If You Leave Me

by Crystal Hana Kim

  Come visit, Kyunghwan. Meet my girls. See your cousin. He misses you. I can tell. I am his wife. Whatever you have there is not enough to keep you from family.

  Lee Haemi

  And just like that, the world I had constructed was made insubstantial. Eleven years had passed. Eleven years in which I’d become a new person, a man of the city, someone who ambled unaffected through a quickly changing society. Yet all of it fell away like rice glue with one note from her.

  I read the letter again. I would have married you, those words more important than anything else she’d written. I burned with a flushing heat, unsteady. She was everywhere, had always been everywhere. I could smell her—the earth’s greenness from her run through the fields, the milk-rice scent that rose from her mouth and skin. My head pulsed and tightened, as if I were an object easily squeezed in her hand, not only because of her words but because I hadn’t recognized her handwriting at first glance—the hurry that lifted the end of each line so there was always a tiny triangle of space at the bottom of the page, the crooked letters, the slight curl she gave the n in my name. I didn’t know if it was me who’d changed, or her.

  I dropped the letter and watched it fall onto the ground. I was here in Seoul, and Aejung sat beside me.

  “Kyunghwan?” she asked. “Who wrote you?”

  Haemi was no longer someone I wanted or needed or thought about each day. She wasn’t mine. She was his, as she’d written.

  “It’s the matchmaker.” I tried to smile. I flipped through Aejung’s notebook. “These mathematics problems are too hard, even for me.”

  “Bad news?” Aejung asked.

  “It’s fine. Go study. You don’t need to hang around this old man.”

  She gestured to our trays. “Should I take these in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I concentrated on Aejung leaving. Her pulled-back shoulders, her elbows out as she balanced the plates, the swing of her skirt in rhythm with her widening hips. When I couldn’t see her any longer, I walked to my room.

  It was easy—moving, walking, talking. Everything would and did continue. I looked around at all I had achieved. An ondol floor to sleep on, money hidden beneath a loose slat in my wardrobe, clean clothes. Books. A few writings of my own on paper I took freely from the factory. Meals that bulged the boundaries of my stomach, the sensation of fullness surprising me each time.

  I walked back outside. The sky had already inked over. I sat on the courtyard porch and watched the Song family’s shadows move against the white-papered hanok doors. Woolly outlines unrolled sleep mats and blankets onto the floors.

  I found the letter on the ground and took it back to my room. With Haemi’s words, everything was made small. It was a trick, a manipulation. How she disassembled me.

  Eleven years.

  I wrote a response and another and then started all over again. I settled on this: I don’t remember what chestnuts you are talking about.

  The matchmaker was thick all around with a jowly face on a fattened neck that led to a boxy body wrapped in a traditional hanbok. The next morning, she questioned me in Uncle’s main room. He and I sat beside each other on one end of a large, lacquered wooden table. I wore his son’s suit, the sleeves too long. The matchmaker sat across from us and spoke in a charmer’s voice. “I’ve heard all about your intellect, your rising position at the paper factory, Mr. Yun. Do you have your lineage records for me?”

  I pushed them toward her. She looked through each sheet. “No family, then? What about education? Salary?” She gave a false smile full of teeth. “We need to get these facts out of the way before I can hear more about what you’re seeking in a wife.”

  I gave her the rest of my materials and flattened my palms against the table. “This is all I have.”

  She read quickly, her gaze pinpointing the information she needed.

  Uncle poured tea. “What he can’t prove, I can vouch for.”

  The matchmaker tilted her head. “But you’re not a blood relation?”

  “No,” he said. “He lost them in the war.”

  “That won’t work.” She straightened my papers. “Don’t worry, Mr. Yun. There are many men like you in Seoul now.” She poured tea and asked more questions. Uncle left the room when she asked what I wanted in a wife.

  “You can relax now.” She bit into a sesame seed rice cake, and the powder dusted her lips. This imperfection made me feel better about our meeting. “I can tell you don’t want to be here. Are you a philanderer?”

  I stared. “Excuse me?”

  She fanned her documents into a half circle. “These are my eligible prospects, but I only entrust my girls to respectable men. Why do you seem so apprehensive?”

