Min Lee - Pachinko

“Kazu said that the client is holding off on the deal. They don’t need me anymore. He said that if there was an investigation because of—” Solomon stopped himself before saying the word “yakuza,” because suddenly, he wasn’t sure. His father wouldn’t have associated with criminals. Should he be speaking like this in front of Totoyama? He was Japanese and a high-ranking detective with the Yokohama police; he wouldn’t be friends with criminals. The suggestion alone would have hurt all the men deeply.

Goro studied Solomon’s face and nodded almost imperceptibly, because he understood the boy’s silence.

“Was she cremated?” Totoyama asked.

“Probably, but some Koreans get buried back home,” Mozasu said.

“ Soo nee ,” Totoyama said.

“Solomon, the lady died of natural causes. The niece said it was the heart. She was ninety-three years old. I had nothing to do with her death. Listen, your boss doesn’t actually think I killed the old lady. If he did, he’d be too scared to fire you. What would keep me from killing him? This is crazy stuff from television. He used your connections, then he fired you by making up some excuse. The client just wanted the Korean shit to go away.”

“You’ll get a better job in finance. I’m sure of it,” Mozasu said.

Goro was visibly irritated, however. “You should never work for a dirty bank again.”

“ Iie . Solomon majored in economics. He studied in America to work in an American bank.”

“Travis is a British bank,” Solomon said.

“Well, maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should work in an American bank. There are a lot of American investment banks, nee ?” Mozasu said.

Solomon felt awful. The men at this table had raised him. He could see how upset they were.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get another job. I have savings, too. I better go now.” Solomon stood up from his seat. “Papa, I left a box at your office. Can you send it to me in Tokyo? Nothing important.”

Mozasu nodded.

“Here, why don’t I take you home? We can take a drive to Tokyo.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll catch the train. It’s faster. Phoebe is probably wondering about me.”

When she didn’t answer the phone, Solomon returned to the hospital. Hana was awake. Pop music played on the radio. The room was still dark, but the dance hit made the room feel lively, like a nightclub.

“You came back already? You must have really missed me, Solomon.”

He told her everything, and she listened without interrupting him.

“You should take over your father’s business.”

“Pachinko?”

“Yes, pachinko. Why not? All these idiots who say bad things about it are jealous. Your father is an honest person. He could be richer if he was crooked, but he’s rich enough. Goro is a good guy, too. He might be a yak, but who cares? I don’t. And if he isn’t, I’m sure he knows them all. It’s a filthy world, Solomon. No one is clean. Living makes you dirty. I’ve met plenty of fancy people from IBJ and the BOJ who are from the best families, and they like to do some sick shit in bed. A lot of them do very bad things in business, but they don’t get caught. Most of the ones I’ve fucked would steal if they had the chance. They’re too scared to have any real ambition. Listen, Solomon, nothing will ever change here. Do you see that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a fool,” she said, laughing, “but you are my fool.”

Her teasing made him feel sad. He missed her already. Solomon couldn’t remember ever feeling this lonesome before.

“Japan will never change. It will never ever integrate gaijin, and my darling, here you will always be a gaijin and never Japanese. Nee ? The zainichi can’t leave, nee ? But it’s not just you. Japan will never take people like my mother back into society again; it will never take back people like me. And we’re Japanese! I’m diseased. I got this from some Japanese guy who owned an old trading company. He’s dead now. But nobody cares. The doctors here, even, they just want me to go away. So listen, Solomon, you should stay here and not go back to the States, and you should take over your papa’s business. Become so rich that you can do whatever you want. But, my beautiful Solomon, they’re never going to think we’re okay. Do you know what I mean?” Hana stared at him. “Do what I tell you to do.”

“My own father doesn’t want that. Even Goro-san sold his parlors and is doing real estate now. Papa wanted me to work in an American investment bank.”

“What, so you can be like Kazu? I know a thousand Kazus. They’re not fit to wipe your father’s ass.”

“There are good people in the banks, too.”

“And there are good people in pachinko, too. Like your father.”

“I didn’t know you liked Papa.”

“You know, after I got here, he visited me every Sunday when Mama needed a break. Sometimes, when I was pretending to be asleep, I’d catch him praying for me in that chair. I don’t believe in God, but I guess that doesn’t matter. I never had someone pray for me before, Solomon.”

Solomon closed his eyes and nodded.

“Your grandmother Sunja and great-aunt Kyunghee visit me on Saturdays. Did you know that? They pray for me, too. I don’t understand the Jesus stuff, but it’s something holy to have people touch you when you’re sick. The nurses here are afraid to touch me. Your grandmother Sunja holds my hands, and your great-aunt Kyunghee puts cool towels on my head when I get too hot. They’re kind to me, though I’m a bad person—”

“You’re not bad. That’s not true.”

“I’ve done terrible things,” she said drily. “Solomon, when I was a hostess, I sold drugs to one girl who ended up overdosing. I stole money from a lot of men. I’ve told so many lies.”

Solomon said nothing.

“I deserve this.”

“No. It’s a virus. Everybody gets sick.”

Solomon smoothed her brow and kissed it.

“That’s okay, Solomon. I’m not doing bad things anymore. I’ve had time to think about my stupid life.”

“Hana—”

“I know, Solomon. Otomodachi, nee ?”

She pretended to bow formally as she was lying down, and she picked up the corner of her blanket as if she were holding a fold of her skirt to curtsey. The trace of flirtation remained in her still-lithe movements. He wanted to remember this little thing forever.

“Go home, Solomon.”

“Okay,” he said, and he did not see her again.

Tokyo, 1989

I never liked him,” Phoebe said. “Too smooth.”

“Well, I’m obviously an idiot, because I did,” Solomon said. “Besides, how in the world did you get that impression of Kazu in the little time you had? You met him for about two minutes when we ran into him at Mitsukoshi. And you’ve never mentioned this before.”

Slumped in the rented leather armchair, Solomon could barely face Phoebe. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected from her, but he was surprised by how unruffled she was by the news. She seemed almost pleased. Phoebe sat on the bench near the window with her folded knees to her chest.

“I actually liked him,” he said.

“Solomon, that guy screwed you.”

Solomon glanced up at her placid profile, then dropped his head back again on the back of the armchair.

“He’s a dick.”

“I feel much better now.”

“I’m on your team.”

Phoebe didn’t know if she should get up and sit by him. She didn’t want him to think that she felt sorry for him. Her older sister used to say that men hated pity; rather, they wanted sympathy and admiration — not an easy combination.