Hwang Sok-Yong - The Guest

“I will not go alone. Reverend Ryu is the minister of our church, and I need him with me as my witness.”

“Your witness?”

“When I go back, you see, I’m going to need someone to testify before the congregation that I really did meet my family.”

“Huh. You are stubborn, aren’t you?”

All Back glanced over at Soprano, and she moved away through the chairs, her swift, agile gait rather unbecoming for such a big person. As if he had no other choice, All Back took a seat next to Yosŏp.

“You live in New York, do you not, Reverend?”

“Yes. ”

“But you, Professor, you live on the West Coast in a place called See-something, correct?”

“Seattle. What does that have to do with anything?” the professor retorted, frowning to feign ill humor. In response, All Back turned to face Yosŏp.

“The professor lives in the West, so he can’t possibly attend your church in New York, can he? All I’m saying is that it doesn’t make any sense.”

Yosŏp decided he had no alternative but to humor the professor.

“I often give sermons out west. Ministers at different Korean churches throughout America often visit each other’s parishes to give sermons, so. ”

“I see.”

“The point is that I can’t go to meet my family all by myself. Besides, I need someone to take pictures for us.”

Soprano ran back just in time to cut off the problematic conversation. Wiping the nape of her neck with a handkerchief, she spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Comrade Supervisor says that it is no problem. He also says, however, that no other visitors aside from Reverend Ryu are allowed.”

And so Reverend Ryu ended up with a role all his own in the professor’s dramatic family reunion. All Back and Soprano led the professor and the minister to one of the many rooms that faced the dining hall windows. As they approached the door, the professor began to lose his composure — his eyes were bloodshot, and he kept glancing backwards like a frightened child to make sure that Yosŏp was still with him. Soprano was the first to open the door and enter the room. Flinging her arms out, she cried, “Now, here is your mother!”

Holding the camera tightly in his hands, Yosŏp stood directly behind the professor. Suddenly, the professor leaped into the room, momentarily oblivious of Yosŏp’s presence, and dashed over to embrace a tiny figure.

“Mother. ”

The tangle of mother and son was embraced once more by the outstretched arms of a second man and woman. Together with the guides, Reverend Ryu stood out of their way and watched the reunion from the doorway. The family members hugged each other and pawed the air. On one hand, it was a rather ridiculous sight to behold; on the other, it was a scene that tore at the heart of the coldest onlooker. Like the first drops of sweet rain to fall on a land long parched by drought, tears began rolling down the old grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. The professor bent down at the waist and buried himself in his old mother’s tiny, shriveled bosom, wailing and crying out loud. It was only after a long time that he straightened himself up and really looked at the old lady. He held her face in both of his hands.

“Mother. your face. let me. your face. ”

“Oh, oh, you’re our second, aren’t you? You’ve grown so old.”

“And Father?”

“Your grandfather and grandmother passed away right after the war — it’s been over ten years since your father died.”

“I’m your older brother. And this, here, this is your younger sister.”

The professor turned towards them, and the three siblings embraced. Yosŏp took several pictures during these first embraces, but then, unable to hold back his own tears any longer, he stole out of the room. Soprano was standing outside the door, her eyes red, blowing her nose over and over again into a handkerchief.

“This. this is the tragedy of our people.”

Yosŏp walked back to the lobby, still holding the camera — he hadn’t had a chance to give it back. All the visitors were apparently off meeting their families; the place was quiet except for a few unrelated guests who seemed to be holding consultations. Fatty approached Yosŏp.

“May we offer you a cup of tea?” he inquired courteously.

Fatty, who turned out to be “Comrade Supervisor,” and Soprano ignored the coffee shop in the lobby and led Yosŏp to the escalator instead, taking him to a bar on the second floor that was divided into separate compartments. Inside one of them was a large couch. While Soprano was off fetching a hostess, Fatty addressed Yosŏp.

“I’m not sure whether or not it is my place to say this, but we do feel kind of bad that you seem so unwilling to open up to us. Our sole aim is to help you reconcile and form a new relationship with the Motherland you left behind.”

Yosŏp replied honestly, “I really do appreciate that, but what do you mean when you say that I’m not opening up to you?”

Fatty gave a gentle laugh.

“Reverend, is there any chance that your hometown might be in Hwanghae Province?”

“Well, that’s. ”

As Yosŏp hesitated, Soprano came in behind him.

“Reverend Ryu, don’t you want to meet your family?” she said.

Yosŏp inadvertently let out a long, relieved sigh.

“To be honest with you, my real hometown is. Sinch’ŏn.”

“Ah. is that so?”

The two guides’ expressions became tense. Silence reigned until the hostess finally came in. She put down three cups of ginseng tea on the table and left. The supervisor took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on in a low voice:

“We knew all along. Your older brother is Ryu Yohan, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes that’s right. How did you. ”

“How could we possibly forget that name?”

Yosŏp hung his head, momentarily immersed in thought. Soprano, now speaking as an alto, butted into the conversation.

“And why didn’t you bring your brother with you?”

Yosŏp, interlacing his fingers, hung his head even farther down.

“My brother passed away three days before I left America,” he mumbled. Looking up, he added, “I beg your forgiveness. I’ve come. instead. As a Protestant minister, I admit that my ideas may be different from yours. All the same, I know that my brother was a sinner.”

Fatty the Supervisor inhaled deeply and exhaled a gust of cigarette smoke.

“I myself am from North P’yŏngan Province, so I’m not very well acquainted with the affairs of your region. The whole purpose of this game we’re playing now is to heal old scars, wouldn’t you say?”

“Please tell us about your family, Reverend,” said Soprano, her voice still soft. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Yosŏp handed over the list of names he’d written down. Fatty the Supervisor took it.

“Why, you’ve come all prepared. If you had given this to us right away, you could have met your family this morning.”

Looking at the list together with the supervisor, Yosŏp tried to explain.

“This is my sister-in-law, and this here is my uncle, on my mother’s side. I’ve no idea whether or not he’s still alive. And this, this is my nephew. He’d be around fifty years old by now.”

“Ryu Tanyŏl? I believe he’s already been located and confirmed. ”

The supervisor turned to Soprano, who took a notebook from her handbag and checked inside.

“Yes, that’s right. We’ve already contacted the city authority of Sariwŏn about Ryu Tanyŏl.”

“And who did you say these female names belonged to?”

Yosŏp pointed at the names one by one, explaining, “Those are all my nieces. Every one of them would be over fifty years old by now. Those names right there, underneath — those are my older sisters.”