If they kissed, or embraced, no one could see, no one would have to know.
“Let’s head back,” said Soo-Ja.
In the morning, Soo-Ja grew bold and decided to do something she’d always wanted to do. She went into the hotel kitchen and made a lunch bag for Yul to take to work. She cooked her own recipe of japchae—mixed vegetable noodles, and fried gyoza—and placed them in a hot steel container. She did not say anything to Yul, but simply left it outside his door, without saying it was from her. At night, the brown bag reappeared outside her own door. She opened it and was happy to see it was completely empty—it meant he had enjoyed it and eaten it well. The next day, she cooked something else—pokum bab—fried rice with egg, ham, and peas, topped with some strips of meat. Once again, Soo-Ja left it by his door. Eun-Mee never saw the bags, as she always slept in. At night, they reappeared on her own doorstep, always empty.
Soo-Ja pictured Yul eating in his office, enjoying his food. It would make him glad, not having to ask one of the receptionists to fetch him lunch. No, not today, I have it, he’d say, and the receptionist would reply, Good, Dr. Kim, everyone here always felt so bad for you, we all always have our lunch bags, except for you.
One morning, as Soo-Ja dropped the bag off in front of Yul’s room, she rose from the mat to find a pair of eyes peering at her. Unmistakably curious and full of disapproval, the eyes belonged to Hana. Soo-Ja did not speak, but knew that her own surprised reaction would tell much of the story. Hana said nothing, and Soo-Ja knew instinctively that her daughter wouldn’t tell Min. But in the moment that passed between them, Soo-Ja feared that her daughter would swallow up a piece of her mother’s ache, and hoped that it would not damage her.
“Hello, this is Hotel Seine,” Soo-Ja said into the receiver in the morning, hiding a yawn.
“You sound so tired! You really need to get that husband of yours to help you more.” It was Jae-Hwa, with her familiar, singsongy trill.
“Jae-Hwa, did you make it back to Daegu all right?” Soo-Ja asked, glad to hear her friend’s voice.
“Yes. Thank you for seeing me while I was in Seoul. I loved it, although now I have so much dust in my lungs! Too bad the vacuum cleaner doesn’t reach inside my throat.”
Soo-Ja laughed. “It was good to see you, too.”
“So you’re not mad at me for—”
“Of course not,” Soo-Ja cut her off, feeling bad that she had worried her friend. “But let’s not talk about that anymore.”
“But how’re you going to find the money?”
“To be honest with you, Jae-Hwa, I’m beginning to accept the fact that I won’t,” said Soo-Ja, half sighing. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I had money growing up, and it only attracted trouble.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Jae-Hwa, what is it?” Soo-Ja asked, concerned.
“It’s just—well, I lied to you. I said I couldn’t lend you the money, but I could. In fact, the amount you asked for isn’t even that much for me.”
“Jae-Hwa, you don’t need to explain. It was wrong of me to put you on the spot like that.”
“No, it wasn’t wrong. You always lent me money when we were young. Actually, when we’d go out, you always paid for things. And never asked for anything back.”
“I didn’t mind helping you back then,” Soo-Ja said, playing with the long, beige coiled phone cord. She imagined Jae-Hwa at the other end, sitting in one of the brocaded sofas in her living room, probably dressed in her usual cashmere. “I got pleasure out of giving you things.”
“Soo-Ja, the reason I didn’t give you the loan was because… well, when I came to visit you, and saw the hotel, and saw the little rooms you and your family were living in… I thought, she’s not asking me for money to make an investment, she’s asking it so she can make ends meet.”
Soo-Ja felt her face fall. “Jae-Hwa, I’m poor, but I’m not that poor. And I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I know. But I looked at how you were dressed, and I thought, There’s no way she’ll be able to pay me back. And that’s why I didn’t give you the money. Because I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to pay me back. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” said