Blood Sisters Read online

  The door opens and Jihyun enters with a big bath towel wrapped around his entire body. He tosses something into the tub: it’s the plastic goldfish he bought at Taejong Beach. The stupid fish, a little larger and uglier than a goldfish, swims and tickles my breast.

  “Yeoul, listen to me. Let’s make a promise. We will not have sex tonight. I hope you will be considerate of this pact.”

  I laugh. “It’s like we are doing a gender role swap. So funny. No worries, I think it’s better that way, too. I was actually scared of what might happen tonight. Enough of that. Just come on in. I won’t even look at you. Look, I closed my eyes.”

  “When we are done with the bath, you are heading straight to my mom’s bedroom—I made the bed for you—and I’m going to sleep in my room with the door locked. Don’t even dream of breaking in, okay?”

  “Jesus, I’m not going to break into your room! What an assumption! Don’t worry.”

  We have fun tossing balls of bubbles at each other, splashing and sinking into the water to hide from each other. We try to snatch the goldfish from each other. After horse-playing for a little while the part of my leg that was operated on starts aching, so I stop moving. Jihyun asks, “Can I touch your breasts?”

  “No.”

  “Just once.”

  “Okay. Can I touch you there?”

  “No! Well, okay. But be gentle. I don’t want the stitch to pop.” Jihyun sounds as though he is about to cry.

  “What? Are you hurt?”

  “No. I just got circumcised.”

  I laugh.

  Jihyun presses his palm against my breast and quickly pulls back. But then he reaches out with his index finger to touch my nipple. His face looks tense. He is trying to keep it together. I carefully reach down between his legs. There it is. It’s hard, and about the size of a lollipop.

  9. “My wish is for reunification of the Korean Peninsula” is a patriotic slogan often taught in Korean schools.

  10. There is a tradition in old Korean society in which a maiden would carry a silver knife to kill herself if she ended up in a situation where she could be sexually assaulted.

  Stop, Stop

  There is no one on the street. Far away I see a street cleaner walking away with a broom in his hand, but other than that, there is no one around this early in the morning. The air is cold. I find myself coughing. Am I coughing because I went to bed without drying my hair? I woke up earlier than usual. Most nights I wake up in the middle of the night, but last night I slept deeply. The pot of herbal tea and the soft light coming through the curtains was comforting.

  It didn’t take too long to get to the bus station from Jihyun’s place. I should’ve washed my face before leaving, though. My watch is dead, and I have no way of knowing when the first bus of the day will arrive. My father is probably pacing back and forth or sitting with the newspaper open in front of him. He first started to get up early and pace around in the house a few years ago. The last thing he said to me was, “Watch out for cars.” I think he was thinking of Hyunwoo, how we lost him. Does he even worry about me? What will my stepmom say when she sees me? I severed contact for five months after I left, and here I am, limping back. I bet she’d be pretty annoyed by that. She might hit me again. Or kick me out. If I were her, I’d kick me out. I used to feel so much resentment and hatred when I thought of her, but today, I feel sympathy toward her as another woman with her struggles.

  I decide to walk home and start to cross the multi-laned road. I pass the yellow divider line. There aren’t many cars on the road this early but some cars rush through at crazy speeds. Like I’m in a scene in a movie, I close my eyes and limp across the road. After a few steps, I hear loud honking. A taxi driver lowers the window and screams at me. “You crazy bitch! Are you blind? Go crazy all you want, but don’t be a nuisance to others!”