  I wanted to leave, but her gaze pinned me to my seat, reminding me that I’d been granted this favor. That she wouldn’t be working with me if it weren’t for Uncle Park and his son. “I’m unsure of this whole process,” I said. “It seems outdated.”

  “Well, I’m very good. This isn’t a job. It’s a calling, a serving of the community.” She gestured to the rice cakes and placed another in her mouth. “No?”

  I raised my tea. “I’m fine with this.”

  “Business only, then. Based on your status, it may be easiest to match you with a wife who is not originally from Seoul.”

  “I’d prefer that.”

  “You’re classically handsome.”

  “I have a scar.” I showed her the raised lines on my cheek. “It was from a rat. When I was so poor, I lived in the slums of Namsan. Does that disqualify me?”

  “I noticed that. We don’t want our men too pretty, and we won’t include your past indecencies in the proposal.” She nodded, grim but determined. “I’ll find a girl who wants a large family to make up for your lonesomeness. Now, any injuries I should know about? From the war or otherwise?”

  I looked at her.

  She pressed her lips. “It’s a formal question.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Have more tea. Tell me truthfully. What are you looking for in a wife?”

  I was silent. She was a stranger, and I had Haemi’s letter in my pocket. I was in the house of Uncle, who was richer than I had thought, with a hanok of his own. And this woman with powder-covered lips wanted me to tell her what I did not know myself.

  Uncle’s son insisted on lunch. Munsu wore the slim, dark suit of a lawyer. I did, too. When his gaze lingered on my lapels, I realized Uncle hadn’t asked before lending me his suit. I pulled at the cuffs and willed myself not to flush. Munsu looked exactly like Uncle, with gangly arms and a long face that framed wide, up-slanted eyes, and a mole high on his right cheek. Sunok was better-looking. She held his hand underneath the table as we picked at our food.

  “Munsu says we’re celebrating your matchmaking,” she said.

  “We’ll celebrate anything these days,” I replied.

  “What kind of girl are you looking for?” She leaned on her elbows. Her lips and eyelids were painted the color of Kyoho grapes.

  Uncle moved fish bones around his plate with his chopsticks. He seemed smaller in the bright-lit restaurant with his well-dressed son and future daughter-in-law. “He wants a proper wife,” he said.

  “I have a sister.” Sunok clapped her hands. “Wouldn’t that be perfect? Munsu says you spend enough time with Father to be a son anyway.”

  “I seem to say a lot,” Munsu joked.

  Sunok smiled. “Sunmi’s twenty-two. Want to meet her?”

  “If she’s as pretty as you,” I said.

  Munsu and Uncle looked up. I scooped the last of the rice into my mouth. Haemi’s letter had unsettled me. Images and memories assailed me as I tried to focus on the matchmaker, on lunch, on Uncle, who’d been so accommodating. I wanted to take a bus to Haemi and claim her as my own. I wanted to forget her completely.

  Sunok leaned her head against Munsu as if I’d said nothing wrong. “Everyone says she’s prettier, except Munsu.”

&nb
sp; “I want to meet her,” I said, avoiding the men’s stares. Sunok was forward, rich. I would marry her sister and be done with it.

  “Sunmi’s studying to be a singer.” Munsu tapped his throat. “She wants to be famous. She’s good but a dreamer.”

  “I could meet her next Sunday.”

  “If the matchmaker doesn’t work,” Uncle corrected.

  “She’s supposed to be the best. My colleague used her last year.” Munsu raised his sleeve to glance at his watch. “I need to get back to work.” He called a waiter and asked for the check.

  I brought out my wallet, but Munsu refused. I had to thank him for another act of charity. Sunok pulled out a silver cigarette case.

  Uncle coughed. “That’s a dirty habit for a woman.”

  She slid back her chair. “I intend to smoke outside, Father.”

  Uncle stood, waving the air in front of him even though she hadn’t lit the cigarette. “I need to head to the garage.”

  “Stay a few minutes and we’ll leave together,” Munsu said.

  “No, I can’t stand it.”

