This Burns My Heart (19 page)

By now Soo-Ja was heaving with pain, fighting back tears. “Where is this sul-jib? Tell me where it is.”

“Don’t worry, child,” the old woman said, reaching for her. Soo-Ja was surprised by how warm her touch was. “I will draw a map for you. But where? On your arm? How about here, in the palm of your hand? That way you’ll never lose this map, and you’ll just have to follow the lines you see.”

“Thank you,” said Soo-Ja, nodding slightly.

“Now, the only thing is, you’ll have to be careful. The man showed the baby to his wife like she was a gift. Not something he might let go easily. And the way he hurried her to the back. Like he was hiding her. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Soo-Ja and Yul set out toward the sul-jib, trekking up and down the narrow, serpentine streets. They moved quickly, even though it was quite dark, and the ground was slippery with melted snow. Next to them, thickets of dried branches dotted the road with sharp pins and edges. A car or a bicycle would pass them once in a while, but for the most part, the hour belonged to them.

Soon it would be all over. It would be morning; Soo-Ja loved mornings. When she was little, on hot summer days, her father would come into her room while she slept and open the windows. Like the god of wind, he’d let in the cool breeze, its fresh touch enveloping her as she dreamt of cherry blossoms. Yes, soon she could be home with her daughter again, and all this would be just a memory.

It never occurred to Soo-Ja that she wouldn’t find Hana at the address the old woman had given her. She felt complete certitude. For the first time in two days, she cracked a smile. Yul, on the other hand, had fallen into a new sorrow, and it seemed ironic that just as Soo-Ja was about to regain her daughter, she was about to lose Yul. For although she had stumbled around like a madwoman for the last twenty-four hours, she had been grateful for every second of Yul’s company. The firm way he held her arm, supporting her, as she walked unsteadily; never calling too much attention to himself, but always there, like the baseboard of a wall.

“How can I ever repay you for helping me today?” Soo-Ja asked him, as they walked past a stretch of closed shops.

“I’ve already been paid back. Your finding Hana is payment enough.”

Soo-Ja sighed. “I’m touched that you helped me. More than that, the fact that you believed we’d find her.”

“You know, if things are so terrible back home…”

“They are. But I’m not going to give up just because I’m not happy there. I have Hana to think of. She needs her father.”

“A father who didn’t even look for her.”

“I told you already… he doesn’t know. If he knew, he would have run out of his hiding place.”

Yul nodded. They didn’t have much farther to go before reaching their destination. Both knew this might be the last chance they’d have to talk.

“So what is your wife like?” asked Soo-Ja, trying to hide the interest in her voice.

Yul hesitated before answering. Soo-Ja knew he was wondering how she had found out about her. “She’s not you,” he finally said.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Soo-Ja.

“What do you think?”

Soo-Ja felt her face grow warm. “I didn’t realize you still had feelings for me.”

“Of course I do, Soo-Ja. That should have been obvious to you when I left Daegu.”

“What do you mean? Why did you leave Daegu?”

“Because of you, of course,” said Yul.

“Because of
me
?”

“I didn’t want to run into you at the farmers’ market, see you happy with another man. I came to Pusan to run away from the memory of you. To leave you and that part of my life behind. To try to bury it.”

“If that’s the reason you left Daegu, you shouldn’t have.”

“Why did you marry Min instead of me?” Yul suddenly blurted out.

Soo-Ja thought for a second, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Probably because you told me the truth and you were honest with me. You were supposed to lie to me, to deceive me. Don’t you know that’s how you end up marrying someone?”

Soo-Ja was about to say more when she realized they had reached the right street. She looked at the signs outside the shops, and saw the one for Gai-Tan sul-jib. The lights were off. They were already closed for the night. But then she remembered what the old woman said. She looked toward the side and noticed the door to the actual house. It was behind a gate, hard to see. The people inside must be asleep.

Soo-Ja’s heart began to do somersaults inside her chest, and she wondered what to do next. Yul moved toward the gate, to rattle it, but Soo-Ja stopped him. That would be giving them a warning. She knew if she did things the wrong way, she might never see Hana again. If she called out for the sul-jib’s owner, he could come out and simply tell her,
I have no idea what you’re talking about, leave us alone.
Then he could run away, move somewhere far away, and give Hana a new last name. The thought chilled Soo-Ja’s spine. It rested in her hands to do this right.

