If You Leave Me

by Crystal Hana Kim

  She waved. “I’ll cut some apples for when they get hungry. I want to stay here, maybe sleep.”

  “Come play, Haemi. You can nap later.”

  “You go.” She tried to smile. “I’m tired.”

  I walked toward our daughters and the ocean. Waist deep in the waves, they took turns on the swim rings. “Be careful with Eunhee,” I called from the shore, even though they didn’t need reminding.

  With small, clumsy fingers, Eunhee wiped the wet curls from her eyes. “I’m okay! Come push, Daddy.”

  “I’m a shark!” I dove in. Below the current, I gnawed at their legs until even their squeals were spent.

  “No more tickling!” Mila, sprawled on one ring, linked her leg through the other to bring Eunhee closer. They tossed their heads back and squinted in the light. Jieun and Solee hung on to the rubber handles with slack arms.

  “Look.” Mila pointed to a seagull soaring. “I painted a bird for Mommy yesterday.”

  Jieun lapped around us, popped up behind me, and hugged my stomach. “This is fun, Daddy.”

  Solee nodded, her freckled chin propped on Eunhee’s foot. “This is great.”

  One after another, they chimed in their agreement. I laughed and loaded two to a tube and pulled them through the deep water. They sang a school song I didn’t know. Solee, Jieun, Mila, and Eunhee. My girls were a sufficient world.

  When the waves picked up, we made rabbits and turtles in the sand. Haemi woke to us scattered all around her. Jieun and Mila sat at the foot of the tent, while Solee and Eunhee were farther down by me, directly in the sun. Haemi linked her hands over her head and stretched her arms. “What’re we making now?”

  “Sand creatures,” Mila said. “I’m doing fishies.”

  Eunhee motioned. “Come see, Mama.”

  “Look at ours first.” Jieun kicked and tried to present her turtles.

  A small spray of sand landed on Haemi’s arms as she crawled out of the tent. She sucked her teeth and swatted at Jieun’s feet. “You’re getting sand all over me.”

  “Hey!” Jieun rubbed the top of one foot with the sole of the other. “You don’t have to hit.”

  Haemi reared upright with her hands on her hips. “You knew I was right behind you. And that didn’t hurt.” She retreated to the tent and touched her toes. “Damn. I’m sunburned.”

  “It did hurt,” Jieun said.

  Eunhee and Solee stopped patting sand over my buried hands. They were like animals with their instinct for tension. Mila turned slowly from Jieun to Haemi, still clutching pebbles for the creatures’ eyes and teeth.

  “Come here.” Solee beckoned. “Leave Mommy alone.”

  Mila scrambled toward us, dropping stones, but Jieun stood with her back to Haemi, her hands at her sides, echoing her mother’s pose of irritation. She glanced at a nearby tent, where a young family watched us. The mother hastily looked away. Jieun straightened. “Daddy! Tell Mommy she’s being mean.”

  “Come play with your sisters,” I said.

  “I didn’t kick sand on purpose.” She trudged to me. “I was showing her the turtles.”

  “Replace my hand in the mound,” I instructed. “No fighting on vacation.”

  Haemi hugged her knees. “Who’s fighting? I just woke up and I’m sunburned.” She flexed a red foot at me. Her shoulders were pink, too. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  The girls’ heads popped up. “No!” They cast sour lips and big eyes in Haemi’s direction. “Please? Can we stay?”

  “Wrap your feet and you’ll be fine.” I threw an extra towel at her. “Play a little with your children.”

  “Jisoo.” Haemi stared at the sky. From the way she held her shoulders up by her ears, I knew. The girls knew, too. The goodness from this morning had been sucked out of her.

  “Don’t ruin a fine afternoon,” I said.

  “From the looks on your faces, I already have. I’m going.”

  “But you haven’t even done anything with us,” Jieun said.

  “Stay and spend some time with your children.” I was too loud now, almost yelling.

  “You’re bothering the other families.” Haemi pointed to the nosy woman with the child. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  Mila ran to her. “We can make you new creatures.”

  “Stay for an hour?” Solee asked. “We won’t spray you anymore.”