  We all bowed and asked him to stay longer without enough effort. Munsu offered to walk him to the tram. “I’ll be right back,” he told us.

  Once they left, Sunok nudged her chair closer to the table. “Do you mind?”

  I gestured for her to go ahead. She brushed her hair out of her face and stuck the cigarette in her mouth. She smiled with ease, as if her actions hadn’t just caused the elder to leave. “It doesn’t seem like Uncle likes you, and you don’t seem to care.”

  She smoked expertly with small, plump lips. “He’ll thaw. I come from a good family. I’m a perfect pick for Munsu.” She smiled. “Tell me what it was like to be interviewed. I’ve never been to a matchmaker.”

  “Can I have one?” I asked.

  She slid the cigarette case toward me. I touched its sleek, shiny lid. It was hard, true silver. “Where did you buy this?” I asked.

  When Munsu returned, Sunok kissed his cheek and convinced him to drive us to the department store before returning to work. “I told Kyunghwan he has to pay for the matchmaker by helping me with wedding preparations, so don’t be cross,” she said. I felt Munsu’s gaze linger on me, but he assented.

  Inside the department store, we wandered the aisles. “An old boyfriend bought the cigarette case from here,” Sunok said.

  “I won’t tell Munsu.”

  She laughed. “I don’t keep secrets.”

  “That’s one you might want to keep.”

  She ignored me and touched all the glass cases. “Look at this one” coming out of her mouth as we passed necklaces, rings, bracelets. She stopped at the watch section. “Can you help us?” she asked the attendant. “I want to get one for my wedding yedan.”

  The attendant bowed. “But this isn’t the groom?”

  “He’s a friend. How else would I know if the watch would fit my husband?” She presented my wrist. “Can I see them all on him?”

  I tried on leather bands in black, brown, and gray, and linked metal ones with big glass faces. Sunok took her time. “I think the dark green leather will do,” she finally decided. The attendant set it in a box and wrapped it with more care than I’d ever spent on any object. She slipped it into a paper bag with curved handles.

  “The jewelry,” I said, pointing to the section across the floor. “Let’s see what they have.”

  “Already thinking of what to buy your future wife?” she teased, but did as I’d asked.

  We stopped at a row of golden bracelets that hung from a velvet log. The attendant, a young woman with a stiff bun, unclasped each one and laid them on the counter. “What’s your name, miss?” I asked.

  She held up the last bracelet and blushed. “Kim Boyoung, sir.”

  “Can we see those, too, Miss Kim?”

  “Of course.” She smiled and turned.

  Sunok whispered, “You’re a regular bachelor.”

  Boyoung brought out more bracelets. Gold, silver, delicate links adorned with dark stones. Sunok glided all of them on her wrist and cried out the way I knew she would. “Can I try on those earrings, too?” She gestured to a matching pair behind the counter.

  I didn’t lift much anymore, but it was easy with Sunok and Boyoung’s distracted excitement. They spoke about complementary colors, what jewel to wear for which occasion. I slipped the simplest bracelet up the sleeve of my borrowed suit—a thin gold chain with a single pale jade stone.

  Sunok cupped pearl earrings in her hand. “I’m going to ask Munsu to buy me these.”

  “Let’s go before he thinks I’ve stolen you.” I bowed to Boyoung and tugged Sunok’s elbow. “Come on.”

  When she linked my arm, I slipped the bracelet into her bag. It rested, innocent and hidden, beside her purchased watch as we walked past the lone security guard. Outside, I directed us to Munsu and Uncle’s home.

  “That was fun. Sunmi will love you,” Sunok said.

  “Even if I work in a paper factory?”

  “Don’t worry about that. My father will give you a job.” She swiveled on her heels to face me. Walking backward, she looked me up and down. “I wasn’t lying. She’s prettier than me.”

  “Then I’ll like her.”

  We talked like that, easy and refreshing, albeit temporary. The gold bracelet swung along without her knowing. When she turned to buy sweets from a street vendor, I retrieved the bracelet and slipped it into my pocket. I thumbed the round, smooth jade. I could throw it into the river or pawn it for money. I could give it to Sunmi or Sunok or the matchmaker’s choice.

