them once in a while, but for the most part, the hour belonged to them.
Soon it would be all over. It would be morning; Soo-Ja loved mornings. When she was little, on hot summer days, her father would come into her room while she slept and open the windows. Like the god of wind, he’d let in the cool breeze, its fresh touch enveloping her as she dreamt of cherry blossoms. Yes, soon she could be home with her daughter again, and all this would be just a memory.
It never occurred to Soo-Ja that she wouldn’t find Hana at the address the old woman had given her. She felt complete certitude. For the first time in two days, she cracked a smile. Yul, on the other hand, had fallen into a new sorrow, and it seemed ironic that just as Soo-Ja was about to regain her daughter, she was about to lose Yul. For although she had stumbled around like a madwoman for the last twenty-four hours, she had been grateful for every second of Yul’s company. The firm way he held her arm, supporting her, as she walked unsteadily; never calling too much attention to himself, but always there, like the baseboard of a wall.
“How can I ever repay you for helping me today?” Soo-Ja asked him, as they walked past a stretch of closed shops.
“I’ve already been paid back. Your finding Hana is payment enough.”
Soo-Ja sighed. “I’m touched that you helped me. More than that, the fact that you believed we’d find her.”
“You know, if things are so terrible back home…”
“They are. But I’m not going to give up just because I’m not happy there. I have Hana to think of. She needs her father.”
“A father who didn’t even look for her.”
“I told you already… he doesn’t know. If he knew, he would have run out of his hiding place.”
Yul nodded. They didn’t have much farther to go before reaching their destination. Both knew this might be the last chance they’d have to talk.
“So what is your wife like?” asked Soo-Ja, trying to hide the interest in her voice.
Yul hesitated before answering. Soo-Ja knew he was wondering how she had found out about her. “She’s not you,” he finally said.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Soo-Ja.
“What do you think?”
Soo-Ja felt her face grow warm. “I didn’t realize you still had feelings for me.”
“Of course I do, Soo-Ja. That should have been obvious to you when I left Daegu.”
“What do you mean? Why did you leave Daegu?”
“Because of you, of course,” said Yul.
“Because of me?”
“I didn’t want to run into you at the farmers’ market, see you happy with another man. I came to Pusan to run away from the memory of you. To leave you and that part of my life behind. To try to bury it.”
“If that’s the reason you left Daegu, you shouldn’t have.”
“Why did you marry Min instead of me?” Yul suddenly blurted out.
Soo-Ja thought for a second, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Probably because you told me the truth and you were honest with me. You were supposed to lie to me, to deceive me. Don’t you know that’s how you end up marrying someone?”
Soo-Ja was about to say more when she realized they had reached the right street. She looked at the signs outside the shops, and saw the one for Gai-Tan sul-jib. The lights were off. They were already closed for the night. But then she remembered what the old woman said. She looked toward the side and noticed the door to the actual house. It was behind a gate, hard to see. The people inside must be asleep.
Soo-Ja’s heart began to do somersaults inside her chest, and she wondered what to do next. Yul moved toward the gate, to rattle it, but Soo-Ja stopped him. That would be giving them a warning. She knew if she did things the wrong way, she might never see Hana again. If she called out for the sul-jib’s owner, he could come out and simply tell her, I have no idea what you’re talking about, leave us alone. Then he could run away, move somewhere far away, and give Hana a new last name. The thought chilled Soo-Ja’s spine. It rested in her hands to do this right.
At that moment, it occurred to her what to do. It was the simplest option.
Soo-Ja gathered all the strength she had in her body, and she screamed, louder than the loudest blast from a train whistle: