This Burns My Heart Page 0,4

been accepted. Her heart immediately began to flutter, as if she had a bird trapped inside her chest, madly trying to break away. Soo-Ja looked up at her parents, smiling, expecting to see pride reflected in their eyes. But she found none.

“You must be out of your mind to think you’re going to Seoul,” said Soo-Ja’s mother. She leaned her face over a small container of cooking gas until the tobacco in her pipe began to burn. “What would people say if we let you go live alone in a strange city? That just isn’t done.”

Next door, in the kitchen, the cook and her helpers had been on their feet for hours by the kitchen furnace. They were preparing the food for the next day’s Seollal holiday, steaming song-pyeon over a bed of aromatic pine needles in a gigantic iron pot. But no sounds emanated from the kitchen, as if the preparations for the feast were on hold, and the servants, too, were being chastised.

“We have to protect you,” Soo-Ja’s mother continued. “What do you think would happen with no one to watch out for you? What would our friends and business associates say if they heard we let you go to Seoul on your own? They’d think we’ve gone mad, that we’re incompetent parents.”

Soo-Ja could hear noises coming from the kitchen again, as the servants resumed their cooking. She heard the sound of a pig’s head being chopped off with a butcher knife, its entrails thrown into the pan, sizzling over the fire. The air in the room felt heavy, and Soo-Ja felt bound to her spot.

“I would work very hard,” pleaded Soo-Ja. “I would go from my classes to my room and from my room to my classes. I would not speak to anyone. I would visit Aunt Bong-Cha frequently, so she could verify that I’m all right.”

Soo-Ja’s father looked pensive. “Your mother’s right. Seoul is not a safe city. You hear on the radio every day about clashes between protestors and the police.”

“There have been clashes everywhere!” said Soo-Ja, making her hands into fists.

“But not quite like in Seoul,” her father retorted. “It’s the nation’s capital. The Blue House is there. It attracts all kinds of troublemakers.”

“These demonstrations aren’t going to last forever. They’ll be over soon,” said Soo-Ja, almost rising to her feet. She made herself as still as a stone pagoda, hoping that their words would slide over her like rain in a storm.

“Stop it, Soo-Ja,” said her mother, signaling an end to the discussion. She took the pipe out of her mouth and waved it in her daughter’s direction. “Are you a good daughter, or are you a fox daughter? This is for the best.”

With that final dismissal, Soo-Ja knew she would not be able to go to Seoul. She’d never be a diplomat. The pain from this realization was so intense, Soo-Ja had to balance on the floor, for fear it would give way from under her. Soo-Ja asked herself why the ground was shaking, until she realized it was she herself who was.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “I will go. I will find a way.”

At around midnight, Soo-Ja was awakened by the sound of wolves howling, except these wolves were also calling out her name. Soo-Ja rubbed her eyes, still red from crying, and quickly rose from the floor, pushing aside the heavy, quilted blankets. She reached into her dresser and grabbed the first thick garment she could find—a long brown coat with fish-hook buttons that came down to her knees. She put it on and rushed out of her room, toward the source of the noise.

Soo-Ja ran through the many wings of the house, her bare feet rapping against the hard cement floors. Her hurried breath echoed through the large, airy rooms, filled with huge armoires, paintings and scrolls against the walls. Her brothers’ sliding doors opened and shut as she went by, their sleepy eyes adjusting to her as her nightgown flew in the air, like wings, underneath her coat.

When Soo-Ja reached the courtyard—dark but for a small lamp over the murky lotus pond—she saw her father standing there already. He wore his glasses and was in his pajamas, listening to the ruckus of the college boys outside the gate.

“Show us your face! Show us your face just once!” they called out. “Just one glance!”

Soo-Ja didn’t feel flattered. It was embarrassing that her father had to listen to this. She knew the boys were drunk with soju, and just being young.