  “I look ridiculous in this swimsuit.” Haemi brushed sand from her thighs and pulled on her dress. She squatted before Eunhee and rearranged her curls. “Hi, you. Want to come with me?”

  Eunhee pointed to her sand animals. “I want to stay.”

  Haemi pulled herself up. “I’ll be ready by dinnertime, then.”

  She plodded through the sand with unsteady steps, almost as if she were drunk. The girls watched as she wound her way through the families, crossed the main street, and entered our hotel. Then their dark heads turned to me.

  “Now what?” Jieun crossed her sandy, slender arms.

  “Should we go back, too?” Solee asked.

  “We can go fishing.” I rummaged through our beach bag for the box of wooden bobbers and picked up the rods we had brought. “We haven’t done that yet.”

  “There aren’t any real fishes.” Jieun smashed her sand animals. “Everything’s ruined.”

  Mila peered at the waving tent. “It’s windy. But we can if you want, Daddy.”

  “Let’s go,” Solee said.

  They collected their things and I brandished the rods in the air. “Fishing!”

  Eunhee patted my hand. “Fishing, Daddy.”

  A sudden wind had roughened the waters. Nearly all the swimmers had retreated. We waded in anyway. I distributed the rods. Solee tested a hook with her finger. “Is this safe?”

  She was right. I couldn’t bring bloodied or cut-up girls back to Haemi. “Wait here. Don’t move.” I returned to our tent and used a paring knife to remove the hooks.

  “What’s the point then?” Jieun asked when I showed them the blunted lines.

  “There are bobbers still.” I showed her the wooden cylinders. “Just do it.”

  We practiced casting with glum faces and stiff hands. Solee arched her rod to the greatest height, and Jieun tried to copy her. Mila rubbed the clear, tight line between her fingers, and around her wrists. I tried to help Eunhee hold her rod steady.

  “Too big.” She looked up with a bleary face. “Don’t want to, Daddy.”

  I stuck our two rods into the sand so they wouldn’t float away and hoisted her onto my shoulders. Even she knew to balance her weight on my stronger side. “Let’s watch the others.”

  She hugged my head. “Watch birds, too.”

  Chicken-fleshed and shivering, the girls pretended to focus on their imaginary fish. I knew we were all thinking of her. Haemi acted powerless even as she turned our heads around. As soon as she beckoned, they ran to her, no matter how small her offering. A sliver of happiness was enough. I could yell, threaten, shake her, but Haemi only did as she pleased.

  Solee lowered her rod. “This isn’t working.”

  I gathered the girls close. Their lips were pale, bluish. The wind whipped strands of thick black hair across their pure faces. “Let’s do something else. We’ll go to the market.”

  “Can we all get a treat?”

  “Please, Daddy?”

  “Or one treat and we’ll share?”

  “Maybe we can go to the park?”

  “But I’m hungry.”

  “Yes,” Eunhee added, from above my head. “Treats!”

  They became unwieldy so quickly—four girls, four requests, four bodies to watch over as they rushed from one thought to the next.

  We returned to the hotel after the market, our bags laden with too many souvenirs. The girls raced to Haemi as soon as we entered the room. Seated in the middle of the carpeted floor, she summoned them with her arms outstretched, as if nothing was wrong. “Show me what Daddy bought you!”

  “We got puffed rice!”<
br />
  “Candy!”

  “Toys!”

  “And this silk so you can make a pretty dress!”

  “You should have bought more. Then I could have made dresses for all of us,” Haemi said.

  “Like this one?” Jieun touched the buttons running down Haemi’s front. “Or like your hanboks?”

  I sat on the raised bed and watched the girls flit around their mother. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her wear a modern dress. I recognized the green and white stripes. I’d bought it years ago, to help her fit in with the other women in town. She’d laughed as she tried it on, the fabric tight across her waist and hips.

  “I want a dress, too. We can go back.” Mila nuzzled the silk against her cheek. “Get more for us.”

  Haemi rubbed the other end of the fabric between her fingers. “It’s so shiny and yellow. I bet Daddy picked this out.” She looked at me with a smile I couldn’t understand spreading across her lips. “Am I right?”

  “Solee picked it out,” I said, even though I had. “Our dinner reservation’s in an hour.”