At that moment, it occurred to her what to do. It was the simplest option.

Soo-Ja gathered all the strength she had in her body, and she screamed, louder than the loudest blast from a train whistle: “HANA!” And then again, “HANA! HANA!”

Soo-Ja heard back the sound of her own child yelling back, “Eomma! Eomma!”

Within seconds, Soo-Ja saw her daughter burst out of the door and run toward the gate. The toddler was completely naked, like a newborn, her eyes bloodshot with tears and her cheeks swollen red. Yul quickly
lifted the latch from the outside and tried to open the metal gate, but it did not give way. Soo-Ja thrust her arms in the direction of her child, only a foot away but impossibly far, as Hana wailed and screamed, piercing Soo-Ja’s heart with the sound. Hana kept stomping her bare feet on the ground. She shook her arms in the air, in utter despair.

“Get the gate open! Get it open, Yul!” Soo-Ja cried out.

Hana’s entire face was wet with tears, and her mouth was wide open, dribble slipping from her chin. Yul finally got the gate to release, and as soon as he did so, Soo-Ja swooped in and lifted Hana into her arms. Hana practically fled into her mother’s grasp, climbing onto her, horribly frightened. Her cries grew even louder once she reached Soo-Ja, and her little round body began to shake. Soo-Ja quickly wrapped her scarf around Hana. Yul also hurriedly took off his jacket and placed it over her like a blanket.

As Soo-Ja held the child in her arms, she felt her own cheeks quickly become wet with tears. Her heart beat against her insides like a fist. She could not believe it. She had Hana back. She began to quiver, all the emotion finally coming out of her.

“Eomma! Eomma!” the child cried, between big, hungry gulps of breath. Her little fingers were tearing at her mother’s neck and shoulders, afraid of losing her once again. Hana grabbed at Soo-Ja’s blouse, gluing herself to her. Her tiny hands were clenched so tightly they shook. Even though Soo-Ja held her firmly, Hana still kept reaching madly for her, her fingers clutching her arms, digging into her mother’s skin.

“I’m sorry, baby, eomma’s here, eomma’s here!” said Soo-Ja, almost gasping for air. She looked at her daughter’s face—the mouth howling in anguish, the nose overrun with snot. But what almost destroyed her was seeing the look of fear in her eyes—Hana looked terrified that her mother might leave her again. Soo-Ja covered her own face with her free hand, so full of shame was she for not having protected her daughter.

It was then that the man came outside, followed by two boys, one around age six, the other a little older, maybe ten. Wearing a windbreaker over his beige long johns, he did not look like a kidnapper. He was the most ordinary-looking person Soo-Ja had ever seen. He looked at
her with confusion on his face, as if he couldn’t imagine who she was, or what she was doing at his doorstep at midnight.

Yul moved forward toward him, making his presence known. Soo-Ja saw the two little boys cower, and she moved between Yul and the man. Soo-Ja turned to face Yul and shook her head. This was
her
fight. Hana was
her
daughter. If someone was to have the satisfaction of questioning this man, it would be she.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? You know what time it is?” the man asked, pointing at them.

Soo-Ja could see him better now: he was tall, in his early forties, with beady eyes and a hangdog expression on his face. His name, she found out later, was Dae-Jung. “I am this child’s mother!” Soo-Ja barked at him. “And why is she naked? If I find out that you hurt her, I swear I’ll kill you!”

“You’re her mother? I don’t believe you. Look at the way you’re making her cry.” Dae-Jung made as if to take her back, but Soo-Ja immediately turned her body to the side, shielding Hana.

“You have no business believing or not believing. She is my daughter. And you, you are a kkang-pae, kkang-pae. We have to call the police. Right now!” Soo-Ja was yelling at him. If Hana had not been in her arms, she would have punched him in the face.

“Call them. Call them. All I’ve done is rescue this child who was dumped on the street,” he said, looking at Soo-Ja with contempt, his head slightly raised.

“Dumped?” Soo-Ja spat the word out, stung by it. She would have expected Dae-Jung to either run away or bow in shame. Never this.

“Yes. Dumped. You said you’re the girl’s mother? What kind of mother leaves her child alone in a busy market?”