  I wanted to see proof of what Kim Inja, Jihyun’s mother, talked about as a Presence who looks out for me, but—voilà. This brush with death didn’t make me feel protected. Or maybe there is a protective Presence, since I’m not dead, but if the Presence kept me from being run over, he’s a meddling asshole. With eyes open I run, though still limping, across the road. I yell “Echo!” when I reach the bus station on the other side of the street. There is no echo, no response. If I take the bus from here, I will be going farther away from my father’s place. A few people gather, and I hop on the first bus that arrives. I look at the route map. If I get off at the Jagalchi open market, I can transfer to go to Youngdo. I walk all the way to the back seat and sit down. I notice a coin stuck between the seats. I struggle to pull it out. Coin, coin, stuck between the seats, who’s the dumbest of them all? The ten-won coin doesn’t answer. Dear coin, why the fuck am I going to see her now when she isn’t even expecting me and doesn’t seem to care to see me? This early in the morning, no less! It’s not the coin’s fault when it rolls in the direction it’s dropped. It’s my legs that are taking me to Youngdo, not me.

  * * *

  “Excuse me, is Sinsun San, building 58 somewhere near here?” I ask an old lady passing by. She is holding a worn Bible to her chest so she must be returning from church.

  “What?” She asks as if she can’t hear at all. How does she expect to hear the voice of God with those ears? I yell into her ear, “Sinsun District?”

  “Yes, this is Sinsun,” she says.

  I didn’t even try that hard, but I am right where I should be! I get so happy, I almost tell a lame joke: is it called Sinsun because sinsun (wise spirits) live here? (Har har.)

  “Thank you, thank you!” I say instead, “Have a great day. I wish you longevity and the longest and healthiest life!” I realize I am waving my hand at her wildly. The weather is a little depressing, rain drops falling in weird, slow intervals. I enter a windy road and start climbing the uphill path. I see the little hole-in-the-wall stew place. A middle-aged lady is hurriedly gathering the siregi herbs that she had been drying in the sun. The smell of miso wafts from the door and tickles my hunger. I should eat breakfast and take my meds. I slip inside and ask the man who appears to be the owner (the man is drinking broth with a bottle of soju next to him, while the lady is still busy in the kitchen), “Excuse me, this is Sinsun District, right? Do you know how to get to San, building number 58?”

  He yells to his wife, “Honey! Is building 58 up on the hill?”

  “Yes!” She yells back from the kitchen.

  “You are going all the way up there? This path will come to an end, and you will reach a hilly area with a lot of reeds. Once you go past there, there are a few houses clustered. Are you looking for someone specific?”

  “I don’t think you’d know her. Her name is Gang Jinae. I think roughly the same age as your wife. Mid-fifties?”

  “Not sure …”

  “Who are you looking for?” The lady pokes her head out from the hole that connects the kitchen and the dining area.

  “Gang Jinae. Do you know her?”

  “Just by the name? No. But you look familiar. Where are you from?”

  “I live in Busan. I just have one of those faces that looks familiar. I should get going.” As I try to leave, the man thrusts out an umbrella.

  “Take this, but return it later.”

  “I’m really okay … well, thank you.” I bow and climb up the narrow path. The road is not well maintained and it only gets worse as I keep climbing, stairs appearing and disappearing. The fence along the way is half-demolished and coal ashes are scattered about. Another fence has well-done graffiti of a field of sunflowers that makes me want to go lie down in it. I stop to catch my breath. I wish I’d brought some cigarettes. I only have three thousand-won bills and a few coins in my pocket. I’m not sure what to do next.

  “Is this San building 58?”

  “Yup!” The young woman must be busy; she continues her fast stride away from me. I reach out and grab her arm before she runs off. Rain drops fall on her sweater.

  “Do you know the person who lives ther
e … Gang Jinae?”

  “Of course! Assistant Pastor Gang? She lives right by me.”

  “She’s a … pastor?”

  “Assistant Pastor, but yes. You aren’t here to see her for the service?”

  I don’t respond.

  “Shoot, she won’t be home right now. She is at the church leading the early morning service. It’s the time for early morning prayer.”

  “Where is the church?”

  “Did you see the main street with the fire station? Once you get there, ask somebody. It’s the largest church in Youngdo, so someone there should be able to point the way.”

  She leaves, but I feel like there is something whispering in my ears, and it’s not the sound of rain. I feel like I am on a precarious cliff. A pastor? I feel like it might not be my mom. I hope it’s not my mom.

