The Queen of Tears (17 page)

Disaster followed the day of her wedding. Someone had done a close investigation of Soong’s past and found out that she was not a distant relative of the late and great film producer Park Dong Jin. The papers released a story, saying that not only was Soong a peasant girl but a peasant girl with possible Japanese ancestry. It had been discovered that her mother was a comfort woman during the Japanese occupation. The scandal was not that she was what she was, the scandal was rooted in the attempted deception. Who does not despise a person caught in a lie?

In a more minor story that day, it was discovered that an unidentified American Army captain was running a black market. He was selling goods to the Communist North. The Korean government demanded that he leave South Korea forever.

Soong knew that Moon Chung Han’s anger would be fierce, but she did not imagine this. That such a powerful man could act like such a child scared her, not only for herself, but also for her country. She dropped the paper in front of Henry, who was sipping his coffee and looking out of the window of her house, the same great house which was once Dong Jin’s. He seemed to be admiring the green mountain. He looked down at the paper and smiled. “It would take me hours figure out what this says.” He paused. “But I see the picture of you. You look beautiful.”

She found his ignorance charming. She smiled despite herself. “You do not understand. We are ruined.”

He picked up the paper and squinted at it. “What you mean?”

She sighed. “It’s Chung Han. He has ruined us. He says you run a black market. They will make you go back to America.”

Henry put down the paper. He wrapped his hand around his coffee mug and the wiry muscles and veins in his forearm bulged. He frowned, then smiled. The grip he had on the mug loosened. His muscles amazed Soong. Their response to stress reminded Soong of a cobra hood. He pulled her onto his lap. “So, I go back to America. Wasn’t that the plan?”

She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but his initial reaction to the news betrayed concern. Then an unpleasant thought popped into her mind. “What will your Army do to you?”

He smiled. But this smile was of a more wicked nature. “End my adventure.”

At first she’d thought that the black-market accusations were either false, or his involvement was sanctioned by either the Korean or American government, or both. But now she realized that Henry had been operating illegally, and perhaps both the head of Korean Central Intelligence and Chung Han were his partners. Chung Han, out of jealousy, had blown the whistle. He had threatened her the last time she’d seen him. “You leave me for that American, and you’ll regret it. Perhaps even all of South Korea will regret it. Do you not realize the power, not I, but you possess?”

She had left frightened, but perhaps because Henry was American, or because he was so brave, the fear faded into a bothersome worry. But now, sitting with her second husband in the kitchen, she knew what Chung Han was capable of. For the first time since she had known him, she knew now how much he actually loved her. Only pure love could bear such wild and risky jealousy. Perhaps true love mixed with the endangerment of an aging and powerful man’s pride. Henry patted her leg. “Don’t worry, we will all go America and be rid all this foolishness.”

She thought about her children. She would have to send for them. They would leave with Henry as soon as possible. She needed to stay for a while to liquidate her assets. The thought of money led Soong’s mind to something Henry had said that first night they’d met. She brushed her fingers through his straight black hair. “And your million dollars?”

It was a week before Soong understood what he said next. But she remembered the sound of it so that she could translate it later. He said, “Shot to hell, baby. Shot to fuckin’ hell.”

They spent the morning packing Henry’s suitcase. The embassy called and required his presence. He knew he’d be shipped out the next day, then dishonorably discharged. He agreed that he’d take Won Ju and Chung Yun with him. He had only seen the children twice before, and Soong liked the way he was with them. When Chung Yun had thrown a tantrum at the second meeting, Henry just laughed hard. Chung Yun, embarrassed, had quickly closed his mouth. This, among many other things, had drawn Soong even closer to Henry. So while they packed, she felt sure that Henry would be able to handle her children while she caught up to them.

The doorbell rang while Henry and Soong were finishing packing the last suitcase. Soong stood up and walked downstairs. She had already dismissed the servants, and gave them a handsome compensatory check, so she had to answer the door. Passing the window, towards the door, she saw a taxi accelerate quickly on the gravel driveway. It kicked up a pebble that hit the window and made Soong jump. Before she could even say anything, the taxi was replaced by a trail of dust. The piece of gravel left a ding on the window. Annoyed, Soong walked to the door and opened it.

