This Burns My Heart (11 page)

“The rice cakes are on the plate. I’m just getting changed,” Soo-Ja told her.

But Mother-in-law—her hanbok gown sweeping the floor—kept walking until she reached her. She looked worried.

“Hana’s mother, go for a walk with your daughter and stay outside for a few hours.”

“Go out? Why?” Soo-Ja stood on the small walkway between the
main house and her own quarters. Her daughter leaned against her legs playfully.

“Just until he’s gone.”

Soo-Ja looked at her, stung. “Why? Why can’t I stay?”

“Because of the way you look.”

“The way I look?” asked Soo-Ja, more confused than offended.

“Like a poor relation.”

Soo-Ja looked down at her old pink cotton shirt, faded after many washings; her indigo skirt passé now, but fashionable a few years back. It had been months, too, since she’d had a proper haircut, and now she wore her hair held back all the time.

“It’s cold outside,” said Soo-Ja curtly, holding her daughter closer to her. “I don’t want Hana to get sick.”

“You’re always dying to go out, to do this, to do that. Now I ask you, for a good reason, and you’re reluctant. You’re like the stubborn frog in the folk tale, always doing the opposite of what he’s asked.”

“I’ll just wait in my room until he’s gone.”

“No! The child’s going to make a racket and disturb the guest!”

“
Child?
You mean, your granddaughter,” said Soo-Ja, indignation scorching her body.

“Yes, grand
daughter
, not grand
son
. You have a big mouth for someone who’s failed at her
only
duty in life. Now go. You remember what happened last time you disobeyed me?”

“You took Hana away from me for a day,” said Soo-Ja, the memory still branded into her brain.

“Yes. Let’s see how you’d like it if I made that a week. But the problem isn’t her, it’s you. You can leave her behind if you want,” said Mother-in-law, turning around and rushing back to the main house.

Soo-Ja wouldn’t leave Hana behind any more than she would leave behind an arm or a hand. Hana went everywhere with her. How unfortunate that mothers didn’t have pouches on their bellies, like kangaroo mothers did! Instead you saw them as Quasimodo creatures on the street, women with babies (and sometimes toddlers as old as three) strapped to their backs, hunched forward like two-headed animals, one face to the past, the other to the future.

Hana, who’d been listening to this conversation carefully and who loved leaving the house, glanced at her, waiting for her decision. Saying nothing, Soo-Ja put a coat on her daughter and placed a warm woolen cap over the child’s head. Hana spontaneously danced, as she always knew when Soo-Ja gave her the cap that she’d get to go for a walk.

“I like
eomma
when eomma take me out!” said Hana, the words roundly slipping out of her lips.

“I know, but it’s cold, Hana.”

“I don’t like eomma!” Hana protested, thinking that her mother had changed her mind.

“But you just said you did,” Soo-Ja teasingly replied.

“Only when eomma take me out!”

“Oh—so only when eomma take Hana out?” asked Soo-Ja, kneeling in front of her, smiling. “You don’t like eomma all the time?”

Hana shook her head. “No!”

“Eomma likes Hana all the time, though. Does Hana like eomma when I give her sweet potatoes?”

“I like eomma!”

“How about when I sing a song for Hana?”

“I like eomma!”

“Then I guess I’m going to have to take you out all the time, and give you sweet potatoes, and sing to you, huh?”

“Yes! Do that!”

“Do that?” Soo-Ja could not hide her delight. “All right, I’ll do that.”

How could her daughter entertain her so? Soo-Ja wondered. In her little girl, she had found her greatest ally. Hana made her laugh, made her feel light. Even though Soo-Ja spent so much time taking care of her, she still felt like she was the one getting the better part of the bargain.

Soo-Ja could not imagine her life without Hana. From the moment she was born, Hana had delighted her. On each birthday, Soo-Ja thought, with a tinge of regret,
Oh, don’t get older. You’ll never be as adorable.
She didn’t want her child to lose her baby fat. She would miss the plumpness of the girl’s arms, the rotund, soft belly. She wanted to keep Hana a baby forever.

But babies had a way of surprising their parents, and each year, Soo-Ja found her daughter even more lovable. Around Hana, Soo-Ja felt like she could do and say anything. Her daughter, now almost three years old, gave her a magic lasso, and inside this circle—large enough only for the two of them—Soo-Ja felt freer than ever.

“All right, Hana, let’s go,” said Soo-Ja.

