This Burns My Heart Page 0,98
to. She drank a cup and almost dropped to the ground, so fast was its effect on her. She liked ginseng tea the most, and loved stirring the teacup, watching the thin white layers of circles appear and disappear, as if they wanted to hypnotize her.
The three women were sitting in the middle of the coffeehouse, Soo-Ja drinking tea and both Eun-Mee and Jae-Hwa drinking espressos. The coffeehouse, which had an English name, “Room and Rumours,” was fairly crowded, either because of all the shoppers from the adjacent shopping mall, or because, like Soo-Ja, all of these men and women had small residences and preferred to meet guests in teahouses or coffee shops. They came for the convenience of a second home, and the establishment in fact looked like your average abode, with long-leaved Chinese happy plants in the corners, wooden-boarded walls, and practical fluorescent lights above. The only differences were the small oak chairs and tables (they did not sit on the floor there), and the sound of trot singers crooning their sad ballads from the jukebox.
“I wonder if they have American music in the jukebox,” said Jae-Hwa. “I just got back from New York last month, and I love what they play on their radio stations.” Jae-Hwa had taken her white hat and gloves off, and Soo-Ja could see she had an emerald ring on her finger. Sitting next to Jae-Hwa, Eun-Mee looked elegant in a form-fitting burgundy dress with a high, upturned collar and sleeveless arms. Soo-Ja found it too formal, but Eun-Mee did not look out of place there—people often stopped in for a drink of coffee before heading to the theater or a party. Now used to seeing her every day, Soo-Ja knew of Eun-Mee’s habit of dressing up for no reason. She suspected Eun-Mee’s motto might be Look the part, and you’ll win the part. Soo-Ja wondered if she herself came across as the other two women’s maid, in her simple zebra-striped housedress, and her long dark hair held back only by her ears. She could tell it bothered Eun-Mee, though, that as men walked by, it was Soo-Ja’s eyes that they tried to catch the attention of.
“I love America!” proclaimed Eun-Mee. “But I don’t like Americans. I love shopping in Manhattan and on Rodeo Drive. This purse is from a store there”—she pointed to her Fiorucci bag—“but the people! Especially in California. They have such pink faces, and the men look like the women, and vice versa—long hair and long eyelashes and lazy grins! I hate them!”
“Don’t be shocking now. What if there was a serviceman sitting right behind you?” asked Jae-Hwa.
“I’d tell him to go home already! And to stop staring at my neck!” Eun-Mee replied.
Jae-Hwa laughed.
“I’m sure they would love to go home,” Soo-Ja interjected, “but they’re here to protect us. We should be thankful to them.”
“They’re not really here for that reason,” said Eun-Mee, rolling her eyes. “Why do you think they chose to be stationed in Korea? They have an eye for us Oriental ladies! Yes. That’s why they come here, and stay here. I would not be caught dead near an army base. I wouldn’t be safe. They would drag me in and caress me, and tear my clothes off, and ravage me, a room full of them, taking turns at me. Those men, they haven’t seen a woman—a real woman, not a prostitute—for ages. They have stored up all this passion, all this hunger—they would tug at my breasts like wolves, those blond-haired boys, mouths still wet from suckling mother’s milk.”
Jae-Hwa smiled at Eun-Mee. “I’m tempted now to kidnap you and leave you by the border, just to see what they’d do with you.”
Eun-Mee lightly slapped Jae-Hwa’s wrist, and Jae-Hwa turned her palm up and playfully squeezed Eun-Mee’s hand. “Don’t joke like that. I’m just explaining how I feel about the Americans, who are so different from the Europeans. Have you been to Switzerland?” Eun-Mee asked Jae-Hwa. Jae-Hwa nodded, and Eun-Mee continued. “It’s like being home—all those mountains! When the snow covers up all the signs and the streets, I do not know where I am anymore. And I love that first night after the first flurry, when the sky is white and clear, and you can almost read outside. Have you been to Switzerland?” Eun-Mee asked Soo-Ja, as if remembering her presence suddenly.
“No, I’ve never been.”
“Have you never been to Europe? No London, no Paris, no Istanbul?”
“No,” Soo-Ja said, smiling.
“What about America? New York? Los Angeles?