Standing at the open door were two pathetic-looking children. The older one, the girl, wore a torn, dark blue schoolgirl skirt, a white shirt missing a few buttons; she stood in front of a tattered and hastily packed suitcase which was not even completely closed. Her round, prepubescent face wore drying tears. Clear mucus dripped from her nose. The boy was an even more pitiful sight. His hair had been chopped up. He had a black eye. His shirt was almost completely ripped off. The remnants of it hung from his pants. He had only one shoe on and didn’t have a suitcase. Before she could say anything, the girl asked, “Are we really Japanese, Mother?”

Soong bit her lip. Her arms were shaking. From the looks of things, someone had tried to rape the twelve-year-old Won Ju. As for Chung Yun, he had obviously been teased, demoralized, and beaten. Soong fell to her knees and opened her arms. Won Ju approached slowly, then hugged her mother. Chung Yun, not even looking at either of them, walked through the door and headed straight for his room. Won Ju whispered in Soong’s ear. “They tried, but I didn’t let them. They tried, but I didn’t let them. They said they were going to do to me what the Japanese did to Korea. They said they were going to do to me what the Americans and Russians did to Korea. They were going to rip me in half.”

Soong knew they didn’t like her in the first place. All they needed was a reason, no matter how stupid, to make her scream. To them, Won Ju was like a broken car horn. They instinctively wanted to pound it to hear the sound instead of finding out why it did not work. She pulled her daughter in front of her. “I will never let them try again. Do you hear me? I will never let them try again. We are all going to America where they cannot touch you.”

She hugged her daughter and heard her son slam the door five times before finally leaving it shut. She took Won Ju to her bedroom and sat her on the bed while she dug in her bureau. Under her neatly folded silk slips, she pulled out a cherry-colored wooden box. She rubbed her hand over the dragons carved of mother-of-pearl. She knelt before her daughter and handed her the box. Won Ju opened it. “It was a gift from your father a long time ago. It is for protection. I cannot go with you to America yet, but this will watch over you until I can catch up. Keep it with you at all times.”

Won Ju unsheathed the silver blade. The girl seemed disgusted by it. She quickly slid the sheath back on and put it in the box. “I could never,” she said.

Soong shook her head. “But you must keep it on you. It will protect you.”

“How can it protect me when I know I could never use it?”

“Please just keep it. For me. It will make me feel better.”

Won Ju shrugged. She stood up and walked towards the doorway. She stopped, seeming as if she wanted to say something, but then she walked out of the room. Soong despised and admired her daughter at that moment. She despised her squeamishness, but admired her morality. But then perhaps it wasn’t morality. Perhaps it was innocence. Perhaps she was like the swell that doesn’t know it must become a wave.

-3-

At the airport, Soong watched the American military plane take off with her new husband and two children. She prayed to God that the plane would take them to America safely. Right after she did so, she laughed. Her praying to God revealed how long she had come from 1952, the year she had walked from North to South Korea. She had been a cynical child then. Now as the huge plane climbed in the air, she wondered how something so enormous could stay in the air for so long. She smiled. Yes, she had been a cynical fourteen-year-old who would never have prayed to a god she didn’t think existed. But now, sixteen years later, she knew there was no room for cynicism for a wife and mother. As the plane shot to dangerous heights, she prayed to herself unabashedly.

When the plane disappeared, Soong turned around to hurry back to the bank and start settling her financial affairs. A black limousine was approaching the runway. She recognized the car immediately. It was a car she had ridden in many times. When the car finally stopped in front of her, the door opened. No one stepped out. Soong shrugged and stepped through the open door.