On her way out, Soo-Ja saw everyone nervously and excitedly gathering in the main room. Nobody noticed her, the whole family caught up in the roles they were to play. Only Du-Ho, who was now fourteen, and who appreciated her help with his
sugje
—his homework—stopped her and asked her where she was going. When she told him she had an urgent errand, he smiled mischievously and said not to worry, as he’d fill her in later and let her know if the suitor was ugly or handsome, and what kind of clothes he wore. If he wore flannel pants, Du-Ho said, he’d make faces at him. She smiled back at him and continued walking to the door.

As she made her way into the courtyard, Soo-Ja noticed the fish swimming in the murky lotus pond. There were four or five of them, and they seemed as excited as the people inside, rushing off in all directions. Soo-Ja smiled, admiring their intense colors and odd shapes—a yellow koi with a long tail; some goldfish with protruding mouths; twin orfes with silvery fins. The fish were about to disappear from her line of vision when she noticed the first specks of snow of the season landing on the stone edges of the pond.

Soo-Ja looked around, hoping to find Du-Ho or one of the boys, but they were all inside, adjusting their outfits and combing their hair. She could not find a servant, either. There had been many forecasts of snow; Soo-Ja wondered why no one had had the forethought to remove the fish from the pond and put them indoors. As Hana cooed at her beloved pets, her little fingers tracing their zigzags, Soo-Ja realized that the fish had been simply left to die.

With no further thought, Soo-Ja reached for a pot and tried to use it to scoop up the fish. She failed the first few times, with the fish too alert to her, anticipating her movements. Soo-Ja grew frustrated, aware that
the suitor could be arriving at the house at any moment. Mother-in-law would be furious if she caught her still at home.

But the more eagerly Soo-Ja approached the fish, the quicker they seemed to evade her, swimming out of the pot each time she tried to lift it out of the water.
Oh, you dumb, dumb fish
, Soo-Ja muttered under her breath.
Can’t you see I’m trying to save you? What do you think is going to happen if you stay in that pond?

Soo-Ja placed the pot by the side of the pond. She decided she would have to catch the fish by hand. Trying to ignore the glacially cold water, Soo-Ja lowered her outstretched palms into the pond and waited for one of the fish to linger over them. She could barely keep her hands still, as the cold seemed to travel directly to her brain. She fought the temptation to free her hands, watching as they trembled.

When a goldfish that had been lying sluggish at the bottom of the pond finally rested above her palms, Soo-Ja snapped her hands shut. She could feel the fish beating against her flesh wildly, obviously unaware that she was trying to save it. As if reading her mother’s mind, Hana quickly raised the half-empty pot in her mother’s direction, spilling much of the water. Soo-Ja opened her hands into it. The tiny fish flopped in the air for a second, and then seemed to take a dive, careening wildly back and forth before it finally settled down. Soo-Ja repeated this with the others, one by one. By the time she’d finished, her hands had turned a ghostly white, and she could no longer feel any sensation in them.

Soo-Ja sighed with relief, glad that she was done before the suitor’s arrival, and before the snowstorm started. But just as she was about to finally make her way out of the courtyard, Soo-Ja heard the gate open and saw a handsome man in his thirties, wearing a Western-style suit, walk hurriedly toward her. He had surprisingly long hair, with bangs that fell slightly over one eye and a healthy tan that spoke of far away, of long retreats in the mountains. He smiled overexcitedly and delivered a deep, heartfelt bow. Soo-Ja bowed back and knew right away that this was the suitor, Iseul.

“Did I get the time wrong? I thought I was early, but maybe I’m late, as I see you’ve gotten impatient and decided to leave,” said Iseul.

Soo-Ja saw that he had mistaken her for Na-yeong. She glanced over to see the matchmaker still at the front gate, haggling with the taxi driver who’d brought them there in his Senara.

“You’re mistaking me for Nam’s daughter,” Soo-Ja told him, trying to think of an excuse to leave. “I’m his daughter-in-law.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you saw my ugly mug and changed your mind,” teased Iseul. “You’re going to ask some ugly cousin to pass herself off as you.”

“Who do you think this is, then?” asked Soo-Ja impatiently, pointing at Hana, who’d been hiding her face against her mother’s hips.

“Some child you’re babysitting!” Iseul said, scratching his arms.

Around this time, Mother-in-law and Na-yeong appeared next to them, and both looked horrified to see Soo-Ja and Iseul together. Soo-Ja tried to think of something to say so she could leave without appearing rude.

