This Burns My Heart (24 page)

“Yes,” said one of the women. “My friend thinks she recognizes you, but I think she’s wrong.”

“Oh,” said Soo-Ja, looking at her with curiosity, trying to place their faces as well.

One woman was tall, and had a perm, with curls chasing down her cheeks. The other was short, and looked to be about sixteen, though she was probably twice as old. Soo-Ja didn’t know either of them, but didn’t rule out the possibility that the woman was right. In her college years, especially, many people had known her—by name or by sight.

“My friend here thinks you’re Soo-Ja Choi, from Won-dae-don.” Soo-Ja smiled, about to confirm that, but could not get a word in as the woman continued, “But I’m telling her she’s wrong. That Soo-Ja was, well, rich. What would she be doing working as a hotel hostess?”

“I’m not a hostess,” said Soo-Ja, instantly losing her smile.

“It’s her!” the other woman interrupted. She leaned forward, inspecting Soo-Ja’s face. She spoke as if Soo-Ja weren’t there. “She doesn’t look anything like her, I know. She’s not as pretty, and the Soo-Ja I remember wouldn’t be caught dead in those bargain-bin clothes, but it’s her!”

“You’re wrong, Bok-Hee. Do you really think Woon-Gyu Choi’s daughter would be working in a place like this? She’s probably in France now, redecorating her château.”

They were talking to each other, acting as if Soo-Ja couldn’t hear them. They stared openly at her, scrutinizing her clothes, her posture, her looks.

“It’s her, I know it’s her,” said Bok-Hee. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Bok-Hee finally addressed Soo-Ja. “You’re Soo-Ja Choi.”

Bok-Hee spoke dripping with self-satisfaction, and looked at Soo-Ja as if she had unmasked her. Bok-Hee had a broad smile on her face, clearly thinking she had won in the game of life, and couldn’t wait to share her discovery with her old classmates. Soo-Ja looked away from her and presented them with the bill.

“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” said Soo-Ja curtly. “That’s not me.”

“Of course not,” said Bok-Hee, her smile hinting at the glee she’d feel when she started spreading the news.

You will never guess who I just saw working the front desk of a one-star hotel…

After the two women left, Soo-Ja thought about closing for the day—and maybe even for the rest of her life. But she knew she couldn’t do that. Unlike the guests who had just left, she didn’t have a husband to support her. Only the land in Gangnam could buy her freedom.

At that moment, Soo-Ja wondered if that was the real reason she had moved to Seoul—to get away from her old classmates, who would have run into her frequently had she stayed in Daegu. The irony was not lost on her—more than ten years ago, she had longed to come to Seoul to attend diplomat school, but when she had finally arrived, it was to work as a hotel clerk. With so many bills to pay and the weight of real life on her shoulders, the mere idea of just being a student sounded like a faroff fantasy.

Soo-Ja looked at the list of guests who were supposed to check in, and she thought once again of the woman she had spoken with on the phone the day before. Eun-Mee Kim. Did she know her? Had she gone to school with her, too? It would not surprise her if Eun-Mee Kim turned out to be an old elementary school classmate who wanted to see for herself what fate had befallen Soo-Ja Choi, the once famous beauty of Won-dae-don.
Eun-Mee Kim, Eun-Mee Kim.

Soo-Ja spoke the name quietly, under her breath, and tried to see if it evoked any memories. It was barely a few seconds after she had realized who the woman was that she saw her materialize in front of her. She did not need to be introduced. The woman’s identity was unmistakable as she came into the hotel and was followed by her beloved Yul himself. Soo-Ja felt the earth stop spinning as she found herself face to face, for the first time, with Yul’s wife.

“T
his has to be some kind of joke,” Eun-Mee said as soon as she came in. Soo-Ja suddenly felt keenly aware of the simplicity of her hotel—the two table ferns flanking the counter, the lack of windows, the bright fluorescent lights, the dismally generic painting behind her of a python and a deer facing off in a forest.

Yul’s wife seemed so out of place there, with her long, black hair done up in elaborate French tresses in the back. She was a stunning beauty, with her milky complexion, long-bridged nose, and big eyes made even bigger by the black mascara. She wore a jacket top with a gaudy gold circular print, and a bright yellow skirt with a white line on the sides that fell just below her knees. Her enormous purse had a rough surface, and seemed to be made of lizard skin. Yul, standing behind Eun-Mee, tried to avoid looking at Soo-Ja directly, and kept shifting his eyes from her to the floor, then back again. He wore a heavy gray trenchcoat, wrapped in front with a belt and a long row of silver-colored buttons. He never took his hands out of his large pockets.

