This Burns My Heart Page 0,82

from whom, so they’d know who deserved their loyalty and help later on. The gye simply expanded this spirit of helping one another on a larger scale, following the notion that money should always be flowing, and friends should help other friends.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Eun-Mee had Soo-Ja introduce her to everyone she knew, and Soo-Ja discovered the first of Eun-Mee’s many magical charms: the ability to make strangers instantaneously fond of her. In a matter of seconds, Eun-Mee became closer friends with some of these women than Soo-Ja had been for years. Initially, Soo-Ja was a bit annoyed by this. But then the feeling was replaced by a sense of relief, as she realized she would not have to spend the entire evening by her side. She was sure Eun-Mee did not know about the history between her and Yul, but Soo-Ja still felt awkward on her end.

So Soo-Ja ate her bibimbap, a medley of beef and vegetables mixed with hot chili paste, still cooking in the pot it was served in, while attentively watching the volunteer, an old woman whose face never shifted expressions as she collected one white envelope after another. If Soo-Ja were chosen as the gye recipient, she could take home all the money, and she’d be able to buy the land she wanted. She hoped that the members of the gye would choose her. (This was one way their gye differed from others—instead of randomly selecting winners through a random drawing, they were able to vote for someone each month, until no one was left. This meant if you were well liked and considered trustworthy, you’d probably get selected early on. If you rubbed others the wrong way, you might be dead last. At the end of the day, they chose character over chance, though Soo-Ja wasn’t sure what that said about them, that they put so little stock in luck.)

Soo-Ja was waiting for the evening’s business to start when she heard a roar of laughter coming from the front of the restaurant, followed by smaller chortles, like a wave’s ripples. She thought she heard Eun-Mee’s voice, and she turned around to see a group of women gathered in a circle. Soo-Ja could not see the source of the activity, since their backs were to her. Curious, she rose from her seat and walked in their direction, the laughter drawing her in like a siren’s song.

When she reached the group, Soo-Ja peeked in among them in almost childlike excitement, as if about to enjoy a street performer. Soo-Ja smiled. These were peers; she liked them; she longed to share a laugh with friends. The circle broadened slightly, to let her in.

Indeed, it was Eun-Mee, standing near the area where everyone took their shoes off before coming into the restaurant. Eun-Mee stood there alone, as if on a stage, and held in her hands an old pair of women’s shoes. She had them as far from her as possible, her arms stretched out, her fingers becoming imaginary forceps.

“Have you seen anything like this before? It’s like something out of the war! Look around, everyone, we have a refugee from the North among us!” said Eun-Mee, with the timing and delivery of a comedian. Eun-Mee waved the sandals in the air for all to see—it was a sorry sight, with the straps falling off slightly, and the soles barely hanging there. They looked as if they had been patched up repeatedly, their owner insistently prolonging their life.

Soo-Ja was about to join in the laughter of the crowd when she suddenly recognized the shoes being held up. It was strange, to see them up in the air, used as a prop, instead of on her feet, but there was no doubt about it—they were Soo-Ja’s own shoes. Her smile slowly dissipated as she felt the mortification rise in her body.

“We don’t need to take a vote anymore, we’ll just give whoever this belongs to all the money! Since clearly, she needs it more than any of us!” Eun-Mee continued, drawing another thunderstorm of laughter from the group. “I mean, have you seen anything like this? Look at this strap, it’s crying out for dear life!” Eun-Mee touched it lightly, and the strap, in her hands, seemed to quiver back. “Somebody put this out of its misery!”

The crowd laughed again, and this time the roar was so heartfelt, it almost crested into applause. Eun-Mee smiled and shrugged her shoulders, prompting more chuckles from the audience. Soo-Ja