Min Lee - Pachinko

When the door closed, and Hansu and Sunja were alone in his office, she tried again:

“I want this to be a loan. And I want papers so I can show Noa that I paid for his school.”

“No, Sunja. This, this I get to do. He’s my son. If you don’t let me do this, I will tell him.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No. Paying for his school is nothing to me financially, but it is everything to me as his father.”

“You’re not his father.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Hansu said. “He is my child. He has my ambition. He has my abilities. I will not let my own blood rot in the gutters of Ikaino.”

Sunja gathered her bag and got up. Yoseb was not wrong, and she could not take this back.

“Let us go then. The boy is waiting outside. He must be hungry,” he said.

Hansu opened the door and let her out first.

December 1959

On a Saturday morning when the others would be at work, Kyunghee wanted to go to church. Missionaries from America who spoke Japanese but not Korean were visiting their church, and the minister had asked her to help him greet them since her Japanese was so good. Normally, she couldn’t get out of the house because she wouldn’t leave Yoseb by himself, but Changho offered to watch Yoseb. It wouldn’t be for very long, and Changho wanted to do one last thing for her.

Changho sat cross-legged on the warm floor near Yoseb’s bedding to help him do some of the stretches the doctor had recommended.

“You’ve made up your mind, then?” Yoseb asked.

“Brother, I should go. It’s time I went home.”

“Really, tomorrow?”

“In the morning, I’ll take the train to Tokyo, then head to Niigata from there. The ship leaves next week.”

Yoseb said nothing. His face contorted a little in pain as he lifted his right leg toward the ceiling. Changho kept his right hand beneath Yoseb’s thigh to steady him down slowly. They switched to the left leg.

Yoseb exhaled audibly after doing two more sets.

“If you wait until I die, then you can take my ashes and bury me there. That would be a good thing, I suppose. Though I think it doesn’t much matter in the end. You know, I still believe in heaven. I believe in Jesus, even after all this. I suppose being married to Kyunghee will do that. Her faith brought me closer to the Lord. I am not a good man, but I believe that I am saved. My father once said that when you die and go to heaven, you get your body back. I can finally get rid of this one. That will be good. And I feel ready to go home, too.”

Changho put his right arm beneath Yoseb’s head, and Yoseb raised his arms above his head slowly, then lowered them. His arms were much stronger than his legs.

“Brother, you can’t talk that way. It’s not time. You’re still here, and I can still feel the power in your body.”

Changho grasped Yoseb’s good hand, which was unmarred by burns. He could feel the man’s delicate bones. How had he survived for so long?

“And…if you wait…if you wait until I die, then you can marry her,” Yoseb said. “But you can’t take her there. I ask that. I ask that of you.”

“What?” Changho shook his head.

“I don’t trust the communists. I wouldn’t want her to go back home when they’re in charge. And this can’t last forever. Japan will be a rich country again soon, and Korea won’t always be divided. You still have your health. You can make money here and take care of my…” Yoseb couldn’t say her name then.

“I’ve made her suffer so much. She loved me when I was just a boy. I always knew that we’d be together, even when we were kids. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. You know, I’ve never wanted to be with another woman. Ever. Not just because she’s so lovely, but because she’s so good. Never, not once, did she complain about me. And I have not been a husband to her for such a long time.” He sighed. His mouth felt dry. “I know you care for her. I trust you. I wish you didn’t work for that thug, but there aren’t that many jobs here. I understand. Why don’t you just wait until I die?” The more he said these things, the more Yoseb felt that it was right. “Stay here. I’ll die soon. I feel it. You’re needed here, too. You can’t fix that country. No one can.”

“Brother, you’re not going to die.”

“No, I must. We must try to build a nation again. We can’t only think of our own comfort.” Even as Yoseb said this, Changho felt the possibility of being with her again, something he had given up.

As Kyunghee walked home from church, she saw Changho sitting on the bench in front of the convenience store, a block from the house. He was reading a newspaper and drinking juice from a glass bottle. Changho was friendly with the owner, and he liked this quiet spot beneath the tarpaulin awning on the busy intersection.

“Hello,” she said. Kyunghee was happy to see him. “Is he okay? It’s not easy being cooped up, is it? Thank you so much for watching him. I better go back. You stay.”

“He’s fine. I just stepped out. Before he went to sleep, he asked me to get him some papers for when he wakes up. He wanted me to get some air.”

Kyunghee nodded and turned from him to rush home.

“Sister, I was hoping I’d get a chance to speak with you.”

“Oh? Let’s go back home. I better start dinner. He’ll be hungry.”

“Wait. Can you sit with me? Can I get you a juice from the store?”

“No, no. I’m all right.” She smiled at him and sat down, her hands folded over her lap. She was wearing her winter Sunday coat over her navy wool dress with her nice leather shoes.

Without delay, Changho told her what her husband said, almost word for word. He was nervous, but he knew he had to do it now.

“You could come with me. The first ship leaves next week, but we can go later. Korea needs more people who have the energy to rebuild a nation. We’re supposed to get our own apartment with all the latest appliances, and we’ll be in our own country. White rice three times a day. We can take his ashes there, and we can visit your parents’ graves. Do a proper jesa . We can go home. You can be my wife.”

Stunned, Kyunghee said nothing. She could not imagine that Yoseb would have offered her to him, but she could not imagine that Changho would lie to her. The only thing that made sense was that Yoseb was worried enough about her to suggest such a plan. After the meeting at the church broke up, she had asked the minister to pray for Changho’s journey and well-being in Pyongyang. Changho didn’t believe in God or Christianity, but Kyunghee had wanted to pray for him, because she didn’t know what else she could do for him. If the Lord watched over him, then she would not worry.

He had told her that he was leaving only a week ago, and it was difficult to think of him being gone, but it was the right thing. He was a young man who believed in building a great country for others. She admired him, because he didn’t even have to go there. He had a good job and friends. Pyongyang wasn’t even his home — Changho was from Kyungsangdo. It was she who was from the North.

“Is it possible?” he asked.

“But you said — that you wanted to go. I thought you’d marry someone back home.”

“But you know that — that I’ve cared. That I do—”

Kyunghee looked around. The shopkeeper of the convenience store was seated in the back and couldn’t hear them over the noise of his radio program. On the road, a few cars and bicycles passed by, but not many, because it was Saturday morning. The red-and-white pinwheels attached to the store awning spun slowly in the light winter breeze.

“If you said it is possible—”