Yul did not look that much older than the last time she saw him, eight years earlier, though she knew he must be in his late thirties now. His hair was a little long, which lent him a boyish quality, and he still had the same serious, handsome face that seemed to her more appropriate for a student leader than a doctor. Soo-Ja couldn’t pretend she hadn’t
thought of him in the years since she had seen him last. Of course she had, and it was amazing to see he did not look much different in person than he had in her dreams. He still had those deep eyes that seemed to contain mountains of sorrows. But when he smiled, his entire face followed the lead of his lips, expression lines forming on the sides and around his eyes.

Soo-Ja hoped that upon seeing him again, she’d simply feel the expected warmth and surprise you feel when reunited with an old friend—for that’s what he was in the eyes of the world, a distant friend, the kind you run into at weddings and funerals, once every decade or so. But instead, she felt a piercing sensation in her heart, and her breathing became shallow. Soo-Ja could not run to him—if she couldn’t do that before, why did she think she could do that now?

“This can’t be the place where we’re staying! Was there some kind of mix-up?” Eun-Mee asked Yul, ignoring Soo-Ja. “Whoever suggested this hotel must’ve been pulling a prank.”

Yul bowed to Soo-Ja, and she bowed back to him. Then he asked after her health and the health of her daughter. His wife, watching this, suddenly made a big show of making a realization. She started pointing at Soo-Ja.

“Ah! Your husband must be a friend of my husband’s,” Eun-Mee said, suddenly bowing warmly and smiling, full of affection. She then turned to Yul. “You want to help your friend’s business, that’s why we’re staying here! Why didn’t you tell me that’s why you picked this place?”

Yul did not reply, and Soo-Ja realized it was because he did not want to lie.

“Our husbands were in a youth group together, back in the sixties,” Soo-Ja cut in.

Eun-Mee smiled at Soo-Ja, seemingly satisfied. “Oh, I see! I was wondering why we were here. I thought it was a prank. No offense, but we’re used to better accommodations. But now I understand! My husband is a friend, and you will give us a good rate. In fact, friends being friends, it wouldn’t be out of place to let us stay here for free!”

Soo-Ja wasn’t entirely unused to this—the richer the guest, the more they expected, and for the least amount of money. Yul stepped forward. “Of course we’re paying full price. Just because we know each other, it doesn’t mean we can take advantage.”

“Oh, honey, let’s leave it up to her, shall we?” cooed Eun-Mee.

Soo-Ja pulled out her guest book and her calculator, seemingly to check them in, but more to hide her nervousness. “For how many nights?” she asked, not looking up.

Soo-Ja had asked Yul this, but it was Eun-Mee who answered. “We don’t know. At least two weeks, but it may be more.”

Soo-Ja looked at her, confused. Yul smiled at his wife weakly, then turned to Soo-Ja. “We’ll be here for two nights.” Soo-Ja realized at that moment that Yul did not really want to stay at the hotel. She couldn’t decide what had led to them showing up there, but it was clear that Yul was trying to figure out how to shorten the stay without making it seem like he was hiding something.

“Two nights? It’ll be much longer than that, for sure! At least until the house is ready.” Eun-Mee turned to face Soo-Ja. “Do you know about this? We’ve just bought a big house here in Seoul. I’ve been asking Yul for years to get us out of that fish sinkhole of Pusan and he finally relented. Seoul is so much more my style, and the house is beautiful. As soon as we’re done building and painting the last bathroom, we can move in. It’s a
modern
bathroom. With a toilet. And tiles on the floor.”

Soo-Ja tried to hide all of the emotions that hit her at once. Time had not dulled her feelings for Yul—she still loved him, and felt both petrified and elated that he was there to stay. And not just stay in the city, but in her own hotel! For a moment she didn’t care that he was there with his wife, or that her own husband waited for her inside. Of course they wouldn’t do anything senseless. There would be no action, no doing; but he’d
be
there. He’d
be
, and that could be the world. Sometimes it is nice just to see the face of the beloved—the excruciating pain comes later. And she could see him, maybe every day.
Fine
, she thought, as if she had made a pact with the devil and came out on the losing end—
here’s love, but it’s attached to a string and a hook, and if you try to grab it, I will yank it back again and again.

