“Wouldn’t Boyoung be doing this?”
“Dunno. Maybe she doesn’t know about it. I only know because the president of the university was on a flight that I worked a couple of months ago asking for money from one of the chaebols who owns a private jet.”
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The university database yields two results. This is it, I think. One of these addresses is where my mother lives.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jules cautions as we make our way to the subway station.
“Of course not,” I reply, but we both know that I’m lying. It has to be. If not, I’m left with two blurred photos with no legible names on the back. One of these addresses is for Kwon Hyeun and she’s my mother. There’s a pull inside me, as if the magnet has been activated.
“Since both places are across the river, we might as well take the subway. The bridges are always overcrowded. It’ll take longer by cab,” Jules suggests. I don’t argue. I’m running low on money.
The first address is right off the subway. Jules runs into a coworker in the terminal. The two talk for a short bit. Jules tells me that even though there are ten million people in Seoul and it seems big, the city is actually small. Everyone’s connected. Jules’s sudden talkativeness is slightly unnerving because if the usually cold girl is consoling me, my prospects for the mother hunt must be dim. I reject that line of thinking. This is the one. Kwon Hyeun is the one.
We walk out of the tunnel and then up a hill. Everything in Seoul is uphill. Even though there is a high concrete wall separating the neighborhood from the train, the rumbling of the machines on the tracks shakes my legs. The road is narrow, with enough space for one vehicle to travel at a time. Small homes are stacked on top of one another like uneven building blocks. Stone walls provide a barricade from the street to the entrance of the homes but the walls aren’t high enough to block out the upper units. Clothes hang from the upper balconies like colorful flags. Whether I’m breathless from the uphill climb or from the prospect of meeting my mother, I don’t know.
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Jules comments, her hand on the gate. “Should I wait or knock?”
I inhale deeply, press a fist against my thundering chest. “Knock. Definitely, knock.”
As Jules pounds her fist on the gate, my mindset suddenly changes and I steel myself for disappointment. The last two visits have been a bust. The leads on two of my photos are ruined. My dad was an asshole, spreading his seed from one end of Seoul to another. Any woman who was dumb enough—
The gate creaks open and a tiny woman peeks her head out. Her face shows a few lines, but there’s age there. I peg the older woman to be in her sixties—far too old to be my mother. My heart sinks to somewhere near my knees. The magnet is not engaged.
Jules and the woman have a brief exchange.
“What’s she saying?” I ask as if I don’t already know. I can read the body language.
“That she doesn’t know any Lee Jonghyung.”
“Of course she doesn’t.” But I’m desperate so I pull out the last won in my purse and hold it toward the woman. The door creaks open a little wider. “Have her look at the photo again.”
Jules points to the photo and then to my face. The older woman’s eyes dart from the picture to my face to the money between my fingers.
The older woman steps away from the gate, grabs the money from my hand, and says something sharp and quick before ducking inside. The door shuts firmly behind her.
Jules shakes her head. “She said you are very pretty and that if she did have a daughter she’d like it to be you and that if you want, you are welcome to return and meet your filial duties as a daughter by bringing food and money every Sunday.”
I can’t even be mad at the loss of money. I brought this on myself.
“You want to quit?” Jules asks.
“Nah. If I’m going to be beaten down, let’s do a good job of it.”
* * *
• • •
IT’S PAST FIVE by the time we make our way into Yangcheon-gu, south of the river. We are both hot and tired. Jules took me back into the subway to find a hat and a hair tie to cover up the wet ramyeon look. I also got a cash advance from an ATM. Mom will murder me if she finds out that I’m charging everything. Even though it’s been hours since I was baptized at the market, I can still smell the faint odor of the shrimp. I briefly contemplate doing the third visit another day, but I’m worried I’ll never convince Jules to leave the house with me again. It’s also possible I may never leave the house. I’ve gone past disappointment into a cavern of numbness. You don’t feel anything there but emptiness. If you rattled me, all you’d hear is the clacking of bones echoing from one end of my frame to the other.