  I walked to meet Uncle after parting with Sunok. The government speaker outside the garage had been dismantled, the individual parts scattered on the grass. Through the open doors, I saw Uncle heft the engine onto a workbench. “I only do that to the speaker on Sundays,” he said when I entered.

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Come see.” He gestured to the engine. “I found this cylinder. I want one more, but it could work alone if need be.” He smoothed his hands around the motorcycle’s body. “Air and a piston here.”

  “And then we’ll attach it to the exhaust?”

  “Once we finish with this. I’ll show you.” He modeled where all the parts would go—the ones we had already and the yet unfound pieces. “The leather belt here, with the spring-loaded pulley and lever here.”

  I tried to imagine how it would look completed. How it would feel to ride and where I could go. No longer a boy on a bicycle, I could return and save her. “Can I buy it, once it’s ready?” I asked.

  Uncle rubbed the top of the engine. “The matchmaker said you were a reluctant candidate.”

  I stopped my daydreaming. “I didn’t know what to say to her.”

  Uncle was precise. He placed the gaskets in a neat row on a side table. He covered the engine with a sheet. “Why are you hesitating?”

  I picked up the exhaust. “I’m not. I came here to thank you for setting me up. I appreciate the support.” I bowed.

  “You were flirting with Munsu’s Sunok.”

  I gazed at Uncle from my half-bent state. A streak of grease had dirtied his nice shirt. I stared at the spot and rose slowly. No words came. I couldn’t tell what anyone was thinking anymore. “I’ve been distracted,” I finally managed.

  “You went to the department store with her. Munsu came after his meeting to tell me.”

  “He said it was fine if I joined her. She was looking at watches for the yedan, and I needed to buy something.”

  “On your salary?” He threw an oil plug into the air and caught it. “Buy what?”

  When I didn’t respond, he placed the plug in his pocket. “Have I trusted a cat with a fish?”

  I still held the exhaust. It was a slim cylindrical pipe with a ridge of rust on its belly. I imagined its place on the motorcycle’s body. I imagined what Uncle would say if I told him about my stealing, or about Sunok’s previous boyfriend. I was tired. Of our unpredicta
ble world, of being alone among strangers, of their questions and their need to understand everything about me.

  * * *

  I remembered the chestnuts.

  I’d known she would get in trouble for ripping her skirt, the pale glare of her thighs bared in public, and I hadn’t eaten a single one without her. I’d roasted them until they were golden and tender enough to break with a glancing fingernail, and I brought them to her wrapped in newspaper the next day. Haemi sat at the edge of her neighbor’s rice paddy, dipping her welted legs into the cool water. She pitched the whole bundle of chestnuts into the air. “I don’t want them anymore,” she said with her natural fierceness. I touched the welts gingerly and wanted to lick them, to feel each swell, the heat of her, with the muscle of my tongue.

  In the end, it was Haemi who won. I worked, flirted, and slept alone—for her. Her letter confirmed it. She would take me whole, and I would claim her. She wanted me, too. I was sure of it.

  I sent her the bracelet wrapped in paper, fresh and blank, and waited for a response.

  Part 4

  Solee

  1963

  I counted the stray dog’s ribs on my way home from school. Five bones stuck out like the rounded claw of a dokkaebi clutching his club. Last month, six bones showed through the skin of his belly. I smiled. I was fattening him up after all.

  He nosed my arms and skimmed his yellow-white fur against my stomach as we walked. I gave him a treat every afternoon. Usually, he was so hungry he left a puddle of drool in my palm. This time, when I pulled out my saved chicken bone, he bucked and flattened his ears, frightened by a thunderclap rumbling through the air—a man on a motorcycle, his wheels licking up bursts of dust. He waved and smiled as he passed. I was the only one on the road.

  As he disappeared, I waved back.

  I heard their laughter before I’d removed my shoes. In the common room, Daddy and Mommy sang with the girls. “Why is everyone so happy?” I asked.

  “Come say hello to your uncle.” Daddy hugged me with his working arm. He was in a light mood. Alcohol already swam in his mouth.