This Burns My Heart Page 0,134

birthday.

“It’s so sad he’s leaving for Pusan next week,” said the receptionist, her manner around Soo-Ja growing more informal. “Are you here to say good-bye to him?”

“Pusan?” Soo-Ja repeated. She had to put her hand over her mouth, to hide the shock on her face. The receptionist could have said Mars, or Russia, and her reaction would have been the same. Surely she had misheard?

“I’m going to miss him a lot,” said the receptionist, with a glint of a smile in her eyes. “He’s one of the nice ones. Too bad he isn’t staying.”

“Can you please—can you please tell him I’m here?” asked Soo-Ja.

The receptionist looked at Soo-Ja with concern on her face, and Soo-Ja could see her own distraught emotions mirrored back to her. Soo-Ja could not tell if the receptionist knew her reasons for being there, but it didn’t matter—the young woman rose quickly from her chair and rushed to the door separating the waiting area from the examination rooms. She bowed to Soo-Ja and pointed to Yul’s office with her long, pale arms. Soo-Ja was touched by her kindness—that she would let her in without questioning her more, without making her wait.

Once inside Yul’s office, Soo-Ja pulled out the envelope with the check from her purse, and she placed it on the examination desk. She made sure Yul’s name faced upward. Soo-Ja was not sure whether to remain standing or sit on the chair, like a patient. She hesitated, afraid to step too far into the room. Soo-Ja stared at the hospital bed, imagining the various men and women who came to see Yul. So much sickness, so much worry. Soo-Ja thought about what Yul did every day: he listened to people’s woes.

Yul came into the room only a few seconds after she did, and she realized he must have rushed there as soon as he heard her name. She took this as a reassurance—he could have hesitated, maybe even refused to come. Seeing him, Soo-Ja felt the air tickle her skin, as it traveled underneath her clothes, stirring up nerve endings. He had burst into the room so fast that the tail of his white coat flew up a little. He looked out of breath, as if he’d been miles away instead of next door.

Yul shut the door behind him and, like her only a moment earlier, seemed to wonder whether to sit or stand. Wanting to put him at ease in his own office, Soo-Ja walked to the patient’s chair and sat down, allowing Yul to take his doctor’s seat across from her. His knee bumped hers slightly as he eased into the chair, and she moved her legs to the side.

Yul noticed the envelope right away. “What is this?”

“The money I owe you,” said Soo-Ja.

Yul nodded. “Is that the only reason you came?”

“No. That’s not the only reason. Is it true you’re going back to Pusan?”

“Soo-Ja, your timing is not very good,” said Yul ruefully, almost sighing.

“So it’s true. You’re going back to Pusan,” said Soo-Ja, the weight of the words feeling heavy on her tongue.

“Eun-Mee and I have separated,” said Yul.

“I know. So have Min and I.”

“You have?” asked Yul, surprised.

“Why are you going back to Pusan?” asked Soo-Ja, ignoring his reaction.

Yul blinked for a second, gathering his thoughts. “My old patients miss me, and my former colleagues invited me to return. They said they’d welcome me back to the clinic.”

“I see,” said Soo-Ja, feeling as if her gut had been punched. “So you’re going back.”

Yul directed his gaze at her, both love and anger flashing from his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and your husband? Last time we spoke, you told me to forget about you. You told me it was over between you and me. Isn’t that right?”

“And you believed that?” asked Soo-Ja, cracking a desperate smile. She realized they both wanted to shout, and this conversation belonged in an open field, or by the river. Anywhere but a small examination room.

“You told me that. You gave me no hope for a future. When you left for America, I never thought you’d come back. What was I supposed to do?” asked Yul, with a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“You were supposed to wait for me,” said Soo-Ja, her fingers tracing the metal armrest.

“Wait for you? Wait for you to come back and tell me what? That you cannot be with me because it wouldn’t be good for Hana? That I have to wait another ten, twenty years?”