  * * *

  A few people emerge from the building that looks like the church. Most of them are women. Is that her, the person over there with a bright countenance? She isn’t that far away but her face flickers in my vision. She is looking at me! I cover my face with the umbrella. Should I have come this way? I turn around. I start running, slipping in the rain. It’s hard to breath. One leg tries to run, the other leg begs me to stop, dragging behind me. Stop, stop. My achy leg struggles against getting farther away from her. How do I keep my body from splitting in two? Please speak, my heart! Suddenly a fire truck rushes by blaring a loud siren, and I feel panicked. I jump onto a bus that is about to leave. I find an empty seat and plop down. The bus stops and goes. There is a huge traffic jam.

  “What the hell is going on? Is there a fire or something?” someone complains loudly.

  “Don’t you see the smoke, lady?” the driver growls. A man taps on my arm.

  “Lady, move your umbrella a bit, would ya? My pants are getting soaking wet.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I pass the umbrella to the other hand, and he continues.

  “You’re taking that home?”

  “What?”

  “You borrowed that umbrella from me.” I realize that the man is the same guy who was eating at the hole-in-the-wall soup shop.

  “Oh, I forgot!”

  An intense fume of alcohol emanates from him. It’s still early in the morning. “Did you find the person you were looking for?”

  “Well, yes … no.”

  “What kind of answer is that? People ought to give straightforward answers. You were looking for that lady who goes to church all the time, right? She essentially lives in the church prayer ward. She keeps stopping busy people like me to talk about Jesus and giving me some garbage flyer. Some sort of pastor or minister or something.”

  “Wait, so you knew who I was looking for. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  “I remembered after you left. Whatever.”

  I feel intense abhorrence at this situation in which I am sitting next to this drunk asshole. The smell of stale cigarettes and the alcohol stench from his mouth is repugnant. I feel like my brain is about to explode. I’m going to get off at the next station.

  “Churches, Buddhist temples, they’re all the same. The world is a rotten place. Rotten through and through.” The man hacks up phlegm and spits out the window. “Don’t you agree?”

  “What?”

  “I heard the head pastor at that church got caught with married ladies. Not one or two. Several. It’s a big-time shit-show over there. Haven’t you heard? Even the kids around this town heard about it, tsk tsk.”

  I sit in silence.

  “So what. Did you meet that pastor or whatever? What’s your deal with her?” I jump up to my feet and stagger away from him. As I get off the bus he yells after me. “Where are you going? Don’t you need the umbrella?”

  Part IV

  Interview

  I stand before the entrance to my mother’s house, under its corrugated metal roof. I don’t mean to scare her with my visit. What should I say to calm her down if she embraces me and starts crying? I press down on my chest to calm my pounding heart. With a finger I tuck my wet hair behind my ear. I stomp my feet to shake the dirt and briquette ashes from my shoes. What if she faints?

  Knock knock knock. All I did was knock lightly on the door, but the frosted glass rattles like it’s going to fall out of the aluminum frame. A dark gray shadow approaches the glass from the other side.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Hi, this is Jeong Yeoul.” At my response the shadow freezes, and I can hear her sharp gasp through the door. I feel myself sink into the gloom like when I visited my grandmother’s tomb on a gorgeous spring day. Should I have brought a bouquet of flowers here, too?

  She opens the door and begins immediately: “Yeoul, welcome. So good to see you. You’ve grown so much. So tall. I almost didn’t recognize you. How have you been?” The greetings roll out of her so naturally it sounds unnatural. She sounds like an old actress auditioning for the lines that she’s rehearsed a million times before. The dimples on her cheeks get deeper as she closes the door behind us. I can’t tell if she’s smiling or grimacing. Why didn’t I inherit those pretty dimples? At once I recognize this woman to be my mother. It’s not that there are obviously similar features we share. Her face looks like my face in twenty years, pale, slightly tense. I’ve never seen a pair of eyes that glow so much. She is wearing a long black skirt, a pair of slippers on her feet. Her hand holds a rice paddle. I recognize her blue rubber slippers to be from my dad’s factory. The backs of them are torn.

