the mirror as she takes a sip. “Oh my God, look at my dark circles. I’m a monster today. I drank too much last night.”
I take out the straightener and show it to her, my eyebrows raised.
“No, just waves, please.” She absently combs her fingers through her hair. “I guess I haven’t told you, but it’s actually a rule at Ajax. They can’t have too many girls in the room with the same hairstyle, so we get assigned a look for the season. I’m lucky because I got the waves. That’s what men like, you know.”
Smiling and nodding at her in the mirror, I put away the straightener and take out the curling tongs instead.
“I make it a point to ask every man—just because I want to know for sure. And they all say that they like long, wavy hair. I really think it’s because of Cho Sehee from that movie My Dove. She was so beautiful in it, you know? And her hair is completely natural, did you know that? She hasn’t dyed it or permed it in ten years because of her contract with Shampureen.”
Kyuri prattles on with her eyes closed while I gather her hair in small strips and pin them to her head. I start curling the sections on the left side first, inside out.
“The older girls have to try so hard with their hairstyles. It’s really tragic, getting old. I look at our madam and she is just the ugliest creature I have ever seen. I think I would kill myself if I looked that ugly. But you know what? I think we must be the only room salon with an ugly madam. It really makes Ajax stand out. And I think it makes us girls look prettier too, because she is so horrifying.”
She shudders.
“Sometimes I just can’t stop thinking about how ugly she is. I mean, why doesn’t she just get surgery? Why? I really don’t understand ugly people. Especially if they have money. Are they stupid?” She studies herself in the mirror, tilting her head to the side until I right it again. “Are they perverted?”
* * *
—
AT HOME, the only time I ever hang out with Sujin is on Sundays, which are my only days off. During the weekdays, I go to work at 10:30 A.M. and come home exhausted at 11 P.M. So on Sundays, we lounge around the apartment and eat banana chips and ramen and watch TV on the computer. Sujin’s favorite program is this variety show called Extreme to Extreme, where they feature several severely deformed (or sometimes just really ugly) people every week and have the public phone in their votes on who should win free plastic surgery from the best doctors in the country. She loves watching the final makeover, when the chosen step out from behind a curtain while their families—who have not seen them in months while they recover from surgery—scream and cry and fall to their knees when they see how unrecognizably beautiful the winner has become. It is very dramatic. The MCs cry a lot.
Usually she watches it over and over but today she is too excited to stay still.
“Kyuri was actually so nice about it when she finally came around. She said that she would talk to the place where she sells her bags, and they would be willing to lend me money for the surgery. She says that’s actually their main line of business—lending money to room salon girls! And then when I am better and everything is fixed, I can find work through her.”
Sujin trembles with excitement as I pat her arm. “I can’t wait,” she says. “I am only going to eat ramen until I pay back that loan so fast that there won’t be time for any interest to grow.”
She looks giddy. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to go to sleep at night and wake up rich every day? But I won’t spend it. Oh no. I will stay poor at heart. And that is what will keep me rich.”
What will you buy me? I write. She laughs and pats my head.
“For ineogongju,” she says, “her heart’s desire.” She walks over to