This Burns My Heart Page 0,58

tell she was bluffing. Soo-Ja was riveted to her spot.

“Yesterday, I felt the urge for a cigarette,” the old woman began. “This is where I usually come to get them.” She pointed behind her to the tobacco shop. Soo-Ja noticed for the first time how small it was, the shelves only half filled, a poster with a picture of an American cowboy. “But for some reason, I decided to go to a different tobacco shop, one that’s a little farther from my house. I didn’t know why I decided to do that. But now I know why.” At this, she grinned, revealing her yellow teeth, slightly broken in spots.

“What did you see?” Soo-Ja asked her.

“I’m a very observant woman. I see more than I see… Other women my age may need glasses to see just what’s in front of them. But I would need them so I could see less. I don’t just look. I notice.”

“And what did you notice?” asked Soo-Ja, almost trembling.

“A man walking with a toddler. Now, lots of men walk with toddlers, but this pair stood out to me. You see, I was sitting on the curb, enjoying my cigarette, and so I got a very good look at them. And I noticed the man wore really shabby clothes, just a plain jacket with heavy lining. But the girl—she looked new, like a doll. Whoever dressed her took pains to do so. I remember her jacket had little bird patterns embroidered on it”—Soo-Ja’s heart leapt hearing the detail of the birds, which she hadn’t mentioned to anyone, because she’d forgotten—“and there was something else, too. She just didn’t look like she was from around here. And so I knew these two people—this fortysomething man, he must be, and this little girl—didn’t go together. And there were other things, too, like, why was he carrying her in his arms? The girl was big enough to walk. So with all these things to pique my interest, you can see why I watched them as they went inside the sul-jib next to the tobacco shop.

“Now, I didn’t go into the sul-jib but I could hear him talking to the barmaid, who seemed to be his wife. I couldn’t see very well, but when he opened a door, I noticed there were more rooms there, and that must be where they slept. I then heard the sound of the woman fighting with the man, and it was over the child, who had started crying. At that moment I knew, for sure, that the baby wasn’t his. It was such a loud wail, so full of spirit, demanding to be heard. That cry was for me, you see. She knew I was outside, invisible to everyone but her, and she was talking to me. So I left. And I began my wait. Very patiently. Because I knew that eventually, the child’s mother would come to me. You would come to me. So all day, I sat outside and wandered around, waiting. And finally, you came. I saw you and I knew, right away, even before Joon-Ho’s mother described the girl to me. Even before she told me who you were. So maybe it’s not luck. It’s seeing. You saw that I was more than just an old woman smoking a cigarette. And I saw you for what you are: a woman in love with her own child.”

By now Soo-Ja was heaving with pain, fighting back tears. “Where is this sul-jib? Tell me where it is.”

“Don’t worry, child,” the old woman said, reaching for her. Soo-Ja was surprised by how warm her touch was. “I will draw a map for you. But where? On your arm? How about here, in the palm of your hand? That way you’ll never lose this map, and you’ll just have to follow the lines you see.”

“Thank you,” said Soo-Ja, nodding slightly.

“Now, the only thing is, you’ll have to be careful. The man showed the baby to his wife like she was a gift. Not something he might let go easily. And the way he hurried her to the back. Like he was hiding her. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Soo-Ja and Yul set out toward the sul-jib, trekking up and down the narrow, serpentine streets. They moved quickly, even though it was quite dark, and the ground was slippery with melted snow. Next to them, thickets of dried branches dotted the road with sharp pins and edges. A car or a bicycle would pass