This Burns My Heart Page 0,75

And for sure do not tell your father about the note. It’ll hurt him.” Soo-Ja added the last part because it was the only way she’d keep her daughter from sharing its contents with him. Hana doted on her father, loved him more than she did her mother; mostly, Soo-Ja suspected, because he let her get away with more.

When Hana left, Soo-Ja pictured her daughter going to their bedroom, where Hana and Min would sit on the floor and eat tiny oranges together. Min would diligently peel off the skin and remove the white pith from each slice before popping them in Hana’s mouth, one by one. Hana loved how her father always had time for her, more time than any other adult his age. Min said yes to her every whim, agreed to the most outrageous demands, and bought her records, comic books, and fan magazines. He treated her more like a small, about-to-be-deposed queen than a daughter.

At times, Soo-Ja caught the showiness of his love for Hana, and she noticed how it was more for her benefit than their daughter’s, as if to say, Look, I’m not a bad father, I have redeeming qualities, and I am, after all, capable of love—just not capable of loving you, as you’re not capable of loving me.

Meanwhile Soo-Ja told Hana no all the time. She was always too busy checking in guests to talk to her daughter about her crushes on the singer Jung Hyeon Shin and the actor Sung-Il Shin. She refused to buy Hana new dresses when it was so cold and she’d be covered by a winter coat all the time anyway. (Soo-Ja was of the school that you didn’t spend too much on things other people couldn’t see, which explained the sorry state of her own undergarments.)

When Hana was six and seven, Soo-Ja had to spank her just to get her to do the simplest things, like put on her pajamas or eat her meals. When she did so, Hana would yell out, “It doesn’t hurt at all!” This brazenness amazed her mother, and only made her want to hit her harder (which she didn’t). Hana never backed down, and Soo-Ja was, by turn, infuriated and impressed by her willfulness.

Hana had grown a bit calmer lately and was too busy with school to really give her any troubles. Occasionally Hana would catch her mother staring at her and she’d ask, “What are you looking at?” And Soo-Ja would smile mysteriously and say, “I’m looking at you.” For yes, Soo-Ja was still amazed by this porcelain-skinned beauty who had been given to her twice—once at birth, and once in Pusan—and was therefore twice loved, twice adored.

Hana, do you know that I love you? I envy the mothers in American movies, able to say that out loud.

I know I can’t say it, but I say it when I tell you to put on your jacket and your hoodie. I can’t say it, but I say it when I make seaweed soup for your birthday, and also get you coconut cake, your favorite. Your father and I compete for your love, never openly admitting this, but instead simply reminding you to be respectful and obedient. Be obedient, my daughter. Be obedient.

“Did you have a good stay?” asked Soo-Ja, smiling at the two guests in front of her. They were women roughly her own age, and they did not respond, as if Soo-Ja were a machine of sorts, there simply to check them out. From their nice clothes, Soo-Ja guessed these were married ladies enjoying a vacation away from children and husbands. While Soo-Ja added up their bill, she noticed that the two of them were staring intently at her, and whispering to each other. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” said one of the women. “My friend thinks she recognizes you, but I think she’s wrong.”

“Oh,” said Soo-Ja, looking at her with curiosity, trying to place their faces as well.

One woman was tall, and had a perm, with curls chasing down her cheeks. The other was short, and looked to be about sixteen, though she was probably twice as old. Soo-Ja didn’t know either of them, but didn’t rule out the possibility that the woman was right. In her college years, especially, many people had known her—by name or by sight.

“My friend here thinks you’re Soo-Ja Choi, from Won-dae-don.” Soo-Ja smiled, about to confirm that, but could not get a word in as the woman continued, “But I’m telling her she’s wrong.