  “Time to wash, then. I’ll put these away. You all go to the bathroom. We need to clean up for dinner.” Haemi lifted Eunhee’s shirt, stopped. “You’re still wearing your swimsuit.”

  “Mine red,” Eunhee said, pushing out her stomach.

  “They’re all red, babo,” Jieun replied.

  Haemi glanced at me. “Why are they still wearing wet suits? They’ll get sick.” She turned to the girls. “Hands up.” She clucked, pulled the shirts off Mila and Eunhee. “Solee and Jieun, take them to the shower. Leave the suits in the sink.”

  When we were alone, she threw the clothes in the garbage. I picked them out and hung them across the open window. “So they’re a little damp,” I said.

  “You don’t have any sense.”

  “And you do? Where were you?”

  Haemi wandered around the two beds. “I had a bad dream on the beach and I didn’t sleep well here, either. I hate these Western beds. Sleeping off the ground makes me nervous.”

  “How was I supposed to know? If you’d told me, we could have reserved one of their traditional rooms.”

  Haemi lay on the bed closest to the door. The hem of her striped dress rode up, revealing her slip and thick pink thighs. “Well, I know more than you think—we can’t afford this.”

  I sat beside her, close enough to feel the heat from her sunburn. “Can’t you just enjoy yourself?”

  She dug the heel of her hand into my leg. “I was trying to enjoy a little sleep and now you’re arguing with me.”

  “You know how many families go on vacation?”

  “I keep track of the girls every day. You know how hard that is?”

  I laughed.

  She pushed me off the bed. “Don’t. I’m not joking.”

  “You’re ridiculous. Your life isn’t that difficult, Haemi.” This was the nicest seaside hotel in Busan. She was selfish, yes, and also ungrateful and unaware.

  In the bathroom, the girls stood in a line by the showerhead, unaccustomed to its snaking tube. The whole floor was drenched and suds swirled around the drain in the center of the room. Solee coached them under the water one by one. They tilted their heads as she washed the shampoo from their wet strands. Jieun and the younger ones were still flat, sexless, but Solee’s body was changing. She reddened when she saw me looking. “We’ll be done soon.”

  “Close the door, Daddy!” Mila splashed. “Cold air’s coming in!”

  I did as they asked and turned to Haemi. She was still lying down, staring at the ceiling as if focusing hard enough would make me quit. “Something’s wrong with you. That’s why we’re here,” I said.

  She laughed in a limp way. “I’m fine.”

  “Solee takes care of them. Not you.”

  “Why don’t you ever buy me yellow dresses?”

  “What are you talking about?” I leaned against the bathroom door. I never could follow the strange turns in Haemi’s thoughts. “You want me to buy you more clothes?”

  “Do you know the last time I wore this dress?” She pinched the green-and-white hem and trailed her hand up to her throat. With quick fingers, she unbuttoned the top to her waist. Beneath her slip, the full white cups of her brassiere.

  “What do you want from me, Haemi?”

  She sighed. “Forget it. I put on a modern dress for our modern vacation. Leave me alone.”

  I stared at my hands, angry at her for confusing and arousing me. I pointed to the bathroom. “Go watch the girls. They’re making a mess.”

  She buttoned her dress and lifted herself with exaggerated effort. “Yes, sir, husband,” she mocked, saluting. Then she pushed past me into the bathroom, closed and locked the door.

  We walked to dinner a few streets away. Even with the extra weight, Haemi was lovely; passing women and men lingered over her face. With her modest smile and straight, unyielding back, she looked like any decent wife. She chattered with the girls about sugar candy dessert and the possibility of a late-night swim.

  She cared for them well when she wanted to. I understood what she’d meant about keeping track of them all—how tiresome it was—but she was a mother and this was her burden. I didn’t have any pity for that kind of grievance.

  When we reached the restaurant, I spread my arms. “We’re here. Our first Italian meal.”

  “Here?” Haemi peered at the menu pasted to the door. Bright illustrations of pasta, fish, cheeses, coffees, and cakes accompanied descriptions. The restaurant’s large glass windows overlooked the ocean. “The best and only Italian restaurant that I know of, sir,” the hotel woman had said.

  “What’s Italian?” Jieun asked.

  “A country in Europe.” Solee pointed. “It’s far from here.”

