”

He stepped aside so she could use the faucet. She started filling her glass.

“Sometimes I myself have trouble sleeping,” he said. Then his right hand was on her forearm. She froze as his fingers lightly stroked her skin. He was standing just behind her, closer than he’d ever been.

She didn’t know where Sang Hee was. She remembered Leo’s words:
They can do anything they want to you
.

She dropped the glass. It was full and heavy, and it landed with a loud clang but didn’t break. She hadn’t meant to do that, but it worked; he backed off. Water had splashed on her shirt and maybe gotten him as well. She apologized for the mess, but he was already walking away.

That night she dreamed of her mother again.

I don’t know what to do,
Sari said.
The situation in this house is horrible, but if they catch me sneaking around on them…

You’ve always been so cautious. But maybe it’s time to take a chance.

Mother, am I their slave?

If you’re trying to break free, if you believe you can escape, then you won’t be a slave forever.

But I’m one now?

Don’t waste time wondering about this. You should be planning how you’re going to get the information the American wants.

I want to see him again, but Sang Hee’s ankle will heal soon. She’s already out of her hard cast. Then the only way I’ll be able to communicate with him is through notes in the garbage.

There’s one more thing I need to tell you.

What is it?

Wake up!

Sari sat up in bed at the sound of the crash. Then came the screaming.

She hurried out of the bedroom, hitting the light switch. At the end of the hallway, by the front door, a reflection of the light moved along the floor. A glass, empty and thick enough to have survived the fall intact, rolled to a stop at the fallen Sang Hee. All Sari could see of the mistress was a pile of purple bathrobe, a white knee, and a foot with green-painted toenails. The fabric thrashed, and Sang Hee screamed again.

Hyun Ki ran down the stairs and bent over his wife. They spoke so quickly and angrily that Sari couldn’t follow everything. Something about trying to fetch water, the crutch getting caught in the banister. He tried to help her up but she howled in pain.

The diplomat looked at Sari and told her to tend to Hana. Only then did Sari realize the little girl was crying in her room. Hyun Ki helped his wife hobble to the living room, and Sari smelled alcohol on her mistress’s breath as she passed her. Sari ran upstairs and into Hana’s room, her shadow cast faintly on the wall by the night-light. “Everything’s all right, go to sleep.” She rubbed Hana’s back and spoke softly, making herself into a fragment of a dream. The tiny clock on her bedside table said it was half past two.

She was still sitting there minutes later, and Hana was softly sailing back down her nocturnal river, when Hyun Ki’s silhouette appeared in the doorway. He whispered that he had to take Sang Hee to the hospital—it looked like she’d rebroken her ankle, or worse. He told her to take care of the children while they were gone.

Sari watched through the window as the SUV pulled out of the driveway. She prayed that the twins wouldn’t wake up, and then she walked into the hallway and saw that in the Shims’ panic they had forgotten to close, let alone lock, the master bedroom door.

Was it really this easy?

She crept downstairs, entered her room, and opened the closet. Beneath a stack of extra blankets was the scanning device Leo had given her. Then she walked upstairs, holding her breath as she passed Hana’s doorway. She quietly closed the master bedroom door behind her, turning the lights on but keeping the dimmer low. This was the only room in the house she did not clean, as Sang Hee had made it clear she was not allowed inside. Entering their matrimonial space felt alien, and as she stood looking at the unfamiliar photographs and decorative fabric, she realized how little she really knew these people whom she’d been living with for weeks. She was exhausted, and the usual heaviness behind her eyes was there, but her heartbeat was fast, and she realized her hands were shaking.

Where to begin? There were two desks crammed in the bay window, as well as a tall filing cabinet whose doors were locked. Surely there was a key somewhere.

She opened his unlocked desk drawers, flipped through some papers. She tried to make note of the exact arrangement of everything she touched, but she worried that she was so tired and nervous that she’d botch this, that they’d know instantly what she’d done. She saw Hyun Ki’s computer on one of the tables and turned it on. Leo had told to her what to do; she had some experience using computers but none doing the bizarre copying that he required. She tried to remember the steps, nervously pressing the keys and inserting the flash drive he’d given her.

Only the next morning would she realize she could have called Leo, asked his advice while she fumbled along. But what she’d felt more than anything at that moment was alone, alone in other people’s words, in their language, in their sparsely decorated little world. She understood little, but she grabbed what she could, hoping it was important, hoping this mattered.

Sari was sitting on the living room floor with the babies when the Shims returned. Sang Hee was still on crutches, and the soft cast had been replaced by a harder one, larger than before, extending almost to her knee. She made eye contact with Sari and wordlessly handed the crutches to her husband, then hopped up the stairs on her good foot.

Sari was more nervous than before, afraid they could somehow see the guilt in her eyes. But mixed with that was an undeniable pleasure at seeing pain in Sang Hee’s face.

While the shower ran upstairs, Hyun Ki barked at Sari for not having his breakfast ready. Carrying one of the little ones with her, she hurried into the kitchen and made it for him.

“My wife is in a lot of pain,” he said between bites. His eyes were red and his hair was badly combed. “You are to take her meals upstairs, as she’s less mobile than before. Do whatever she asks and don’t give her any lip, understood?”

She said of course, and then he was gone. The flash drive was hidden between the mattress and box spring of her bed, where it would stay until that night, when she would hide it in the recycling bin for Leo to retrieve.

“How were the children last night?” Sang Hee asked as Sari carried her lunch into the bedroom.

“Fine, ma’am. Hana woke briefly but fell back asleep right away. She probably doesn’t even remember it.”

“You think a daughter could forget the sound of her mother crying out in pain so easily?”

She hesitated. “Of course not.”