This Burns My Heart Page 0,76
That Soo-Ja was, well, rich. What would she be doing working as a hotel hostess?”
“I’m not a hostess,” said Soo-Ja, instantly losing her smile.
“It’s her!” the other woman interrupted. She leaned forward, inspecting Soo-Ja’s face. She spoke as if Soo-Ja weren’t there. “She doesn’t look anything like her, I know. She’s not as pretty, and the Soo-Ja I remember wouldn’t be caught dead in those bargain-bin clothes, but it’s her!”
“You’re wrong, Bok-Hee. Do you really think Woon-Gyu Choi’s daughter would be working in a place like this? She’s probably in France now, redecorating her château.”
They were talking to each other, acting as if Soo-Ja couldn’t hear them. They stared openly at her, scrutinizing her clothes, her posture, her looks.
“It’s her, I know it’s her,” said Bok-Hee. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Bok-Hee finally addressed Soo-Ja. “You’re Soo-Ja Choi.”
Bok-Hee spoke dripping with self-satisfaction, and looked at Soo-Ja as if she had unmasked her. Bok-Hee had a broad smile on her face, clearly thinking she had won in the game of life, and couldn’t wait to share her discovery with her old classmates. Soo-Ja looked away from her and presented them with the bill.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” said Soo-Ja curtly. “That’s not me.”
“Of course not,” said Bok-Hee, her smile hinting at the glee she’d feel when she started spreading the news.
You will never guess who I just saw working the front desk of a one-star hotel…
After the two women left, Soo-Ja thought about closing for the day—and maybe even for the rest of her life. But she knew she couldn’t do that. Unlike the guests who had just left, she didn’t have a husband to support her. Only the land in Gangnam could buy her freedom.
At that moment, Soo-Ja wondered if that was the real reason she had moved to Seoul—to get away from her old classmates, who would have run into her frequently had she stayed in Daegu. The irony was not lost on her—more than ten years ago, she had longed to come to Seoul to attend diplomat school, but when she had finally arrived, it was to work as a hotel clerk. With so many bills to pay and the weight of real life on her shoulders, the mere idea of just being a student sounded like a faroff fantasy.
Soo-Ja looked at the list of guests who were supposed to check in, and she thought once again of the woman she had spoken with on the phone the day before. Eun-Mee Kim. Did she know her? Had she gone to school with her, too? It would not surprise her if Eun-Mee Kim turned out to be an old elementary school classmate who wanted to see for herself what fate had befallen Soo-Ja Choi, the once famous beauty of Won-dae-don. Eun-Mee Kim, Eun-Mee Kim.
Soo-Ja spoke the name quietly, under her breath, and tried to see if it evoked any memories. It was barely a few seconds after she had realized who the woman was that she saw her materialize in front of her. She did not need to be introduced. The woman’s identity was unmistakable as she came into the hotel and was followed by her beloved Yul himself. Soo-Ja felt the earth stop spinning as she found herself face to face, for the first time, with Yul’s wife.
chapter eleven
“This has to be some kind of joke,” Eun-Mee said as soon as she came in. Soo-Ja suddenly felt keenly aware of the simplicity of her hotel—the two table ferns flanking the counter, the lack of windows, the bright fluorescent lights, the dismally generic painting behind her of a python and a deer facing off in a forest.
Yul’s wife seemed so out of place there, with her long, black hair done up in elaborate French tresses in the back. She was a stunning beauty, with her milky complexion, long-bridged nose, and big eyes made even bigger by the black mascara. She wore a jacket top with a gaudy gold circular print, and a bright yellow skirt with a white line on the sides that fell just below her knees. Her enormous purse had a rough surface, and seemed to be made of lizard skin. Yul, standing behind Eun-Mee, tried to avoid looking at Soo-Ja directly, and kept shifting his eyes from her to the floor, then back again. He wore a heavy gray trenchcoat, wrapped in front with a belt and a long row of silver-colored buttons. He never took his hands out of his large pockets.
Yul did