  “I knew that,” Jieun replied. “I was only checking.”

  I pulled both girls into the restaurant and called to the others. “Let’s show Mommy what the food’s like.”

  We entered to classical music and the murmur of servers addressing diners in hushed voices. Women in short black dresses and aprons bowed to us. “Welcome,” they said in unison.

  “Jisoo.” Haemi stopped behind me. “Not here.” She gestured to herself. “I feel too old.”

  “You’re wearing a modern dress, like you said.”

  “It’s not the clothes. It’s me. I feel old. And I smell cheese.”

  The girls nodded, wrinkling their noses.

  “Cheese is disgusting,” Jieun said.

  “We don’t want that, Daddy,” Mila added.

  “You think we’ll find a restaurant like this at home?” I bent down to the girls. “This will be special.”

  “I really can’t,” Haemi said.

  “We can’t,” Eunhee echoed.

  Only Solee looked at me with any apology. She squeezed my hand. “Is there somewhere else?”

  “You choose, then.” I walked out. I wouldn’t force them anymore.

  They found another restaurant, one that was wooden and familiar. An open stove burned in the kitchen despite the summer heat. Haemi propped her elbows on the table and read the menu aloud.

  “Dongnae pajeon, milmyeon, daeji gukbap. Old Busan favorites. How does that sound?” She held Eunhee on her lap and grazed my knee with her perfect fingernails. “Thanks for agreeing.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She smiled. “I mean it. Thank you. Cranky Haemi’s gone now, I promise.”

  I reminded myself that Haemi was a woman who loosened with familiarity. Maybe I was forcing too much change on her. “Let’s order some soju,” I said.

  We drank, we ate. Haemi attacked her food as if she were a refugee again. She doled out fried baby octopus to the girls and warned them to be careful with their hot stone pots. “You know who loved daeji gukbap? Uncle Hyunki,” she said.

  “Really?” Solee asked.

  Haemi nodded. “On lucky days, we’d get pork bones from the field hospital where I worked. Hyunki would
scrounge into my bag before even saying hello!”

  I raised my glass. The girls followed with their waters. “To Uncle Hyunki, then.”

  “And my mother,” Haemi said.

  “To us also. We met here,” I told the girls. “Your mother and I.”

  We toasted to my parents and sister, our country’s lost and missing, and to eventual reunification. To each of our daughters. We drank too much. “One more,” Haemi said each time, until Jieun, Mila, and Eunhee had fallen asleep. They nested their heads in their arms. Solee fingered the patterns on the table and listened to our slurred phrasing. Haemi was laughing and fine and I didn’t want it to stop. She touched her hair, my fingers. I was confident this was all we’d needed—a trip away from home, a reminder of the happiness we were capable of as a family.

  “Have some soju.” Haemi pushed a shot to Solee. “We won’t tell anyone.”

  “I don’t want to.” Solee leaned on her elbows. “I’m too young.”

  Haemi touched the freckles on her daughter’s nose. “We should lighten these. They’re ugly.”

  Solee covered her face with one hand. “Really?”

  “I’m joking.” Haemi smiled, almost meanly. “Relax.” She blew at Solee’s bangs. “If you’re not having fun, Miss Intelligent, Favorite, Eldest Daughter, we can go.”

  “Let’s stay. We’re on vacation,” I said.

  “Vacation.” Haemi stretched the syllables like a noodle. “That’s a word I don’t think I’ll ever understand. Right, Solee?”

  I could feel the shift in Haemi’s mood, and I didn’t want this night to end. I pushed the shot closer to our daughter. “Drink a little. Drink with your parents.”

  Solee looked at me, her eyes clouding, but did as I asked.

  When all the other families were gone, and only the old men were left, we turned to our sleepy, tipsy first daughter. “Go put the girls to bed.” We shoved won into her hands. “Walk down the main street and you’ll be fine.”

  “All of them?” She squinted at their soft, lolling heads. “They’re asleep.”

  “Carry Eunhee. You can do it.” We woke Jieun and Mila. Haemi fluttered her fingers over their sweaty heads, kissed them on their mouths. They were disoriented and docile. Solee frowned but picked up Eunhee. The others hugged her legs as they walked out the door.