This Burns My Heart Page 0,74

had perished.

When they returned to the hotel from their visit to Gangnam, Soo-Ja forgot her usual worries and, though she was still short on money, she felt a rush of excitement—like a child on the eve of summer break, the future looming warm and inviting. In fact, it was Hana who took her out of her reverie when she handed her a note. Soo-Ja was still taking off her coat and scarf when Hana’s soft fingers placed the folded-up paper on the counter. Min had gone inside to take his daily afternoon nap by then.

“What’s this?” Soo-Ja asked.

They were standing in the front desk area, where Soo-Ja spent most of her hours greeting guests. A modest affair, it featured a white wooden counter, some worn-out oak chairs, and a glass table with out-of-date magazines. In the far corner, some bamboo plants covered the back wall, and a bulletin board featured deals on tourist attractions and nearby restaurants. There wasn’t much space, and when guests came in from outside, they were almost immediately face to face with Soo-Ja.

“That man slipped it to me as we were leaving. He said to hand it to you when you were alone,” said Hana.

“You mean Gi-yong Im? The man we just met with?” Soo-Ja reached for the note and quickly opened it, intrigued.

I would consider giving you a break in the price if you went on a date with me. You’re very pretty, and your husband can wear a blindfold for now.

Soo-Ja stifled a curse word, amazed that he thought she’d agree to such a thing. She felt the bile rise, and the frustration, too. She hated that she couldn’t phone him and give him a piece of her mind, but she needed him more than he needed her. Trying to contain the humiliation she felt, Soo-Ja crumpled the paper into a small ball. She placed it in her pocket lest the hotel maid found it in the wastebasket or, God forbid, Min himself ran across it.

“Hana, you didn’t open this, did you?” Soo-Ja asked her daughter, trying to sound casual.

“No,” said Hana. “Why?”

“No reason. Now help your mother and tell Miss Hong to do another once-over in room 312. The woman who called to book it seemed very particular, and won’t appreciate a dirty room.”

“Oh, I know, I spoke to her,” said Hana. “She called again this morning. She couldn’t believe we don’t have showers in the hotel. What does she think the bathhouse across the street is for? And then she asked if she could have an extra room free, for her to leave her clothes. Sure, but are those clothes going to earn money by themselves and pay for their own room? Some ukineon women out there.”

“Hana, please don’t use that expression,” Soo-Ja said.

“But she is out of her mind! What is she thinking? And she asked if we have rats in the hotel! Can you imagine? What kind of a question is that?”

“Hana, go speak to Miss Hong, please.”

Hana made to leave, and she had her back to her mother when she asked, “You’re not going to accept Mr. Im’s offer?”

Soo-Ja detected some disappointment in her daughter’s voice. “You read the note?”

“Are you going to?” Hana asked again.

“Hana, if you knew what you were asking, you wouldn’t be asking it.”

“Why don’t you?”

Was Hana betraying her adored father in this moment? Or was she simply voicing what he himself might say, her husband who was at once insanely jealous of other men and completely casual as to Soo-Ja’s worth to him?

“Hana, he’s not just asking me to go get some jelly cakes with him at the grocery store. When grown men say ‘dates,’ they mean much more.”

“I know. He wants whatever it is that happens in the movies after a man and a woman kiss and the screen goes black,” said Hana.

It occurred to Soo-Ja that Hana herself was using euphemisms, that she was well aware of what happened after the screen went black. Soo-Ja looked at her daughter’s smooth teenage face, her hair in two tiny pigtails in the back, her pink angora sweater with a white collar and buttons in the front. Hana was twelve, and looked twelve, but she was the oldest twelve-year-old Soo-Ja knew.

“Hana, I know it can be frustrating for you to see your friends ride in taxis and buy new clothes every season at the baeg-hwa-jeom, but listen to me, they are absolutely no better than you. Now go to your room and do your homework.