Moon Chung Yan was wearing a gray Western business suit with a white shirt and yellow tie. His black shoes were off, revealing thin black socks. Soong crossed her legs and smoothed out her dress as the car drove off. She then took a pin out of her purse, wrapped her hair in a bun, and pinned it up. She rolled down the window. “You know, I have a history with black cars. I was re-born when one hit me, then took me in. I am in one now. I suppose when I die, I will be put in one, too.”

Chung Han leaned forward and sighed. “I had to do it. I had to hurt you.”

The wind was blowing at his thin web of hair. His eyes had dark, sleepless circles under them. “Yes, men and their pride.”

“Yes, men and their pride, and their love.”

Soong refused to look at him, focusing on the passing landscape through the open window. She knew if she looked at him, she’d betray fear. “My daughter was almost raped. I had to take her to an American military nurse to make sure.”

He sighed. “I am truly sorry. But I could not be the laughingstock of the entire nation. You
knew
that. Not a man in my position, not a man with my power.”

It was strange how he talked about power. It was like a possession of his that people were always evidently trying to steal. Maybe at one time power had not been as important to him. But she supposed that if others are trying to just take one thing from you, that one thing becomes the most valuable thing in the world to you. “I suppose so. Where are we going?”

“If I were to run for President... It would have been impossible.”

“Telling them that I was a whore you threw away was not enough?”

He laughed. “No one would believe I threw away the Queen of Tears.”

The car seemed to be heading back to her house. She was puzzled. She thought for sure Chung Han was going to take her to some dreadful prison where she’d be raped and killed. But she always had an overactive imagination about these things. She always thought death was always trying to steal from her. Just as she had refused to show fear, she refused to show any kind of relief. “My country hates me now.”

“It is no longer your country.”

“I no longer have the power you claimed I possessed?”

“Why do you love him? The great Park Dong Jin would reject this nonsense.”

He always spoke as if he were giving a speech. Vague words with multiple meanings, or melodramatic words always concerning the past, the future, fear, and exaggerated relevance. “You did not know Dong Jin. The shame would have been greater if he saw me become someone’s mistress, rather than an American’s wife. Besides, he was more concerned about my happiness than any other person I had ever known.”

“Are you happy?”

“I was on my wedding day. Not so much anymore.”

“Do you love him?”

She turned her head towards Chung Han. His tired face waited eagerly for an answer. “He is my romantic love. Do you know what this means? Even though I know I shouldn’t, I love him more than I loved Dong Jin himself.”

Chung Han turned his head towards the open window. Soong also looked out and saw the car approach her house. She was reminded of the first drive she had taken to the house, how the little fourteen-year-old she once was feigned unconsciousness the entire ride. But she was conscious now. When the car pulled up to the house, she did- n’t fight the tears. Somehow she knew this might be the last time she would see the house. “Why do you cry?” Chung Han asked.

“I am saying goodbye.”

He opened his briefcase as the car stopped in front of the house. He pulled out a folder and handed it to Soong. He cleared his throat and suddenly a colder, businesslike voice came out. “The car will take you to a hotel. You will stay in your room under an assumed name. While you are there, you will not leave the hotel for any reason. Your first-class flight for America is scheduled in two days. This car will pick you up and take you to the airport. Here,” he handed her the folder. “This is your itinerary, your copy of receipts, and the information you need to access your new bank account in America. I am buying you out. This will be my house now. But the trade is more than fair. Generous, in fact. In America, you will find your account balance at five hundred thousand dollars, American. You can start your new life comfortably.”

The deal was indeed generous. Not only would Soong walk away with more cash than she would have selling everything herself, but now she also did not have to deal with getting all of her affairs in order, which could take weeks. The fact that Chung Han didn’t consult with her did not annoy her. He never did. She looked at him while blotting the tears on her face with a handkerchief. “Chung Han, thank you.”

His voice turned soft again. “On one condition. If you ever need anything, if you ever need to return, you talk to me. I am just keeping this house for you. It will always be your house.”

She thought about the garden, the fishpond, and especially the grapes in the back. Yes, it was better if she did not see them right now. Aclean break. She grabbed Chung Han’s hand, sure she would never return. “I will call only you if things do not work out.”