Min Lee - Pachinko

“Is he like you?” She rubbed against him.

“No, no. We’re very different.” Noa exhaled and removed her gently from his hips, puzzled himself by his answer. “I mean, I don’t know. He’s a generous man. I told you before: He doesn’t have a son, and his daughters don’t want to go to university, so he has been supporting me. I intend to pay him back. He’s helped my family in difficult times. He’s my benefactor; that’s all.”

“Why do you have to pay him back? Isn’t he loaded?”

“I don’t know.” Noa went to get his socks from the dresser. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a debt. I will pay him back.”

“Don’t you want to stay with me?” Akiko removed her brassiere to reveal her champagne glass — sized tits.

“You are tempting me, my beauty,” he said. “But I must get going. I will see you tomorrow, nee ?”

There was absolutely no time to have sex again, he told himself, even if he could get another erection, which he doubted.

“Can’t I come and meet him, Noa-chan? When will I meet your family?”

“He’s not my family, and I don’t know. I haven’t met yours, either.”

“You don’t want to meet Mother and Father. They are racists,” she said. “ Honto desu .”

“Oh,” Noa said. “I will see you tomorrow. Lock up, please.”

The sushi-ya was less than a mile away from his place. The interior was recently repaneled in fresh cedar, and the walls gave off the faint scent of clean, new wood. Hansu preferred to meet Noa here each month in the private room in the back. No one ever disturbed them except to bring them course after course of exceptional delicacies, brought in from various remote fishing villages in Japan.

Normally, the two men talked about his classes, because Hansu was curious about what it was like to attend such a wondrous and fabled university. He had never attended secondary school or university. Hansu had taught himself both how to read and write Korean and Japanese from books, and as soon as he could afford it, Hansu had hired tutors to learn the kanji and hanja necessary to read difficult Japanese and Korean newspapers. He knew many rich men, strong men, and brave men, yet he was most impressed with educated men who could write well. He sought friendships with great journalists, because he admired their well-composed thoughts and points of view on the issues of the day. Hansu did not believe in nationalism, religion, or even love, but he trusted in education. Above all, he believed that a man must learn constantly. He loathed waste of any kind, and when all three of his daughters forsook school for baubles and gossip, he grew to despise his wife, who had allowed this to happen. The girls had good minds and unlimited resources, and she had let them throw these things away like garbage. The girls were lost to him, but he now had Noa. It thrilled him that Noa could read and write English so beautifully — a language he knew was essential in the world. Noa had recommended books to him, and Hansu had read them, because he wanted to know the things his son knew.

The young man’s extraordinary scholarship was something Hansu knew he had to nurture. Hansu was not sure what he wanted Noa to do when he graduated; he was careful not to say too much, because it was clear that Noa had some of his own ideas. Hansu wanted to back him, the way he wanted to back good business plans.

The two sat cross-legged on the pristine tatami floor with a low acacia wood table between them.

“You should have more of the sea urchin. The chef had it brought for us from Hokkaido last night,” Hansu said. He enjoyed watching Noa, a poor student, eat these rare things that he himself consumed regularly.

Noa nodded in appreciation and finished his portion. He didn’t enjoy eating this way or even this kind of food. Noa knew how proper Japanese people behaved and could imitate their mannerisms faultlessly, so he ate whatever was put in front of him and was grateful. However, he preferred to eat a nourishing bowl of simple food quickly and be done with it. He ate the way most working Koreans did: Tasty food was merely necessary fuel, something to be eaten in a rush so you could return to your work. Well-off Japanese considered this sort of eating — high volume, strong flavors, and deliberate speed — nothing short of vulgar. In his benefactor’s presence, Noa aped the ruling-class Japanese, not wishing to disappoint Hansu, yet Noa was simply not interested in food or sitting still very long for a meal. Akiko teased him about this as well, but they did not go to luxurious restaurants, so it was of little consequence in their relationship.

Noa liked being with Hansu, but it was tedious watching another person drink while eating so little. Obviously, Hansu could drink a great deal and somehow manage a successful construction company, but Noa was suspicious of any form of drinking. As a little boy on his way to school, he used to have to step over grown men who were sleeping off their drunken binges from the night before. When he worked as a bookkeeper for the real estate company in Ikaino, he had seen many fathers unable to pay the rent, resulting in their families being thrown out of their homes — the trouble having started with a few harmless drinks on payday. And every winter, homeless alcoholic Koreans froze to death near the Sumida River, their bodies unaware of the deadly frost. Noa didn’t drink. Hansu could drink bottles of sake or soju without any visible effect, so in accordance with Korean tradition, Noa poured his elder’s drink, cup after cup, dragging the precious meal out even further.

As Noa was pouring the sake into the Oribe sake cup, the gentle knock on the paper screen door startled him.

“Enter,” Hansu said.

“Excuse me, Koh-san,” said the young waitress, who had no makeup on. She wore a simple indigo day kimono with a mushroom-colored obi.

“Yes?” Hansu said.

Noa smiled at the waitress, who looked and behaved like a well-mannered girl child.

“There is a lady who says she would like to say hello to you.”

“Really?” Hansu said. “To me?”

“Yes.” The waitress nodded.

“Very well,” Hansu said. Few people knew that he ate at this restaurant. It was possible that one of his boss’s secretaries was bringing a private message for him, but that was odd, because more commonly, young men from the company were sent on such errands. Hansu’s driver and bodyguard were outside the restaurant standing guard; they would have prevented anyone dangerous from reaching him. They would have examined her for certain.

The waitress closed the door, and in a few moments knocked again.

This time, Noa rose to his feet and opened the door himself. It felt good to stretch his legs.

“Akiko,” Noa said, his mouth momentarily agape.

“Hello,” she said, standing by the waitress, waiting to be invited in.

“Is this your friend, Noa?” Hansu asked, smiling at this gorgeous thing who looked Japanese.

“Yes.”

“Welcome. Please have a seat. You wanted to see me?”

“Noa thought I should stop by and say hello to his benefactor, so I came by at his insistence,” Akiko said, smiling.

“Yes,” Noa said, not sure why he was agreeing to this story but lacking an alternative narrative. “I should have mentioned that Akiko might be stopping by. I’m sorry if I took you by surprise.”

“Not at all. I’m very happy to meet a friend of Noa. You must join us for lunch.”

Hansu looked up at the waitress, who was still standing by the door.

“Please bring another setting and a sake cup for Noa’s friend,” Hansu said, feeling both curious and pleased that the boy would want him to meet his girlfriend. He wanted to welcome her.