  I finally bring myself to open my mouth. “Pastor Gang Jinae? Real name Gang Jongok. You are my mother, correct?”

  “Must you talk like that?You must’ve done some research about me. Come over here, sit down.” On the table, there is a small sauce dish of chili soy paste, a few pieces of kimchi, some raw carrot, cucumber, daikon, and some greens. Is she an overly health-conscious vegetarian or something? She places a spoon, a pair of chopsticks, and a bowl of rice in front of me. I think I visibly frowned at the sight of the beans, barley, sorghum, and a few more grains mixed into the rice. I hate that stuff.

  “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Let us pray and eat. Father Almighty, thank you. Thank you for leading our beloved Yeoul here, allowing this miraculous reunion.” As she drones on with her lengthy prayer, I open my eyes to look at my mother. Her even forehead, her closed eyes, her trembling thick eyelashes. Her pale lips. Her neck, so thin it looks like it will break where it meets her white sweater. Her flat chest. Her bony hands, pressed together, fingers interlaced. Her short hair looks like she cuts it herself. The only furnishing in the house is a futon and a tiny dresser. There is a mirror about the size of a book on the wall. The room feels like it exists separate from the rest of the world. A few tiny pencils, worn down to small nubs. A red ballpoint pen. A Bible and a few books. A few notebooks. The room is so clean and humble that it looks like a prison cell. Is this what she left me for? So she could live like this?

  “Not sure you’ll like what I have, but let’s eat.”

  “Thank you for the meal.”

  My mother wipes her eyes with a folded tissue, and then unfolds it to place it to the side. It looks like she is thinking of reusing it after the tears dry off. Neatly placed tangerine peels are drying on a chipped plate. A pile of tissue papers. I take off my coat, wet with rain. I look around to see if there is anywhere I should hang it, but no luck, so I put it back on.

  “Did you recognize me right away?”

  “How could you even ask me that. Of course, you look exactly the same as when you were little. Well, your skin was lighter when you were younger. And I see you everyday with the help of the Holy Ghost. I pray for you first thing in the morning every day. Never, not for a moment, have I forgotten you.”

  “If that’s true, how come you never came to see me? Never a phone call, not even once.”

  “I’ve actually gone to see you multiple times. I really wanted to see you. You just didn’t recognize me. I used to hang around near you and your granny’s ho
use for a while, and by the gate of your middle school, and then your high school. But then I decided that I shouldn’t do that. My worry was that you, a sensitive girl, could get upset at the sight of me or become rebellious. What if that sent you down the wrong path? I decided that I’d wait until you become an adult who could understand my choices. The only thing I could do was to pray for you. If it wasn’t for our Savior, I would’ve gone crazy long ago. Or killed myself. I hope you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, too.”

  I forcefully shovel the rice into my mouth, spoonful after spoonful, until it’s all gone. She pulls out some gummies and mints from a first aid kit. They’re the kind that restaurants keep by the cashier. Mother unwraps a mint and places it on my tongue. I’m no longer a child who’d ask for candies, Mother.

  “Did you skip the lecture today? You’re majoring in German, right? How is it? Do you like it?You must be reading Herman Hesse, Goethe, all those German masters. But you know, the Bible is much more interesting than novels. There’s a reason the Bible has been a best seller throughout the centuries.”

  “Okay …” It sounds like she’s the one who did the research. Did she hire someone to tail me or something? Nah, she wouldn’t have put in that much effort. I briefly consider telling her that I met Dr. Kim, her friend, that I watched her by the church before running away, that I got off the bus to reluctantly walk to get here, but then I decided against it. There is clearly no point in trying to explain how sad each day of my adolescence was without her.

  “Why didn’t you remarry?”