This Burns My Heart Page 0,12
in front and across from Soo-Ja. They talked like teenagers, touching one another’s arms and teasing one another over the supposed aphrodisiac quality of ginseng tea. Their laughter was raucous, almost ricocheting against the sides of the bus.
As Soo-Ja watched them, she was reminded of a Swiss teacher she’d had in high school, who had told her how surprised he was to see the physical expressiveness of Korean people. Indeed they moved their bodies extravagantly, used them like punctuation marks, with arms rising, and fingers freely pointing in the air for emphasis; they were like a country full of excitable preachers gesticulating to congregations of one or two listeners at a time. They weren’t quiet at all; in fact the opposite: temperamental, given to passions, sentimental to a fault. Their feelings and emotions flashed on their faces with the intensity of a close-up projected on a giant screen, and they weren’t afraid to weep or laugh in front of other people.
“Good. Their laughter will drown out our conversation,” she heard a young man say as he took the seat next to her. He had appeared out of nowhere, as efficient and unobtrusive as a comma. Soo-Ja swallowed nervously; she knew this was the leader of the student group.
They rode for a few minutes in silence, with Soo-Ja stealing occasional glimpses of him. Yul had on black rectangular glasses and a brown corduroy jacket. He was dressed casually, with no tie. His hair looked slightly unkempt, not in a disheveled way, but in the manner of someone who did not bother with mirrors or Vaseline. He wore it a bit long, like a European beatnik.
“I’m glad you came. I was afraid you might change your mind,” said Yul, looking straight ahead. “This is more than we have the right to ask of you.”
“You’re right,” said Soo-Ja, also staring straight ahead. She decided not to tell him how much she had enjoyed being asked to help. Everywhere she went, there was talk of the student movement. Now, she could carry with pride her own sudden, unexpected role in it. “Nevertheless, I’m just a woman riding the bus. You’re the one being chased by the police.”
“Good point,” he said. “But don’t worry about me. The police aren’t going to do anything to me. The last thing they need is to create a martyr; give a face to the movement.” He then lowered his head and spoke in the direction of her neck. “So, have you met Chu-Sook’s mother? Do you know her?”
“No, but Min was right. Her husband used to work for my father. She thinks I’m coming to talk to her about some back pay.”
“Very inventive of you to add that detail.”
“I brought some money, as well as a list of questions I want to ask her,” said Soo-Ja, looking into her purse.
“Don’t worry about the questions. I’ll handle that.”
“Damn it,” said Soo-Ja, going through her belongings.
“What’s wrong?” asked Yul, immediately looking around him.
“Once I memorized the questions, I reached in to throw away the crumpled piece of paper, but instead of the paper with the questions, I threw away the thousand-hwan bill,” said Soo-Ja, still digging through her purse.
Yul could not resist cracking a smile. He glanced at her directly for the first time in their conversation. “Maybe it’s still in there.”
“No, I tossed it out the window,” said Soo-Ja, returning his look. “Boy, that’s a lot of money to just throw away like that. I suppose I wouldn’t make a very good revolutionary, would I?”
“We’ll just make sure we never trust you with our secret plans,” said Yul, smiling.
He was handsome when he did that, thought Soo-Ja. She let her eyes rest over him for a moment, and she noticed his high cheekbones, alabaster skin, and eyes shaped like laurel leaves. She was surprised by how solid he seemed, and also by the fact that he smelled a little bit like cocoa. She felt the impulse to linger near his collar and breathe in his scent, though of course she held back.
Soo-Ja smiled to herself, the earlier tension now gone. The bus made a stop, and the group of old men rose to leave, as another group of people made their way in. Soo-Ja looked over at Yul again, noticing how the sun filtered in lightly through a half-opened window behind him, casting a warm glow on the back of his head.
“So, Min said you studied literature, but that you want to be a diplomat?” asked Yul, gazing out the