“Listen, since we’re all friends, do you mind if I look around and pick a room that I like?” Eun-Mee seemed to completely forget how unsuitable she had found the place. The fact that she might essentially be staying for free seemed to mitigate all worries.

“Yes. Miss Hong will show you which rooms are empty, as well as the one I originally planned to give you,” said Soo-Ja.

Miss Hong, the chambermaid, had been drawn to the front by the noise, and was standing just beyond the front area. She stepped forward, bowed to Eun-Mee, and signaled for her to follow her, which Eun-Mee did, smiling happily, as if she had just won the hotel in a contest and wanted to check its contents.

When Eun-Mee was gone, Soo-Ja and Yul did not speak at first, though she could only pretend for so long to be engrossed by her calculations, and he clearly had something stuck in his throat.

“She—Eun-Mee—she found a note on my desk with your name and the phone number of the hotel. She became very suspicious, seeing a woman’s name, and I didn’t have a lie ready, so I told her it was just the hotel where we’d be staying in Seoul. I don’t know if she called because she didn’t believe me—”

“Why did you have my phone number on your desk?” Soo-Ja asked, cutting him off, aware that Eun-Mee could be back any second.

Yul did not answer her question.

“Soo-Ja, I promise I will check out of the hotel as soon as I can. I know that this is awkward.”

Yul looked right into her eyes, and his hand suddenly came up. Soo-Ja thought he was going to touch her face, but his hand merely stopped in midair, as if lost. It finally came down, to rest on the counter.

“No, stay,” said Soo-Ja. “I’d like for you two to stay here. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you have my phone number?”

Yul was looking straight into her eyes when he finally spoke, and it was then that she knew. “Because I’m still in love with you.”

“I don’t see why he thinks he can stay at the hotel for cheap. I hardly know the fella,” said Min, lying next to Soo-Ja on the laminated floor.
They’d often talk before falling asleep, with Min bringing up some trivial event from earlier in the day: a fish seller who had mistakenly charged him twice for a pound of abalone; an acquaintance with a cold who sneezed into his hand and then offered it to shake.

“He didn’t ask for it. His wife did,” said Soo-Ja, her hands resting on top of her stomach, eyes looking up at the ceiling.

Min ignored her and continued. “When we were in the student group together, he hardly ever spoke to me. And now he thinks we’re friends? He’ll be lucky if I nod to him while he’s here.”

“What was—what was he like when you met him?” asked Soo-Ja, trying to hide the interest in her voice. It was a luxury, to be able to talk about Yul. Nobody in her life knew him, or knew of his importance to her.

“I never actually met him. We just spoke on the phone a couple of times,” said Min. “You probably spent more time with him than I did. You remember him from back then, don’t you?”

“Barely. It was a long time ago.”

“Didn’t you two go together to that woman’s house—the woman whose son got killed? That must’ve been difficult.”

“Not really. We didn’t know at that point that the boy had died.”

“Yes. So much tragedy out there in the world. But we’re the lucky ones, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so. Good night, Min.”

“Good night. And make sure Yul doesn’t check out without leaving a sizable tip.”

Eun-Mee’s things arrived in the morning, and then continued to arrive throughout the day. Eun-Mee had so much luggage that some of it rested in the hallway outside her door. For much of the day, Eun-Mee sat there on the floor, wearing a shower cap and a robe, looking for items, smiling at the occasional guest. She unpacked what looked like dozens of coats and dresses, of all colors and for all seasons, arranging them in the room like the limbs of an adored child. But what Soo-Ja noticed most were her shoes, some of which looked imported from Italy.

Ever since she had started saving money for the land, Soo-Ja had stopped buying things for herself; she got used to wearing her shoes until they fell apart. Around Eun-Mee, she could not help trying to hide her feet under her dress.
Shoes matter
, she remembered her father telling her when she was little.
What you stand on is what you are.

Yul stayed in a separate room, and while Soo-Ja found this odd, she thought it best not to comment on it. Soon, Soo-Ja found herself drawn to his end of the hallway almost magnetically, and if she could have seen her thoughts through some kind of magical X-ray, she might have been alarmed by the buzzing lines and ricocheting sparks leading directly to his door.