“Don’t you dare speak to her that way,” said Yul. “Let’s get the police here, see what they say.” He started looking around for an officer, and Soo-Ja could see Dae-Jung panic a little.

“Call them! Who do you think they’re going to side with? Me, who serves them drinks every night, or you, from God knows where, who’s disturbing the peace? Everyone knows I have a kindly disposition. I was taken in by this abandoned girl’s smile and decided to give her a home.
If there’s a victim in all this, it’s me, who tried to help a child and instead of thanks, I get a crazy woman yelling at me.”

Yul advanced toward him and grabbed him by the top of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to talk to her like that, you understand?”

Soo-Ja couldn’t stop him, and Dae-Jung struggled to break free.

“And who are you?” asked Dae-Jung. “Because you’re definitely not the child’s father. I could tell that from a mile away. But I guess you can explain to the police when they come here. I’m sure everybody in town will want to know what you two were doing running around at night like this.” Dae-Jung turned his head to his son. “Bae, go call the police.”

The boy hesitated, and it was a studied hesitation, as deliberate as a gesture by an actor in a bad play. But at least it gave Soo-Ja the chance to step in.

“I
have
Hana, Yul. And I want to take her home now. I don’t want to spend hours in a police station explaining what happened. Let’s just go home.”

Yul weighed her words and she could see his reluctance as he gradually let go of Dae-Jung, finally tossing him back like a dirty towel.

Hana’s crying had subsided a little now, and she buried her head on her mother’s shoulder. Soo-Ja felt disappointed in herself for not taking revenge. How could she not put this man behind bars for what he’d done? How could she simply walk away? But this was Pusan. This was how things were done. If a man took your daughter and then gave her back, you said thank you and bowed your head as you left. If she took him to court, the judge would say,
Isn’t it enough you have your daughter back? What more do you want?
They might even ask her to give him some money, for the food and lodging he had provided.

“Let’s go, Yul,” Soo-Ja repeated, and turned toward the street. But as they started to make their way out, she heard Dae-Jung’s voice behind them.

“And where do you think you’re going with her?” he asked, his voice tinged with an odd sense of conviction. “You didn’t prove that you’re the girl’s mother. You think I’m going to let a stranger just take this little girl?”

Soo-Ja looked at him in utter disbelief. She had never felt more anger
toward another human being. As she drew near, her fist about to punch him, one of his boys—the one who looked to be about ten—stepped forward, standing between them. He had a shaved head, to prevent lice, and a jacket that was a couple of sizes too big for him.

“Appa, I will go with her. I will go see where they take Hyo-Joo.”

It took Soo-Ja a second to realize “Hyo-Joo” meant her daughter. So they had already given her a new name! What else had they taught her, Soo-Ja wondered, in those twenty-four hours? Maybe to stay away from windows and not long for your mother, who will never come…

“All right,” said Dae-Jung, too quickly, glad for the “compromise,” glad to let his version of events come to a logical end.

How amazing that even in matters of child kidnapping, one still had to let the other person find a way to save face.

“Your father, is he good to you?” asked Yul.

The ten-year-old looked thoughtfully at him and nodded. They were walking, the four of them, back to Soo-Ja’s uncle’s house. As they moved through the night, Soo-Ja could feel a familial closeness—the boy, at least for now, was clearly on their side.

“Yes, he treats me well. But not my brother,” Bae replied. In his tattered clothes, he resembled a street urchin.

“Is your brother naughty?” asked Yul.

He would be a good father one day, thought Soo-Ja. He had a natural ability to talk to children.

“He’s not. He’s the same as me,” said Bae.

“So he’s a father who takes the rod out on one boy, but spares the other. Why do you think he doesn’t beat you?” asked Yul.

“I don’t know, sir.”

At this point Soo-Ja felt as if Yul had given her enough of an opening so she could ask the boy some questions. “Why did your father take Hana? What did he tell you?”

Bae contorted his neck, weighing his loyalties, and took a while before he finally began to speak. “My father is not a bad man. But
sometimes he does strange things. Things that we don’t understand, but in his head it all makes sense.”

“Why did he take Hana to your house?” asked Soo-Ja.

Hana lay in her mother’s arms, afraid to let go. She grew heavier with every block they passed, but Soo-Ja swallowed the pain. In spite of Yul’s offers to carry her, she knew it was best for her daughter to stay with her.