Before she could speak, however, Soo-Ja was interrupted by the matchmaker. The old woman had finally joined them, pocketing the extra coins she’d saved through the haggling.

“I see you’ve already met Min’s mother, and her lovely daughter, Na-yeong,” said the matchmaker, ignoring Soo-Ja completely. “Min’s mother, Na-yeong, this is the suitor I spoke so highly about. He comes from a wonderful family that owns property in Seoul, and he is a very successful engineer!”

The matchmaker stopped once she noticed the frown on Mother-in-law’s face. The suitor turned to look at Na-yeong, the true intended, and his smile immediately vanished. Na-yeong saw this, and she looked as if she was on the verge of tears. Soo-Ja wanted to disappear.

The suitor turned to Mother-in-law and bowed, all his enthusiasm gone.

“I’m sorry. I made a foolish mistake. I’m honored to meet you, Min’s mother.”

Not knowing what to say or do, Soo-Ja nodded her head slightly to the others and began to walk away. But before she could take a single step, the suitor turned to her.

“Where are you going?” Iseul asked, confused.

“I have to go. I really have to,” said Soo-Ja, picking up the bucket of fish.

“No, you must stay for tea,” said Iseul, taking the bucket from her hands and putting it back on the ground.

“She has to go! Let her go!” snapped Mother-in-law. “Come inside, before the apples turn sour and dark.”

But the suitor would not budge. “I expect the whole family to be there,” Iseul said sternly. “What kind of a first meeting is this, where not everyone is there? Are you trying to hide something?”

“No, of course not,” said Mother-in-law, offering him a strained smile.

“Then let’s all go in,” he said.

Soo-Ja tried to escape one more time, but the suitor reached for her arm and then pointed the way with his right hand, as if he were the host and she the guest. He walked next to her the entire way to the house, ignoring Mother-in-law and never looking at Na-yeong. Soo-Ja glanced behind for Hana, and saw that she had picked up the pot with the fish inside and was carrying it into the house.

In the main room, two serving trays with tea, rice cakes, and sliced pears had been set up on the floor—one for the adults, and one for the children. Soo-Ja saw the look of surprise on her father-in-law’s face when he saw her coming back in. He clearly had to hide his reaction, however, as he received the suitor. The boys, too, looked confused to see Soo-Ja and Hana still there, though Du-Ho smiled, quietly cheering their presence.

After a series of bows between the guests and the hosts, Iseul finally sat down on a mat, asking Soo-Ja to remain next to him. Soo-Ja reluctantly agreed, knowing that if she refused, she’d simply be drawing more attention to his request. Soo-Ja sat down, telling Hana to join the boys at the small table. Mother-in-law plopped down on the other side of the suitor, with Father-in-law sitting across from Soo-Ja. Na-yeong and the matchmaker remained the farthest from the suitor, completing the square.

“Iseul, you haven’t spoken a word yet to Na-yeong,” said the
matchmaker in an animated manner. “Have you ever seen such a beauty? I knew at once that you two would make a fashionable pair.”

“Don’t call her a ‘beauty,’ matchmaker. It’s too much for her to live up to. Who can stand so much pressure?” asked Iseul. He looked quite pleased with himself, as if he’d just said something very wise. He didn’t notice the look of annoyance on Mother-in-law’s face, or the embarrassment registering in Na-yeong’s eyes.

“Did I mention already that your zodiac signs are very compatible?” asked the matchmaker, ignoring Iseul’s comment. “You being a horse, and Na-yeong a dog.”

“What sign are you, Hana’s mother?” asked Iseul, turning to Soo-Ja. As the suitor glanced adoringly at her, Soo-Ja understood why Mother-in-law had wanted her gone during his visit.

“I’m a tiger, and my husband’s a rabbit,” said Soo-Ja, quickly but patiently. She prayed that Na-yeong would not notice the way Iseul stared at her. But when Soo-Ja looked in the direction of her sister-in-law, her heart sank. Na-yeong seemed to be fighting back tears, and trying to hide her face.

Iseul eventually noticed the subtle dance of gazes between Soo-Ja and Na-yeong. He shook his head, as if chastising himself, and took Mother-in-law’s hand into his. “With all this talk of animals, I’m forgetting the real purpose of my visit.”

Mother-in-law’s face brightened. “There’s no real purpose for this visit. My only concern is that you enjoy yourself.”